When Mr. Brighton had poured himself some coffee, he finally stopped laughing and started explaining. “It was Miss Clyde,” he said. “A few minutes ago she came running out into the hall insisting she’d seen some sort of terrible-looking face at her window. Your mother’s in her room with her now trying to calm her down.”
“Well for Pete Squeaks!” Harry said as innocently as he could. “What do you suppose she saw?”
Mr. Brighton started to laugh again. “I don’t know,” he said. “But judging by the fact that her window is at least twenty feet above the ground, and by certain other observations, I’d say she probably got a glimpse of her own reflection.”
Just about then Mom came in and sat down with them, and the three of them sat there and laughed the way they’d done the night Miss Thurgood sat in the water heater flood. Only this time Harry still wasn’t quite sure just what he was laughing about. At least he wasn’t sure until Mom started describing what Clarissa had looked like when she ran out into the hall screaming that a ghost had looked in her window.
Mom said that Clarissa had been wearing a mud pack, and a thing called a chin strap that was supposed to get rid of double chins, plus a bunch of big fat hair curlers. It wasn’t until he heard Mom’s description that Harry was completely convinced that he hadn’t really seen a mummy from Mars after all.
Eavesdropping – The Hard Way
The haunting scheme worked just the way it was supposed to. The very next day Miss Clarissa Clyde packed up her imitation alligator bags and went away. But even though that was what he’d been hoping for, Harry didn’t feel altogether happy about it in the days that followed.
In the first place, he couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty. Scaring someone just a little to get her to move was one thing, but Harry had a notion that Miss Clyde hadn’t left just because she was scared. It’s almost fun sometimes, after it’s all over, to look back on a good scare, especially if it’s the kind of thing that makes a good story to tell your friends. But nobody tells his friends about being embarrassed in front of a lot of other people. Harry couldn’t help feeling a little mean every time he thought about poor Miss Clyde running out there in front of the other boarders in all her beauty stuff. He really hadn’t meant it to work that way.
In the second place, the whole thing began to look like a lot of wasted effort. Even without Clarissa around, Mom and Mr. Brighton didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. They did spend a little more time talking to each other; but as far as Harry could tell, it was all friendly public sort of conversation, in front of everybody. And from what Harry had observed about such things, they weren’t going to make any progress at all that way.
By the end of August Harry was feeling really gloomy. Not only was the Plan a failure, but as far as he could tell by looking in the bottle, he had only about enough magic ointment left for one more flight. In fact, he didn’t fly for several nights, partly because he was saving that last flight for a special occasion, and partly because he just couldn’t bear to use it up and then face the fact that his wings were gone forever. His wings gone, the summer almost over, and nothing to look forward to but lonely old Kerry Street, with no kids to fool around with and nothing to do.
It was on the very last day of August that Harry walked down to Wong’s Grocery after dinner to chat with the Wongs and see if they knew when Mike might be coming back from the Sierras. While they were talking, he got started helping Mr. Wong stock the can shelves, and by the time they were finished it was already dark. When Harry finally got back to Marco’s, Mrs. Pusey and Mr. Konkel were in the living room, but he didn’t see Mom or Mr. Brighton anywhere. He went on out to the kitchen, but they weren’t there either. At last, he went back to the front room and asked Mrs. Pusey where Mom was. Just as calm as could be Mrs. Pusey said, “I believe your mother and Mr. Brighton are out on the veranda.”
Sure enough, from the dining room bay window, Harry could get a glimpse of them, sitting side by side on the porch swing, talking and laughing. But no matter how hard he stretched his ears, he couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. Just the same, as he went on up to his room, he was feeling pretty excited and hopeful.
It was after he got to his room that he had another bright idea. At least it seemed like a good one at the time. Since he was going to have to use the last drops of magic ointment sometime, he might as well do it tonight. He’d get all ready and then he’d begin his final flight with a little detour. He’d just light for a moment on the roof of the veranda and check on the conversation going on below. After all, it wouldn’t be just ordinary eavesdropping because he sort of had a right to know. Then he would go on from there and have a wonderful extra-long flight.
