Hydrofoil Mystery by Eric Walters Page B

or written her friend. I knew she’d been concerned by some of the things I’d done, and afraid of others she believed I was doing, but I sure hoped she was too embarrassed to share them.
    She started opening the letter. “What’s this?” she asked as she pulled out both a letter and another envelope. Sheheld the envelope in her hand and examined it. “This is for you,” she said, handing it to me.
    It had my name written on the front in my mother’s flowing writing. Why would she be sending me a letter?
    â€œProbably just wants to tell you how much she already misses you,” Mrs. McCauley-Brown said, answering my unspoken question.
    Of course she must be right. I tucked the letter into my pocket so I could read it later.
    â€œJust as I suspected. Hardly gets through the first three lines of the letter before she’s telling me what a whiz you are in school!”
    I guess she didn’t write about how I was almost tossed out of school this past year for not going to classes. There were better things to do and better ways to learn how to make money. I’d never had one single teacher explain how to palm a pair of dice or how to deal off the bottom of the deck. All the teachers I’d ever had knew lots about book learning but nothing about the world outside their classrooms. Besides, if playing cards was good enough for my father, why wasn’t it good enough for me?
    She continued to read until the whistling kettle roused her to her feet. She poured a bit of the steaming water into a teapot and swirled it around before dumping it down the sink. Next she popped a tea ball into the pot and filled it with the remaining water. She set it down in front of me and brought over two cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk.
    â€œLet it steep while I finish up the letter.”She read quickly, running her finger down the page, occasionally nodding her head or chuckling to herself. She put the letter down and looked up at me.
    â€œIt’s good your mother is doing well. I can only imagine how hard it has been for her, and for you, since the start of the war. It must be terrible to have your father gone so much, and you all must worry so much.” She paused. “Your mother told me about the problems you’ve been having. It’ll be good for you to be here for the summer, and away from … influences.”
    I looked down at my hands. I guess she knew more than I’d wanted her to know.
    She put her hands on top of mine. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see. Why don’t you just finish up your tea while I check to make sure things are all put away in the dining room.”
    I took a sip and then remembered my letter. I pulled it out and ripped off the end. It seemed to me I was a bit too old to miss my mother, but I was still looking forward to hearing from her, and I hoped that the letter would bring a little comfort.
    Dear William,
    I know you’re still probably angry with me about the arrangement for you to spend the summer in Baddeck. I am sorry but there is no choice. I felt, and still feel, that to be here for the summer would only result in you being led further down the wrong road. I know that in the back of your head you simply thought you’d try it out for a week or so and if it didn’t work you’d return. But you cannot return home. You must make it work. You must listen to directions, mind your tongue and work hard.
    If you are dismissed and asked to leave, then you may not return to my home or to Halifax. If you were to show up at my door before the end of August I would turn you away. I would then contact the police and make arrangements for you to be arrested as a vagrant. It would break my heart, and perhaps I would lose you, but I cannot risk your loss without a fight.
    William, you are my son and I love you more than life itself. I cannot sit back and see you throw away your life. I know it’s