Somewhere I Belong by Glenna Jenkins Read Free Book Online

the prospect of facing thirty new kids, in nine different grades, all crammed into one room. Besides, we hadn’t even unpacked. And I was sure I was coming down with something, after the long trip. To move things along some, I decided to try a trick my best friend, Jimmy O’Connor, had pulled on his parents back home—one that, for sure, got him a day off school.
    I slipped out of bed and eased the covers over a sleeping Alfred. Then I tiptoed across the room, picked the porcelain jug off the washstand, and carried it down to the kitchen. Granny had put a large pot of water on to boil for what Uncle Jim called “the morning’s ablutions.”
    â€œI’ll bet you can’t wait to see your new school, Pius James,” she said as she poured steaming water into my jug. When I moved to pull it off the counter, she touched my hand. “You’ll scald yourself; we’ll put some cold in.”
    â€œI like it hot.” When I eased the jug off the counter she didn’t suspect a thing.
    I carried it cautiously, being careful not to slosh scalding water over my hands. Steam rolled up my face, half-blinding me, forcing me to feel around with a foot to find each stair. I quietly re-entered the bedroom and slowly poured the water into the basin. I found a facecloth and dipped it into the water. I held it up by a corner and let it drip until I could wring it out without scalding my hands. I folded it, placed it across my forehead, felt the near-burn, and left it there for several seconds. I did this a second time and a third, leaving water on my face so it looked like sweat. I checked in the mirror. Satisfied that my face looked flushed and my forehead and cheeks were damp enough, I returned downstairs.
    Uncle Jim and Larry came through the back door, each carrying a load of firewood. They trod across the kitchen floor, trailing snow behind them, and dropped the wood into the box by the cookstove. Ma sauntered into the kitchen in her bathrobe and poured a mug of coffee. When I was sure everyone was there, I moved toward the sink. Aunt Gert was working the handle of the faucet and filling the kettle. I edged in beside her, leaned over the sink, and coughed loudly. Everyone kept right on doing what they were doing, like I wasn’t even there. So I turned, faced the room, leaned back, put a hand over my mouth, and coughed again. Louder this time. Then I let out a long, sorrowful moan. It was tough sounding hoarse when my throat wasn’t dry.
    â€œThat’s quite a cough, Pius James,” Aunt Gert said.
    I covered my mouth and forced a sombre look.
    Uncle Jim pulled his boots off in the mudroom and entered the kitchen. “You look a little flushed, young fella.” He laid his jacket and mitts across the back of a chair, leaned over me, and put his hand on my forehead. “You got a real sweat goin’ on there. You feelin’ okay?”
    â€œI’m fine.” Jimmy O’Connor had advised me to add a little drama. So I let my eyelids sink to half-mast.
    â€œPerhaps we’ll get old Granny to take a look.” My uncle took me by the shoulders and trotted me over to her.
    Granny held my head in both hands and gave me a grave look. “Tilt your head back.”
    I did.
    She brushed the hair off my forehead and held her hand to it. “Hmm, doesn’t feel hot.” She pulled down my eyelids, one at a time. “Look up at the ceiling.”
    I did that too.
    â€œShow me that tongue.”
    Out it went.
    â€œCould be a sore throat.” From the serious look on Granny’s face, I figured my plan was working. I waited for the bit about no school, but it didn’t come.
    Uncle Jim turned to the icebox, opened the door, and retrieved a small, brown, translucent bottle that contained a thick liquid. Then he winked at Granny. “I’ve got just the thing.”
    â€œNow, Jim,” Granny said.
    â€œThis here’s good stuff.” He poured