Free The Hidden Boy by Jon Berkeley Page B

two of you to do some exploring,” said Granny Delphine to Bea and Phoebe. She turned around at a sound from the living room. “And this must be Willow,” she said. “Maybe she’d like to go with you.”
    A young girl drifted out onto the verandah. She looked like a thinner version of her mother, but unlike Mrs. Miller’s porcelain skin, Willow’s complexion was pale and clammy, like cheese soaked in water. She walked as if in a dream, and barely glanced at Bea and Phoebe. She picked up a plumegranate without sitting down.
    â€œI don’t think so,” said Mrs. Miller. “Willow hasn’t been well. She gets tired easily.”
    â€œI get tired easily,” said Willow in a flat voice. She stared out into the trees without eating the fruit in her hand.
    â€œYou were telling us about the Ledbetters,” said Phoebe, to break the silence.
    Mrs. Miller cleared her throat, and Mr. Miller stood up abruptly. “Nothing more to tell,” he said, without meeting Phoebe’s eye. It was obvious the subject was closed for now. He turned to Granny Delphine.“The Quorum starts early. I’ll point you in the right direction.”
    Mrs. Miller began to clear up the breakfast dishes noisily, as her husband and Granny Delphine descended the ladder. “Another plumegranate? I’ll make you some sandwiches. It looks like rain later. Were the beds comfortable? You could take the old road past the orchards. You’ll pass the windmill and turn left. There are copses of younger trees there. Don’t know if any of them are big enough to get lost in, mind. You girls will need some sleep before you go.”
    â€œI’m not tired,” said Bea.
    â€œMe neither,” said Phoebe. “I want to go exploring now.”
    â€œWell, if you’re sure,” said Mrs. Miller, “I’ll go and make you some lunch to bring.” She picked up the breakfast tray. “Willow,” she said gently. “Willow?” The thin girl started, and turned to them as if trying to remember where she was. “This is Bea and this is Phoebe. They’ll be staying with us for a while. Why don’t you sit down?” said Mrs. Miller. She swept into the kitchen, leaving the three girls alone.
    Willow sagged into a chair and looked at them with dull eyes. “You’re new,” she said.
    â€œWe arrived last night,” said Bea.
    â€œI heard you,” said Willow.
    â€œDid we wake you up?” asked Phoebe.
    Willow shook her head. “I don’t sleep,” she said.
    At that moment the tree house began to vibrate with heavy thumping. Even in a strange house Bea recognized it immediately as the sound of Pa descending the stairs. His voice boomed from inside. “I don’t see the harm in asking. I can’t just sit here all day.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” replied Ma’s voice. “Go around the town asking, ‘Have you seen a boy?’”
    â€œI can describe him,” said Pa, as he loomed onto the verandah. “Morning, girls.”
    â€œDescribe him, then,” said Ma.
    â€œWell, he’s…” A frown crossed his face. “Is he six or seven?”
    â€œThat’s a good start,” said Ma. “Bea, have you even brushed your hair since we left the apartment?” She sat down and smiled briefly at Willow.
    â€œSeven years old, brownish hair. Well, lightish. Front teeth missing, face probably dirty,” said Pa, counting off details on his thick fingers.
    â€œWe don’t even have a photograph,” said Ma.
    â€œI’ll just have to do without,” said Pa. “Either way, I can’t just sit around doing nothing.”
    Bea could hear the background hum she had noticedthe night before: It was stronger now in the daylight, and it reminded her of a sound she remembered from years before. Her mother had still had her tattoo parlor back then, before Theo was