Dear Reader: The following snippets are rough draft chapters of my current WIP MG fiction novel CAUGHT IN THE ACT: THE SPELL.
Chapter 11
Leaving his mother and father sitting at the kitchen table, Josh walked out into the sunny morning. He’d tried to sleep in, but he didn’t even make it to the crummy hour of 9 o’clock. When he finally gave up and rolled out of bed, he pulled on a pair of pants and shoved his feet into his shoes. He didn’t bother changing his t-shirt. His mom wouldn’t care if he wore it to breakfast, even though it was filled with holes and said, “I’m a Mr. Goodbar” in faded red letters.
But when he got downstairs there were no smells of gravy bubbling or biscuits fresh out of the oven. He knew why too when he walked into the kitchen and saw boxes of cold cereal lined up on the counter with bowls and spoons sitting beside them. He knew that there’d be no bike riding or trips to Glacier Park either.
“Well, this is a great day,” Josh muttered to himself as he sat on the step outside the front door.
He’d told his parents that he was going to go to the skate park for a while, but he didn’t feel like it. Maybe he’d go for a walk. But, where he wondered as he got up and moved, his untied shoes shuffling on the concrete. It wasn’t quite tourist season, Memorial Day hadn’t hit yet, so nothing was open. The pizza and ice cream place, the only shops in town, were closed in the winter.
He really needed to work on this problem he had with Noah Webster. He thought about texting Elyse or Travis, but he was too far away to go back now and get his phone.
Josh wandered along the well-worn path, his shoes scuffing against the concrete. Town was quiet, so quiet he could hear the river swishing over the rocks beneath the bridge. The air smelled fresh and clean like spring. Definitely, different than summertime in this very same spot. Soon it would smell like a mixture of cologne, perfume, coconut tanning oil, and cotton candy that the tourists had to spray on, smear around, and eat while they were on vacation.
Today though, big clouds with wispy edges drifted through the blue sky sending a pure, cool breeze to ruffle the trees. All along Main Street aspens with fluttering leaves stood tall with their long skinny, white-bark trunks. The bricks in the old, refurbished buildings blazed a red warmth that was inviting in the light. Every little while there was a white door or windowpane blinking out to the matching door and window across the street.
It was quite a picture. Josh had never noticed it before. Actually, as he thought about it, he realized he’d never been downtown alone before. Lacey or one of his parents or both or Travis and Elyse had always been with him. He continued his walk, trying hard to not let the weirdness he felt about being lonely bother him.
I am going nowhere, in more ways than one, Josh thought. He stopped at the entrance to a building, tucked back away from the sidewalk, hidden beneath a sweeping branch of a tree. There were a lot of questions he needed answered, but one big one kept bugging him.
Who the heck was Noah Webster really, anyway? This was as good a place as any, he decided as he looked up at the large, gilded sign above his head, The Carnegie Library. And it’s probably not even open. He remembered working on a project for Mrs. Bowers and having to go the library to do some research, and every time he went, the library was closed. It was like the hours fell in line with the phases of the moon or when Venus was in Scorpio or something.
He peered in the window and was surprised when he saw Ms. Puckett, the town’s librarian. Her two long gray braids hanging past her shoulders to her waist interrupted the swirling pattern of her tie-dyed T-shirt. Well, maybe my shirt’s not so bad. Josh pulled the door open.
“Hello Josh Talbert,” Ms. Puckett said when he walked in.
“Hello,” Josh said back. He didn’t know how she knew it was him. She never even looked up from the book she had her face crammed in.
“Have you found that book on cleaning and repairing skateboards?” Her stern voice asked.
“No.” Geez, she still remembers that. I lost it two years ago.
“Did you look under your bed?”
“Yes.”
“What are you here for?” Ms. Puckett stood up and put her hands on her hips.
“I came to check out a book Noah—”
“You can’t check out anything with that book still missing.” She wagged her stubby finger at him.
“Can I just read then?”
“Yes.” She sat back down and picked up her book.
“Figures,” Josh muttered. Not only is it Saturday, and I’m here, but I have to stay in here.
He looked up Noah in the computer and found a call number. The whole system was really high-tech. Ms. Puckett may refuse to buy reading glasses, but she loved having everything computerized. There was even a Library Patron Map to help computer users locate their book. Which Josh was very thankful for.
He wrote down the number on a scrap of paper with the half-a-pencil the library provided and found the section of books immediately. Pulling three off the shelf, he went to the back corner near the window so he wouldn’t feel like Ms. Puckett was looking at him like he’d lose those books too.
He decided against the table and chair, too much like school, and chose a bean bag chair instead. Getting as comfortable as he could, he opened the first book, entitled Noah Webster: Father of the Dictionary by Isabel Proudfit.
Zap! Whoosh! Flash! Josh swished up out of the chair and was drug into the spiraling wind. The air beat against him in giant gushes, like waves. Part of his body went one way another part was pulled the opposite. He tried to hold his arms in, but they flailed out and came back to whack against him. Trying to see where he was going, he looked around for the light. But there was none. Everything was black. Molasses black. If he was just glancing, it would seem like there could be light, but then when he looked harder, it was just black.
The wind started slowing down, but his movement sped up. He twisted and swirled like he was a bug being sucked down the drain. Finally, he saw the light. He was racing toward it headfirst. He strained and tried to brace for impact. Just before he hit, his feet flipped around, and he landed. Harder, actually than the last time.
“Dang it!” Josh’s arms shot out to balance himself. His hands thinking they were reaching for air, a very natural thing, hit instead, a face. Two faces. Once he’d righted himself, he saw the first victim, a little boy—a barely able to walk—little boy with big blue eyes and big round curls. Big fat tears were already streaming down his face, and his big screaming voice filled the tiny room they were in.
His other victim was the very shocked face of Noah Webster. Who didn’t waste any time in saying something that sounded pretty foul.
Josh realized where he was. He’d seen this place in the movies or places like them at least in the old Westerns his dad watched. He was in a one room schoolhouse. There were rows of desks crammed together and a fat stove at the center of the room. A teacher’s wooden desk was at the front with an extremely mad looking man standing at it. On the opposite end, every kid who was packed into each desk was howling with laughter. Except, of course, the little guy who’d had the misfortune of standing on his chair, when Josh hit him.
“Sorry,” Josh said to the little boy and tried to pat his shoulder, but he only screamed louder. Out of the corner of his eye, Josh saw Noah bolt from the room and out the door at the back of the class. “Hey, Noah!” Josh called and raced after him.
He followed Noah down the little hill to the winding dirt road that went past the school. The road was lined with trees on either side, and a large meadow was beyond. Noah was heading for that meadow. Josh had to stop him.
“Noah, freeze!” Josh yelled and felt stupid. He wasn’t a police officer in pursuit of a felon. Man that kid could run fast. “Noah! I came to help you.”
Noah turned when he got to the middle of the road. Pointed his arm out at Josh and yelled, “Stay away from me!”
Josh was almost to him. He paused to catch his breath, trying to figure out what to say to make Noah listen. He opened his mouth to shout after Noah again. But Josh’s voice was drowned out by a pounding commotion coming up the road.
A wagon pulled by black horses barreled around the bend. It was heading straight for Noah. The driver was dressed in all black. His cloak snapped out behind him in the wind as the horses’ hooves struck the dirt, growing closer and closer to Noah. The driver didn’t slow down. He cracked a long whip on the horses’ backs and yelled, “Yah!”
“Run, you idiot!” Josh screamed. “Run!”
