Hush Little Baby by Caroline B. Cooney Read Free Book Online Page A

will know to go to Mom’s house instead.
    Kit flung the baby’s things into a school backpack that hung on her closet door, wrapped the blanket around the baby, and went downstairs. Slowly, even though she wanted to race, because she had never carried this kind of burden before. She didn’t take the carrier; she was walking home. She would not go by the road. Ed Bing and his awful long low derelict car were out on those roads. She would slip along the edge of the golf course, and it would be safe and beautiful, with sunlight and green grass and golfers choosing their clubs.
    The doorbell rang.
    Ed.
    She was shocked by her weakness. With an infant in her arms, she could not fight, use a phone, run, blockade — anything! The presence of the baby rendered her helpless. Faced with an opponent, she could only hunch her shoulders over the infant and hope for mercy.
    This time she peeked through the view hole high in the center of the front door.
    It was Row, with his little sister.

Chapter 5
    R OWEN MASON HAD DRIVEN around, and he and Muffin had had an ice-cream cone and stopped to look at new sports cars at three dealerships, while Muffin whined and complained and wanted to go back to Aunt Karen’s and see the movies after all and be friends. By now Rowen had forgotten what his fight with Shea had been about, and Muffin had not known in the first place, and Row called Shea to see if Kit had arrived yet, and Shea said, No, and furthermore she wasn’t home, and her parents weren’t home, and earlier today Kit had been headed for her dad’s empty house to pick up some clothes, and why didn’t Row drive over there and round her up and bring her on over so they could decide which pizzas to order. Rowen liked this assignment, which allowed him to get Kit without looking as if he’d chosen to come get Kit. He even liked having his baby sister there as backup, and even admitted it to himself.
    It did not look as if anybody was home. The place had that vacant expression common to Seven Hills, every house just plunked down, not attached to the ground yet; they needed fences and shrubs and old swing sets to look permanent. But while the windows of other houses exhibited neatly tied drapes or hanging bits of lace, Mr. Innes’s house looked sealed, every drape drawn tight, nothing showing but the plain vanilla linings.
    Kit, like Rowen, dressed well. That made them exceptions in school. Kit had her share of torn jeans, sagging pants, old T-shirts, and ripped sweats, and she did wear them, but more often, she wore exactly what Rowen wore: catalog clothing. Beautifully put-together clothes crying out for photographers and a spot on page three.
    It came to him that he and Kit even had the same haircut; but Row’s hair clung to his head, thin and silky, while Kit’s puffed around her head, thick and generous. She wore tiny earrings, no shape or meaning to them, just a dot of sparkle.
    They were both in marching band, and he had been there while she tried on band uniforms. Everybody looked splendid in band uniforms — white creased pants, scarlet jacket, gold buttons, and shoulder fringe. Kit played flute, along with about thirty other girls. Flute was a girl instrument. He himself was a drummer and, in Row’s opinion, the other instruments were just there for looks: Across a football field, you could hear the percussion, and a whiff of brass, but you never heard the flutes except maybe a piccolo.
    Shea played piccolo. Hers was the shrill scream of notes that rose above everything. People who played piccolo had no fears.
    He loved marching band. The swoop and maneuver of the band on the field was so beautiful. Wind might whisk away the sound of the trumpets and the trombones from half the field, but it could not take away the gleaming beauty of the horns.
    He thought maybe he and Kit could start with a band conversation, talk about the new pattern they were learning, the new conductor they weren’t so sure of, the upcoming schedule,