Free 100 Cupboards by N. D. Wilson Page B

open.” He leaned on the door. He stood up and thumped his shoulder against it. He stepped back and kicked it.
    â€œGoodness,” he said. “Somebody weld a plate on the other side of this? It’s not locked as far as I can tell. Should pop right open.” He kicked it again.
    â€œThat’s why I used the ax,” Frank said. “Wish I could just find the key.”
    â€œKey wouldn’t help you. It’s as unlocked as any key would make it. Something else has got it shut.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” Frank said. “Might be a different kind of key. It’s sure a different kind of lock.”
    â€œIt’s the same kind of lock that’s in all of these old houses,” Billy said. “Nothing special about it.”
    They were silent again.
    â€œI would have gone straight to the chain saw,” Billy finally said. “What happened with it?”
    â€œKicked. Swung down and ate the carpet.”
    â€œMind if I give it a try?”
    â€œGotta cut it out first.” Frank pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open. He cut the strands of carpet away from the saw while Billy tried to pull it out. After a few wiggles and two big tugs, they got it free of the floor. Billy examined the chain.
    â€œBit dull,” he said. “And full of carpet.”
    â€œWasn’t,” Frank said. Billy pulled the starter cord, and the engine muttered. He pulled again, and the engine sounded irritated. A third pull roused it completely, and the landing filled with exhaust.
    Billy stepped toward the door.
    Â 
    By the time Henry, his cousins, his aunt, and his uncle were all home and unloaded, Henry had consumed a total of six sodas of various types (four of them caffeinated), two sausages, and a hamburger. And he desperately needed to go to the bathroom.
    Standing in front of the downstairs bathroom mirror, he reviewed his baseball accomplishments.
    He had struck out twice, and hit one single and a double. His double had gone all the way to the trees. He had flubbed a fly ball in right field, but had fielded a grounder and thrown it almost all the way to second base. Zeke Johnson, though much bigger than Henry, wanted him to come over to hit sometime this week. Henry would be in Zeke’s class in the fall.
    Henry turned on the faucet and watched the water become brown as it ran over his hands. He could hear his cousins yelling and laughing. He wouldn’t go to school in Kansas if his parents were back. Something knotted in his stomach. He felt horribly guilty. Only a few days in a new house, and he had already forgotten them. They were probably miserable.
    But, he thought, it wasn’t completely his fault for forgetting. Strange things had been distracting him. Of course he hoped they would be found and returned. But if that was going to happen, it was going to happen whether or not he worried about it. And he was playing baseball, and Zeke did want him to come to his house, and, most importantly, he needed to figure out what was going on in his bedroom.
    Henry wandered into the living room, where his cousins were begging Uncle Frank to let them watch a movie. He thumped past them and up to his bedroom, trying to feel unhappy for his parents. When he got to the bottom of the attic stairs, he took one step up and stopped. Cold air was drifting down around him. He took two more slow steps, smelling and listening. The air smelled like grass and wet earth. He could hear trees.
    The entire attic, normally the hottest place in the house, was extremely chilly. His two doors were open, and a quiet wind was crawling out of his bedroom and past him. The lights were off, but it wasn’t completely dark outside, so he could just see the wall of his bedroom from where he stood. The cupboard door was open. He could hear trees gently moaning, creaking like ships, somewhere beyond his bed. When he stood just inside his doors, he looked carefully to both his left