Maurice’s Room Page 3

  “Come on!” shouted Maurice.

  “Look!’ said Jacob, pointing at the water. Two or three feet out from the shore, something glistened as the breeze lifted the water into small waves.

  “Bedsprings,” said Maurice.

  “How can we get them?” asked Jacob.

  Maurice sat down on the ground and took off his shoes and socks, but Jacob waded in after Maurice with his shoes on. The springs were heavy, and weeds were growing through them.

  They dragged them onto the grass. Maurice put on his shoes and socks and jumped on the springs.

  “We can borrow wire cutters from Mr. Klenk and make coils to put on our shoes.”

  “We can hook it up so it stretches across the room,” said Jacob.

  “I can pull it across the door so Patsy doesn’t get through,” said Maurice.

  They picked up the springs and started home. Jacob’s wet shoes squeaked.

  Then Maurice stopped. “We forgot something,” he said.

  They dropped the springs and ran back to the lake. On the opposite side was the boat, its stern halfway up the cement ledge, its sails flapping.

  “What are you going to tell them?” asked Jacob as they lifted the boat out of the water. The stern was smashed and the mainmast tilted.

  “I don’t know yet,” answered Maurice.

  “Could we say there was a little storm?”

  “No, we’ll have to tell them what really happened—that the boat went out of control,” said Maurice.

  “Because we weren’t watching,” said Jacob.

  They put the boat on top of the springs; then with Maurice holding the front of the springs and Jacob the back, they started home.

  At first, Maurice’s father didn’t say anything. Mrs. Henry told Jacob to go home and change his wet socks and shoes; then she went to the kitchen. Maurice heard her rattling pots and pans.

  “If I had known you wanted bedsprings instead of a beautiful three-foot sailing ketch, I would have gotten you bedsprings,” said Mr. Henry at last.

  Maurice said nothing.

  “Go to your room and think about what happened,” said Mr. Henry.

  Maurice put the sailboat under his bed next to the Victrola so he wouldn’t have to look at it. He put a blanket on the bedsprings and sat down on them. One of the coils had come loose and was bobbing up beside him. He rested his arm on it.

  He heard his parents talking the rest of the afternoon. His mother brought him a supper tray while it was still daylight.

  Then Mr. Henry came and stood in Maurice’s doorway. Maurice was still sitting on the springs.

  “I have something to tell you,” he said. “We have decided to move to the country as soon as school is over.”

  “How will I see Jacob?” asked Maurice.

  “Jacob can take the bus. It’s not very far. You can have a dog.”

  “Not Patsy!” asked Maurice.

  “No,” answered his father. “But your uncle has a racing bike he is going to give you. It’s a little old, but it still goes.”

  “I’m sorry about the boat,” said Maurice.

  “Your mother and I are sorry too,” said Mr. Henry. He came over and sat down next to Maurice on the bedsprings.

  “They’re still a little damp,” he said.

  Maurice gave him a corner of the blanket to sit on. They didn’t speak about the sailboat. In fact, it was never mentioned again.

  9. AN EXPLOSION

  The Henrys moved to the country the day after school ended. Mrs. Henry said Maurice could take his collection if he could find something to pack it in. Mr. Klenk gave him an old steamer trunk with broken hinges. Jacob brought a length of rope to tie around it. Maurice was able to get everything into the trunk except the bedsprings. He gave them to Jacob.

  The movers’ truck drew up in front of Maurice’s building around noon. Mr. Klenk, Jacob, and Maurice stood outside and watched the movers load the furniture on.

  “I don’t see how they can get all those things into the truck,” said Jacob.

  “They fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle,” said Mr. Klenk.

  The last items the movers brought down were Maurice’s animals and his trunk. They placed the cages on the tops of bureaus at the front of the truck. They left the trunk at the back, near the tailgate.

  “Can I ride in the truck with my things?” Maurice asked his father.

  “If it’s all right with the movers,” said Mr. Henry.

  Mr. Klenk waved his cigar at Maurice. “Come back and visit me,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out for interesting things for your collection.”

