Justin Kramon Read Online Free PDF Page A

up fully on the piano bench, facing Finny as he did now, his feet dangled just off the ground. (In order to play, he’d had to sit on the very edge of the bench.) He had a paunch, and the top half of his body was shaped like a summer squash. He’d combed a flap of wispy walnut-colored hair over his astoundingly pale scalp. His head was round as a basketball, and his lips pouted a little when he closed them, so that he seemed to have an expression of mock-seriousness or concentration on his face.
    “Menalcus Henckel,” he said to Finny, and at first she thought he was casting a spell on her, the words sounded so crazy. His voice was high like Earl’s, though not as gentle. He had a touch more impatience in him. After he spoke, he did an odd thing with the corners of his mouth, moving them up and down, like he was switching between a smile and a frown.
    Finny realized he had said his name, so she said, “Finny.”
    She stood there, then, for maybe five seconds, in absolute silence, until Earl said, “We met outside up there.” He pointed in the direction of the hill above his house. “Finny lives in the neighborhood.”
    “Very good,” Mr. Henckel said, like he was commenting on a piano exercise Earl had just finished, and then he performed three of his smile-frowns.
    “So, Dad, we’re going to spend some time here, okay? You can just go on practicing if you want.”
    “Actually, I’d love that,” Finny said.
    Finny had trouble seeing Mr. Henckel in the dim light, but it looked like he was nodding. It also looked like he had his eyes closed. He was very still. And then all of a sudden his mouth dropped open.
    “Earl?” Finny said. “Is your dad okay?”
    “Yeah. You just need to give him one minute,” Earl said. “Let’s sit down and wait for him.”
    They sat in the beige-cushioned chairs across from the piano in the living room. Mr. Henckel was slumped over on the piano bench. His flap of hair had come loose and was dangling over his ear. He breathed noisily, the air whistling in his nose.
    “I hope you don’t mind,” Earl said, and Finny knew he was talking about his father.
    “I’m having fun,” she said. Because she was. Entering into this family’s house was exciting for her, like peeping in the windows of a place she was told never to look. She’d been to other girls’ houses before, but they were always so neat, and everyone was so polite, and she could nearly hear Laura saying I told you so in the background. The friendships never stuck.
    All of a sudden Mr. Henckel made a loud snorting sound. Finny let out a little yelp, but clapped her hand over her mouth in time to stop herself from making too much noise.
    “So sorry, my dear,” Mr. Henckel muttered when he was awake, his hand darting to smooth the flap of hair back over his scalp. “You have to understand,” he told her in an almost pleading way, “it just comes upon me.”
    She was delighted that Mr. Henckel had called her “my dear.” She said it was fine, that she needed a rest, too.
    “Thank you for being so kind,” he said with four smile-frowns. “A lovely young lady.” She loved his formal way of speaking, calling her “my dear” or “young lady.”
    “My dad was a professional piano player a while ago,” Earl said. “He played one time at Carnegie Hall.”
    “Not a soloist, mind you,” Mr. Henckel said, correcting his son. “Just a kind of exhibition.”
    “And he was once in the Tchaikovsky competition,” Earl said.
    “And that, my dear, was very sadly the end of it all,” Mr. Henckel reported.
    “Why?” Finny asked. It sounded like he wanted to talk about it.
    “I fell asleep,” Mr. Henckel said. “During a rest in the piece. I couldn’t help myself. It just comes upon me.” Finny noticed his forehead shining. He took out a handkerchief and swiped at his brow. It turned out Mr. Henckel always sweated when he talked about himself.
    “The judges didn’t know what to do,” he went on. “They