Free Girl in Landscape by Jonathan Lethem Page B

over my farm,” said Efram. “Just chase them out.”
    “C’mon,” said Morris. Howling out a sort of hunting call, he raised his stick and charged past the house. David ran after him, adding a high-pitched echo to Morris’s battle cry.
    And they were gone, screaming off into the valley. Pella watched them disappear in a cloud of kicked-up dust. As badly as she wanted to torture Morris Grant with his own stick, she wished she was with them, running away from the house. She didn’t want to host Efram alone for a minute longer. The pressure of it had her wanting, for once, to lose herself among the children, not be taken for someone older.
    Efram just stood, emanating silence.
    “Why do they like them?” she said, trying to fill the vacuum.
    “What’s that?” said Efram.
    “Diana Eastling and the other name you said. Why do they like household deer?”
    “Hugh Merrow. He’s a painter, lives out on the western end, off alone. You know Diana Eastling?”
    “She came by to see Clement. Like you.”
    “She recognizes your dad’s name. That’s what brought her out.” Efram seemed to be talking to himself. Then he smiled. “I’m just humoring the boys.They won’t be able to herd those deer to Merrow’s place, or Diana Eastling’s, or anywhere else. Like chasing grapes around a plate with a knife. But I’ll give them each a dollar tomorrow anyway.”
    “But why do Diana Eastling and Hugh Merrow like them?”
    “You hold on to your questions, don’t you?” He squinted at her, smiling.
    “I guess.”
    “Well, Eastling and Merrow, they’ve got different excuses. She’s a scientist—she’s
studying
this place. Merrow’s a painter, an artist.”
    He seemed to think no further explanation was necessary.
    “And why don’t you?” she asked.
    “I’m sure you’ll find out about that,” he said. “The question is what you’ll do about it.” He stepped off the porch, and stood with one arm crossed over, the way he had when he’d first appeared on the hill. “I’ll see your dad another time, Pella.”
    “Find out about what?” She heard her words come out panicked. Suddenly he was leaving, teasing her with what he knew.
    He smiled. “We’ll talk later, Miss Marsh.”
    He raised his big hand and held it up, until she felt compelled to wave. Then he dropped his hand and turned. Pella felt the air go out of her. She watched him track off slowly into the valley, not in the direction the two boys had gone, but toward Wa’s.
    Was he glad the new family was here? Did he want there to be a real town?
    Would he sit in a rocking chair and drink Wa’s coffee?
    Pella stood staring after him, thinking.
    Five minutes later, Clement came back, riding a bicycle painstakingly over the cracked ground. It was as though he’d been hiding until Efram was gone.
    “Where were you?” she said. “I was waiting—”
    “Look what I bought, from Joe Kincaid.” Clement dismounted and admired the bicycle like a Christmas present, stroking the handlebars, the fender. “Joe said it was just sitting around. Great way to get around here, very ecological. Needs air, though.”
    He leaned the bicycle against the porch and went past her into the house. Pella stared at the bicycle for a moment. She imagined slashing the tires.
    Then she followed Clement in, marveling that traces of Efram’s visit weren’t somehow evident to him.
    “Where have you been?” he asked, his back to her, as he sliced at a green potato. He’d been quick to learn to cook the Archbuilder food, and now it was all there was in the house. At dinners he exclaimed over Raymond’s and David’s reluctance to eat it, as if it were burgers and fries, or chocolate-chip cookies, something he and they had been eating for a lifetime.
    Pella found she couldn’t answer the question.
    Chop, chop. “Joe and I were talking about pooling together for some kind of school. They’ve been teaching Bruce and Martha at home, on Joe’s computer. But now that