A Traitor Among the Boys a Traitor Among the Boys

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

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  OTHER YEARLING BOOKS

  BY PHYLLIS REYNOLDS NAYLOR

  YOU WILL ENJOY

  THE BOYS START THE WAR

  THE GIRLS GET EVEN

  BOYS AGAINST GIRLS

  THE GIRLS’ REVENGE

  A SPY AMONG THE GIRLS

  THE BOYS RETURN

  THE GIRLS TAKE OVER

  Contents

  One: New Year's Resolution

  Two: Early-Horning Visitor

  Three: A Little Conversation

  Four: Big, Big Mistake

  Five: Trapped

  Six: Tryout

  Seven: Elmer

  Eight: Hostage

  Nine: Birthday Blues

  Ten: Letter to Georgia

  Eleven: A Curious Celebration

  Twelve: P.S.

  Thirteen: “Break a Leg”

  Fourteen: The Birth of Buckmsn

  Fifteen: The Awakening

  Sixteen: War

  Seventeen: The Traitor Returns

  Eighteen: Lost …

  Nineteen: … And Found

  One

  New Year's Resolution

  Okay, then, it's decided. The girls can stay,” Jake said, looking around the breakfast table, where six different boxes of cereal were scattered. “But only,99 he added, his mouth full of Frosted Flakes, “if they play by our rules.”

  As though they had anything to do with the Mal-loys staying in or leaving West Virginia.

  The first week of January had passed, and the boys had still not made their New Year's resolutions. Mrs. Hatford had given an order: they were not to leave the kitchen until each had decided how he would improve as a human being in the 365 days ahead. Jake, Josh, Wally, and Peter decided it would be easier to come up with one joint resolution they could all do together: they would let the Malloy girls stay in the house across the river where their best friends, the Bensons—all boys—used to live.

  Mrs. Hatford came into the kitchen just then to get the watering can for her fern.

  “Well?” she said. “Do I hear four good resolutions in the making?”

  “No, but we have one really good one that we'll all do together,” said Josh, Jake's eleven-year-old twin.

  Their mother looked cautiously about the table. “Okay, I'm listening.”

  Wally Hatford, age nine, who was sitting beside seven-year-old Peter, the youngest, stuffed another bite of toast into his mouth so that he wouldn't be the one to answer, because he could almost predict what his mom was going to say.

  “We've decided,” said Jake, “that we'll let the Mal-loys live in Buckman, if they want to, after their year is up.”

  Mrs. Hatford slowly removed her glasses and her eyes traveled from Jake to Josh to Wally to Peter.

  “Let them?” she asked in disbelief. “Are they renting their house from youT

  “What we mean,” said Josh, “is that we won't make things hard for them anymore.”

  Mrs. Hatford focused on Wally next. “Meaning … ?” she asked. It always happened this way: Wally got the hard questions.

  “Meaning that we won't dump dead fish and birds on their side of the river to make them think it's polluted,” Wally said miserably.

  Peter nodded vigorously. “Or dead squirrels,” he said. “Don't forget the squirrels.”

  Their mother put one hand on the back of a chair to steady herself, and finally came around and sat down on its seat. Hard.

  “Do you boys mean to sit here and tell me that you actually tried to drive the Malloys out of Buckman? That you tried to get them to move back to Ohio?”

  Wally thought it over. Was this a trick question? “Yep,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because we wanted the Bensons to come back,” Josh told her. “They were the best friends we ever had.”

  “And you thought—you thought—” Mrs. Hatford began, “that if you drove the Malloys away, the Bensons would return?”

  “Something like that,” said Jake, looking a little chagrined. “We thought it might help, anyway.”

  “Are you completely, positively out of your minds?” Mrs. Hatford yelled. “Have you lost every ounce of common sense you were born with? Did it ever occur to you that the decision will be based on whether the Bensons like it well enough to stay in Georgia, and not on what is happening up here to their house?”

  “Well, if they lost their renters, we thought they'd at least consider coming back,” said Josh.

  Mrs. Hatford slumped in the chair and closed her eyes for a moment.

  “All right,” she said weakly. “Let's hear it. What else did you do?”

  The boys leaned their elbows on the table and thought about it—Jake and Josh in their sweatpants and T-shirts, Wally in his racing-car pj's, and Peter in his Bambi pajamas with a tail on the seat of the pants.

  “We howled outside their house once when the girls were alone,” Wally ventured, probably the least offensive thing they had done.

  “We locked Caroline in the toolshed,” said Peter.

  Mrs. Hatford gasped.

  “But we let her out when we thought she was getting rabid,” Wally said quickly.

  Their mother could only stare.

  “We messed up the pumpkin chiffon pie their mother sent over and spied on Beth's bedroom and got them lost in the woods,” said Jake.

  Mrs. Hatford buried her face in her hands. “What else?” she asked, her voice high and tight.

  Wally felt miserable seeing his mom that way. The four brothers exchanged anxious looks.

  “That's about it,” said Wally.

  Mrs. Hatford dropped her hands again. “I want a filli confession!” she demanded. “Don't leave out a single thing.”

