Sonata #1 by Phoebe Stone

Author:Phoebe Stone [STONE, PHOEBE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780316090063
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2009-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

We left the park at about six o’clock in the evening. Woolsey was starving, so we drove around in the downtown area until we found a diner. Now it’s nighttime, and we’re finally heading into North Lockwell, Massachusetts, the next town over, where Christina’s summerhouse is.

“Look at the difference between these two towns,” says Desmona, throwing her head back against the seat. “Talk about complete opposites. Unfair or what?” North Lockwell seems to be a fancy ocean resort town, but it’s off-season so the little shops near the water are boarded up. We drive around through tall clipped and shaped hedges that look strange, like dark pointed blocks in the night.

Riley pulls up in front of a huge Victorian house with an elaborate wraparound porch. But it’s all dark and vacant-looking. “Here we are,” he says. “This is Christina’s summer place.”

“Well, Riley,” says Des, “we can see very clearly she’s not here. It’s still spring— off-season. No one’s here.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” says Riley, cranking on the hand brake. He climbs out of the car, tossing his long legs over the door, not bothering to open it.

“Woolsey,” says Desmona, “when you fall in love, I hope you never act this stupid.”

And Woolsey says, “Not a chance. I’m already in love, and I haven’t done anything stupid yet.”

Des and I look at each other. Eyes wide, mouths shut.

Riley hunches down and tiptoes up to the gate, clicks it open, and crosses the front lawn like the stealthy Pink Panther. We follow him up onto the large creaking porch. The ocean crashes not far away—just beyond the side steps off the porch. We can’t see it—we can just hear it roaring in the darkness with the wind in the trees above us and a lighthouse bell clanging in the distance.

We put our faces to the murky window glass and look into the enormous living room, which is empty except for a few chairs and couches draped in white sheets. There’s a great mirror above the fireplace, and we can see ourselves reflected, peering in, in the shadows.

“Riley, give it up,” says Desmona. “She’s not here. We’re way too early. No one’s here at all.”

The wind rushes in the leaves and the ocean crashes. All around us are these huge closed-up empty houses sitting among clipped hedges. One big house on the prow of the hill is completely black except for a faint yellow light in one little window on the third floor. We sit on the wide, windblown steps overlooking the ocean that we can’t see.

“How long do you think we should wait before we go back?” says Desmona.

“I don’t think we should go back,” says Woolsey. “I can’t get into any more trouble. The social worker will take me away from my dad. My dad needs me. He thinks he’s still in Normandy. He can’t get past the beaches of Normandy, France.”

“As soon as the moon rises above the clouds,” says Riley. “That’s when we’ll go back.”

The four of us sit on Christina’s ocean steps, waiting for the moon to sail over the clouds.

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