"Duncan,.Lois.-.A.Gift.Of.Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Lois)

"There's somebody at the front door," Nancy said. "A man. He's starting toЧ"
The doorbell rang. Their mother's footsteps tapped lightly across the hardwood floor of the living room, as she went to answer it.
They heard the door being opened.
"Why, Tom! Tommy Duncan!" Elizabeth's voice rang out in a little cry of welcome. "How wonderful to see you! I didn't hear your car!"
"I didn't bring it," a man's voice answered. "I walked up by the beach. I ran into old man Crandel up town the other day, and he told me you were back home again. I couldn't believe it!"
"It's true," Elizabeth said. "Come on in, Tom! Don't just stand there." There was a sound of the front door closing as their mother drew her guest into the living room.
"Children! Children, hurry down here! I want you to meet an old friend of mine!"
By the time Kirby reached the top of the stairs, her mother was standing at the foot of them, looking up expectantly. Beside her was a thin, sandy-haired man with glasses.
"Good grief, Liz," he exclaimed in a stunned voice as he caught his first glimpse of Kirby. "She looks like you twenty years ago! Taller, maybe, but the same faceЧthe same smileЧ"
"And this is Brendon!" Elizabeth smiled as her son shoved his way past Kirby and started thudding down the stairs to what he evidently assumed would be the serving of refreshments.
For a moment longer Elizabeth stood, still gazing upward, waiting for the third figure to appear.
Finally she said, "My other daughter must be reading. She never hears anything when she's deep in a book. Go drag Nancy out, will you, Kirby dear? I want Mr. Duncan to meet all of you."
Kirby turned and went back down the hall to the bedroom. Nancy was still seated on her bed, glaring defiantly.
"I am not going to go downstairs," she said in a harsh whisper. "Not until that man is out of there. And if you have any sense, you won't go down either."
"Why ever not?" Kirby asked in bewilderment. "He's just an old friend of Mother's. Nance, for goodness sake, what's got into you? I've never seen you act like this!"
"Kirby, I feel it!" Nancy's voice was shaking. "I felt it the moment he came to the door! He's not just an old friend. He's something different. There's a different feeling about him than about anybodyЧanybodyЧwho's ever come into our lives before!"
"What kind of feeling?" Kirby asked. "He looks pleasant enough. OrdinaryЧand kind of skinny andЧoh, Nance, don't be such a nut. Come on down and meet him. He is Mother's guest, and we've got to be polite. He won't be staying long. It's too late in the evening."
Slowly, reluctantly, Nancy got to her feet.
"That's what you think," she said in a tragic voice. "Not staying long, is he? Not tonight, maybe, but he'll be back again, and again after that, and still again later. That's what the feeling's about." She regarded her sister helplessly. "This is a man who wants something! We just may never be able to get rid of him!"


