The Summer of Riley by Eve Bunting Read Free Book Online

fishpond would be a swamp of muddy water again, ugly and dirty. I lay there thinking how hard it was to let go of the pond and I understood that was because it was my last link to Grandpa, in the way the Sultan was Peachie’s last link to her dead husband. When things had been good with Riley, I’d thought I could start to let go. I had Riley to fill the empty space. But I didn’t have him any longer. I buried my face in my pillow.
    Mr. Mysterious, the owl who lives in our old oak tree, called mournfully in the dark. Grace says he isn’t an owl, he’s a dove and she knows that for sure. We’ve never seen him, but I know he’s an owl, sitting high and dry in his tree, his big yellow eyes watching the rain.
    I couldn’t sleep, and after a while I got up, found my school notebook that I hadn’t opened since school let out, and began making notes. There were lots of things we could do to help the lawyer we were going to get. I made a list and it looked good. “Yeah!” I said.
    When I couldn’t think of another thing to add to it, 1 got back in bed. I felt pretty optimistic and fell asleep right away.
    Grace came over after eight the next morning. I was eating waffles and honey. Mom popped two more into the toaster for Grace.
    “I know I said mean things about Riley,” Grace said. “But I didn’t think they’d take him back to the pound. I didn’t think they’d kill him. I’m overcome with sorrow.” Grace talks especially fancy when she’s embarrassed, and she was embarrassed now.
    “You triple Mea Culpa-ed,” I said. “Let’s forget about it.”
    “Well, I want you to know I’m still sorry for the Sultan of Kaboor,” Grace said. “And I’m still his friend and Peachie’s, too.” She picked up three apples out of the bowl on the table and began juggling them, hopping around the kitchen. I have to say she’a pretty good juggler. “I stopped in to see them….
Oops.”
She’d dropped one of the apples and interrupted herself to pick it up.
    “We have to eat those, you know,” I reminded her.
    “I stopped in to see them on the way here.”
    I shrugged. “I don’t care. You can like them if you want. I don’t have to.”
    I took the spoon out of the honey jar and licked it, and Mom said, “William!” and Grace said, “How gross! Don’t put it back in. I don’t want your cooties.” Things were back to normal. Sort of.
    “So what are we going to do?” Grace asked.
    “Well, Mom’s going to call Stephen …”
    “Right,” Mom said. “It’s eight thirty. I think I should call now.” She went to the phone.
    “Who’s Stephen?” Grace whispered.
    “The pound man,” I whispered back, and Grace batted her eyelashes. “I told you,” she mouthed.
    We listened as Mom reached Stephen and explained what had happened with Riley. “Oh, you found out already,” she said. Then there was just a bunch of yeses and “I understand’s.” “I’d really appreciate that,” she said at last.
    Grace and I crowded around her to see what she was writing down. “Joel Bell,” she wrote. Under itshe printed a phone number. “Thank you so much, Stephen. You’ve really helped.”
    He was talking again and she was listening. She gave a little giggle. Grace and I stared at each other. Mom does not usually make that kind of silly sound.
    “No, I don’t think that at all,” she said. “And I would like to see you again. But right now isn’t a good time. After all this is settled …” She paused and then said, “I definitely will tell him. You’ve been really nice, Stephen.”
    Grace put her hand over her heart and rolled her eyes and made kissing sounds. Fortunately, all of that was behind Mom’s back. When she hung up the phone, we were sitting all serious at the table.
    “What did he say, Mom?” I asked. I noticed how pink her cheeks were. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the way she looked and the way she’d giggled. If Mom got interested in somebody else, then there’d never be a