by Lynne Jonell
Tate stepped up onto a large, flat rock on the crest of the hill. “There’s one place we haven’t looked,” she said.
The others climbed up beside her and looked down at the wild side of Hollowstone Hill.
This side was steep. It was rocky. It was covered with sticker bushes and thistles, and sharp branches that had blown off trees. It had a heap of old, rusted metal that their mother had told them was dangerous. And there was a rock pile that their father had said might be a den for snakes.
This worried Celia. “I’m not going anywhere that has snakes,” she said.
Tate saw a big stick on the ground. She swung it across the weeds. “This will keep the snakes away.”
Derek stuck his hands in his pockets. “I went down there once,” he said. “It took me a whole hour to pick the stickers off my jeans.”
Abner said, “We don’t really need to find the well. I bet Mr. Wopter’s done fixing the pipes.” He picked up the rope and looped it over his arm.
But Tate didn’t want to give up just to make everyone happy. She wanted to run, and yell, and bash things with a stick. For once, she didn’t care about being nice or calm.
So she jumped off the big rock, ran down the steep hill, and leaped onto a bramble-covered mound.
“I’m the queen of the mountain!” she cried, stomping her foot. “I’m the queen of Hollowstone H—”
Crrraaaaack.
For one brief moment, Tate’s startled face looked up at her brothers and sister. And then there was an even louder crack, like a door breaking into pieces, and Tate went down. Her hair flew up, and the rest of her went down in a violent cracking of rotten wood. There was a faint sound, like the distant echo of a scream, and then silence.
Tate had found the well.
Abner stood frozen on the big, flat rock. He could not seem to think, or move, or make a sound. Beside him, Derek and Celia were stiff, their mouths open.
Then Abner took charge. “Celia. Run to the house and get Mr. Wopter. Run.”
Celia ran.
“Come on,” Abner said to Derek. “We’ve got to throw her the rope. Hurry.”
The boys smashed through sticker bushes and thistles, but they didn’t notice their scratches. They reached the well, breathing hard, and leaned over the rim. The well was narrow and deep in shadow.
“Tate! TATE!” they shouted, their voices echoing.
There was no answer.
Derek looked at Abner, stricken.
“She’s there. She’s just catching her breath.” Abner pulled Derek back. “Don’t lean too far. And don’t push any more of that rotted wood in. It might fall on her head.”
“Aren’t you going to throw down the rope?”
“I’ll tie it to something first.” Abner knotted the rope around a thorn tree. He brushed away the broken wood from the well. Then he lowered the loose end of the rope.
The boys leaned over the edge, hardly breathing. The inside of the well smelled cold and damp, like moss on wet stone, and it went down farther than they could see.
“Did you hear a splash?” Derek asked.
Abner strained his ears. “Maybe.”
“TATE!” they yelled together.
Celia came up, panting.
Abner whipped around. Where was Mr. Wopter?
Celia held out a note. “I couldn’t read it. Mr. Wopter’s writing is too slanty.” She squeezed her stuffed rabbit to her heart. She had seen Mr. Bunny as she ran through the front hall and grabbed him. She needed something to hug when she was scared.
Abner snatched the paper and read it with a sinking heart. Mr. Wopter’s note said he was going to town to get a pipe fitting.
“What does it say?” demanded Derek.
“It says he’ll be back soon,” said Abner. He looked at his brother and sister hopelessly. It would not be soon enough.
Dark. Cold. Wet. Water was all around Tate, in her nose and in her eyes. She tried to swim but she didn’t know which way was up. Her foot knocked into something hard. Her elbow scraped against something rough. She couldn’t think of anything except that she had to breathe. Air, she needed air! But she opened her mouth, and there was only water.
Almost by accident, she opened her eyes. There, high above, was a faint circle of light. She kicked her legs, and her head broke the surface of the water. She gasped once, twice, but she forgot to keep kicking. She went down.
