The Hole in the Wall - Lisa Rowe Fraustino [51]
“Where do you think you’re going?” Barbie asked. A common question around me.
“Oh, just goofing around on my bike while waiting for Barbie Big Toes to get out of bed.” To prove it I hopped my bike along one of the grooves in the hardened mud.
Barbie shook her head at me. “I’m sooooo glad we’re not identical. Anyway, Mr. No, why did you go and drag Pa inside last night after what Grum said?”
“Who, me? I thought you did it.” The shock made me fall off my bike. Groan, groan, my aching back. I must have slept on it wrong. No, wait, Barbie stood on it wrong with those heavy rocks yesterday. No wonder my back killed.
“I didn’t do it. And Ma says she didn’t do it. So who did it?”
“Maybe one of his drinking buddies?”
Barbie nodded. “Makes sense. We’d better hurry—there’s just enough time to save the chickens before we have to get ready for church.”
Our plan was to load up the wheelbarrow and the little red wagon with all the chickens and haul them to the cavern in one trip. Celery came fluttering to sit on my sneaker the moment I walked inside the henhouse. “Ahoy, mate,” I said, petting her head as Barbie opened the closet.
But Barbie was the one who swore like a parrot. “Someone’s been in here!”
My perfect sister, swearing? I never heard of such a thing. “This can’t be good.” I ran to see.
All the stuff had been neatly put away on the shelves. We pulled down the things in front of the hidden door only to see that the barn boards had been replaced by a big piece of plywood. Nails with broad heads had been spiked into the studs an inch apart. That plywood wasn’t going to come off without a lot of work.
“Pa must have done this last night, before he . . . you know!” I said.
“I guess so. But where did he put the chickens? I hope he didn’t just leave them where they were!”
Me and Barbie looked at each other, then tore around the corner to search the coop. There all the hens were, right where they belonged: sitting on their nests like sculptures on display.
“Whoever did this has a sick sense of humor,” Barbie said.
I went along the rows and waved my hand in front of their eyes, which moved. “They’re still alive!”
“How will we get the sick hens to that cavern now?” Barbie said.
“Maybe we can find a place to squeeze in between the wall and the cliff behind the coop?” I said.
Barbie nodded, but doubtfully. “Maybe, if we can clip away some vines.”
We went out to look. Celery didn’t want to let go my foot so she went along for the ride.
This time Barbie and I both cussed like parrots at what we saw. Someone had wedged rocks into the gap between the building and the mountain. Mortar oozed out between the stones. It was still damp to the touch. My heart felt like a balloon with all the air gone out of it. How were we going to save the chickens now?
15
We went back inside the coop to talk it over. I sat in the wheelbarrow with my soul mate in my lap and pet her head forlornly. “I’m sorry, Celery. I’d love to save your aunties. I really would.” I felt worse than I had when we found the chickens petrified to begin with. At least then I thought they were dead and didn’t have any reason to hope. Now I knew they were alive, and could be saved, if only we could get them to the cavern.
“There has to be another way,” Barbie said.
“Because where there’s a will, there’s a—” I said, mimicking Grum’s voice, and then it came to me: “A ladder! We can take Pa’s extension ladder into the gore and climb up to the tunnel from there.”
Barbie wasn’t having that. “Oh, Sebby. Bad idea. Even if Ma and Grum didn’t catch us trying to drag that heavy ladder and all those chickens over there, the goons would. Plus it would be suicidal trying to climb up all that loose dirt. But another entrance is a good thought. Those tunnels probably have other ways in. Remember all those passages that went off to the left?”
“Yeah, off to the left . . . that would