The Night of the Solstice
Page 19
“Be quiet,” said Claudia, desperately. The dog groveled. “I need you to help me. You know who I am?”
The setter rolled eyes like chocolate drops expressively. Everyone knew Claudia.
“All right, well, I’ve got a sister—not my biggest sister, Alys, but the other one, Janie. She goes to the junior high school—the place across the street with lots of kids. You know that place?”
The setter knew it perfectly. Pizza in the cafeteria trash cans, rats under the Quonset huts, and gophers in the field. A wonderful place.
“Well, I need you to go there and find Janie and give her this note. Janie is—” Claudia stopped, overwhelmed by the task of trying to describe Janie in terms the setter would understand.
The dog raised its head off its paws and barked once, wriggling in delight. It knew Janie, too. Threw away half her lunch and smelled like magic. Nothing easier than to find her.
“Oh, thank you!” said Claudia, pushing her hand through a diamond of the chain-link to touch its wet nose. Then she carefully folded the note and poked it through.
“Now, go! Please hurry.” As the dog trotted away, letter in its teeth, tail high, pride in its commission showing in every line of its body, the bell rang again. Recess was over.
And Claudia was an ocean of grass away from her rightful place. Her only hope was to hug the older kids’ classrooms and get back to her room through the middle of the school.
There was, she discovered at once, a fatal flaw in this plan. Barring the way between the intermediate and the primary wings of the school was a chain-link gate. It was not locked, but Claudia knew she would never have the courage to touch it, much less open it. Besides, there was a teacher on the other side—her year-before-last-year’s teacher, Mr. Pigeon.
Mr. Pigeon had been a nice teacher. He had never made her name sound like “Clod-ia” or told her her writing looked like chicken tracks or her attitude was terrible. His class motto had been “All for one and one for all.” Claudia sniffled as she turned to go the other way.
Mr. Pigeon heard. He turned around, surprised.
“Claudia, what—?” But instead of finishing the question he looked hard at her face. Then he put a finger to his lips and opened the gate, beckoning her through.
“All for one …” he whispered, as she looked up at him in dumb gratitude. “Better hurry. But don’t run!”
Claudia walked until she was out of eyeshot, then galloped. She managed to slide into her chair just as Mrs. Anderson turned around to announce a spelling test. And then there was nothing to do but sit, pencil clutched in her fist, stomach aching, unable to ignore the killdeer outside. It was shrieking the same thing as before, over and over.
“Earthquake! Earthquake!
“Ground move, ground shake!”
From somewhere a chaffinch added a note in counterpoint: “Take wing! Take wing!”
Claudia wished she could. It was all up to Janie now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L.J. Smith has written more than twenty-five books for young adults and is the New York Times bestselling author of the Night World series, the Vampire Diaries series, and Dark Visions. She lives in the Bay Area of California, where she enjoys reading, hiking, and traveling. Her favorite place is a cabin in Point Reyes National Seashore. Visit her at ljanesmith.net.
From Aladdin · Published by Simon & Schuster