It wasn’t many minutes later that Harry eased out of his window, coasted silently around the house, and came to a stop at the opposite end of the veranda roof from where Mom and Mr. Brighton were sitting. He didn’t dare land directly over the swing because even when you’re a very experienced flier, you sometimes make a bit of a thud when you land.
He came down nicely and began to move quietly along the roof. He had almost reached the point he was headed for when he was betrayed by a smooth-worn gym shoe and a dew-wet shingle. Right over Mom and Mr. Brighton’s heads, Harry sat down with a shattering thump.
He slid over on to his stomach and lay there listening. Below him he heard Mom say, “For heaven’s sake! What was that?”
“It sounded as if something heavy lit on the roof,” Mr. Brighton said. “I’ll take a look.”
Footsteps crossed the veranda to the front steps, and Harry panicked. If Mr. Brighton walked out a little distance from the house, he would be able to see the entire veranda roof, and it would be impossible for Harry to get to his feet, take off, and be out of sight in time to avoid being seen.
There was only one thing to do. It might not get Harry out of trouble, but at least there’d be no “public notice” and Mr. Mazzeeck wouldn’t be in dutch with his company. Lying right there on his stomach, Harry quickly recited the reverse incantation.
Dream of the earthbound—Spin and Flow
Flicker and Fold and Furl and NO!
Just as always, there was the tingling, shrinking sensation, and the whirling dizziness. It was the dizziness that Harry had forgotten to take into account. It must have been the spinning dark clouds in his mind that made him loosen his grip on the slippery shingles. But whatever it was, the next thing Harry knew, he was coming to on the bed in Mom’s room and a strange man was bending over him. Mom and Mr. Brighton were standing at the foot of the bed.
“Well, young man,” the doctor said. “I hope you’ve learned a lesson about playing games on the roof in the dark. You’re pretty lucky you didn’t break an arm or leg.” He turned to Mom, “I can’t find a thing wrong with him except a few bruises and a small bump on the head. But you might keep an eye on him for a few hours, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take him to his regular doctor tomorrow for a check-up.”
After the doctor left, Mom and Mr. Brighton came back and the three of them had a talk. When it was over, Mom and Mr. Brighton seemed to be satisfied with Harry’s explanation of how it had happened, but Harry wasn’t. It made him feel pretty bad to think they would believe he was dumb enough to dress up in a pair of Mom’s drapes and prance around on the roof playing Superman.
After Mr. Brighton left, Harry got sleepy and wanted to go on up to his own room, but Mom told him to go to sleep right where he was. She said she was comfortable where she was on the chaise longue and she wanted to stay there a while longer anyway. Harry knew she was keeping an eye on him like the doctor said, and there was no use arguing with Mom about a thing like that.
When Harry woke up sometime later, he had been dreaming that he heard someone crying. The room was dimly lighted. Just as Harry opened his eyes, the hall door opened and Mr. Brighton came in carrying two cups of coffee. “I brought up a little coffee,” he whispered. “Why, Lorna, you are crying? What is it? Is Harry worse?”
/>
“No-o-o.” Mom’s voice was trembly. “He’s asleep, and he seems to be fine. It isn’t that.”
“Then what is it? It must be something serious, to make you cry.”
“Well, it is about Harry in a way,” Mom said. “You know what he’s always been like. I’ve been so happy and proud of the way he was turning out, even without a father to help him. But something has been wrong this summer. His mind seems to be a million miles away, and he’s so sleepy and groggy acting. He hasn’t wanted to do anything or go anywhere all summer, and he doesn’t seem to have any of his normal interests. I feel as if it’s my fault for disappointing him again about the summer trip he wanted to take. And now this strange thing tonight. It just doesn’t seem like Harry at all.”
“Lorna,” Mr. Brighton said, “I don’t think you have a thing to worry about. A kid like Harry doesn’t change overnight. If there’s anything strange about Harry this summer, it’s probably only that he’s growing so fast it’s worn him all out.”
