The Bone Flute by Patricia Bow Read Free Book Online Page A

mouth opening … saying … “Oh!”
    There it was, out in the open, complete and shocking. The truth about Terence. “Oh my gosh …”
    Krystal snickered. “Completely ga-ga!”
    â€œOh, come on, it’s not worth it,” Nadia muttered.
    Camrose pushed between them and ran behind the line of lawn chairs to Mark’s end. The game was nearly over. Soon as he came off the field she’d grab him … “Great game!”
    She whirled around. Terence stood right behind her. His jacket was slung over his shoulder, hooked by one finger. She hovered, then decided to stay put. There couldn’t be any danger, not here with all these people around. She folded her arms to hide her trembling hands. “Okay, so who are you, really?”
    â€œWhat? Who on earth do you think I am?”
    â€œI don’t know. I just know you’re not my cousin Terence.”
    â€œAh … so you remember now.” He laughed softly. “Can’t fool you for long, can I? Watch it, Camrose, don’t get so sharp you cut yourself.”
    She lifted her chin and tried to look sure of herself. “I think you’d better explain who you are and what you’re up to.”
    â€œMm … ” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I think not. You see, I may not be able to fool the Keeper for long, but that won’t matter, because I can fool anybody else.”
    â€œI’ll tell Bronwyn.”
    â€œGo ahead. She’ll think it over—slo-o-owly—and then say, ‘Camrose, you must have made a mistake.’” He pitched his voice high. Camrose felt her face turn red. How dare he make fun of Bronwyn?
    â€œI could call my father.”
    â€œYes, that would be your logical next step. But no matter what you tell him, I guarantee, what he hears will be some–thing different. That’s if you can get through. I hear the phone lines out east are pretty bad lately.” He dropped his jacket to the grass and applauded. “Hey, great save!”
    He folded his arms and settled himself to watch the game. Camrose backed up, but stayed near enough to keep an eye on him.
    He was right, of course. She remembered yesterday evening at the kitchen table and today in Market Square. Terence would have no problem wrapping Bronwyn around his finger. He’d probably have no trouble sabotaging the phone line, either.
    But why was he doing this? How was he doing it? Who was he? What was he up to?
    Then she remembered something else. He’d called her the Keeper. And so had Miranda. Gilda had used the word too.
    Keeper. Keeper of what? They all knew more about her than she did herself. That wasn’t fair. Her hands curled into fists. Worse: it was just plain wrong, the way Terence had lied and fooled everybody and made fun of them and tried to push them around. Well, if he wouldn’t say what he was up to, she’d watch him and find out.
    Shouts of victory. Game over, and Lynx Landing had won again. Terence stretched, picked up his jacket, looked at the fading sunset and started off toward the woods.
    Mark was in the middle of a crowd of cheering players, all thumping him on the back. They’d be celebrating for a while and Terence was almost out of sight. Camrose bounced on the spot for a moment, then made up her mind and headed for the woods.
    On the cedar path under the trees, she crept forward, the soft chips almost silent underfoot. Just before the path entered the hollow she stepped sideways behind an old lilac thicket and crouched down.
    Next moment Mark scrunched in beside her, breathing hard. “Hey, why’d you run? What’s the—”
    â€œShh! He’s in the hollow.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œTerence. Only he’s not Terence.”
    The ghost house was ablaze. This time Camrose noticed that just as there was no sound, there was no smell of burning either. And the yellow light didn’t touch the trees. It