The Planet of Junior Brown by Virginia Hamilton Read Free Book Online

want,” Junior said, as softly as he could.
    The bright smile Miss Peebs flashed at Junior was out of keeping with her obvious fear and whispering. “Why, who said I needed your father to come here?” she asked Junior. “You’re not to tell your father or anyone!” Glancing toward the living room, she said, “I thought I could nurse him back to health—you know, he isn’t well—but he doesn’t seem to know or care how bad off he is. Twice when I’ve been busy in the back, he has slipped out of the apartment. I have no idea how many people he’s infected. I do want to keep him in the house until he’s well enough to leave. Oh, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be well.”
    Junior had long since stopped wondering about Miss Peebs’ occasional queer behavior. Being with her in her house was much like being with Mr. Pool in the basement of the school. He didn’t have to change himself over to suit either one of them. Neither she nor Mr. Pool ever bothered him about his fat. In fact, Miss Peebs never seemed to notice it.
    But now Junior listened to Miss Peebs with a certain amount of disbelief. She had lived by herself since her parents had died. She had been content with her privacy and her music.
    â€œHow come you took him in your house?” Junior asked her. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable with the question. “But I guess he’s some kind of relative.”
    â€œRelative?” Miss Peebs said. One birdlike hand touched her earlobe. She sighed with an odd, shaky laugh. “Yes, and I thought he must have died by now. But here he comes with his socks on strong, pretending he is ready for a fight.”
    â€œWould he mind so much if I took my lesson?” Junior said. “Couldn’t I go in and play for fifteen minutes?” Junior longed for the sound of the grand piano. His deep-down loneliness would disappear for a while if he could just play it.
    â€œHe can’t have any visitors.” Miss Peebs’ voice was cold. “He hates noise. Beat the lesson out on a chair, or on the table. I’ll clear it off.” She got up, taking their half-consumed cups of tea and the teapot to the kitchen.
    Junior’s legs felt weak and rubbery when he got to his feet. His insides were churning with a bruising hunger. He walked the short path to the living room. The door was closed but there was no lock. Junior listened. Not hearing any sound, he turned the knob and went inside.
    High above Amsterdam Avenue, Miss Peebs’ living room faced the scream of fire engines and the rumble of traffic. The closed windows were hung with heavy drapery. Even so, noise seeped inside, became trapped there and lived in the room.
    The room was dark and musty. Uneasily, Junior could feel it settle in around him. He fumbled for the switch on the wall and flicked on the ceiling light. What he saw in the pale, yellow glow made his skin crawl.
    â€œI told you to leave it alone,” Miss Peebs said. Her crisp voice cut through the noise and narrow light. Not bothering to wash the teacups and saucers, Miss Peebs had dumped them in the sink, then had hurried back to keep watch on Junior. She came into the room on the main path as Junior had a moment before. And now she waited behind Junior, her eyes fixed on the folds of Junior’s neck rolling over his soiled shirt collar.
    Like the entrance hall the living room overflowed with enough antique and equally shoddy decoration to furnish three households. The main path led past chests, bureaus and the one sofa directly to the front windows facing Amsterdam Avenue. Branching off from it to the right was a narrow path leading to a rear hall and Miss Peebs’ bedroom. On the left side of the main path was a perfectly clear, circular area in which sat the grand piano. Its massive, elongated heart shape made all else in the room seem cheap and faded.
    The room was a total wreck. Immediately Junior saw