She kicked hard and came up choking. She knew she shouldn’t panic, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t tread water. She had tried to learn in her last swimming class, and she had failed the test.
She flung her hands out and they touched something slimy. Was it the wall? Was it a dead fish? Was it something worse? She shuddered, and her head went under while she was still trying to breathe. Water was in her nose, in her mouth, choking her. The water in the well swirled around her and she started to sink for the third time.
And then, all at once, something was different.
She stopped being afraid. She started to think. All at once, she could remember everything her swimming instructor had said, and it made perfect sense.
Cup the hands. Move the arms wide and back. Kick in a big crossing motion. And do everything in the right order, making arms and legs work together.
She hadn’t been able to keep it all straight in swimming class. But now treading water was easy!
Tate’s head popped above water, and she looked up. She could see a circle of blue, with two heads looking down. The faces were in shadow, but she knew they were her brothers.
The bigger figure motioned with his arm. “GRAB THE ROPE!” Abner shouted. “Rope! Rope! Rope!” The word echoed in the well, and Tate could see the dangling end of a rope, five feet above her.
Tate called up between breaths, “IT’S … TOO … SHORT!”
The two heads above looked at one another in despair.
Tate didn’t know why they were upset. The answer was simple. “GET … ANOTHER … ROPE … AND … TIE … IT … ON!”
The heads disappeared. Tate kept on treading water. She bumped into large pieces of the well cover that had fallen with her. They were made of wood, so they floated.
Her mind was still sharp and clear. She had a good idea.
Tate stacked the pieces on top of each other and wrapped her arms around them. Then she rested her chin on top and let herself float. The pieces of wood held her up, and she could rest.
She heard her little sister’s voice, yelling something. Tate couldn’t understand what it was because of the echo. She looked up in time to see something coming at her, growing larger … something with ears.…
Mr. Bunny bounced off her head with a soft thump, then a splash. He looked at her with his button eyes and slowly began to sink.
Tate laughed. Celia thought Mr. Bunny would help her be brave while she waited for rescue. But Tate would have to rescue Mr. Bunny. He was soaking up water like a sponge.
She tucked the waterlogged rabbit inside her shirt and looked up calmly at the circle of blue sky. And then she noticed that the well was made of big gray bricks. Some of the bricks stuck out a little. Was there a way she could climb up?
Her stick had fallen into the well with her and was floating nearby. Tate saw at once how she could use it.
It was strange, how quickly the ideas were coming to her! There must be some bricks sticking out below, too. Tate felt around until she found edges where she could put her feet. She took the stick and wedged the tip against a brick that stuck out on the opposite side of the well. The stick helped her balance. It was as if she were a three-legged stool, with the stick being one of the legs. She straightened her knees and slowly stood up. Now she was halfway out of the water!
She could probably climb all the way out if she had to. But the stick might break. And anyway, here came the rope, tumbling onto her head. Far above, her brothers and sister looked down at her.
Tate knotted the rope around her body. Then she gave it a tug. “PULL—A—
LITTLE—AT—A—TIME!” she yelled. “ONLY—PULL—WHEN—I—SAY!”
The biggest head nodded violently. Good—that meant Abner understood. Step by step, Tate found a foothold and wedged her stick. She yelled, “PULL!” The rope tightened. She stepped up a foot, and then another.
It wasn’t long before she was at the top. With one final effort, Tate climbed over the lip of the well and rolled onto solid ground.
The Willows leaned against each other, their backs to the well. No one said anything for a minute. They were all breathing too hard. But Celia had climbed onto Tate’s lap and was holding on as if she would never let her sister go.
“Well, that was interesting,” said Abner at last.
“No kidding,” Derek said.
Celia hugged her sister tight. “I was scared, Tate.”
“I was, too,” Tate admitted. “But then all of a sudden, I wasn’t.”
She tumbled Celia off her lap and stood up. Tate’s mind was going so fast that she couldn’t stay still. There wasn’t enough for it to do.
