Free The Boys Start the War by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor Page B

heard a soft thud from somewhere, but wasn’t quite sure if it was up or down, in or out. It had to be in, though, because outside was off-limits. There were three live bodies waiting to be found, and in the dark, they could change hiding places as much as they liked. Even if you touched something, you had to make sure it was a person.
    The noise came again. Upstairs. Wally was sure of that now. He ran his hand along the wall and started up, his other hand sweeping the air in front of him.
    Halfway up the stairs, however, he heard another sound, and this time goose bumps rose on his arms. It was a sound like nothing he had ever heard before.
    It seemed to be half human, half animal, yet more like a fire siren, only very, very soft. It rose and fell like the wind. Maybe it was the wind.
    Then it stopped, and all Wally heard was the rain beating down on the roof. He went on, running his hand along the wall, poking each step with his foot to make sure there wasn’t a hand ready to grab his ankle. Just as he got to the top, however, the strange siren song came again.
    He heard somebody running along the hallway, and then Peter’s voice, calling shakily, “Wally?”
    “What’s the matter?” Wally said, putting out his other hand so Peter wouldn’t run into him. Peter ran into him anyway, and grabbed his arm.
    “What’s that noise?” Peter said.
    “I don’t know. Probably Jake or Josh.”
    “I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” Peter told him.
    “Well, go down and sit on the couch, then, until I find the other guys.”
    “No, I wanna stay by you.”
    Whoooeeeooo. Whoooeeeooo.
    It was not a siren. It was not anything Wally could figure out.
    “Josh, cut it out.” he yelled.
    “It’s not me,” came a voice from one of the bedrooms. “What the heck is it?”
    “Jake, I’ll bet.”
    “Turn on the lights,” Peter begged.
    “No, we can’t until we find Jake. That’s the rule.”
    Whoooeee, whoooeee, whoooeeeoooo ….
    Footsteps downstairs.
    “Hey, what are you guys doing?” came Jake’s voice. “Who’s singing that song?”
    It was not Jake. Three sets of feet went flying down the stairs, the boys tumbling and rolling, until Wally and his brothers lay in a heap at the bottom.

T hree figures huddled on the widow’s walk on top of the Hatfords’ house. Rain beat steadily down on their yellow slickers and the air was cold.
    “Even if we catch pneumonia and die, it’s worth it.” said Caroline, her teeth chattering.
    “Even if we fall off the roof and break both legs,” Eddie agreed.
    “One more time?” Beth asked.
    “No. Didn’t you hear them running? Let’s wait until we think they’ve forgotten about it, then sock it to them again,” said Eddie. They giggled.
    It had all started when Beth heard a group of women called Sweet Honey in the Rock on the radio, singing a song they had written called “Emergency.” She had called the others to listen. Caroline wasn’t sure how they did it, but, using only their voices, the singers had managed to make themselves sound just like a fire siren, each singing adiffererit pitch, but rising and falling together at exactly the same time.
    So Caroline; Beth, and Eddie had gone out in the garage and lain in the loft, practicing quietly, and they did it—not as well as Sweet Honey in the Rock, but well enough. What’s more, they discovered that if they kept their voices soft, and wavered them just a little, they sounded like something none of them had ever heard before—not a siren, exactly—not quite human, not quite animal…. And as soon as they discovered that, they knew what they were going to do. Never had they felt such power.
    “How long should we wait? I’m so soggy, I’m going to grow mushrooms,” Beth said.
    “We have to lull them into thinking they were imagining things,” Eddie told her.
    Caroline smiled to herself in the dark as she huddled in her corner of the widows walk. She had been so embarrassed when Mr. Hatford called