  The boys sighed in unison and tried to think some more.

  “We took a worm when they invited us over at Thanksgiving and put it on Caroline's plate,” said Jake.

  “And we were going to dump a can of worms on them one night in the cemetery, but they never showed up,” Josh remembered.

  “And how about the night we trapped Caroline in the cellar of Oldakers’ Bookstore and she couldn't get out?” said Wally, smiling a little as he remembered, then just as suddenly wiping the smile off his face.

  Slowly Mrs. Hatford stood up. “I am surprised, frankly, that the Malloys are still here. I am surprised that Jean and George are speaking to us at all!”

  “Well, it's not as though they never did anything to usi” said Jake. “They've done plenty!”

  “And all of it deserved, I imagine,” Mrs. Hatford said, just as her husband wandered into the kitchen for his second cup of coffee.

  He looked curiously about him. “What did I miss?” he asked.

  “Don't ask,” said Mrs. Hatford. “Don't ask.”

  Wally didn't know if this meant the conversation was over and he could make his escape or not. He slowly inched his chair away from the table.

  “Stay right where you are!” Mrs. Hatford said. Wally froze.

  It was Mr. Hatford who made his escape. He poured his coffee and immediately left the room, as though he couldn't get away fast enough.

 
Jake and Josh didn't move, because their mother was looking right at them.

  “Now get this,” she said. “You are not only going to let the Malloys stay in Buckman if they like, you are going to be nice to those girls. You are going to be helpful, polite, friendly, and whatever else I can think of for as long as they live in our town.”

  “Forever?” gasped Wally. He could see himself being helpful, polite, and friendly for an afternoon, maybe—a day, perhaps. Maybe even a whole week. But foreveri

  “Forever,” said Mrs. Hatford. “Beginning now. I don't want to hear of one unkind word, one scowl, one argument. … I want you to treat those girls as though they were your sisters.”

  Wally instantly felt better. If the Hatfords had sisters, he was sure they wouldn't always get along. They wouldn't always be polite to each other. Jake and Josh must have been thinking the same thing, because they didn't look quite so uncomfortable now either.

  “Like sistersl” Mrs. Hatford repeated.

  “Like sisters,” Jake promised.

  “I think I'll go lie down,” Mrs. Hatford said. “I've only been up an hour, and I'm ready to go back to bed.”

  The boys went into the living room and spread out in front of the fireplace with the morning comics. Their father was reading the sports section at the dining room table, so the boys had the living room to themselves. Jake was actually grinning.

  “Since we've never had sisters …,” he began softly.

  “… And we don't know how we would treat them if we did …,” added Josh.

  “… I figure we can do about whatever we like,” finished Jake. “We'd probably treat sisters the same way we treat each other, and we don't always get along. We fight and argue and play tricks all the time.”

  “Right!” said Wally. “We just won't lock anyone in the toolshed anymore.”

  “Or spy in their bedroom windows,” said Josh. “Especially Beth's.”

  “If they ever give us a pumpkin pie again, we won't tear it apart looking for dog doo,” said Wally.

  Peter said nothing, but he looked happy. He looked, in fact, like a second-grade boy who liked the Malloy girls and was glad things were going to be better between their two families. He looked like a boy who, having just finished breakfast, was already thinking of lunch, and remembering the cookies he occasionally got, baked by Eddie, Beth, and Caroline Malloy.

  And so, while his brothers were reading the comics, Peter put on his clothes, pulled on his boots, got his coat from the closet, and set out over the swinging bridge to the house on the other side of the river.

  Two

  Early-Morning Visitor

  Here's something that might interest you, girls,” said Mrs. Malloy, glancing at the morning paper as she buttered her toast. “The town of Buckman will be two hundred years old on January twenty-first.”

  “That doesn't particularly interest me,” said Eddie, the oldest, who was eleven. “If / was going to be two hundred years old on the twenty-first, I'd be interested. I'd expect the biggest birthday party I'd ever had.” Eddie was wearing a pair of pajamas that looked like a baseball uniform because it was a baseball uniform. She'd worn it back in Ohio when she was on the girls’ softball team, and it was about the most comfortable garment she'd ever had on.

  “It doesn't interest me at all!” said Beth, who was ten. She was baking still another batch of cookies, and the kitchen smelled like cinnamon. Beth had begun baking cookies to sell before Christmas, and now, it seemed, she couldn't stop. Every few days she thought up new recipes, and cookie sheets covered the stove, the countertops, even the top of the microwave.

  Their mother went on reading, directing her comments to Caroline, who was eight. Caroline was precocious, however, so she was a year ahead in school and in the very same fourth-grade class as Wally Hatford.

  “It says,” Mrs. Malloy continued, “that in addition to a concert by the high-school band and speeches by county officials, the Buckman Community Players are going to perform a little play about the founding of the town. Last week somebody came across an old story about Buckman at the library, and the Players want to use it as part of the celebration. Tryouts are tomorrow. Because they have only two weeks to rehearse, they're looking for actors and actresses who will be available for practice several nights a week.”

  Caroline's spoon clattered down into her bowl, making a splash of milk and cornflakes.