“I want to go do my homework,” she said, and skipped up the hill.
“What?” Abner jumped up. “You almost drowned, and now you want to do your homework?”
“Why not?” Tate leaped over the big, flat rock.
Abner, Derek, and Celia trudged after her, dragging the ropes and bucket. “I don’t get it,” said Abner. “You’d think she’d be tired, after all that swimming and climbing.”
“Look!” said Derek.
The Willows stared. Tate was doing cartwheels. At first, they were wobbly, as usual. But each one got better. Soon she was doing them as if she had practiced every day for a year!
Next, she tried a flip.
“She can’t do that,” said Abner slowly.
“She just did,” Celia pointed out.
“I know,” Abner said. “But what I mean is, she’s never been that good before. Don’t you remember how Mom signed her up for gymnastics last year, and her cartwheels were all crooked? And she could barely do a flip without falling over.”
“Wow, she did it again!” Derek shouted. “It’s like she’s learning in fast motion!”
They watched in silence as Tate did three more flips in a row. She stopped at the clothesline by the garden, pulled Celia’s stuffed rabbit from her shirt, and hung him up to dry. Then she leaped over the porch railing, swung around the post like a monkey, and dashed through the front door. Faintly, in the distance, they heard it slam.
The Willows looked at one another.
“That wasn’t normal for Tate,” said Abner.
“That was just plain weird,” Derek said.
Celia gazed at Mr. Bunny, dangling on the line with clothespins in his ears. “It might be magic,” she said.
They followed Tate’s damp footprints down the hall and up the stairs to the third floor.
This was the Loft, and it was all theirs. The boys shared a bedroom at one end of the floor, and the girls were at the other end. In between was a long room with a slanted ceiling, five windows, and plenty of space to do whatever they wanted.
Oddly, it seemed that what Tate wanted to do was homework. She had not even changed into dry clothes. She was sprawled on the wooden floor. Her math book was open and she was solving problems.
“Why isn’t she waiting until Sunday night?” whispered Derek. “I always do.”
Abner squinted at Tate’s paper. She was doing long division. The problems did not look simple.
“Done!” Tate slammed the book and reached for another. “Now I just have to read one chapter in history and answer some questions.”
“She’s turning those pages awfully fast,” said Derek.
Abner was worried about Tate. Falling down the well had changed her. She couldn’t be reading her history book that fast—could she?
Tate slammed her history book shut. She put her answer sheets in her backpack, ready for school on Monday. Then she looked around for something else to do.
Derek’s scouting handbook was on the floor, open to the page on knots. She scanned the pictures. “Hmm,” she said. “Bowline, slipknot, reef knot …” She studied the bowline knot. It was strong enough to tow a heavy boat, yet could be untied easily.
Abner squatted down. “Tate,” he said carefully, “how do you feel?”
“Amazing!” She flung out her arms. Drops of water sprayed from her wet sleeves. “I feel like I could do all the homework in the world, and it would be fun!”
“Want to do mine?” Derek asked.
“No, she doesn’t,” said Abner. “Listen, Tate. What really happened to you, down in that well? Because you’re acting a little—”
“Funny?” said Celia.
“Mental?” said Derek.
“Unusual,” Abner finished. “We think there was magic in the well. You were swimming in it.”
Tate bounced on her toes. “It feels like my brain has speeded up. It’s like I can think faster and remember more and learn without hardly trying.”
Derek grinned. “You learned how to do a flip awfully fast.”
“You did your homework in about five minutes, too,” Abner said.
“Cool,” said Tate. “I guess I’ll help everybody else do theirs, then. Homework is fun!”
Everyone stared at her.
Derek backed away a step. “I think I’ll just practice tying knots.” He picked up a piece of twine and sat on the couch. He looked nervously at Tate out of the corner of his eye.
Celia said, “I’m going to color. That’s sort of like homework, don’t you think?” She ran to the craft table and took out a box of crayons.
