The Hole in the Wall by Lisa Rowe Fraustino Page A

me weak. Finally I sacrificed my sense of honor and pulled her shirt up. I’m not proud of that, but it got the job done. She let go of me in shock, and I got hold of the pebble long enough to sink it deep into my pants pocket where I knew she would leave it alone.

    With her shirt tucked in Barbie hopped to her feet and stood nose-to-nose with me, practically hyperventilating with anger.

    “You know that isn’t a normal rock, Sebby! Rocks are cold, dead things. That one is alive ! It’s magic ! And magic’s evil ! You have no business keeping it.”

    “Come off it, Barbie.” I sat on the guardrail to get some space, catch my breath, and put the gore behind me, out of sight. “That rock is just doing whatever comes naturally. There’s no such thing as magic. Everything has a scientific reason. We just don’t always know what it is.” Jed was always saying that.

    “Sebby! That rock is scary! It even scared you at first! What if it’s radioactive or something? It might cause cancer. You might grow three heads with snakes for hair. Have you thought of that?”

    “If it was radioactive, Madame Curie, do you think Boots would be leaving it next to his fruit bowl? He has a ton of them lying around, his mother even said.”

    “You’d better pick up your bike before it gets run over, Boots Junior.”

    “Yeah, go ahead and change the subject just because you’re losing,” I said, but I must admit that I heard a motor roaring up the hill, and my bike sat in the middle of the road where I’d let it drop when I got off it.

    I wheeled it to the curb just as two balding tires smoked to a stop right next to us. And between them, a rusty red pickup door with faded lettering:
    CRAIG “JACK OF ALL TRADES” DANIELS
HOME HANDY MAN
CALL FOR THE MOST REASONABLE PRICES ON EARTH!

    The window rolled down and Pa’s hairy fist spilled over the edge of it, holding a plastic baggie with an egg inside. “I wanna know what’s going on, boy.”

    If my stomach didn’t already hurt before, it would now.

    “I d-d—I have no clue what you mean, Pa.” Had he seen me fighting with Barbie? If so, I was in for it. Pa thinks boys should never hit girls, unless of course they’re fathers instilling discipline.

    “You know exactly what I mean. I wouldn’t put it past you to set up this whole egg thing to get out of your chores in the morning. Slip the chickens some d-CON, maybe? I’ve heard what a hard time you give your mother when she gets you out of bed, you lazy good-for-nothing kid.”

    How could he hear that when he was snoring so hard? But I didn’t ask. I leaned hard on my bike and looked out over the gore. It was better than looking at Pa’s eyes.

    “Pa, I didn’t do anything to the chickens, I swear!”

    “Well, your mother nagged me to drive two hours all the way over to the state university agricultural lab and drop off this petrified egg. They told her on the phone they’d try to figure out what’s wrong. If I get over there only to find out you’ve been pulling one of your tricks, you’re gonna wish you were never born!”

    I already do. Did I say it, or just think it?

    Pa leaned at me. I could almost feel his three-day beard scratching my nose. I held my breath so I wouldn’t have to smell his.

    “What did you say?”

    “I didn’t do anything wrong, Pa. I didn’t!”

    Pa glared and nodded. “We’ll see about that, won’t we.” He thwacked the baggie against my head before he drove off.

    As I rubbed the sore spot, the Shish halfway smiled. “Hey, Seb, Pa just left an egg on your head.”

    I took that as an invitation to make up. “Sorry about . . . you know. I just really wanted my pebble.”

    “Yeah, I owe you one,” she said, and took off coasting downhill to home. It didn’t take her long to pay me back, either. The moment we got in the house, she handed Ma the Abe Lincoln Miss Beverly had given her and said, “Mr. Odum’s mother is really cool. She gave us candy and fruit