Grasshopper would seek refuge in Elk’s room, but Elk also had a wall calendar, and the counselors also had to prepare and pack, and the one-bag limit applied to them as well, and the hassle of their preparations spilled out into the corridors.
Grasshopper went down to the yard. Here he could sit in peace, with his back to the House, listening to the ocean in his head—the shuffling of the waves and the rustle of the faraway citrus trees. The piled-up abandoned crates and benches, the last remnants of the volleyball epic, looked depressing, and he tried not to notice them.
One day before departure, the House finally was at peace. The bags, each marked with the initials of the owner, were packed and stashed under the beds. Humpback completed the construction of a travel nest for the hamster. Wolf’s begging for permission to take the guitar bore fruit. Stinker hid everything he couldn’t take in inaccessible places. Elephant was persuaded to temporarily part with the begonia. All that remained was the wait.
In the night, Wolf’s back started acting up. By morning it was much worse. Poxies received a visit from the Spiders. The specter of the Sepulcher was quickly taking shape for Wolf, and the dread of it overcame the longing for the ocean. He spent the entire day in bed, just as he was told.
Elk came by with encouragements and gifts, the nurses with tests and vague threats. Wolf transferred the permission for the guitar to Magician, along with the guitar itself. He also promised Beauty to take care of the juice maker, and assured Elephant that he’d personally water the begonia daily. The black marker crossed out one more day on the calendar.
That night no one slept. The screams and singing of the seniors splashed out of the open windows. On the other side of the wall Stuffagers roared, practicing their traveling song. Sissies sat around the imaginary campfire and told horror stories of drownings and stinging jellyfish. It was supposed to cheer up Wolf, and he dutifully pretended that it did.
Grasshopper again went down to the yard, now free from the crates and chairs, sat one more time with his back to the House, and listened for the waves and the citrus trees. For the groaning of the Other House. Only now, for some reason, those sounds were not getting any closer to him, but instead faded into the distance. He waited until they disappeared completely into the unfathomable void, then jumped up and ran back into the House. The darkness felt suddenly threatening.
Early the next morning, in the wee hours that usually found the yard empty, with only the first window blinds being raised here and there, Grasshopper was standing next to the porch with everyone else, waiting for the buses. He shivered in the morning chill, tried to keep his eyes open, and avoided sitting down in order not to fall asleep. The wheelers pulled the coats tighter around themselves and coughed meaningfully. The walkers smoked and glanced impatiently at their watches. The bags formed a neat pile against the wall. The junior girls were allowed to sit there, and two of them were already using the opportunity to catch up on some sleep, resting their curly heads on the bloated canvas balloons. The counselors fussed around the junior wheelers, distributing motion-sickness pills and also hygienic bags for when the pills weren’t enough. It was very quiet. Almost the entire complement of the House was outside in the yard, and the silence hung unnaturally and unpleasantly.
The seniors had watches, but the juniors didn’t, and they continuously inquired about the time. The seniors barked back lazily. Stinker, bundled up in his wheelchair, glowered at anyone who came close to his bag. Humpback yawned and tried to discern familiar dogs in the Outsides. The dogs were usually excavating the trash cans at this hour, but they hadn’t appeared yet.
Sportsman went around the yard with his packed fishing rods slung over his shoulder. Whiner and Crybaby, racked by incessant yawns, followed his every step. Grasshopper sighed and fought off sleep.
The combined yell of a hundred throats startled him. Those who were sitting on the stairs shot up and started waving their arms. The first bus crawled in through the open gates. It was white and blue and resembled a big candy bar. Humpback and Grasshopper shouted “Yay!” with the others and charged.
They were immediately pushed back to the porch.
“That’s for the wheelers,” Humpback whispered. “The first one is always theirs.”
“Why were you running, then?” Grasshopper said indignantly.
“No idea,” Humpback answered happily. “It just sort of happened.”
The principal climbed on the first step of the bus.
“Women and children first!” he shouted and fluffed his beard significantly. “Please make way for the ladies and the juniors in wheelchairs!”
