The Gray House полностью

“None other!” Stinker made a circle around the room, spokes glistening. “I ask you, have you ever heard anything this outrageous? They’re not letting me have them. Asking who sent them and why. How’s that their business? They were sent to me, which means they’re mine. So it follows they must hand them over.”

“So you turned around and left, just like that?” Wolf said.

“As if! I made a scene. Now I need some time to recuperate, and then I’ll go back and make another one. Except I need a poster. Mind drawing it for me?”

Grasshopper laughed.

“Nothing funny about it,” Stinker said indignantly. “This pile of useful stuff is rotting away in the principal’s office. Not funny at all! Come on, quick . . . Get to the drawing! And writing!”

He wheeled over to the nightstand and rustled some papers.

“Don’t we have a large poster board? I don’t get it. It’s like the most useful thing to have around.”

“We could use a bedsheet,” Magician piped in with enthusiasm. “We can cut it in half . . . We’ll need a couple of sticks for the handles.”

“One handle is enough,” Stinker said sharply. “I’m going to need my other hand to blow the trumpet.”

They sat on the floor in front of the remains of the sheet and nibbled on the brushes thoughtfully.

“Something along the lines of Don’t Tread on Me,” Stinker insisted. “Or Hands Off . . . something or other.”

“Or maybe Packages for the Owner?” Humpback suggested.

“We could do that too,” Stinker agreed reluctantly. “Even though it sounds trite.”

Beauty fondled the paint cans. Elephant drew a sun on the floor. Wolf got to writing Packages in blue paint.

“Careful. Keep it on the line,” Stinker fretted. “Make the letters bigger.”

“We could just pick the lock,” Siamese Rex said, “and carry everything away. At night. Then we wouldn’t need to write anything.”

“No way! Stealing something that’s rightfully mine? No, they must hand it over themselves,” Stinker said, smoothing out the sheet. “They’re bound to regret their decision. They’re going to beg me: ‘Come, oh, come and take them!’”

“Fourteen packages,” Magician sighed reverently.

“See what I mean? Totally worth the effort.”

Once the slogan Packages for the Owner was ready, Magician demanded they make another copy, for him. Wolf said that two identical banners was boring, and in the time it took the “Packages” one to dry they wrote Down with Dictatorship on the other half of the sheet, and also Hands Off Student Property on a poster board. Then they glued handles to the sheets.

“Faster! Faster!” Magician urged.

“Can we come too?” one of the Siamese asked.

“Later,” Stinker said sternly. “You’re the second line. For when we get exhausted. Then it will be your turn to shout ‘Shame!’ and rattle something.”

Beauty suddenly grew agitated, stuttering excitedly, “Four apples! Four! That’s a lot!”

“Beauty will provide juice,” Wolf translated. “And Siamese will bring it over. To revive your stamina. The juice of four apples.”

Beauty beamed. Stinker patted his arm.

“Thank you. Your valuable contribution to the just cause shall not be forgotten. I’ll give you a lemon to make the contribution even more valuable.”

Magician, Stinker, and Humpback took the slogans and left. Siamese went looking for something they could rattle. Beauty bustled around the juice maker. Elephant brought him one more apple. Wolf lay on the floor and closed his eyes.

Grasshopper sat on his bed. He was dying to find out what Stinker was going to do, but was self-conscious about it. It was going to be something noisy and shameful, and the entire House was going to come gawk at it. Siamese dug out the salad bowl, the bear trap, and the ladle, and then set to picking up the scraps of paper off the floor and closing the paint cans, gingerly stepping around Wolf.

“Fourteen packages,” they whispered to each other, licking their lips.

Beauty reverently operated the juice maker. Elephant held the pan under the spout, watching it fill up with the transparent yellowish juice.

Then they too headed off. Elephant carried the bottle of juice. Beauty carried nothing. Siamese carried the things they were going to rattle. Beauty fretted. He could only manage to make it through the door on the third try, and for that Siamese had to wedge him between themselves and march him out like a prisoner between two guards.

Wolf lay on the floor. Blind lay on his bed.

Blind can hear everything anyway, Grasshopper thought. He doesn’t need to go. He’s both here and there at the same time.

Grasshopper slid down from the bed and sat on the floor.

“Ancient’s leaving,” he said. “Forever. He’s not going to be in the House anymore. He’s afraid of something. Something that’s going to happen in the summer before the seniors have to leave.”

Wolf opened his eyes.

“How do you know? You mean you talked to him?”

Grasshopper nodded.