  “Can anyone try out?” she asked.

  “That's what it says. They're looking for a tall man to play the sheriff, a short man to play the mayor, five women, two boys, and three girls.”

  “I'll be one of the girls!” cried Caroline, deliriously happy. She leaped from her chair and went dancing about the room. “I don't care what kind of girls they are, I want to be in the play! Does it say how old they have to be, Mother?”

  Mrs. Malloy scanned the paper again and took a bite of toast. “No. Just ‘three girls.’ That's all it says.”

  “Maybe one will be horribly, horribly wicked!” Caroline said in delight. Her great ambition in life was to be an actress on Broadway, and she knew that starting out small was better than not starting out at all. This would be better than a class play at school. This was for the whole town to enjoy, and some of the actors were grown-ups. It would be her very first role in a grown-up play, if only she could get a part.

  “Maybe one of the girls will be a singer or dancer,” she went on. “Maybe she'll be such a beautiful girl that everybody hates her, or maybe she's always rescuing little lost animals, and—”

  “Or maybe she's sickly and gets to die onstage,” said Beth, who had her nose stuck in a cookbook. “Caroline, muffle it, please.”

  “I'm going to try out! I've got to try out! Oh, Beth, why don't you and Eddie try out too! Maybe the three of us will get the parts!” Caroline continued excitedly.

  “No way!” said Eddie. “I'd rather have all my teeth pulled than stand up onstage and act stupid.”

  “Beth?” Caroline pleaded. “Oh, please! We've never been in a play together, ever!”

  “I don't know, I'd have to read the script first. If it's just a bunch of people talking about how wonderful Buckman is, then no. It has to have character and plot and suspense!”

  “But maybe you'll do it?” Caroline said. “Please? Please?”

  “I'll think about it,” Beth told her, and at that exact moment the doorbell rang.

  Caroline, who was dressed in a pink robe with rosebuds on it, got up immediately to answer. She thought she looked like a beautiful princess in the robe, and the more people who saw her, the better.

  But Beth, who had started baking that morning in a pair of pajamas that looked like a tiger's skin, yelled, “Don't let anyone in!” The tops and bottoms were yellow with black stripes and were the ugliest pajamas she had ever seen. They even had footpads that looked like claws. The only reason she was wearing them at all was that her grandmother had given them to her for Christmas, and Mrs. Malloy insisted that Beth wear them at least once before she wrote a thank-you note.

  Caroline went out in the hall and opened the front door. There stood Peter Hatford smiling up at her, another tooth missing.

  “It's only Peter,” Caroline called over her shoulder to Beth. Then she opened the door wide and said, “Hi, Peter. Come on in.”

  “Hello, Peter,” Mrs. Malloy called from the living room, where she had taken her toast and coffee. “How are you?”

  “I'm hungry!” Peter said, grinning, and headed straight for the kitchen, where the cookies were kept.

  Mr. Malloy, who was coach of the football team at the college, watched the young boy disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen. “Did you have a nice Christmas?” he called after him.

  “Yeah, it was great!” Peter said. “Especially all the cookies and stuff!”

  Out in the kitchen, he sat right down at the table.

  “Hi, Peter,” said Beth. “Bet I know what you want.”

  “Yeah! Chocolate, if you have them,
” said Peter.

  “You know what I've decided, Peter?” Beth told him. “I want to be a pastry chef. Someday I'm going to enter the Pillsbury Bake-Off and win a million dollars. If I do, I'll start my own bakery. This morning I'm making chocolate surprise cookies, with Her-shey's Kisses inside.”

  “Wow!” said Peter.

  Eddie got herself some more orange juice from the refrigerator and studied Peter skeptically. “You guys were sure making a lot of noise at your place on New Year's Eve,” she said. “Sounded like you were banging together every pot and pan in your house. And who was playing that awful trumpet?”

  “That was Jake!” Peter grinned. “We each got to blow it once, though. We brought in the new year, right?”

  “Right. You brought it in with a bang,” Eddie told him.

  Beth put some cookies in front of Peter and got a glass for his milk.

  “Guess what I'm going to do,” said Caroline. “I'm going to start out the new year by being in a play. I'm going to try out for it, anyway.”

  “We're going to do something too!” Peter told her. “Jake and Josh and Wally and me. We're going to do a revolution!”

  “A revolution?” asked Eddie.

  “Yeah. Mom said we each had to make a revolution, so we all made one together.”

  “You mean resolution!” asked Beth.

  Peter stuffed half a cookie in his mouth and happily swung his legs beneath the table. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Your mom said you each had to make a New Year's resolution, but you all made one together?”

  “Yep. We're all going to do it,” said Peter.

  “What's the resolution?” asked Eddie.

  Peter thought for a moment. “Is it supposed to be a secret?” he asked.

  Eddie, Beth, and Caroline exchanged glances.

  “Why, I don't think so, do you, Beth?” asked Eddie. “Is there a rule that you have to keep a New Year's resolution secret?”

  “I never heard that before,” said Beth.

  “Me either,” said Caroline. “So what was it, Peter? What are you going to do?”

  “Be nice to you,” said Peter.