Eleven (12 page)

He stood there, looking at the castle, satisfied. It could go upstairs now, maybe with the little boat on his dresser.

Mack was at the door. “Isn't today the school party?”

Pease porridge hot. Trenchers. Cloves and cinnamon.

“The medieval feast.” Sam shrugged.

“I'll drive you in the truck, Sam. You won't be able to carry—”

“The castle? I'm not going to bring it.”

“But why?”

Sam shook his head. He'd really made the castle for Caroline and for himself.

Mack glanced at the castle. “I always thought it was a shame that Boldt never finished his castle, that for years it just crumbled away.”

“It isn't like that. I finished it, all of it.”

Mack touched the small green book on the corner of the table. “Caroline wrote it down about building it. Didn't she? And shouldn't everyone know about that?”

Mack went to the door, tapping on the frame. “I'm going
to scramble some eggs, not as good as Onji's, but still—” He reached out. “Take the castle to school today, Sam. You'll be glad afterward.”

How could Sam say no to Mack? He ripped out the back pages of the notebook, the section that belonged just to him, and took them up to his bedroom.

After breakfast they left for school a little late because it had taken so long to wrap the castle and put it in the back of the truck.

“Want me to come inside?” Mack asked as they unloaded it at the side door, but Sam shook his head. Without thinking, he reached out to hug Mack. He carried the castle down the hall alone, maneuvering his way around kids who were carrying cans of water for plants, kids who quick-stepped instead of running, because Mr. Ramon might be lurking around the stairs.

In the classroom, Sam put the castle, still covered, on the table under the window. The room was noisier than usual. Five kids were getting ready to do their play, and Eric marched back and forth with his sword and a paper helmet that made Sam laugh. In the corner, Marcy practiced her oral report, her lips moving, her arms waving.

Stacked on the table were the large round pieces of bread with the centers scooped out, the trenchers Mrs. Stanek had promised she'd make. She'd actually brought in a huge pot of mashed peas to put on the bread, although Sam couldn't imagine anyone eating any of it. Marcy's
mother had brought apple juice with cloves and Eric's mom had made a cinnamon cake, all food that had been around in the Middle Ages.

Mrs. Stanek turned and saw him. “You've finished the castle, Sam.” She said it as if she'd known all along it would happen.

He stood there, embarrassed, not knowing what to do with his hands.

“Show us,” she said.

He unwrapped the castle slowly, setting Caroline's horse straighter on the base, feeling the heat in his face.

Mrs. Stanek moved away from the board and came to the table, her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Sam.” She touched the small knights standing in front, the towers, and bent over to see the medieval lady standing in the window. “It's Caroline, isn't it?”

“Her mother made them, and Caroline made the horse,” he said. “It's all here in her notebook.”

“Hey, look at what Sam did,” Marcy said, and then everyone was crowding in to look at the castle, looking at him. “Cool,” someone said, and “Sam built this?” someone else said.

Eric grinned at him. “Terrific, MacKenzie. Really terrific.”

Sam couldn't stop grinning back at Eric, and at the rest of them. Mack had been right. Sam went back to his seat, glad that he'd brought the castle. More than glad.

Marcy began her speech, talking about cities with walls built around them for protection. And Mrs. Stanek walked
around the room passing out her trenchers, holding out the pot of peas.

Sam took a trencher. “I'll try the peas.” He'd probably be the only one, but after all, Anima made something delicious with chickpeas—how different could this be? Besides, Mrs. Stanek's face was red. For the first time he thought about how hard she tried.

The peas were terrible, with enough pepper to make him sneeze, but he didn't have time to think about it, because the classroom door banged open, and Marcy stopped speaking, one arm raised.

Caroline stood there, her bracelets circling halfway up her arm. She was wearing a purple hat that curled around her face. As if no one else were in the room, she smiled at him, and said, “Here I am, Sam-I-Am.”

The dismissal bell rang. Sam zigzagged down the hall, carrying one end of the castle. “Those trenchers. Ugh.”

Caroline zigzagged behind him with the other. “I'll tell Mom it was worth that two-hour drive this morning just to taste those peas. Yum.” They laughed.

Sam backed down the three outside steps, trying to hold the castle level.

“Easy,” Caroline said, and then, “So what about Sam Bell?”

“It was my parents’ name.” He bent to pick up a knight that had slid off the edge of the castle. “But Mack thought it would be easier for me to have his.”

They reached the van, and Caroline's mother popped the rear door from the driver's seat.

“You're sure it's all right?” Caroline asked.

Sam grinned at her. “About my name? About the castle? Sure.”

“One thing. I know why you put the window in my room in the castle.”

He waited.

“You want me to look for friends. Don't you?”

“Just go to the classroom door. Just pick out a kid, and smile. You have a great smile. You'll see.” He slid the castle into the rear of the van.

“Oh, Sam,” she said. “I will. I'll never forget—” She did smile then. “Thanks. But one more thing. How can we stay friends if you don't e-mail, if you don't write?”

She put a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “My e-mail address.” She leaned forward—purple hat, a dozen bracelets, a constellation of freckles—and kissed his cheek before she went around to the front of the van. “Think about it. Write to me. I'll figure it out. Say yes.”

He stepped back to stand on the curb, his hand raised to his face, watching until they pulled away and turned the corner. He went back into school and down the stairs to the Resource Room.

Mrs. Waring was at the window, watering her plants.

“I have to read,” he said.

“Sam?” She brushed a drop of water off a leaf. “I saw your castle at lunchtime. Everyone's talking about it, and no wonder. It's amazing.”

“Thanks, but listen, I don't have to be a great reader, but I have to get by.”

Her head was tilted, the watering can dripping.

How could he tell her the whole story? The papers in the attic, the computer, Caroline, all of it? What a difference it would have made if he could have read? He settled for telling her just about the boat. “My grandfather and I are going to build a sailboat. I want to write it down. What we do, how we do it.”

“How much time did you spend thinking about that castle? How much time working on it?”

He knew what she was thinking. “Every minute I had.”

“That's what it takes sometimes.” She put the watering can down and wiped her fingers on her jeans, then lifted the pot off the C and traced it with her finger. “How about giving me a couple of afternoons every week after school, a couple of mornings for part of the summer? We'll keep at it, work on it; we'll really try.” She held out her hand. “Give me a chance, Sam. I love to teach the way you love to build.”

She had such a nice smile, her teeth a little crooked, her dark eyes soft. All right, he could do that.

He swept his hand around the room. “And sometime soon, I'll make shelves for this room.”

He'd missed the bus again, but that was all right too. It was warm out, almost summer, so he jogged part of the way.

Mack was outside, waiting for him. They walked out back to stand in the doorway of the shed. Piles of sweet-smelling wooden planks stretched from one end to the other, and boxes of screws and nails were stacked against the wall. Mack had begun the cradle that would hold the growing hull of the boat.

They breathed in the sweetness of the wood, half-listening to the music that was coming from Anima's restaurant. Sam flexed his fingers; he couldn't wait to begin. But Onji poked his head out the window. “Plenty of time for that. First, how about some muffins, you guys, and a glass of milk? Put some meat on those bones.”

“We're built that way in our family,” Mack said. “Thin but tough.”

“Right,” Sam said.

They opened the back door of the deli. “Just a second,” Sam said. He went into Onji's office to get to the Internet and smoothed out the paper with Caroline's address. He wanted to be sure she'd get the first message as soon as she reached home. One thing. One word.
Yes.