Seven Clues to Home by Gae Polisner & Nora Raleigh Baskin

Author:Gae Polisner & Nora Raleigh Baskin [Polisner, Gae & Baskin, Nora Raleigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2020-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

“What are you doing here?” The hand squeezes tighter.

I don’t look up. I didn’t steal anything, but I did trespass, I guess. Acted like I had the right to go sticking clues under merchandise.

“Lukas?” The deep voice sounds familiar. I bring myself to look up. “It’s nice to see you here. How’s your summer going?”

It’s not the owner scolding me for anything at all. My heart does a smile. It’s Mr. Carter, from second grade.

I mean, I think it is. His black, curly hair is grayish now, and shorter, right to his head, while his face looks younger than I remember, which makes those two things contradictory. But when I look a little longer, he has the same eye-crinkling smile, and I definitely know the voice, so I’m sure. He holds a tackle box in his free hand. A white bucket, with a rod sticking out, sits next to him on the ground. He must be heading down to the marina.

A feeling of guilt washes over me. I always liked Mr. Carter and meant to go say hi to him but haven’t seen him in so long because he’s still in the elementary school, and Joy and me have been in the middle school for a whole year. And even before we moved to the middle school for sixth grade, the fourth and fifth grades were in a whole other wing from the lower grades. So unless he was on cafeteria duty or something, I didn’t really run into him.

But here he is now, smiling, with his booming voice and big old hand on my shoulder. I look down, self-consciously for a second, then remember what he taught us and force myself to look back up at him again and hold my gaze there.

He nods, proud-like, and says, “So, now, a proper greeting,” and holds his hand out to me to shake, and I nearly start laughing. Because now I remember this hilarious thing he used to do when we were in his class, when he was always teaching us things besides reading and math. Things he learned in the navy, he said, serving our country. Like always be polite, always walk with your head held up, and never ever look down like you’re afraid. And when you’re talking to someone, always look them sharp in the eyes. Speak clearly and slowly, with a purpose, and always, always, shake a new person’s hand.

“Firm grip, like this, like you mean it.” He’d demonstrate, holding his hand straight in mid-air to shake an invisible person’s. Then he’d loosen his fingers and drop his wrist down, all floppy, and say, “None of this I’m-shaking-hands-with-a-dead-fish type of thing.”

He was strict about it, too, and every once in a while, he would line us all up for a handshaking drill, and each of us would have to walk across the room to him, one at a time, head up, and say, “Hello, Mr. Carter, how are you?” looking him straight in the eye.

I

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