The Indian in the Cupboard Series by Lynne Reid Banks

Author:Lynne Reid Banks [ Banks, Lynne Reid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-449-81036-1
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2012-06-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

A Good Luck Piece

Little Bear’s recovery was little short of miraculous. The operation was a complete success. By the next day he was sitting up, demanding food and other services, not particularly grateful for his deliverance and, in general, very much himself as Omri remembered him.

He was unable to hide his delight at seeing Omri again. He tried to conceal his feelings behind a mask of dignity, but through his wooden expression his black eyes gleamed and a grin kept twitching at his stern mouth.

“Omri grow much,” he remarked between slurps of a mug of hot instant soup. (There was a distinct shortage of toothpaste tops throughout the house, which Omri’s mother was to remark on.) “But still only boy. Not chief, like Little Bear.”

“Are you a real chief now?” Omri asked. He was sitting on the floor beside the chest, gazing in rapture at his little Indian, restored to him, and, almost, to health.

Little Bear nodded impressively. “Father die. Little Bear chief of tribe.”

Omri glanced at Bright Stars. How much had she told him of the tragedy which had overtaken their village? She seemed to understand his thought and signaled him quickly behind Little Bear’s back. Omri nodded. Much better not to say too much until Little Bear was stronger. He hadn’t asked any questions yet.

Patrick had stayed for breakfast and then, reluctantly, phoned his mother. He came back up to Omri’s room looking bleak.

“She says I’ve got to come back,” he said. “We’re leaving today. I asked if I could stay and come back later, but she said I have to leave here in an hour.”

Omri didn’t say anything. He didn’t see how Patrick could bear to leave. To make matters worse, Omri’s parents had particularly asked if he could stay over another night. They were going to a party that evening and would be home late. Adiel and Gillon would be out too. There’d be a baby-sitter of course, but she was a stodgy old lady, and Patrick would be company for Omri. Omri thought Patrick’s mother was being entirely unreasonable, and said so. Patrick was inclined to agree.

Meanwhile, they had this hour. They decided to spend it talking and doing things for the Indians. The first thing Little Bear asked for was his old longhouse, built by himself when he’d been with Omri last year. Fortunately, Omri still had it, or what was left of it. It had been made on a seed tray packed with earth, but this had dried out in the interval, so that several of the upright posts had come adrift and some of the bark tiles, so carefully shaped by Little Bear and hung on the crosspieces, had shriveled and dropped off.

When Little Bear saw his derelict masterwork he had to be forcibly restrained from leaping out of bed immediately to repair it.

“How Omri let fall down? Why Omri not mend?” he shouted wrathfully.

Omri knew better than to argue.

“I couldn’t do it like you can,” he said. “My fingers are too big.

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