The Trespassers

by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

  “His uncle?” Neely asked.

  “Yes,” Mom said. “It seems the uncle is the legal guardian. Of Curtis and of his father as well. The uncle will have to be convinced if Curtis is to get any help.” Mom sighed. “And I guess that will depend on Grub. For instance, she wants to know if Grub really did ask Curtis to show him the gun, and if he didn’t, why he went out to the stable with Curtis.”

  Remembering Grub’s reaction to her questions, Neely asked, “Did Grub tell you what happened? What did he say?”

  Mom shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all. When we tried to talk to him he hid his head, and when we insisted he became almost hysterical.”

  Then Dad said, “We were wondering if you’d try, Neely. If Grub would tell anyone it would probably be you.”

  “I already tried,” Neely said, “and he wouldn’t say anything. Should I try again?” Mom and Dad said yes.

  When she opened the door to Grub’s room he was staring out the window, but when he saw her he immediately ran back to the bed and covered his head with the pillow. Neely sat down on the side of the bed and began to talk.

  “I guess Mom and Dad told you about Curtis shooting someone before,” she said. “About him shooting his cousin? Carmen thinks Curtis did it on purpose because the cousin always got the best of him.”

  Grub lay perfectly still, except that his knuckles got whiter as his grip on the pillow tightened.

  “Carmen thinks Curtis is very sick and he needs lots of help, but no one else believes her. And she won’t be able to get help for him unless you are willing to tell people exactly what happened yesterday.”

  Grub didn’t move or speak.

  “She really thinks you’re the only one who can help,” Neely said. “The only one in the world who can help Curtis.”

  Grub’s right hand loosened then and when Neely tugged gently at the pillow he let her take it away. Still lying facedown, Grub said, “But I didn’t ever get the best of Curtis.”

  Neely thought a minute before she said, “Yes, you did, Grubbie. You didn’t mean to, but you did.”

  After another long silence Grub sat up, rubbed his wet eyes and said, “He did want to. He wanted to kill me. I knew he wanted to...before.”

  “Before what?” Neely asked.

  “Before yesterday. I knew that day when we went up to the ballroom. Remember, when he told you we went up there to talk about having a band?”

  Neely had to swallow twice before she was able to say, “How did you know? Did he try to push you?”

  Grub shook his head. “No, but he thought about it. I knew. It was like...somebody told me.”

  “Somebody?” Neely asked quickly.

  Grub’s gaze drifted away and then came back. “Something,” he said. “I said, something told me.”

  Neely was getting exasperated. “But if you knew that, Grubbie, why on earth did you want to go back there? I didn’t know it. Carmen told me to watch out for you, but I thought she meant because of Monica. I thought she was afraid of a ghost. I didn’t know she meant Curtis. If I had known that I wouldn’t ever have gone back. If you knew he wanted to kill you why did you go back?”

  “Well,” Grub said. “I didn’t really think he would do it.” He paused and then went on. “I thought something wouldn’t let him do it.” He smiled faintly. “And I was right, wasn’t I? Something didn’t let him.” The smile faded and he shook his head sadly. “I just had to go back, Neely.”

  Neely stared at Grub, shaking her head in disbelief. “Another thing, Grubbie,” she said finally. “Why on earth did you go to the stable with him yesterday? Why did you do that?”

  “He said I had to,” Grub said. “He said I had to or he would go out and shoot Lion. And then when we got to the stable he was just starting to put bullets in the gun when Lion came in.”

  Neely sat for a long time in stunned silence. When she could finally speak again she asked Grub if he would tell the truth about what happened, to help Curtis. If he would tell so that Curtis could be taken someplace where he could be helped to become a normal person. And Grub said yes. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, but then he said yes, he would tell. Then he lay back down and pulled the pillow over his face.

  Grub stayed in his room all the rest of the day. It was obvious that he was still feeling very bad. But when Mom and Dad came back in he told them just what he’d told Neely, and when they asked him if he would tell strangers like Curtis’s uncle and the police, he said he would. Even when Mom and Dad told him he didn’t have to, and it was all up to him, he went on saying he would tell. But then he went back to staring out the window with sad, empty eyes.

