Free Fort by Cynthia DeFelice Page A

the heck?” I said. “I can’t believe he came back.”
    Augie looked as freaked out as I was. “I just don’t get why he did this.”
    I pointed to the matches. “From what you’ve said about him being a firebug, I guess we’re lucky he didn’t burn the place down. I never should have told him we were making a fort.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell him to come here and trash the place,” said Augie.
    â€œ Man . We were nice to him! We offered to make up a new song for him!”
    We were quiet for a minute, trying to take it all in. Then Augie said suddenly, “The calendar!”
    We looked, but it was gone.
    That did it.
    â€œLet’s go,” I said.
    At the same time Augie said, “He’s toast.”

 
    9
    Quickly, Augie and I stashed our supplies, pulled the flap down, and hurried back through the woods.
    Al and Unk were setting up their table and chairs when we reached the junkyard.
    â€œDid you see Gerard around here this weekend?” Augie asked.
    Al held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa there! No ‘Hi, Al, how ya doin’?’ What’s got your panties in such a bunch?”
    â€œSorry,” said Augie. “Hi, Al. Hi, Unk.”
    â€œThat’s better,” said Al with a smile.
    â€œSo what’s up?” said Unk.
    â€œGerard’s been at our fort,” Augie explained. “Messing things up and taking stuff.”
    â€œThe DeMuth kid?” Unk asked.
    We nodded.
    â€œWell, if that don’t beat all,” said Unk, shaking his head. “First he burns down Al’s shed. Now this.”
    â€œHey, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in regards to the shed, ya know? I mean, I got no proof says it was him. And, truth be told, I had no use for that dilapidated old heap of boards. But ,” he declared, “a man doesn’t mess with another man’s fort. It’s just not done. A guy’s fort is his castle . It’s—what do you call it?— sacred .”
    We all nodded.
    â€œSo what are ya gonna do?” Al asked.
    â€œGo to his house,” I said, getting on my bike.
    â€œCareful now,” Unk called after us as we rode away. “That kid’s kind of funny in the head, you know. He’s big, too. There’s no telling what he might do.”
    We found Gerard in a lawn chair in his front yard, petting what looked like a little gray kitten sitting on his knees. We ditched our bikes and walked up to him, and as we got closer, I saw that it wasn’t a kitten after all.
    â€œAugie!” I said in a low voice. “He’s got the squirrel tail.”
    The tail was spread across Gerard’s knees and he was running his chubby white fingers down the furry length of it, over and over again. In his other hand, his thumb rubbed back and forth over the rabbit’s foot.
    Gerard looked up then, saw us, and grinned, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He didn’t even look guilty, which really bugged me.
    â€œWhere did you get that?” I asked, pointing to his lap.
    His grin faltered for a second, but then returned big as ever. “Want to feel it?” He held out the tail. “It’s real soft. Soft as a rabbit.”
    â€œWhat were you doing in the woods?” Augie asked, ignoring Gerard’s outstretched hand.
    â€œWait a second,” I said. Something was bugging me about seeing Gerard with the squirrel tail, besides the obvious fact that he’d found it right near our fort. “Augie, didn’t you say that thing would stink after a while?”
    â€œHuh?” said Augie, looking surprised by my sudden changing of the subject. “Oh. Yeah.” He thought for a minute. “It oughtta stink by now.”
    I didn’t feel like getting close enough to find out for myself, especially after almost upchucking from the guts in the tent, so I asked Gerard, “Does it? Does that squirrel