100 Cupboards by N. D. Wilson Page A

gutsy than I have been in the past. She’s waited two years, and I figure she’s been patient enough.” Frank put his thumb on the end of the protruding spike and pushed. It herked and jerked a bit but went all the way into the door. When it was behind the old brass cover plate, Uncle Frank used a screwdriver to push it the rest of the way through. Henry heard a thump on the other side of the door.
    â€œThat’s the knob droppin’ on the other side,” Uncle Frank said. “We aren’t puttin’ it back on unless we get the door open. I’ll tell you something, Henry. Today I’m gonna do something I’ve resisted doing for two years. If the door won’t open, we’re gonna bash it in. It’s a nice old door, not many like it around anymore. I’d hate to bust it up, but it’ll probably be the jamb that splits.”
    â€œDo you think it will open?” Henry asked.
    â€œNope,” Frank said. “But I’m not going downstairs with my head hangin’. I’ll poke and prod the insides a bit, then I’ll start kickin’.”
    The poking and prodding lasted about forty-five minutes. The cover plate came off. Everything that Frank could get at came off. Screwdrivers stabbed and twisted. Finally, Uncle Frank stood, put his hands on his lower back, leaned backward, and rocked to the sides. The cat walked past Henry and rubbed itself on Frank’s leg.
    â€œWell, here we go. Lord forgive me.” Frank raised his right foot and kicked hard against the door just where the knob had been. There was a scream downstairs.
    â€œIs it open?” Dotty yelled.
    â€œQuiet, woman!” Frank yelled back. “Soon will be.” He kicked again. The door didn’t budge, but it made an enormous sound, like a huge wooden drum.
    Frank backed up as much as the landing would allow, took five quick steps, and jumped at the door. His body piled into it, and then piled onto the floor. The cat, who had been observing from the corner, strolled away. Henry didn’t say anything. He tried to keep on not saying anything. And then he laughed. Frank began laughing as well but quickly stopped himself.
    â€œGot to get this thing open,” he said. “I have never seen an oak door this solid, and this one’s fir.”
    â€œFir? Is fir like pine?” Henry asked. “I thought pine was soft.”
    â€œIt is. Fir’s a bit different, but not this different.” Frank examined the wood of the door. “Looks like fir. Grain might be a little funny, but still fir. Look out, Henry, I’m gonna try to hurt myself again. Then we’ll get drastic.”
    Henry scooted farther back.
    â€œSeen this in a movie once,” Uncle Frank said. He rocked in place, then took four steps and jumped. He put his feet out in front of him and leaned back. When his feet hit the door, he fell backward and landed hard, flat on his back with his legs up the door. He was gasping.
    â€œAre you okay, Uncle Frank?” Henry asked. “Should I get Aunt Dotty?”
    â€œNo,” Uncle Frank gasped. “Just my wind. Knocked out.” He sat up slowly, then stood. “You wait here. I’ll be right back. Got to be a bit sneaky.” He put his finger to his lips, then crept down the stairs.
    After a moment, Henry heard his aunt Dotty’s voice.
    â€œFrank? What are you doing?”
    â€œJust grabbin’ a few more tools. Back in a minute.”
    â€œHow’s it going?”
    â€œNot too bad.”
    Henry heard the back door slam. He was alone with his thoughts and the cat, who had reappeared and was now cleaning himself at the other end of the landing. Henry looked at the cat. The cat looked at him.
    â€œSorry about that whole thing last time,” Henry said. The cat looked him over, then went back to collecting hair with its tongue.
    Henry sat on the green-carpeted landing for five minutes. He finally grew impatient and