Abner cleared his throat. This was a Tate he didn’t understand. “Don’t you want to change clothes? You’re dripping.” He pointed at the floor, where a small puddle was forming.
Tate looked at it in surprise. “Wow, more water! That’s wild!” She stamped her foot happily, making a little splash.
“Tate,” said Abner firmly, giving his sister a nudge toward her bedroom. “Go. Change into dry clothes. And then—I don’t know, read a book or something.”
Tate stiffened. Her eyes lit up. “I know! I could read TEN books!”
She dug in her backpack for the crumpled book list Mr. Davy had handed out. “Do we have any of these on our bookshelves? Hurry and look, everybody! And let’s bike to the library for the rest. I’m going to read them all before Monday!”
They found four of the books in the house. Then they rode their bikes down the hill and over the stone arch bridge. Derek whizzed ahead on the country road. Abner pedaled standing up. Celia sat behind him and held on tight.
“Hey!” she shouted. “Look at Tate!”
Tate had gotten off her bike at the bridge. She was taking off her shoes and socks.
Abner and Derek rode back in a hurry. “Are you nuts?” Abner demanded. “You can’t go wading.”
“Look how high the river is!” Derek said.
“Mr. Wopter told us it was dangerous,” Celia added.
“It doesn’t look dangerous,” said Tate. “It looks fun!”
“It probably looked fun to Wilmer Olson’s prize pig, too,” Derek said. “Until it went over the falls.”
“Tate!” Abner shook her shoulders. “Library! Book Quiz Team! Remember?”
“Oh, right,” said Tate. She leaned toward the river a little.
Celia reached up to put her hands over Tate’s eyes. “Just don’t look at the water.”
This seemed to work. Tate didn’t know where the river was when her eyes were covered.
Abner had an idea. He whispered in Celia’s ear, “Go piggyback. Play Warmer, Colder to get her across the bridge.” He boosted Celia onto Tate’s back.
“I love this game!” said Tate. She took a step toward the river.
“Colder!” cried Celia.
Tate took a step toward the bridge, then another.
“Warmer!” Celia said. “Almost hot! Boiling!”
Abner and Derek wheele
d Tate’s bike across the bridge. Then they made Tate get on her bike and go ahead so they could watch her. The dust from the road spat up behind her wheels and made a hazy cloud.
“Wow, look at her go!” Derek said.
“Doesn’t she ever get tired?” said Celia.
“WAIT!” Abner shouted.
They caught up to Tate at the edge of town. She was riding her bike back and forth through a sprinkler on someone’s lawn.
The house’s front door opened. A bald man put his head out. “Hey, you! Get off my grass!”
Abner felt his face flushing red. “Come on, Tate!”
Tate swooped off the lawn. “Did you know that if you ride through a sprinkler with the sun at your back, you can see a rainbow? Isn’t water amazing?”
“Yeah, amazing,” said Abner glumly.
On the next block, Tate splashed her hands in someone’s birdbath. And on the block after that, she put on the brakes when she saw a kiddie pool in a yard.
“NO!” Abner tried to head her off.
“You don’t want to swim with toddlers,” Derek said. “No telling what they’ll do in the water.”
Tate looked suddenly wary. “Oh, right.”
Abner saw a row of willow trees ahead. He suddenly remembered that they lined the river where it went through town.
“This way!” He pointed firmly to the left.
They turned onto Main Street. When they rode past the hardware store, Abner was glad to see a dusty blue truck full of tools. He felt better knowing Mr. Wopter was nearby, just in case.
They were as thirsty as a desert. The small entry to the library had a drinking fountain, and everyone took a good, long drink. Tate turned the water on full force. The water squirted all over the floor.
Abner looked helplessly at Derek. He didn’t think he could yell at Tate in a library.
Oddly, it was Celia who knew what to do. She held out her hand to Tate. “Come on,” she said. “Don’t you want to pick out your books? Don’t you want to read them all and make the Quiz Team?”