  It was late that same night when Grub came into Neely’s room and shook her awake. “Listen,” he was saying. “Listen, Neely.”

  She heard it then, too, the wailing rise and fall of a siren. She jumped out of bed and together they hurried back to the window in Grub’s room in time to see two fire trucks turning up Hutchinson Road.

  When the trucks disappeared they ran out into the backyard where they could see the flashing red lights moving on up the hill, past the Jensens’ and on into the Halcyon Grove. Mom and Dad came out then in their bathrobes and the four of them stood huddled together near Robinson’s grave and watched a fierce red glow that grew higher and brighter against the night sky. Halcyon House was on fire.

  Chapter 38

  THE BRADFORDS STAYED IN THEIR BACKYARD FOR ALMOST two hours that night, shivering in the cold foggy air and watching until the red flames died away. When the fire trucks and police cars finally stopped going up and down Hutchinson Road the family went in the house and listened to the radio for a long time before they heard the news. Although Halcyon House had indeed burned, there had been no injuries. All the occupants of the old mansion, the news report said, had safely escaped the flames.

  It was almost morning by then, but when Neely finally went back to bed she still couldn’t sleep. Instead, she lay awake for a long time thinking and grieving. Grieving for the beautiful old house and for all the star-crossed Hutchinsons who had looked for peace and beauty on Halcyon Hill, high above the edge of the world. She couldn’t stop thinking about how tragic it was that they had come to that beautiful place looking for peace and happiness and had so often found pain and sorrow instead.

  And, of course, she grieved for herself, too, and for her own tragic loss. For Neely Bradford’s loss of what had been the most exciting secret, the most wonderful mystery, and the most fascinating tragedy of her entire life. She grieved, too, for the loss of Halcyon House, for the lost beauty of all the grand old rooms and beautiful furniture, and in particular for the wonderful dollhouse. She grieved especially long and hard for the dollhouse. But perhaps most of all, she mourned for the loss of the mystery of Monica.

  Monica. The loss of Monica. A sudden anxiety made Neely slip out of bed and tiptoe across the hall and into Grub’s room. Grub was awake too. In the dim glow from his night-light Neely could see that he was lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. “Hi,” he said as she bent over his bed. “Did you want to tell me something?”

  “No,” she said. “I just wanted to see if you were all right.”

  Grub didn’t smile but his eyes were wide and calm. “I’m all right,” he said.

  Strangely enough, it seemed to be true. And, to Neely’s surprise, all the next day Grub seemed to be pretty much his usual self. A little quieter perhaps and certainly not bouncing and humming, but not at all in a full-fledged gloom-and-doom attack, either.

  He went on being fairly cheerful even on Monday, which, because of the start of a new week of school, was apt to be a bad day for Grub. And even the interview, scheduled for a few days later, didn’t seem to worry him very much. Which really surprised Neely, particularly since it seemed to worry Mom and Dad a lot.

  By standing outside doors and around corners, Neely had overheard enough to know that Mom and Dad had seriously considered refusing to allow Grub to testify
about what had happened. Grubbie was such a sensitive kid that they were afraid it might be too hard on him. In fact it wasn’t until they’d had several phone calls from Carmen, and Curtis’s uncle, Harold Hutchinson the third, that they changed their minds and said yes.

  On the day of the interview Curtis’s uncle and Carmen and a police officer and a psychologist came to the house and had a long meeting with Mom and Dad and Grub in the living room. Neely waited outside the living room door but she could only hear an occasional word or two. She was getting pretty frustrated when Mom came out with Grub.

  Grub looked quite calm. In fact he looked almost pleased with himself, as if he’d really enjoyed being the center of so much attention. For some reason Neely felt a little irritated. She was frowning at Grub when Dad came out into the hall and asked her to come in.

