Read Online Horns & Wrinkles by Joseph Helgerson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Helgerson
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lady's age, I asked instead what was so interesting in my eyes.
"An old friend," she sighed, sounding kind of happy and sad all at once.
Twenty
The Getaway
I made it out of Trolls & Things without knocking anything over, a miracle considering how heavy and awkward the screens were. Afraid that I'd trip and poke a hole in one, I headed to the town dock to wave for my cousin.
The two kids fishing off the dock caught the jitters as soon as they spotted me coming, as if maybe they'd seen screens come down that dock before. And once they saw Duke sprinting toward the dock in the dugout, one of them broke for town, shouting, "Rhino boy! Rhino boy!" The other tried pulling his minnow bucket out of the river. The trouble was, the bucket was too heavy with water for the little squirt to lift it by himself. Duke reached the dock before the kid could make a run for it.
"Where's the willow cats?" he asked, panting and looking behind me as if I'd left them somewhere.
"Couldn't get them."
"Jim Dandy wanted willow cats."
"He's lucky I got him two screens."
"Two!" Duke cried. "You know we need three."
All this time the kid pulling up on the minnow bucket was also doing his best to be invisible. It didn't work. Duke pointed at him and shouted, "You! What's in that bucket?"
"N-nothing," the boy squealed, stumbling backwards. He was a chicken-legged little kid, a redhead like Duke, but that didn't save him.
"Mine now!" Duke bounded onto the dock and jerked the rope out of the boy's hands.
By then a crowd was gathering at the end of the dock, so Duke didn't have time to unknot the minnow bucket's rope. From an inside pocket, he whipped out a jackknife and cut the bucket free of the piling it was tied to. The instant my cousin cut the rope, he let out such a yowl that I thought he'd sliced his hand. Then I saw that it wasn't his hand but his nose that was hurting. It was having another growth spurt.
Duke's howls attracted even more kids, and as their number grew, so did their bravery.
"In the boat," Duke shouted at me between yelps. "In the boat."
I tossed the screens across the dugout and jumped after them, landing up front. The dugout tipped without flipping.
"Paddle!" Duke yelled, diving in back with the bucket. "Paddle!"
I paddled. A good thing too, because I was the only one doing it. Duke held his nose with one hand and had his other hand curled around the minnow bucket as if protecting a cookie jar. We were halfway across the channel before picking up any speed.
Back on the dock, kids were throwing rocks and shouting. There were splashes in the water but no direct hits, so except for Duke's nose, it was a clean getaway. Duke didn't care about his nose, though. The minnow bucket was full of willow cats.
Twenty-one
More About Duke's Horn
We lazed about a sandbar all that Sunday, with nothing to do but sleep, argue, and hang low until nightfall, when we were supposed to hook up with the river trolls again. I asked Duke why he hadn't bothered to mention who ran Trolls & Things. He claimed he hadn't wanted to scare me. I brought up the stone feather. He threatened to pound me into pudding.
"I doubt your new friends will want me pounded into anything," I said.
"Once we find their fathers?" He cackled. "They won't care a bit."
Around noon an old couple in a houseboat pulled up to our sandbar, and Duke ordered me to create a diversion. He planned on stealing their lunch but got caught when his horn knocked over a pitcher of pink lemonade.
After getting past their amazement at Duke's nose, the old couple took pity, handing out hot dogs, potato chips, two fruit jars of lemonade, and radishes. They even sent along some complimentary packets of ketchup and mustard. Duke was willing to share only the radishes and mustard until his nose started to tingleâthen he became unexpectedly generous.
By daylight you couldn't help but notice the changes to Duke's face: puffy, watery eyes; thickened lips; sunken cheeks; stretched
"An old friend," she sighed, sounding kind of happy and sad all at once.
Twenty
The Getaway
I made it out of Trolls & Things without knocking anything over, a miracle considering how heavy and awkward the screens were. Afraid that I'd trip and poke a hole in one, I headed to the town dock to wave for my cousin.
The two kids fishing off the dock caught the jitters as soon as they spotted me coming, as if maybe they'd seen screens come down that dock before. And once they saw Duke sprinting toward the dock in the dugout, one of them broke for town, shouting, "Rhino boy! Rhino boy!" The other tried pulling his minnow bucket out of the river. The trouble was, the bucket was too heavy with water for the little squirt to lift it by himself. Duke reached the dock before the kid could make a run for it.
"Where's the willow cats?" he asked, panting and looking behind me as if I'd left them somewhere.
"Couldn't get them."
"Jim Dandy wanted willow cats."
"He's lucky I got him two screens."
"Two!" Duke cried. "You know we need three."
All this time the kid pulling up on the minnow bucket was also doing his best to be invisible. It didn't work. Duke pointed at him and shouted, "You! What's in that bucket?"
"N-nothing," the boy squealed, stumbling backwards. He was a chicken-legged little kid, a redhead like Duke, but that didn't save him.
"Mine now!" Duke bounded onto the dock and jerked the rope out of the boy's hands.
By then a crowd was gathering at the end of the dock, so Duke didn't have time to unknot the minnow bucket's rope. From an inside pocket, he whipped out a jackknife and cut the bucket free of the piling it was tied to. The instant my cousin cut the rope, he let out such a yowl that I thought he'd sliced his hand. Then I saw that it wasn't his hand but his nose that was hurting. It was having another growth spurt.
Duke's howls attracted even more kids, and as their number grew, so did their bravery.
"In the boat," Duke shouted at me between yelps. "In the boat."
I tossed the screens across the dugout and jumped after them, landing up front. The dugout tipped without flipping.
"Paddle!" Duke yelled, diving in back with the bucket. "Paddle!"
I paddled. A good thing too, because I was the only one doing it. Duke held his nose with one hand and had his other hand curled around the minnow bucket as if protecting a cookie jar. We were halfway across the channel before picking up any speed.
Back on the dock, kids were throwing rocks and shouting. There were splashes in the water but no direct hits, so except for Duke's nose, it was a clean getaway. Duke didn't care about his nose, though. The minnow bucket was full of willow cats.
Twenty-one
More About Duke's Horn
We lazed about a sandbar all that Sunday, with nothing to do but sleep, argue, and hang low until nightfall, when we were supposed to hook up with the river trolls again. I asked Duke why he hadn't bothered to mention who ran Trolls & Things. He claimed he hadn't wanted to scare me. I brought up the stone feather. He threatened to pound me into pudding.
"I doubt your new friends will want me pounded into anything," I said.
"Once we find their fathers?" He cackled. "They won't care a bit."
Around noon an old couple in a houseboat pulled up to our sandbar, and Duke ordered me to create a diversion. He planned on stealing their lunch but got caught when his horn knocked over a pitcher of pink lemonade.
After getting past their amazement at Duke's nose, the old couple took pity, handing out hot dogs, potato chips, two fruit jars of lemonade, and radishes. They even sent along some complimentary packets of ketchup and mustard. Duke was willing to share only the radishes and mustard until his nose started to tingleâthen he became unexpectedly generous.
By daylight you couldn't help but notice the changes to Duke's face: puffy, watery eyes; thickened lips; sunken cheeks; stretched
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