  Jacob didn’t say goodbye. He was coming out to visit the next day. He waved as Maurice hiked himself up onto the truck.

  All the way through town, Maurice could see his mother and father driving behind in the rusty jeep they had bought for the country. But soon he lost sight of it as the truck pulled ahead.

  Maurice walked to the front, winding through the furniture and crates, the boxes and baskets, to check up on his animals. The hamster was running on his wheel, but the robin, the snake, the lizard, and the salamanders were all asleep.

  They turned off on a blacktop, then onto a dirt road. After that, the ride got bumpier. There were no buildings, no gasoline stations, no signs—only green hills and trees and birds sitting on telephone wires. Here and there a crumbling stone wall followed the curve of a hill. The sun was very warm, and the canvas curtains on either side of the truck’s tailgate flapped back and forth.

  All at once, there was a tremendous crash. The furniture rattled, the cages danced on top of the bureaus, the robin chirped, and the pots banged against each other. They had driven over a big bump. Maurice’s trunk teetered as they rounded a curve, then flew out, hit a rock, and seemed to explode into the air. Maurice saw his collection flying in all directions, then drop out of sight down the hill.

  The truck stopped just as the jeep arrived. Maurice’s father came running up to Maurice and lifted him down. Then everyone went to look over the hill. Maurice’s things lay scattered everywhere among the rocks and tall grass. Maurice sat down on the road.

  Mrs. Henry knelt beside him.

  “Wow!” said Maurice. “Did you see that?”

  Mrs. Henry stood up.

  “The whole trunk blew up!” said Maurice. “It flew out in the air and exploded!”

  “You can start a new collection,” said Mr. Henry.

  But Maurice didn’t hear him. He was thinking that even the paper sacks of water he and Jacob had once dropped from the roof to the courtyard hadn’t made such a terrific noise. He had never seen anything like it.

  10. MAURICE’S BARN

  Maurice’s new room had one window and a slanted ceiling that was so low that Mr. and Mrs. Henry couldn’t stand up straight beneath it.

  When Maurice awoke the morning after the move, a branch was tapping against the windowpane and there were leaf-shaped shadows on the floor. Maurice wondered if he could step from the window to the big round branches of the tree that stood just outside. Just beyond the tree, Maurice could see a red barn. As he stared at it, a flock of birds flew from under the barn roof, circled in the sunlight, and flew back.

  The room was empty except for Maurice’s animals and his suitcase and the bed. The fields outside seemed empty too, except for the tall grass. The house was silent.

  In the kitchen Maurice found a package of saltines and a glass of milk he had been too tired to finish the night before after all the unpacking.

  Maurice’s father walked in and sat down at the table. It was the same one that had been in Maurice’s room in the city.

  “Did you see the pump?” asked Mr. Henry.

  “What’s that?” asked Maurice.

  “Sometimes there are storms, and the electricity goes off. Then you can use the hand pump to get water. It’s just outside the door.”

  Maurice poked his finger into a little hole in the oilcloth.

  “What do you think of the countr
y?” asked Mr. Henry.

  “It’s okay,” said Maurice.

  “You are making a large hole in the oilcloth, Maurice. Why don’t you take a look outside? Have you been to the barn?”

  Maurice tried to balance four saltines against one other.

  “Jacob will be here soon,” said Mr. Henry. “You can take him to see the stream.”

  “What’s in it?” asked Maurice.

  “All right, Maurice,” his father said, “you know what’s in a stream!”

  Maurice ate half a saltine. He wasn’t very hungry.

  “You’ll get used to it here,” said Mr. Henry. “It’s new now. But you’ll find lots of things to interest you.”

  At the word things, Maurice looked up at his father.

  “There’s nothing but grass,” he said.

  “Take a look in the barn,” said Mr. Henry.

  On his way out, Maurice tried the pump. He had to use both hands. Nothing happened for a moment; then a stream of cold bluish water gushed out on his feet. He squashed his way through the tall grass and the brambles to the barn.

  The biggest door was padlocked, but next to it was a small door which hung half open from one hinge. He slipped inside.