Mr. Brighton set the coffee down, pulled up the vanity bench, and sat down. But Mom went on sniffing and gulping and holding her handkerchief over her eyes. “Look here, Lorna,” Mr. Brighton said after a while, “if there is any thing wrong with Harry—and mind you, I’m not saying there is—but if you’ve even a suspicion there might be, I think I know just the thing to straighten him out.” In the dim light it was hard to tell for sure, but Harry thought Mr. Brighton was grinning. His voice had that sort of sound to it.
“Yes?” Mom said, lifting her head a little.
“Well, it’s just one man’s opinion, of course, but it seems to me that the best thing in the world for Harry would be a good stepfather.”
“Oh, Hal,” Mom said, shaking her head but with a smile in her voice. “You’re awful. Can’t you be serious about anything? I’m really worried.”
“I am serious,” Mr. Brighton said. “Look. I’m solemn as a judge.”
“All right, then. You’re serious,” Mom said. She sounded just a little bit sarcastic. “And I suppose you have someone in particular in mind for the job. Mr. Konkel, maybe. He’d be a fine one.”
“No, not exactly,” Mr. Brighton said, “I’ve been seriously considering applying for the job myself.”
“Hal!” Mom said in a weak little voice, but Harry wasn’t so bashful.
He sat right up in bed and yelled, “Whoopee!”
Good-bye Magic – Good-bye Black and Blue
The next morning Harry woke up to a curious mixture of feelings. First of all, he thought about Mom and Mr. Brighton (or Mom and Hal, he should say—that’s what Mr. Brighton had said to call him, for the present at least.) Thinking about Mom and Hal and the farm in Marin and everything made Harry feel so great that he bounced out of bed. And that made him feel awful—at least physically.
That fall off the roof last night must have really been something. Harry had been stiff and sore before, but this was something else again. It felt as if nearly every bone in his body was protesting, and there was still a big bump on the back of his head. Exploring with his finger tips, he decided that his whole back was just one king-sized bruise. Harry sat back carefully on the edge of the bed.
Sitting there, thinking and rubbing the bump on his head, Harry remembered about the magic ointment and that made him feel bad, mentally, too. Boy! Wasn’t that just like him? Falling off the roof and spoiling his chances for one last wonderful flight. But after a few minutes of gloom, he decided he might as well knock it off. After all, there was a lot to be happy about. And who knows? Maybe there was still enough ointment left for one more flight. He’d been in such a hurry to get started last night, he hadn’t checked very carefully. At least, it would be worth a try.
Harry eased himself up enough to reach over to the silver bottle, removed the cork, and peered inside. The bottom seemed to be covered with a thin film. It just might be enough for one more flight. With that thought, Harry hobbled downstairs to find Mom and ask a few questions.
Mom was busy in the kitchen so Harry poured himself a big glass of orange juice and got comfortably settled at the table to wait until she was able to stay in one place long enough to do some answering. Mom was bustling around getting breakfast and humming little bits of tunes under her breath. Harry noticed that for the first time in a long while she didn’t look the least bit tired.
When Mom had finished mixing the muffins and had them in the oven, she sat down for a minute with a cup of coffee and Harry got his chance. He found out that the wedding was set for the end of September, and they’d be moving to the farmhouse in Marin just as soon after that as the tenants could find a new place to live.
“There’s another thing I’d like to know,” Harry said. “If Hal has been wanting to get up his nerve to ask you to marry him for so long, how come he spent so much time talking to that Miss Clyde?”
Mom laughed. “Well, you have to admit he didn’t have much choice. Clarissa is the kind who’s pretty hard to avoid, at least without being rude.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Harry said. “And another thing. How come you were being so friendly to Mr. Konkel? That really had me worried.”
