Free Fort by Cynthia DeFelice Page B

smell bad?”
    Gerard shook his head. “My mom called it nasty. She was going to throw it away. But Gerard said no! So she fixed it.”
    Fixed it? This was interesting. I wanted to ask how, but Augie was looking impatient. I figured she must have done that boiling-salting thing that Augie had told me about.
    â€œGerard, we know where you found that,” he said. “What were you doing in the woods?”
    Gerard pointed to me. “ You said. Remember? You said you were making a fort.”
    â€œSo you followed us?” I demanded.
    He nodded. “You saw me,” he said, and—I swear—he giggled, like it was a secret little joke.
    I had a brain flash of that brief second in the woods when I thought I’d seen something out of the corner of my eye, then had dismissed the idea.
    It must have been Gerard.
    â€œI like the fort,” Gerard went on. “It’s nice. But there were no gummy worms.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “We saw your gummy worms. They were almost as nice as the squirrel guts on my sleeping bag.”
    â€œAnd you took our calendar!” said Augie.
    â€œWhat were you doing lighting all those matches?” I added.
    Gerard’s eyes popped open, and he looked very frightened. “Gerard does not play with matches!” he cried.
    â€œThen why did you?” I asked.
    â€œNo! Not Gerard!” he blubbered, beginning to cry. His hands rose from his lap and fluttered nervously. “No matches for Gerard. No matches! No fire!” His round white face had turned bright red, and his eyes kept on blinking really fast.
    â€œCome on, Gerard,” I said. “You admitted you were there. Just give us the calendar, okay?”
    â€œAnd promise you won’t go back,” Augie said.
    At that, Gerard did this weird thing where his eyes rolled up and to the side, almost like he was trying to disappear, or like he thought if he couldn’t see us, maybe we’d disappear. He became very still. His hands, which had been stroking the rabbit’s foot and squirrel tail, froze. He was like a big, blind stone statue.
    I looked over at Augie and we stared at each other, wide-eyed, wondering, What do we do now?
    I thought for a minute. Gerard had been in the woods, for sure. He had the squirrel tail to prove it. He’d been in the fort for sure, too: he’d left the gummy worms. But, for some reason, I believed him about the matches. And if he hadn’t lit them and trashed the place and taken the calendar, who had?
    I was pretty sure I knew.
    I said, “Okay, Gerard. You’re not allowed to play with matches. You promised you wouldn’t. And you didn’t, did you?”
    Gerard’s face relaxed. His eyes opened and darted from mine to Augie’s and back as he shook his head no. He looked down happily at the squirrel tail and the rabbit’s foot and his hands began their rhythmic stroking again.
    â€œSo who did light the matches?” I went on.
    The eyes flew up under the lids again and stayed there. The hands froze. The statue was back.
    â€œDo you know?”
    No answer.
    I tried a different tactic, trying to get him to relax. “Was it your mother?” I asked in a teasing voice.
    Gerard’s eyes flew open. “No!” he said, and laughed as if this was the funniest idea in the world.
    â€œWas it Augie’s gram?” I tried.
    â€œNo!” he said, laughing even harder.
    I laughed, too, and said, “Okay, now I’ll ask for real: Was it J.R. and Morrie?”
    Gerard’s eyes flew back in his head and he was still again, except for his lips and hands, which were trembling.
    I glanced at Augie and nodded. He nodded back. Then he said, real slowly and quietly, “It’s okay, Gerard.”
    There was no answer from the statue, but I thought the trembling eased up a little.
    â€œWe’re not mad at you,” I said. “I just wonder how those guys found the