Farewell Summer by Ray Bradbury Read Free Book Online Page A

they’re going to remember our faces and we’re going to get in trouble. It was bad enough with the chess pieces out front of the courthouse. We were seen, and we had to give everything back. So, why don’t we wait until it’s all locked up?”
    “We can’t do that. I just said why.”
    “Tell you what,” said Tom. “Why don’t I go in now and hide in the men’s until everyone’s gone home? Then I’ll sneak upstairs and let you in one of the windows near the clock tower. Up there, on the third fl oor.” He pointed to a spot high up the ancient brick walls.
    “Hey!” said all the gang.
    “That won’t work,” said Doug.
    “Why not?” said Tom.
    Before Doug had time to think of a reason, Charlie piped up.
    “Sure it’ll work,” said Charlie. “Tom’s right. Tom, you want to go in and hide now?”
    “Sure,” said Tom.
    Everyone was looking at Doug, still their general, and he had to give his approval.
    “What I don’t like,” said Doug, “is smart alecks who think they know everything. Okay, go in and hide. When it gets dark, let us in.”
    “Okay,” said Tom.
    And he was gone.
    People were coming out through the big bronze doors and Doug and the others pulled back around the corner of the building and waited for the sun to go down.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    The courthouse was finally completely quiet and the night was dark and the boys climbed up the fire escape on the side of the building, very quietly, until they got up to the third floor, near the clock tower.
    They stopped at the window where Tom was supposed to appear, but no one was there.
    “Gosh,” said Doug. “I hope he didn’t get locked in the men’s room.”
    “They never lock the men’s room,” said Charlie. “He’ll be here.”
    And sure enough, all of a sudden, there was Tom behind the glass pane, waving to them and opening and shutting his mouth, but they couldn’t hear what he was saying.
    At long last he raised the window and the smell of the courthouse rushed out into the night around them.
    “Get in,” commanded Tom.
    “We are,” said Doug, angrily.
    One by one the boys crawled inside the courthouse and snuck along the hallways till they reached the clock machinery door.
    “I bet you,” said Tom, “this darned door’s locked, too.”
    “No bets,” said Doug, and rattled the doorknob. “Good grief! Tom, I hate to say it, but you’re right. Has anybody got a fi recracker?”
    Suddenly six hands reached into six dungaree pockets and just as suddenly reappeared with three four-inchers and a few fi ve-inch crackers.
    “It’s no good,” said Tom, “unless someone has matches.”
    More hands reached out with matches in each.
    Doug stared at the door.
    “How can we fix the crackers so they’ll really do some good when they go off?”
    “Glue,” said Tom.
    Doug shook his head, scowling.
    “Yeah, glue, right,” he said. “Does anyone just happen to have any glue on them?”
    A single hand reached out on the air. It was Pete’s.
    “Here’s some Bulldog glue,” he said. “Bought it for my airplane models and because I like the great picture of the bulldog on the label.”
    “Let’s give it a try.”
    Doug applied glue along the length of one of the five-inchers and pressed it against the outside of the machinery room door.
    “Stand back,” he said, and struck a match.
    With his mob back in the shadows and his hands over his ears, Doug waited for the cracker to go off . The orange flame sizzled and zipped along the fuse.
    There was a beautiful explosion.
    For a long moment they all stared at the door in disappointment and then, very slowly, it drifted open.
    “I was right,” said Tom.
    “Why don’t you just shut up,” said Doug. “C’mon.”
    He pulled the door and it opened wide.
    There was a sound below.
    “Who’s there?” a voice cried from deep down in the courthouse.
    “Ohmigosh,” whispered Tom. “I bet that’s the janitor.”
    “Who’s up there?” the voice cried