Fala by Kate Klimo

Author:Kate Klimo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2016-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

Professor Sam takes me aside and says, “Fala, the fish trick? It’s starting to get a little old. I think it’s time you gave it up.”

Och, well. I can take a hint. No more flip-flops for Fala.

—

Summer of ’41 comes on hot and humid. Some nights, it gets so roasty-toasty I have to crawl out from beneath the Boss’s bed and sleep stretched out on the cool marble floor. At the beginning of August, the Boss tells reporters we are getting out of town. We are taking a cruise on the USS Potomac up to Maine “to get some cool nights.” No one knows—not Tully, not even Eleanor—that we are really going on a Secret Mission. But I’ll tell you who does know: the Boss’s two grown lads, Elliott and Franklin, Jr., because they are coming with us. This tells me that wherever we are going, the Boss is going to be doing some walking. The Boss fancies leaning on his lads when he walks.

We are two days out to sea when a huge navy cruiser comes alongside us. The USS Augusta is big enough to swallow the wee Potomac. I run back and forth on deck, barking, as the crew moves all our gear from the Potomac onto the Augusta. Then we board the Augusta.

The Boss seems happy and excited. Up the coast toward Canada we steam, escorted by a fleet of navy destroyers. I sit up on deck and give the hairy eyeball to these ships.

I know something is up on the day when the Boss gets out of his bunk and puts on a fancy suit. Suits are for land, not for boats and ships. He has also put on those leg braces of his. Today, the Boss is going to stand up and walk. Och! Walk on board a ship? Is he off his head?

On the bridge, the captain announces that the British ship HMS Prince of Wales is across the bay from us. We all watch as a launch boat departs from her port side and plows through the water toward us. Standing with the Boss are his lads, both dressed in their soldier uniforms.

The launch comes alongside. Our captain hails them. A military band strikes up a tune as a chubby little man with pink skin and a face like a bulldog comes aboard. Leaning heavily on Elliott and a cane, the Boss makes his way across the deck to meet the man. I fret. What if a big wave should come along, jostle the ship, and send the Boss sprawling onto his presidential bahookie? Mercifully, the sea remains calm. The chubby little man meets the Boss halfway. They clasp hands and smile at one another.

I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

“At last—we’ve gotten together,” the Boss says. Nodding, the other man replies, “We have.”

The man gives the Boss an envelope. I later learn it is a letter from the king of England himself.

No one notices when I go up and sniff at the trouser leg of the chubby little man.

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