  So then Mom took Grub off to the kitchen and Neely went in to be interviewed. In the living room Carmen, looking much more dressy than usual, was sitting in Neely’s favorite overstuffed chair, Harold Hutchinson the third and the psychologist were sitting on the sofa, and Dad and the policeman were standing by the fireplace. The psychologist and the policeman were all dressed up in suits and ties, but Harold the third was wearing khaki slacks and a sweater. He looked serious but friendly, and to Neely’s relief not at all like any Hutchinson she’d seen before, either in person or in a portrait.

  When Dad introduced Neely they all said hello and Harold the third stood up and shook her hand. Then Neely stepped back, looked around at everybody—the way she did when she was giving a talk at school—and began. “Well, Curtis called on Saturday morning and asked if we could come up and I—” but at that point Dad interrupted.

  “Neely, I think there is just a particular question that we still need to have answered. I think we need to find out if you know of any reason why Curtis might have been angry at Gregory.”

  “Oh,” Neely said, feeling a little bit let down. After thinking for a moment she said, “Well, yes. I can think of quite a few things actually. Mrs. Hutchinson raved about Grub—Gregory, that is—all the time. Like she was always saying how cute he is, and everything. And that always seemed to make Curtis angry. And then the way Grub and Lion loved each other. That seemed to bother him a lot. Actually, he seemed to get angry whenever anyone paid too much attention to Grub.” She thought of adding, “particularly when I paid too much attention to him,” but she decided against it. She really didn’t want to get into any of that stuff about Curtis being in love. But then Carmen more or less did it for her by telling everybody how Curtis’s relationship with Neely seemed to be so important to him. Neely was a little disappointed that there weren’t any other questions she needed to answer.

  Later when they were all leaving, Harold Hutchinson the third thanked all the Bradfords for their help. He particularly thanked Neely and told her that her testimony and Grub’s would make it possible for Curtis to get the best possible chance to turn his life around and grow up to be normal. Neely thought Harold the third seemed like a sensible person, and she felt good that Curtis had him and Carmen. He was going to need people like them.

  It was only a day or two later when Reuben drove into the Bradfords’ yard in his pickup truck and asked to speak to Dad. It seemed that Reuben was going away to work for Curtis’s uncle in San Diego, and since there was no place for a dog where he’d be living, he wondered if Grub could have Lion. Grub was reading an encyclopedia at the kitchen table when Dad came in to tell him, and even before Dad stopped talking Grub was on his feet dancing around the room so wildly that he broke a coffee mug and tipped over the garbage pail before Neely was able to drag him outside where he could finish celebrating without destroying the whole house.

  Only a couple of weeks later, on a cold, windy evening, Grub and Neely and Lion were lying on the living room floor in front of a fire in the fireplace. Grub had been scratching Lion’s stomach and humming softly to himself. Neely had been trying to read, but for some reason she was finding it hard to keep her mind on the story.

  Something, perhaps the leaping red flames in the fireplace, kept taking her mind back to the red glow above the hills and to the sad story of Halcyon House. She thought first about the mystery of the fire, and wondered again about how it started. According to the newspapers there had been an official inquiry and lots of possible causes were investigated. Like someone smoking in bed, for instance, or playing with matches, or just some sort of wiring problem. But apparently the official investigation hadn’t been able to prove anything at all. Another Halcyon mystery.

  She thought next about the mystery of Harold the first and his hopeless search for peace. And then again about poor, sad Curtis, and finally...about Monica. The terrible, tragic mystery of Monica that would never be solved now that Halcyon House was gone.

  Something was getting on her nerves and she realized suddenly that it was all that cheerful humming.

  “Grub,” she said irritably. “Would you please stop that awful racket? I can’t keep my mind on what I’m reading.”

  Grub stopped humming. He looked surprised and hurt, and when Neely glanced up a little later he was still watching her out of the corners of his eyes. Neely got up and went to the window.

