Kyle's Island Read Online Free PDF Page B

plate in the other. “Lunch will be a lot cheaper without Kyle, Mom—more room in the car that way, too.” She winked at me.
    â€œYou promise you’ll keep out of their way?” Momsounded doubtful, so I gave her my best smile and put my arm around her shoulders.
    â€œI promise,” I said. She shook her head a little then, but she said okay. So around eleven-thirty, when a car pulled up out back, we all went outside.
    The Realtor, a tired-looking man in khakis and a blue shirt, was opening the car doors for the couple inside. “Morning, Dorrie,” he said to Mom. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? I’d like you to meet the Thompsons, Terri and Keith.”
    â€œMorning, Dave,” Mom said. She held out her hand, and the Thompsons shook it.
    â€œAre you going to buy our cottage?” Josh asked.
    The adults all laughed, and Josh scowled and kicked at the dirt. I didn’t blame him. Why do grown-ups think it’s funny when kids ask what everyone’s thinking anyway?
    â€œKyle’s going to stay here, down by the lake,” Mom said. “But the rest of us are going into Elkhart. Take as long as you need.”
    â€œThanks, Dorrie,” said the Realtor. He led the way into the cottage, and I wondered how the Thompsons would like it. They didn’t look like fishermen. They didn’t look like cottage people, even. She was dressed up in high heels and a blue pantsuit, and he had cowboy boots on. “C’mon, kids, let’s go,” Mom said. “You be good now, Kyle.”
    â€œCan’t I stay with Kyle?” Josh begged for what must have been the millionth time.
    â€œNo, we’re going,” Mom said firmly, and they did.
    I started down the steps to the lake. Halfway down I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, something disturbing the sparse ground cover on the hill. I stood still. Sure enough, there it was again—a trembling of leaves right beside the next step down. Then I saw it: a little brown toad, half-hidden by a weed. I bent down slowly. He didn’t move. My hand shot out, and I had him. I cupped him in my palm and looked at him. He squatted there, just tickling the skin a bit. He was all angles and bright eyes. I rubbed my thumb down the skin on his back. It was dry and bumpy.
    â€œWait till Josh sees him,” I said. “I’ve gotta find something to keep him in.” A coffee can would work. I could punch holes in the lid and put in grass to make him comfortable. I started back up to the cottage. The murmur of voices came through the screens. It wouldn’t hurt if I just slipped into the kitchen for a minute, would it? I went around to the side door and opened it quietly with my free hand. It wasn’t easy getting into the fridge and pulling out the can with just one hand, but I managed. Then I was stuck. I needed both hands to pour the coffee into a bowl or something. What could Iuse …? Sure, why not? I set the can on the counter of the old kitchen cabinet, opened the silverware drawer, popped the toad in and shoved the drawer shut. He should be safe there for a minute. I was poking holes in the can lid when a screech of laughter startled me.
    There were open windows between the kitchen and the screened porch. I moved closer to the window. “Well, I realize it’s not exactly what you want, but …,” Dave the Realtor was saying.
    â€œNot exactly?” Terri Thompson’s voice was shrill. “It’s impossible. What makes them think anyone will buy a dump like this?”
    â€œIt’s a fishing cottage, not a resort, Ter,” said her husband.
    â€œYeah, I know, but look at it. No running water, no commode. It doesn’t even have any real walls!”
    It was a strange way to put it, but I knew what she meant. The cottage was just a shell. There were no plastered walls, no wall board, just the outside walls. To separate the kitchen from the main room, a