The Gray House полностью

Wolf joined the music club and started disappearing with the guitar after lunch, and then tormenting Sissies with monotonous chords for hours on end. Magician dug up the book titled The Illusion of Reality in the library, fashioned a top hat out of cardboard, and tried to make the hamster disappear under it. Hamster refused. It just startled and crapped more than usual. Beauty pressed juices. Stinker composed long, heartfelt letters to charitable organizations and private citizens. The letters featured the unfortunate paralyzed boy, the poor orphan preparing for dangerous surgery, and the sightless baby who loves music more than anything in the world. Every letter was accompanied by heartrending drawings. Stinker’s hope was to acquire a plethora of things that might be useful to have around.

Siamese Max wrote letters too. To himself. He did them in pencil on sheets of toilet paper and sorted them in envelopes with strange legends: When You Want to Cry, When You Want a Bicycle, When You Think You’re Ugly, When You Envy the Leg. The leg in question was most likely his brother’s second one. The one Rex had, and Max could have had. Stinker showed his letters to everybody. Max never showed his to anyone. He only ever read them to himself, and rarely, at that, only when his mood corresponded to the legend on one of the envelopes.

Grasshopper came out into the yard every night. When Witch showed up, he went in search of Blind, a letter deep in his pocket. Sometimes it was Blind who passed a letter to him—then Grasshopper went down to the ground floor and waited by the laundry-room doors. He got so used to it that he kept forgetting about the danger, only remembering when he saw Witch burn the letters in front of him.

Blind took to disappearing at night. Humpback tried every possible way of constructing the tent, but it still crashed. Then came the rains. Elk said of them that they smelled of spring. The yard became a muddy mess. Humpback’s dogs stopped coming. They were thinking about having offspring and were therefore too busy. Siamese Max got knighted.

TABAQUI

DAY THE SECOND

In one moment I’ve seen what has hitherto been

Enveloped in absolute mystery

—Lewis Carroll, The Hunting of the Snark

Just your regular day. The wind rattling the glass, everyone yawning silently. The wind is relentless, so Alexander opens the windows and lets it in. Then it tortures the frames until they moan and chases the curtains so that they become frighteningly like things that are alive and struggling to break free and fly away somewhere. Pity they can’t. Would have been a sight to watch.

Third period is highlighted by a visit from Ralph. He comes with his own chair. Puts it in the corner and sits on it like he’s stuck until the bell rings.

He hasn’t changed at all. A stint in the Outsides can sometimes really do a number on a person, but there’s no trace of it on him. It’s like he went away only yesterday, and today he’s already back. The familiar jacket over the familiar sweater. The gloved left hand, the one missing the two fingers, and those eyes. The eyes of an inquisitor. Makes you shiver. When the lesson ends he stands up and stares at us. He’s leaped over. It’s so obvious. I marvel at his lack of discretion. Really, someone should tutor him, though I’m having a hard time imagining who that might be. Yes, he’s not exactly young, but he’s not stupid either, and quite capable of understanding things. In the Outsides it’s considered impolite to visit someone else’s house naked. In the House it’s impolite to enter by leaping over. This is like climbing into a window and sitting at the dinner table without so much as greeting the hosts. Or going through someone’s bedroom and pulling out the dresser drawers. Or . . . I don’t know what else to compare it to. And Ralph, when it comes down to it, is not really to blame. Just a wild creature. Untamed.

Now he’s asking Smoker how he’s doing in the new environment. Smoker says he’s fine. No complaints. Has everything, requires nothing. He also contrives to look as if this is not so. Ralph nods and departs. Noble isn’t mentioned at all.

After lunch I’m the last one to get back, because I lingered, shooting the breeze with Shuffle. Upon arrival I’m met by the packmates milling at the door. Not entering it, though.

“Something the matter?” I ask.

“The door,” Lary says, poking it with his fingernail, the one that’s longer and even uglier than the rest.

“So?” I say. “It certainly is, everyone knows that.”

“Locked,” he says.

There goes the nail again, pointing out to me that it’s the door that’s locked, in case I, heaven forbid, would think that it’s actually the wall.