Peter hesitated, then relented. “Okay, I – ”
“BOY!” boomed an old man’s voice.
Peter swung around to see Grandfather striding towards him.
“Oh CRAP,” Dill hissed, and shrunk down behind the fence. “Look, meet me out here at ten o’clock tonight, okay?”
“But what – ”
“I gotta go, man, I gotta GO!”
Dill scampered off across his yard and raced inside the one-story house. The screen door slammed shut behind him.
Grandfather stomped up to the fence and switched his glare from Dill’s house to Peter’s face.
“I don’t want to see you having anything to do with that idjit, you hear me?”
Peter backed up a foot.
“H-he seems okay…”
“He’s a ruffian and a scoundrel and a troublemaker. You hear me, boy?” he thundered at Dill’s house. “I haven’t forgotten those watermelons, you little mongrel!”
From somewhere in Dill’s house came a man’s voice, sleepy and irritated. “Shut up, old man!”
“He’s a fool, a scamp, a rapscallion!” Grandfather railed at the unseen voice. “With parents to match!”
“Shuuuuuut UP!” the man’s voice roared.
Peter blushed a deep red and put his head in his hands.
Oh my God, Dill was right…he is crazy.
“In the house with you!” Grandfather snarled. “Git!”
Peter walked to the front door with the old man’s claw clamped down on his shoulder. All the way there, he wondered what awful thing he’d done for God to make him move in with an insane person.
*********************
If the house was crazy outside, it was double crazy inside. Maybe triple crazy.
The main hallway was three stories high. A giant wooden staircase angled up to the left until it reached the second floor, then sloped up to the right until it reached the third. Peter could imagine Dill having tons of fun sliding down the banister from the top floor all the way to the bottom – if the railing had curved around instead of jutting out at sharp angles. Peter pictured Dill tumbling off into space at the first hairpin turn and shuddered.
Off to the left, there was a living room with antique furniture and stained glass lamps. A giant Arabic rug covered the polished hardwood floor, and a coffee table with a glass plate in the middle sat in the center of the room.
On the right side of the hallway was a cavernous dining hall with a table that looked like it could have served 30 people or more.
Under the stairwell was a door with an ancient lock, the kind in old movies that they opened with skeleton keys. Peter gave it a glance and was about to walk on when his Grandfather stopped him by clamping a hand on his shoulder again.
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Copyright © 2008 Darren Pillsbury. All rights reserved.
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