Another Kind of Hurricane by Tamara Ellis Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

corner of the dough into a thin rectangle. “Perfect,” she said. “See that? The thin sheet? See howit doesn’t break? That means it’s ready to rise. You’re a natural. Now break the dough into two sections and shape them into rounds,” said Ms. Cyn, handing Zavion a wooden paddle with a long handle. “Put them on this, okay? Then all you do is wait and let them rise.”
    Let them rise
.
    Zavion liked the sound of that.

chapter 16

HENRY
    Henry sat at the base of the big pine tree behind his house. School was only just out, he figured, and he didn’t want to go inside until Mom was back fom her errand.
    He’d never cut before. Wayne had, and he’d tried to get Henry to do it with him, but Henry had been too scared. He’d felt a funny feeling in his belly like he did on Valentine’s Day, the one holiday his dad sent him anything, a crazy-ton of candy that he always ate before breakfast. Just thinking about cutting made him feel that way, so he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to actually do it.
    One time Wayne wanted him to cut school so they could climb Mount Mansfield and spend the whole day up there. Henry had been tempted to say yes, but Brae had sat down between them, looked up at Henry, and yowled. Brae kept Henry on the straight and narrow. But Wayne had begged him so hard and for so long that Henry finally suggested they leavereally early one weekend morning and spend the day on the mountain. Wayne said that was boring, but what if they slept up there one night? And even though Henry had felt a little of that candy-in-the-belly feeling, he swallowed it down and said he’d ask Mom. Wayne said no, that he wanted to sneak out of the house one night and do it, and the sickly sweet feeling got bigger, and so Henry said no, but Wayne grabbed the idea between his teeth like Brae with a bone and he wouldn’t let go.
    Brae had been taking a nap at the time or he wouldn’t have ever let Henry agree to the plan.
    Wayne had sealed the deal. “It’s your turn with the marble,” he said. “You’ve got the luck. Nothing’s gonna happen. We won’t get caught.”
    Henry had felt in his pocket, felt the cool, smooth curve of the marble, and that was when he’d said, “Okay, let’s do it.”
    Henry stared up at Mansfield from under the pine tree. He would never, ever get out from under the accusing fingers and glares pointed right at him. Every single tree and rock blamed him, and every stream shouted
you did this, you did this, you did this
as they flowed down the mountain. He could see Mansfield from every window in his house.
    Mom pulled into the driveway. Henry waited until she’d gone inside, and then he walked around the house to the front door and let himself in.
    “How was school?” Mom called from the kitchen.
    “Fine.”
    Mom came into the mudroom. “Was it really? You didn’t have to go, you know—I was worried—but then I thought it might feel better to be there—”
    “I said it was fine,” said Henry sharply.
    Mom put her hand on Henry’s cheek. “Okay, okay,” she said quietly. And then she changed the subject. “I brought the clothes to the police station,” she said brightly.
    Henry pulled himself away from Mom. “What clothes?”
    “Don’t worry,” Mom said. “I didn’t take Wayne’s.”
    “Which ones did you take?” Henry ran for the stairs.
    “The ones on the floor,” Mom called after him.
    Henry flew into his room. The Wayne he had built was still lying on his floor. But the rest of the clothes were gone. Including his blue jeans.
    With the marble in the pocket.
    Henry yanked open his dresser drawer. Maybe Mom had put the jeans back. He threw sweatpants and shorts and corduroys on the floor. No blue jeans.
    “What are you looking for?” Mom had followed Henry up the stairs.
    “My blue jeans! Where are my blue jeans?”
    “I gave them away.”
    “But I wear them, Mom!”
    “They were too big. I don’t know why your father bought them for you. He