Free Virginia Hamilton by Justice, Her Brothers: The Justice Cycle (Book One)

over.
    “Okay, you guys,” Thomas said, silencing the drums. He stood at attention before the boys until they had again settled back. The drums commenced to hum seemingly of their own accord.
    “See,” he told them, “snakes can get loose of most anything, except a sack you can draw real tight-closed at the top. But that kind of drawsack—you know, like you keep trunks and towels in for the town pool—that kind of sack has to be made of stuff that’ll let the snakes breathe free air through. Easier for you is to have one of the big plastic peanut-butter containers. With the handles and the lids.” He studied each one of the boys to make certain they understood.
    “You punch little holes in the lids,” he told them, “and hang the containers up by the handles. See if you got any. Most folks have ’em.”
    He waited a moment before continuing; but the humming drums did not cease. “It’s just for one night,” he told them. “Part of The Great Snake Race, of which I am the sole inventor, is to find out if you guys can keep them snakes overnight and keep a secret, too. Because you have to have the snakes on Saturday. Alive. And no mom or dad to know, either.
    “No wounded snakes and no dead snakes count for The Great Snake Race on Saturday,” Thomas finished finally.
    “But I thought—” Justice spoke before she realized. She’d been listening closely to Thomas. Now Levi gave her a look to shush her.
    She whispered to him, “I thought it was going to be just on Friday.”
    “Friday and Saturday. You’re not supposed to talk,” he whispered back.
    It annoyed her that he, too, followed along, giving Thomas the right to say who could talk and when.
    Next thing, he’ll be telling us when to breathe.
    But she stayed quiet, for The Great Snake Race began to loom large, like the small patch of gray on a horizon that built into a summer storm.
    Two days! she thought. Keep the snakes caged and keep them alive! I bet the biggest is the best for staying curled up in a sack. And best for racing.
    She didn’t dare think what it would be like to catch and handle a large snake. Even the skinny snake she’d handled had had strength which surprised her.
    Get it in a sack fast as you can and bring it on home.
    There was quiet. Stillness rushed them in the absence of drumming. Thomas spoke eagerly: “Fr-frriday, tuh-ten o’clock. Weee meet-at thee Quin ella Trace.” Words popping and bursting. “You-you youuuu got-as muh-muuch time as you-you neeed tooo catch ’em, but … buuuut don’t tuh-tuh-tuh-ake forever!”
    “Better make a limit,” Levi told him; then, quietly, in the same voice as Thomas’: “You’ve forgotten to drum.”
    “O-oh,” Thomas said, in Levi’s voice.
    His hands moved, not with any kind of speed that Justice could see. All the same, the drumsticks became a blur. And sound, like a mystery in a minor key, rose and fell and echoed all around them.
    “Two hours is the limit of time to hunt the snakes,” Thomas said easily. “Then bring ’em back and string ’em up.” Softly, the drums rolled. “You can leave ’em over there in the trees until Saturday morning, early.”
    “How early?” someone asked him.
    “While your folks still be sleeping,” he said. “Six-thirty.”
    “Aw, Tom-Tom, too early, man,” said Slick. “Saturday, my mom is asleep even by nine-thirty.”
    “Then you got it made,” Thomas told him.
    “Yeah, but then I can’t sleep late,” Slick said.
    “My dad sleeps all day,” Dorian said eagerly. He looked happy, all thought of tears gone now. “But my mom’s around. Don’t know what-all time she starts up.” They knew his mom wouldn’t pay any attention to his going.
    Wonder how she’s feeling, thought Justice.
    Other boys were moaning, “Why so early?”
    Thomas gave them a blast of the kettles. He flicked hand screws, changing tones to unearthly, magnificent sound.
    The boys quieted. Without their having noticed, a thin mist had gathered over