Free Hold Zero! by Jean Craighead George

said. “She wanted a good exhibit for the PTA. But I didn’t wanna make animals, cause we didn’t have dishes for Batta. Still,” he mused, “when I told her I really wanted to make dishes, she let me. She said something about art couldn’t be dictated. ’Sfunny thing to say, don’t you think, Phil?”
    “I dunno. I get all mixed up about what they want you to do and what they don’t. So I go along with them.” He tilted and swirled the fry pan. “But I do know this much, hash is a durn sight easier to eat on your plates than on my ceramic giraffe.”
    They laughed.
    Officer Ricardo awoke with a snort. He sat up and looked around, saw the boys, and grinned. “Good morning, good knights,” he called. “I’ve always wanted a chance to say that.” Everyone laughed.
    Steve went to the sink to wash his face. As the cold water hit him he began to chuckle. He looked at the transmitter-receiver.
    “All this fancy equipment,” he said. “And Johnny gets us on a durn filling.” Craig wondered about the possibilities of silver and mercury as he spooned out the food.
    When the dishes were washed and put away, Craig, Phil, and Steve were ready to go. Officer Ricardo was not. He was contemplating the far wall and suggesting that a heating plant for winter might be installed there.
    They waited for him, then walked up the steps. The sun had broken through the white mist.
    “How’re we gonna get home?” Officer Ricardo asked. “We have no gas.”
    “Paddle like geese,” said Phil.
    As the bulky swamp buggy inched along, the wheel dragging hard against their efforts, Phil suddenly pushed up on his elbows.
    “Gee, it’s Sunday,” he said. “I’m gonna miss Dad’s sermon if we don’t hurry.”
    “Ya won’t miss it,” boomed Officer Ricardo, “if you paddle instead of back water.”
    Phil laughed at himself.

11 THE SPIDERLINGS
    T WO DAYS AFTER THE fog-in Steve reported to Craig that Mr. Smith had gone to Europe. Steve joined the PTA dancing class, and Phil and Craig and Johnny signed up for the basketball team. Craig tried hard to develop “sportsmanship” and enjoy himself, especially after Johnny’s father had told him that he should learn to compete when he was young, for he certainly would have to when he grew up. He could see how that might be true.
    Nevertheless, he preferred to go to the island and learn the plants and watch the animals. The afternoons inventing gadgets at Batta with Phil and Johnny were restful and wonderful. This bothered him, for he did want to enjoy what he was supposed to.
    A month passed.
    Then Steve came into the school locker room one day shouting exuberantly that Mr. Smith was back. Craig relayed the good news to Phil and Johnny.
    Three more days passed.
    On the fourth day Craig called Officer Ricardo and asked tentatively whether the committee was ready to come to inspect the rocket.
    “Craig,” the officer sighed, “it’s almost impossible to find a moment when one or the other of those men aren’t busy.” He paused. “And frankly, I’ve been busy, too.”
    “Oh, well,” Craig heard himself say, “I understand. It’s just that the weather is getting cold now, and the winter’ll be hard on the rocket. If they don’t inspect it soon, we’ll never get ’er off.”
    “I know, Craig. Everyone wants to do what’s best for you boys, believe me. Don’t worry; the committee will get there.”
    Suddenly Craig wanted to go to the island. It had been a long time since he’d been there. The confusion of whether they had done something wonderful or something awful had dampened his interest in Batta. He noticed that the other boys were not so enthusiastic either, and, like him, they were all trying hard to take advantage of what the community offered. At this moment, however, nothing could replace the island and the ammunition shelter, the faucet and the bunks. It was Friday, and in half an hour the basketball team would play a practice game. Craig decided the heck