Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff Read Free Book Online Page B

ice.
    Someone at the tiller said, “They come from the sky.”
    Dropped by the Creator.
    A house spun by, a flag.
    He looked up and up, and saw
—
    an island, shaped like a heart.
    In front was a rosy stone wall
,
and higher
,
    a castle surrounded by trees, with more towers
    than he could count. Roofs, tall and round, met the sky
,
    windows reflecting water.
    Inside, men working.
    Footsteps. Whose footsteps? His own?
    He wanted to stay and look at that castle forever.
    “A bold castle,” someone said.
    “Yes, bold.”

11
The Castle
    Middle Ages. Middle of the night. He'd been dreaming.
    His eyes were closed, but he heard himself saying it aloud.
    He sat up, and looked out the window. Yes, still dark, but he was wide awake. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the floor cold underneath.
    He fished around for his sneakers, his jeans, his warm sweatshirt, then went to the door with Night Cat behind him. He was losing the dream already. He stood there with his hand on the knob, willing himself to remember: a castle, but not like the pictures Mrs. Stanek had given him.
    Downstairs, he stopped in the kitchen for a handful of Rice Krispies, then went to the workroom and flipped on the overhead light.
    He looked at the picture he'd drawn for Caroline, and the castle they'd begun. They were wrong, something a little kid might draw. The castle would end up flat-sided, with only the turrets on top to give it any detail.
    It wasn't like the dream castle at all. The dream castle didn't have turrets. It had towers, some rounded, some square, with roofs of tile, and the stone walls of the castle itself jutted out here and there—
    Windows, too many to count.
    High, so high above—
    Above what?
    That part of the dream was gone already. And even though he tried to bring it back, it was too late. People had been in the castle, people he knew, but they were gone too. Only the sound of loud feet, a kid's feet. His feet? Someone might have come after him, whispering, “Shhh.”
    But it was the dream castle he wanted to work on. It was the castle he'd build.
    He could do this, really do it. Never mind school. Never mind Mrs. Stanek. Never mind anyone but himself. And Caroline.
Don't forget Caroline.
    He'd build this castle, finish it before she left, think about every detail.
    He drew what he could remember on the back of his original drawing. Sketched it in, Mrs. Mallett, the art teacher, would have said. He didn't pay attention to scale, or to getting it exactly right. It was just so he'd remember before the dream lost itself entirely.
    He thought of going back to bed, but he was wide awake. He reached for Anima's birthday book on the shelf over his table, paging through, searching, until he found a small cabinet with panels on the sides. He studied it; then in another few pages he found a drawing that showed a column. He saw how they were done; he could use both.
    He took a second piece of paper and a ruler, counted, drew, erased, and started over, feeling the pull in his back from bending over for so long. But at last he had a drawing with scale to it.
    He took wood from the bin and began to measure— to draw in lines— to cut the first piece— and the second.
    He kept going. Five pieces each for the sides, and he talked it out as he worked. “Two the same size for the ends, three smaller to form a section that juts out.”
    The front would need more, not only parts that jutted out into squares, but pieces to form columns.
    It seemed like only minutes, but he realized it was much later when he looked up to see light coming in the window, the sky separating itself from the water. A pair of mourning doves cooed their song to each other, and a jay screeched from the top of a willow tree.
    Sam worked on the wood until it was almost time for Mack to awaken; then he laid the pieces flat on his table.
    Later he'd sand both sides of each one, even though onlyone side would face out; the inside would be as smooth as the outside.
    He