  Looking down the long slope to the sea, where an almost full moon was turning the ocean waves into snaky ribbons of glittering foam, she went on being angry for a moment—and then began to wonder about it. It didn’t take long to figure it out. She was angry at Grub because he was so happy. Because, instead of being brokenhearted about losing Monica, as she had expected him to be, he seemed to have forgotten all about her. And so quickly. One day he’d been sad and gloomy and the next—the very next day after the fire, in fact—he’d been right back to normal. She wondered why. She really wanted to know why.

  Back in front of the fire, standing now and leaning against the mantel, Neely stared down at Grub, frowning a little. And he stared back, wide-eyed, a little bit wary.

  Neely took a deep breath. “Grub,” she said. “What about...I mean...don’t you ever think about—about Monica?”

  Grub stopped scratching Lion’s stomach. For a moment he returned Neely’s stare and then he looked away.

  “Don’t you?” Neely didn’t mean to, but she knew she sounded accusing.

  Grub shook his head. “No,” he said. “Monica’s not there anymore.” He paused, chewing on his lower lip. Then he smiled and said, “I think she’s not lonely now. Not anymore.”

  Neely dropped down to her knees. “Really?” she said. Her mind was racing. Suddenly she knew exactly what Grub meant. “Do you mean that she couldn’t go away while the house was there? And the nursery, and all her things? Like all those things of hers kind of held her there against her will. And now she can go to—to wherever she’s supposed to be. That’s what you meant, didn’t you, Grub?”

  Grub looked pleased—and a little bit surprised.

  “I did?” he said.

  Neely’s sigh was long and satisfied. Satisfied because...well, even though she’d always been fascinated by tragic stories, she really didn’t have anything against a little bit of “happily ever after” when you came to the last page.

  A Biography of Zilpha Keatley Snyder

  Zilpha Keatley Snyder (b. 1927) is the three-time Newbery Honor–winning author of classic children’s novels such as The Egypt Game, The Headless Cupid, and The Witches of Worm. Her adventure and fantasy stories are beloved by many generations.

  Snyder was born in Lemoore, California, in 1927. Her father, William Keatley, worked for Shell Oil, but as a would-be rancher he and his family always lived on a small farm. Snyder’s parents were both storytellers, and their tales often kept their children entertained during quiet evenings at home.

  Snyder began reading and telling stories of her own at an early age. By the time she was four years old she was able to read novels and newspapers intended for adults. When she wasn’t reading, she was making up and embellishing stories. When she was eight, Snyder deci
ded that she would be a writer—a profession in which embellishment and imagination were accepted and rewarded.

  Snyder’s adolescent years were made more difficult by her studious country upbringing and by the fact that she had been advanced a grade when she started school. As other girls were going to dances and discovering boys, Snyder retreated into books. The stories transported her from her small room to a larger, remarkable universe.

  At Whittier College, Zilpha Keatley Snyder met her future husband, Larry Snyder. After graduation, she began teaching upper-level elementary classes. Snyder taught for nine years, including three years as a master teacher for the University of California, Berkeley. The classroom experience gave Snyder a fresh appreciation of the interests and capabilities of preteens.

  As she continued her teaching career, Snyder gained more free time. She began writing at night, after teaching during the day; her husband helped by typing out her manuscripts. After finishing her first novel, she sent it to a publisher. It was accepted on her first try. That book, Season of Ponies, was published in 1964.

  In 1967, her fourth novel, The Egypt Game, won the Newbery Honor for excellence in children’s literature. Snyder went on to win that honor two more times, for her novels The Headless Cupid and The Witches of Worm. The Headless Cupid introduced the Stanley family, a clan she revisited three more times over her career.

  Snyder’s The Changeling (1970), in which two young girls invent a fantasy world dominated by trees, became the inspiration for her 1974 fantasy series, the Green Sky Trilogy. Snyder completed that series by writing a computer game sequel called Below the Root. The game went on to earn cult classic status.

  Over the almost fifty years of her career, Snyder has written about topics as diverse as time-traveling ghosts, serenading gargoyles, and adoption at the turn of the twentieth century. Today, she lives with her husband in Mill Valley, California. When not writing, Snyder enjoys reading and traveling.