3

By the time school was actually ready to start for the year, Brendon had worked himself into a state of happy anticipation. It was not because he liked school; quite the opposite, he disliked everything that had to do with sitting still and being quiet. Even so, he told himself, school could not possibly be more deadly than the long mornings of sitting in hotel rooms and being tutored by his mother. At school, at least, there would be other boys.
Strange to say, in his entire nine years, Brendon had never known another boy well. Through the years spent in various hotels his sisters had been his chief companions. He was fond of them in a way, but the largest part of the time they drove him out of his mind. Kirby was always springing about on her toes and Nancy was always frowning into a book.
There was something about the sight of Nancy reading with her brows drawn tight together and her long, straw-colored hair hanging down her back that made it impossible to go by without grabbing a handful and pulling. Then she would scream. There was no sound in the world that could match Nancy's scream. She would drop her book and leap at him to slap him, and he could jump aside and kick at her, and for a few heavenly moments there would be a real down-on-the-floor scuffle.
It never lasted long, however. Soon the energy would begin to pile up inside him all over again. In an hour he would almost have to go looking for Kirby and do something to herЧpinch her, perhaps. Kirby never got as furious as Nancy, but it was only fair to pick on her part of the time so as not to favor one sister over the other.
Now, however, there would be school.
He pretended, of course, that he did not want to go. He knew that no normal person ever admitted to wanting to attend school. Still, it was all he could do to keep himself scowling as he climbed out of the car and faced the crowd surging up the cement steps of Palmelo Public Grammar School.
"Don't you want me to come in with you?" his mother asked in surprise. "You won't know what room you're in or anything. It's bound to be awfully confusing."
"I speak the language," Brendon said. "For rats' sake, Mom, I'm not a baby!"
"Well, go straight to the office then," Elizabeth said. "I phoned in yesterday to say that you were coming. They'll give you your room number and tell you who your teacher is. I'm going to run the girls over to the junior high school, and we'll stop back for you as soon as they are finished getting registered."
"You don't have to do that," Brendon said. "I'll walk. I know the way to the house from here. It's not so far."
"Oh, Mother," Nancy said disgustedly, "can't you see that he's just trying to be difficult? I bet he doesn't go in at all. He'll just turn around and go home as soon as we're out of sight."
Elizabeth said, "Brendon wouldn't do a thing like that!" but she sounded a little doubtful. Brendon noticed that she sat in the car and watched him until he was up the steps and safely into the building.
Once through the school door, Brendon found himself faced with a noisy, milling mob of what appeared to be at least a million children. They shouted and shoved and disappeared into doorways and came popping out again with lists in their hands. A few of them had harried-looking mothers hurrying along behind them, but most, like Brendon, were without parents.
There were signs on the walls with arrows pointing in all directions. TO THE THIRD GRADE ROOMS, they said, and TO THE FIFTH GRADE ROOMS, TO THE REST ROOMS, PTA REGISTRATION."
With a feeling of adventure, Brendon hurled himself into the swirling mob and was immediately swept along like a leaf in a river. A few moments later the door marked OFFICE swam by him to the right, and he hauled himself out and went through it into the comparative calm of a sunny room full of desks and telephones.
A woman behind the first desk looked up.
"Hello, there," she said. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Brendon Garrett," Brendon said formally. I'm new. My mom said for me to come in here and find out where to go."
"Brendon Garrett." The woman repeated his name slowly. Then suddenly her face broke into a great smile. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "You're Liz Burke's little boy! How marvelous! Mr. Manzi said that your mother phoned yesterday to register you." Turning to the woman at the desk behind her, she asked, "Is Mr. Manzi in his office? I know he'll want to meet Liz Burke's son. Liz was always one of his very favorite students."
"He's in there," the second woman said, "with the Russo boy. Here it is only the first day of school, and he's in trouble already. He was shooting water pistols filled with ink. He got little Amy Steider right in the middle of the back and ruined her new dress."
"And he's a psychiatrist's child!" The woman at the first desk shook her head. "I wish Dr. Russo would try analyzing his own son for a change. In all the years I've been working in this school, I've never known of a child soЧ"
She broke off abruptly as the door to the principal's office swung open. Mr. Manzi stood framed in the doorway, and beside him was a freckled, red-haired boy with the largest ears Brendon had ever seen.
"Mr. Manzi!" the woman said quickly. "Guess who this is? It's Liz Burke's son, Brendon!"
"Well, Brendon!" The principal's stern expression changed at the mention of Elizabeth's name. The hard set of his mouth seemed to soften, and he came over to Brendon and shook his hand. "It's good to have you with us, son. Your mother was a pleasure to all of us. It will be good to have a child of hers in school here."
"Thank you, sir," Brendon said. He was watching at the man in front of him, he thought how incredibly old he must be to have actually been a principal here when his mother was a student.
"I think we'll try you in Miss Arnold's room," Mr. Manzi said. "That's a good, solid fourth-grade section. Your mother says this will be your first experience in public school. I hope you'll come to me if you have any problems."
"Thank you, sir," Brendon said. He was watching the red-haired boy. The boy was standing very still, and he was wiggling one of his ears. Just one. The right one. Every time Mr. Manzi spoke, the boy's ear would move up and down in time to the words.