Mom laughed, but then she looked down at her coffee and her cheeks got pink. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I guess I was just trying to convince everybody, myself included, that I didn’t care about Hal and Clarissa.” Mom stopped and thought for a moment and then she went on. “You see, Harry, you don’t know all there is to know about this whole thing. Some time ago, not too long after Hal first came to board with us he . . . well, he seemed interested in marrying me. I discouraged him so completely that he thought I wouldn’t ever change my mind. I did change my mind, but he didn’t know it—at least, not until last night.”
“Well, for Pete Squeaks!” Harry said. And here he’d been so darn sure that he always knew when any romantic stuff was going on in the boarding house. He’d sure been fooled this time. He had to think about that for a minute before he got around to asking, “What did you want to go and do that for? Discourage him, I mean?”
Mom shrugged, “There were a lot of reasons. I’d made up my mind a long time ago that I wasn’t ever going to get married again. And I was worried about how you would react to having a stepfather. But mostly, I just hadn’t gotten to know Hal well enough.”
Harry was just having a few quiet thoughts about how it was true, all right, about women not being able to make up their minds, when he remembered that it had taken him quite a while to make up his mind that he’d like having Hal as a stepfather. So, maybe it was only natural for Mom to take a long time to decide on him for a husband. He was just getting ready to tell Mom that he understood about her being so wishy-washy about the whole thing, when she interrupted.
“Well anyway, Harry, I guess you know that we have you to thank for getting things straightened out. If it hadn’t been for your silly tumble off the roof, Hal might not have asked me. He’d about decided that we Marcos didn’t need or want anyone to look out for us; but last night—with all the bruises and tears—it was pretty plain he’d been wrong about that. So he decided the time had come.”
That made Harry feel a lot better. He hadn’t really wasted those last drops of ointment, after all. Maybe he hadn’t had a last long flight, but it looked like—entirely by accident—those drops had brought him something even more important. “And I do mean ‘by accident,’ ” Harry thought, gingerly rubbing the bump on the back of his head.
That afternoon Mom took Harry to see their family doctor, as the emergency doctor had recommended. Dr. Kimura had taken care of Harry since he’d first come back to San Francisco when he was just a little kid. Dr. Kimura was a great kidder and, sure enough, he had quite a bit to say about a boy Harry’s age who didn’t know any better than to play games on the roof. As a rule Harry didn’t mind a little kidding, but this time he couldn’t help wishing that the doctor would knock it off. He was getting a little bit mad when Dr. Kimura said something that made up for all the teasi
ng.
The doctor was examining Harry’s back when all of a sudden he said, “Well, well, well.”
“What is it Doctor? Is anything wrong?” Mom asked.
“Wrong?” the doctor said. “Oh, no. These bruises aren’t anything to worry about. In fact, I consider a few bruises standard equipment for a boy Harry’s age. I was just being impressed by the way Harry’s been growing up since he was last in. Just look at those shoulders, Mrs. Marco.”
“Yes, I’d noticed lately how his shoulders were filling out,” Mom said.
“Yes, sir!” Dr. Kimura said, clapping Harry on one of the biggest bruises, “that’s quite a change for such a short time. What have you been up to this summer? Weight lifting?” Of course, Harry wasn’t about to tell him what he’d really been doing, but before he had to try to think something up, the doctor went on. “Yes indeed, that looks to me like the beginning of a real athlete’s build.”
After that, it wasn’t a bit hard for Harry to forgive him for all the kidding.
By the next evening most of the stiffness was gone from his back and Harry decided to find out for sure if there was enough ointment left for one last flight. There was that slight film of liquid in the bottom of the silver bottle, and it wouldn’t hurt to try. As he started getting ready, Harry kept telling himself that it probably wouldn’t work, so he wouldn’t be too disappointed in case it didn’t, but he couldn’t help hoping desperately down underneath.
But when he tipped the bottle over his bare shoulders nothing at all came out. Not even when he shook it up and down, time after time. At last he put his finger up inside the bottle and ran it around the inside surface. It felt moist when he pulled it out, so he quickly rubbed it on one shoulder. He did the same thing to the other shoulder and then he closed his eyes and recited the incantation.
Black and Blue Magic Page 13
