Free Facing the Hunchback of Notre Dame by Zondervan Page A

the clothing aside. “I don’t see what the problem is with these clothes. Why do they need to be washed?”
    Ophelia held her nose. “Because things smell worse more quickly these days.”
    “These aren’t smelly. Or, actually, they’re not very smelly,” he said.
    “Okay, Linus, let’s see this Cato Grubbs,” Ophelia said.
    Linus turned on the desk lamp and set the picture underneath the beam of light.
    Walter whistled. “Certainly not what I expected.”
    “Me either,” Ophelia shook her head.
    You got that right
, Linus thought.
    “He looks like a very nice man,” said Quasimodo.
    Quasi must not have good eyesight, Linus figured, because the portrait of Cato did not depict a nice man at all.
    Now, if you’re picturing the tall, dark-haired villainous sort of … well, villain, with a fiery glint in his eyes and a cruel twist to his mouth, then you’re thinking of someone quite the opposite of Cato Grubbs. Fat, blond, and smooth-skinned, he was dressed in a rather flamboyant (bold and showy) manner. He wore a cravat (silk scarf) tied around his neck, and on his hands were several rings — a pinky ring in particular supported a very large diamond. Linus wondered from which novel Cato had taken it.
    Cato didn’t exactly look like the picture of kind respectability either—just a nice, eccentric owner of the laboratory supply shop around the corner. He just didn’t sport the sinister appearance that one might expect. Except for one thing.
    “His eyes,” said Ophelia. “I don’t trust them.”
    Cold and calculating
, thought Linus.
    Walter agreed, “Looks like he’d turn on you for a meat pie.”
    Quasi screwed up his face. “I can’t see that at all.”
    “Have you ever seen him before?” asked Ophelia.
    Quasi scratched his cheek and stared at the photo. “No. I’d remember him if I had.”
    I must be reading Cato’s copy of the book
, thought Ophelia.
    “I don’t like his mouth,” said Walter. “It looks a bit too willing to be nice, if you know what I mean.”
    “Disingenuous (false or hypocritical). He’s definitely projecting a certain image.” Ophelia leaned over and took a closer look. “I wonder when this photo was taken?”
    Long ago
, thought Linus. It made him wonder what Mr. Grubbs looked like today. Was he elderly and decrepit? Or did living in books suspend not only time, but also the aging process? Was staying young the original motivation (reason) for Cato’s experiments? Or did he just stumble upon it by accident one night during a thunderstorm worthy of Dr. Frankenstein?
    “We’d better be careful,” Walter said. “If he’s still using the attic, then we’re probably getting in his way.”
    Ophelia put down the photo. “You’re right! I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps he’s just letting this thing with Quasi play out and assumes we’ll be done with the attic after that.”
    He sure doesn’t know you then
, thought Linus.
    “Let’s hope so,” Walter said from his seat on the floor. “Maybe next time you’ll be more careful at 11:11, Ophelia.”
    Ophelia cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I have the opportunity to meet book characters in the flesh, and I’m not going to jump on that? I don’t think so, Walter.”
    He began doing sit-ups. “Good girl.”
    Ophelia smiled.
    “Right, then. The street’s deserted,” Walter said. “Let’s go!”
    Ophelia settled a thick shawl over Quasimodo’s head and shoulders, and the group rushed across the street to the church. With Ophelia and Walter taking the lead, the two of them leaped over the small pools that had collected in the potholes, Quasimodo sloshed right through them, and Linus easily stepped over them with his long legs.
    Walter looked out upon the rainy street and wondered why he had the good fortune to end up in an adventure like this one. He hadn’t wanted to come to America to attend high school, and certainly not spend the entire summer there ahead of time; but it was turning out for the best.