Troubling a Star by Madeleine L'Engle Read Free Book Online Page A

Serena’s attic and checked one of the boxes of Adam II’s books, looking for Shakespeare. I’d done well on my Hamlet paper, and now I was doing some work on the sonnets for extra credit. Lots more interesting than politics. Sure enough, I came to a leather-bound copy of the sonnets inscribed to Adam II by the other five members of his first Antarctic expedition. I began leafing through it, looking for some of my favorites, when out fell an air letter. It had never been opened. It was addressed to Adam Cook, Holy Trinity Monastery, and it was in Adam II’s writing.
    I took it downstairs and went out to the kitchen, where Cook was washing wild greens he’d picked that afternoon. I said, “I’ve been reading Adam II’s journal. Aunt Serena gave it to me.”
    He nodded; kept on with what he was doing.
    â€œHe calls you Cookie.”
    â€œUm.”
    â€œWould it be all right if I do, too? It sounds—well, less stark than plain Cook.”
    â€œCookie’s fine.”
    â€œAnd I found this—” I held out the letter.
    He dried his hands carefully before taking it. Then he took a sharp knife and opened it, reading rapidly.

    Then he turned white. All the blood drained from his face. I thought he was going to faint. He turned to me, his eyes suddenly enormous and almost black. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Walked out of the kitchen and out of doors, starting to run.

Three
    T he seal slid off the ice and into the water, barely making a splash. He did it so unexpectedly and so quietly that I hardly realized what was happening until he had disappeared.
    I watched the small ripples in the dark water where he had vanished. The sky was still high and blue, but there would be no night, as I thought of night, until well after midnight. The seal’s leaving probably meant that he was going fishing, because seals fish at night. What is night to a seal? Six o’clock? Ten o’clock? Or just whenever he’s hungry?
    I wrapped my arms about myself, not so much because I was cold, though I was, as because I was so alone.
    And frightened.
    I suddenly realized that, like Adam II, I might never get home.
    Â 
    I had my sixteenth birthday. Adam called. That was nice. He was taking a Shakespeare course, too. “We’ve just read Measure
for Measure ,” he said, “so I’ll quote to you from it. ‘ The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. ’ Don’t change because you’re sixteen, Vicky. I like you the way you are.”
    â€œI’m still the same me,” I assured him, “even with a driver’s license. And I don’t think I’ve ever been very good.”
    â€œAll depends on how you define it. This is just a happy-birthday call. I’ll see you after Thanksgiving when I come to Aunt Serena’s.”
    John called, too, and said he’d give me my present when he got home Thanksgiving weekend. I managed to keep Suzy and Nanny quiet at school about my birthday. And afterwards I went to Aunt Serena’s for tea.
    Her eyes were bright. “I had a letter from Adam III today. He tells me this is your birthday.”
    â€œYes.” I looked down, feeling both pleased and slightly embarrassed.
    â€œYour sixteenth.”
    I nodded.
    â€œHe says you’re going to have your celebration on Thanksgiving.”
    â€œJohn will be home then.”
    â€œAnd Adam is coming to Clovenford on Sunday. Can you come for a post-birthday dinner that evening?”
    â€œI’d love to. John will have to leave sometime in the afternoon to get back to Boston, so I’m sure it will be fine. Aunt Serena, where are you going to be on Thanksgiving?”
    â€œRight here, my dear. Stassy, Owain, and Cook will have the day off to visit family and friends, and I will enjoy my solitude. Do you have homework?”

    â€œSome.”
    â€œGet it done, then, and we’ll have another cup of tea before you