Free Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff Page A

here too, Sam.” She pointed with the mouse to bring the pictures up: mossy green trees reflected in swampy water, fishing boats under blue skies, and sails on the horizon.
    Could he remember any of that? Could he picturesailing that little toy boat there, holding the string as it bobbed along on the edge of the water? “Big fish,” he said. “Game fish, I think you call them. Do you see anything—”
    She scrolled down and clicked. Immediately there was a photo of a huge fish coming up out of the water, glinting silver, its tail a fan. The fisherman, back arched, at the stern of a sailboat—it even had a double mast—strained to bring in the fish.
    Florida.
    The kindergarten class moved out of the Media Center and Mrs. Hurd wandered over to them. “What are you working on?”
    Caroline's face flushed. “We have a project on the Middle Ages in Mrs. Stanek's room. We have to build a castle, knights…” Her voice trailed off. Her fingers were crossed.
    Mrs. Hurd squinted at the screen. “I don't think Florida had anything to do with the Middle Ages. I'm not sure the Europeans had even gotten to the Everglades yet.”
    “We just—” Sam said.
    “I think you'd better go back to your classroom. And find some towels, dry yourselves off.”
    They went out and stopped at the fountain for water. “Wet inside and out,” Caroline said.
    “It's not right.”
    “What? Walking out of the classroom without permission? Getting the library floor wet? Mrs. Hurd sending us back? What, Sam-I-Am?”
    He ran his hands over his arms. He was still cold. “Florida doesn't feel right.”
    She wiped her mouth. “But Mack's license—”
    “I dream of cold. The water is gray, not blue; it's almost black.”
    She nodded uncertainly.
    He raised one shoulder. “Dreams aren't always right, I guess, but still—”
    She sighed. “So maybe the legend doesn't fit.”
    The door of their classroom opened and the kids barreled out, the sub in back of them.
    “Art,” Caroline said. “I forgot.”
    “Do you two belong to this class?” the sub said as they fell into line.
    “They were probably in the Media Center,” Marcy said.
    “Thank you, Marcy,” the sub said.
    “Yes, thank you,” Sam echoed under his breath.
    By that time they were filing into the art room. The teacher gave out paper. Free drawing.
    Sam began to sketch. A sailboat with a double mast that looked like eleven. Water that was gray, the boat almost over on its side. Was he drawing the boat in the photo from the attic? Was it the toy boat? Or maybe it was a boat he'd like to build someday.
    Which one ?
    He couldn't be sure.

16
Onji's Office
    In the workroom that afternoon, Sam cleared the table to make room. Caroline had left her notebook. He flipped it open to the front. Castle
by Sam and Caroline.
Easy to read, and some of the other words weren't so hard either. They were written down in rows:
Plywood, e-z cut, tall, mist
, another word that had to be
moat
, one that might have been
gravel. Sandpaper.
    In the back of the notebook were more words: some of hers, and the page he'd written.
Big fish M.
    He put the notebook aside and opened Anima's book to a drawing. He began to cut the tower roofs, shaping them like pizzas, each circle cut into six pieces. The center points would be the peaks, and they'd fan out over the towers.
    He leaned over the castle without its roof. He'd added aroom just for Caroline, and once the roofs were put on top, no one would be able to see inside. It would be just for her.
    Perfect
, he could almost hear her say.
    He looked out the half-opened window at the back of the workroom. The leaves that covered the trees were still pale and new looking, but shoots of wild onion poked up in patches among the reeds at the water's edge. It was really spring.
    Caroline's voice was in his head:
Hurry, hurry.
    Beyond the reeds, Mack sat on Anima's bench, head up to catch the sun. Onji stood in the water in old hip boots and his waterproof jacket,