A Traitor Among the Boys by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Author:Phyllis Reynolds Naylor [Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-54820-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 1999-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

Morn!” yelled Caroline.

Mrs. Malloy looked anxiously around the dinner table. “Well, I just didn't know what to say,” she confessed. “We were talking about the coincidence of you and Wally having birthdays only a day apart, and when she invited us over for cake and ice cream, it would have seemed terribly rude to say no.”

“Caroline, it's not going to kill you,” said Mr. Malloy. “You can have a regular celebration on Sunday, but there's no reason we can't go over to the Hatfords’ for an hour on Saturday and wish Wally a happy birthday.”

“Do we have to take him a present?” asked Eddie.

“Well, it seems the most friendly thing to do,” Mrs. Malloy said.

“We each have to bring him a present?” wailed Beth.

“No, we'll find something we can give him from the whole family,” said her mother. “It will be perfectly painless, I assure you.”

“I doubt it,” said Eddie.

It seemed to Caroline as though the Hatfords and the Malloys were destined to live overlapping lives as long as the Malloys stayed in Buckman. Whether this was bad or good, she wasn't sure, but she was sure she didn't want to share her birthday with Wally Hatford.

Nevertheless, she did not want to do one single thing that might affect the play, which was being advertised as The Birth of Buckman. If she insulted Wally, he might not come to rehearsals. If Wally dropped out of the play, Josh wouldn't come either. If Josh didn't come, they might not find a replacement, and if there were no grocer's lazy sons, the whole play might be called off and she herself would lose her chance for the performance of her life.

At school the next day, Caroline left Wally strictly alone. No poking him in the back with her ruler. No sticking him in the arm with her pencil. No blowing on the back of his neck. She did not call him Clyde either.

That evening she saw him at the Buckman Community Players, where he sat reluctantly in the back row of the theater and only went onstage when he had to. Josh, on the other hand, worked eagerly on the scenery, stopping only long enough to say his lines with Beth, and went immediately back to his painting.

“What do you think, Caroline? Do you think Josh likes me?” Beth asked as the girls walked home together afterward.

It was hard to tell. It was obvious that Josh was more interested in painting the scenery than in being in the play, but still, if he didn't like Beth, not even a little, he wouldn't hold hands with her in front of a bunch of people, would he?

“Of course he likes you,” said Caroline. She might be only eight years old—well, almost nine—but Caroline knew perfectly well that if Beth didn't like Josh a little, she wouldn't come to rehearsals.

The rehearsal had gone a little more smoothly this time, the lines said with more expression. Most of the lines were read by a narrator who

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