100 Cupboards by N. D. Wilson

Author:N. D. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Young Adult, Childrens, Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure
ISBN: 9780375849862
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-12-01T10:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Henry spent the early afternoon covering the unlabeled cupboards with paper name tags. Henrietta had obviously wanted to come up to his room, but she just as obviously hadn’t wanted to ask Henry’s permission. As for Henry, he was in no mood to extend an invitation. She would come tonight, and that was more than soon enough. He didn’t know where Henrietta was or what she was doing, and he didn’t care. Grandfather’s key was in his pocket, and that meant she wasn’t getting into any more trouble. She’s probably in her room, Henry thought. Bored and angry. Or angry and bored.

He was right.

Occasionally Henry shivered and rubbed his still-chilled wrist or sucked on his knuckles. His body felt strange. He’d never experienced as much adrenaline as he had that morning, and now, with all of it gone and only cold memory remaining, shivers turned into wobbles and his joints felt soft.

Eventually Henry stood up and shook himself, knowing that he had to get out of his little room. Out of the house and into the sun. He nestled the key to the mailbox, Grandfather’s key, the journal, the two confusing letters, and the postcard in a drawer, beneath his socks. He thought about telling Henrietta where he was going, but after a moment’s hesitation near the landing, he moved on quietly. She could figure it out.

He walked into town and stopped at Zeke’s house. Then he followed Zeke’s mother’s directions to the field where Zeke and his friends were playing. Henry joined in without fear. The sun was on his back and warmed his neck. The shivers were gone.

Henry was not the worst batter, nor was he the worst fielder. He was in a group of very average boys. Most were too lazy to do things right, and only a few diligently pursued proper technique at the plate or in the field. Zeke was one of those few, but he had long ago grown comfortable with the apathy that surrounded him—the perpetual foul balls, pop-ups, overthrows, and errors.

Henry successfully kept his mind on the game, which might seem strange for a boy who slept beside a wall of magic. But baseball was as magical to him as a green, mossy mountain covered in ancient trees. What’s more, baseball was a magic he could run around in and laugh about. While the magic of the cupboards was not necessarily good, the smell of leather mixed with dusty sweat and spitting and running through sparse grass after a small ball couldn’t be anything else.

Henry played until he was worried that his aunt and uncle would get home and wonder where he was. He made his farewells and started back through the empty, potholed streets of Henry, Kansas, toward the Willises’ side of town. It was as far as he had ever walked by himself, and the freedom of it smelled as good to him as the mitt string he chewed on.

“Wait up!” Zeke’s voice was followed by a whistle. Henry turned as Zeke jogged to catch up to him.

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