The Prophet of Yonwood by Jeanne DuPrau Read Free Book Online Page B

whatever look there might be on the face of a person who had been shown a vision by God. If it really was GodGrover didnt know, and mostly he didnt care, as long as the results didnt affect him.
    He ended up spending so much time talking to the kids in the schoolyard that he was in danger of getting home late. He was supposed to be home by three-thirty to help his grandmother with the kids; if he got home after his mother did, shed tell his father, and his father was sure to yell at him. So he decided to do something he rarely did, because it was a bit of a risk: take the short way home.
    The short way home was through Hoyt McCoys backyard. Actually,backyard was too small a word for it; Hoyt McCoys house lay within a large and brambly acreage. He had two or three times more land than most of his neighbors. At the rear part of it, a few slats of the fence had fallen sideways, making a hole big enough for a skinny boy to get through. Grover, holding his schoolbooks close to his chest, was just skinny enough.
    Crossing Hoyts yard cut a good five minutes off the time it took to get home. Grover knew this because hed done it a few times before. The only risky part was at the back corner of the property, where the house stood. Here he would be within view of some windows, if anyone happened to be standing by them. But so much overgrown shrubbery grew up the back of the house, and the windows were so coated with dust and grime, that he didnt think the chance of being seen was very great.
    This time, though, he was wrong. As he came up behind the house, staying as close to the fence as he could and trying not to crunch too much on the fallen leaves, an upstairs window flew open. The deep voice of Hoyt McCoy rang out.
    Halt, trespasser! I have you in my sights! Vacate these premises instantly!
    Grover stopped so fast that he dropped his books. He froze, hoping the bushes would hide him. He waited, watching the open window. Did Hoyt mean he had a rifle trained on him? Would he actually shoot it? Grover didnt know. So he stayed where he was until finally the window closed. Then he waited a little longer, and at last he bent to pick his books up and moved on, staying in the shadows, setting each foot down with great care, until he came to the gravel drive that led out to the street. Then he ran.
    Hoyt McCoy was one of Yonwoods oddities. Hed moved there about ten years ago from a university town somewhere. For a year or so after hed bought the house, workers from out of town had come every day, and sounds of drilling and sawing and hammering had issued from inside. People thought maybe Hoyts family was coming to live with himbut no. Hoyt lived alone. Sometimes he went away for weeks at a time, leaving the gate across his driveway padlocked. When he was at home, he seemed almost never to have visitors, although a few times Grover had seen a dark green sedan turning in at his driveway, in which there were always two men in suits. They were probably tax collectors, Grover thought. It wasnt likely Hoyt McCoy would have friends. He was tall and gaunt, with caved-in cheeks and dark hollows around his eyes. He walked with his shoulders stooped and his head craned forward, as if he were looking for something to pounce onand in his way, he did pounce on things. Everything met with his disapproval. On days when Hoyt showed up at the market or the post office or the drugstore, Grover had seen him tut-tutting at loud children, shaking his fist at cars that came too close to him, and scolding clerks for being rude. He also scoffed at everything Mrs. Beeson said about the Prophets vision. Orders from heaven, he would say, pursing his lips. Nonsense.She doesnt know. Im the expert on heaven, not her. If you want to know about celestial matters, ask me. But no one ever did ask him, as far as Grover could see. Hardly anyone ever spoke to him at all, if they could help it.
    When Grover got home, only a little bit late, he found his grandmother in the living