  He heard a great rustling of wings. For a moment he stood still waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark. Then he looked straight up. The roof of the barn seemed miles above him. Small birds swooped through the rafters from which hung spider webs as big as trapeze nets. As soon as Maurice began to walk, an interesting musty smell arose from the floor. On his right were wooden stalls and on his left was an old hay wagon. One of its big wheels lay on the floor, half covered with hay. There were ladders of all sizes leaning up against the walls, and from the posts that supported the overhead rafters hung an extraordinary assortment of objects.

  “Fish nets,” said Maurice aloud. “A hoe, a rake, a bucket, another bucket, a bamboo pole with a line and three fish hooks, a dog collar, mousetraps, a leather jacket, a pitchfork, a lantern.” There were many other things made out of leather or wood or metal, but he didn’t know what they were.

  A big shaft of sunlight fell across the floor. Maurice turned and saw his father standing in the doorway. Bits of hay and dust floated around him.

  “Your mother has gone to get Jacob at the bus stop,” he said.

  Maurice noticed several lengths of chain and a tire tube hanging from a nail near the door.

  “Do you like the barn?” asked Mr. Henry.

  “Yes,” said Maurice.

  “That’s where they used to keep the hay,” said Mr. Henry, pointing to a platform above the wagon. “But I don’t think we’re going to have cows or horses.” Just then Jacob came to the door. He was carrying a paper bag.

  “Come in and see my barn,” said Maurice.

  Jacob stepped inside.

  “What’s in the bag?” asked Maurice.

  “Jelly doughnuts and a wrench Mr. Klenk gave me to give to you.”

  Maurice cleared the hay off the rim of the wagon wheel, and they sat down to eat their doughnuts.

  “Your mother said there was a stream we could fish in,” said Jacob.

  “Not yet,” said Maurice. “We have to fix up this barn. We have to find out what’s in it. We can repair things. Like this wheel. We’ll put it back on the wagon. Then, when we get too hot, we can go to the stream.”

  “What do we do first?” asked Jacob.

  “First we have to find out the name of everything,” said Maurice.

  “Why?” asked Jacob.

  “Because that’s how you begin,” answered Maurice. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Jacob.

  About the Author

  Paula Fox is a notable figure in contemporary American literature. She has earned wide acclaim for her children’s books, as well as for her novels and memoirs for adults. Born in New York City on April 22, 1923, her early years were turbulent. She moved from upstate New York to Cuba to California, and from one school to another. An avid reader at a young age, her love of literature sustained her through the difficulties of an unsettled childhood. At first, Fox taught high school, writing only when occasion permitted. Soon, however, she was able to devote herself to writing full-time, but kept a foot in the classroom by teaching creative writing at the University of Pennsylvania, New York University, and the State University of New York.

  In her novels for young readers, Fox fearlessly tackles difficult topics such as death, race, and illness. She has received many distinguished literary awards including a Newbery Medal for The Slave Dancer (1974), a National Book Award for A Place Apart (1983), and a Newbery Honor for One-Eyed Cat (1984). Worldwide recognition for Fox’s contribution to literature for children came with the presentation of the Hans Christian Andersen Award in 1978.

  Fox’s novels for adults have also been highly praised. Her 2002 memoir, Borrowed Finery, received the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for the Art of the Memoir, and in 2013 the Paris Review presented her with the Hadada Award, honoring her contribution to literature and the writing community. In 2011, Fox was inducted into the New York State Writers Hall of Fame.

  Fox lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband, the writer Martin Greenberg.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1966 by Paula Fox

  Cover design by Connie Gabbert

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-3744-0

  This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  180 Maiden Lane

  New York, NY 10038

  www.openroadmedia.com

  EARLY BIRD BOOKS

  FRESH EBOOK DEALS, DELIVERED DAILY

  BE THE FIRST TO KNOW—

  NEW DEALS HATCH EVERY DAY!

  PAULA FOX

  FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA

  Find a full list of our authors and

  titles at www.openroadmedia.com

  FOLLOW US

  @OpenRoadMedia