Dandelion Fire by N. D. Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

sat in a chair beside Uncle Frank while Dotty talked to someone about his parents' insurance.
    “Couldn't get ahold of ‘em,” Frank said.
    “Who?” Henry asked.
    “Phil and Urs. We got all old numbers. Dots couldn't find that lawyer letter, or we would have called them.”
    “You gave it to me,” Henry said. “And I threw it in the field before the storm.”
    “Right,” Frank said. “Well, that's probably the best place for it. Could be useful out there.”
    Henry sat up in his chair. “Uncle Frank,” he said. “Do you think there's nothing wrong with me?”
    “Of course there's something wrong with you, Henry.” Henry listened to the sound of his uncle scratching a stubbled jaw. “Right now, I'd say your eyes are wrong. If lightning didn't do it, then something did. But I'm glad they're not busted. There's a difference between busted and just not working.”
    “Do you think they'll start working?”
    “I do,” Richard said. Henry had forgotten he was there.
    “Don't know,” Frank said. “Have to wait and see, I guess.”
    Henry sagged back down in his chair. “Or wait and not,” he muttered.
    “All set!” Dotty said. Her hands picked up Henry's, and he stood, waiting to be guided. A smooth arm slid beneath his, and he was turned.
    Smelling his aunt, Henry listened to the world go by. The television faded behind him, and the automatic doors slid open. People passing, talking, and then the aircrawling over his face and around his ears, his shoes on asphalt, cars starting, stopping, turning, and eventually, the squeal of the truck door opening, the sighing springs in the old seat, the smell of dust older than he was in the upholstery, the doors slamming, and the muffled thumping of Richard in the truck bed. Finally, the click of the key and the slow throbbing complaint of the engine before it exploded into life.
    The explosions would pull them home.
    Henrietta walked downstairs. She'd pulled her wet hair back into a tight ponytail, and she was wearing an old sweatshirt she'd stolen from her father months ago.
    Zeke and her sisters were sitting around the table. They'd given him a glass of lemonade, but it was all ice now. He was leaning his lean frame back in his chair, passing an old baseball hat from hand to hand. A line in his short hair showed where he usually wore it.
    “Hey, Henrietta,” he said.
    She smiled and stood beside Penny's chair. Zeke knew everything about the old house and the attic cupboards. At least he knew as much as Anastasia and Penelope. He'd ruined his wooden bat on the witch's head. The blood spatters had burned Henry's jaw.
    They were all looking at her. Her face had to be different. She'd just watched people die. She'd almost died with them. Her sisters never would have known what happened to her. But they would have known that she'd done something horribly stupid. How much waterwould have come through that door? Henry, Kansas, could have become a saltwater lake.
    Penelope stood up and pointed to Zeke's glass. “Like some more lemonade?”
    “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.” And he handed it to her.
    “Henrietta,” Anastasia said. “Tell him about Henry's eyes. Do you think he'll be—” Anastasia stopped.
    Henrietta put her arms around Penny and squeezed her tight. She didn't know why it was embarrassing, hugging her sister, but it was. She didn't care. She could feel tears building up in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She wasn't going to do that again. Letting go of her sister, she stepped back, puffed out her cheeks, and looked at the three faces watching her.
    Penny was smiling. Zeke didn't look surprised at all. Anastasia's mouth was open, and she stared blankly.
    “Sorry,” Henrietta said. “I think I'm going to lie down. Henry's eyelids were swollen this morning, and he couldn't see. That's all I know. Did Mom and Dad call?”
    “Just when they got there,” Penny said. “They didn't know anything yet.”
    Anastasia leaned forward onto the