Free Kyle's Island by Sally Derby Page A

though, we waded around a bit. Trees and brambly undergrowth crowded together, reaching right to the water’s edge in a sort of inhospitable way. It was like the island was saying “Keep off,” and it was easy to believe that no one had ever set foot on it. Or had someone? I waded close to the spot where I used to think I could see a path. If there had been one, it was overgrown now. Still, it looked like the most likely spot to begin, whenever I had a chance to explore. I didn’t let Josh in on my plan. When I stepped onto the island for the first time, I was going to be alone.
    I was planning what I’d need to bring with me when cold water splashed on my back. I turned. Josh had pulled the bailing can from the boat and was filling it with more water to throw at me. He had the biggest smile I’d seen on his face for a long time. “I’ll show you!” I called and went after him. We splashed and chased until he’d had enough and yelled “Uncle!” Then I told him we were going to have another swimming lesson.
    â€œI don’t need more lessons. I know how to swim now.”
    â€œBut you need to know more than one stroke. If youknow the side stroke, you can use it as a kind of resting stroke on a long swim,” I answered.
    I can’t say he improved any, but at least he tried. After about half an hour, I decided he’d had enough, and I let him wade around and pull up stones. He said he wanted to take one home as a souvenir, but it had to be a special one. He couldn’t explain what a “special” one would look like, but he seemed to have no doubt he’d find one. He was still looking when I heard the bell from the cottage. A long time ago Gram had bought a big old bell at a country auction, and she’d had Grandpa mount it on a post down by the pier so she could call him in from the lake when she needed him. Mom said he had grumbled about it but finally admitted it was useful, and from then on he and everyone else had called it “Hazel’s telephone.”
    â€œMust be lunchtime,” I said. “Mom’s ringing for us.”
    Back in the boat I expected Josh to want to row again, but he must have been tired, because he plopped down in the stern without a word. We were about halfway back when he asked me, “Kyle, what were you and Vicki and Andrea talking about this morning?”
    â€œThose people who looked at the cottage,” I said. “They want to buy it so they can tear it down and build a new one on the lot.”
    â€œWhy do they want to do that? It’s a good cottage.”
    â€œThey don’t think so.”
    â€œWell, we can all just sit down in the middle and not move, and then they can’t tear it down.”
    â€œI wish it were as easy as that,” I answered, careful not to grin.
    â€œYou won’t let them do it, will you, Kyle?”
    â€œNot if I can help it.”
    â€œWhat can I do so they won’t tear it down?”
    I looked at him. His jaw was set the way it is when he’s dribbling the ball down the soccer field. It made him look older, somehow. I thought about what he asked. “I know what you can do,” I said. “We’re all trying to earn money so Mom won’t have to sell. You can catch crickets.”
    â€œCrickets?” He looked a little uncertain.
    â€œSure, I’ll show you how to do it. You can use Gram’s old cricket cage, and after you’ve caught a bunch, I’ll sell them to Clyde Stemm for you.”
    â€œI want to sell them myself. They’re my crickets.”
    â€œNot until you catch them, they aren’t.” This time I did grin at him.
    When we reached the pier, I tried to show him how I tie the boat up with a half hitch at each end. But he’d listened to me enough for one day. His mind was on crickets.
    Up at the cottage Mom had tuna salad sandwiches and tomato soup ready. As soon as Andrea saw me come into