Out on a Limb Read Online Free PDF Page A

quilt and switched off my headlamp.
    That night I realized that what I’d always thought of as silence had actually been the buzz of the fridge and the hum of faraway traffic. The same thing for darkness. My street-lit version of darkness at the apartment was nothing compared to this. In my bunk I couldn’t see my own hand, not even when I touched it to my nose. The pure silence and total darkness of the treehouse were new to me. It was actually fascinating to see and hear absolutely nothing. I listened to the silence and I watched the darkness for as long as I could manage to stay awake.

     

NOTEBOOK: #5
    NAME: Rosamund McGrady
    SUBJECT: The Code
     
     
    Bird twitters woke me up.
    I propped up on my elbow to look out the round porthole window above my pillow. There was a nest on the oak branch, and a yellow-crested something swept in for a landing. Baby birds raised their fluffy heads and I watched the yellow-crested mother dangle breakfast worms down their throats. Then I got up. It was my first day of living at the treehouse, and I had things to do.
    I stuck my head out from my bunk curtains. Below me, Mom and Dad and Tilley sat eating Cheerios at the folding table. Mom and Dad were eating them out of bowls; Tilley was threading hers onto a string, then letting them slide down into her mouth. On our camping stove a coffee pot blurped out nice coffee smells.
    “There she is,” Mom said, blowing me a morning kiss. “Better get some breakfast. We’ve got to go soon.”
    “‘
We
’ as in you and Dad, right?” I asked. I knew that Mom and Dad had to go to their summer jobs at the university. Dad’s job was to count the live bugs and the dead bugs in a huge glass case and put the results on a chart. Mom’s job was to make computerized voice-graphs out of tape-recorded animal noises.
    “‘
We
’ as in all four of us,” Dad said.
    “Where are Tilley and I going?” I asked, but my sinking heart already knew the answer. We were going to the University Childhood Development Centre drop-in day camp. Every single summer of our lives Mom and Dad had taken Tilley and me to the University Childhood Development Centre drop-in day camp. I had hoped that this summer would be different.
    “To day camp,” Dad said. “Where else?”
    “Not day camp!” I said. “Please spare me day camp. Please, O merciful one!”
    “What’s wrong with day camp?”
    “What’s wrong with day camp? Like, everything! They make us do a bunch of stupid crafts, like making caterpillars out of egg cartons. Five days a week. Eight hours straight. It’s like being in some child labour factory.” I thought hard for the worst thing I could say. “It’s unstimulating.”
    “The University Childhood Development Centre is unstimulating?” Dad asked.
    “Totally. I can actually feel my left brain shrinking in that day camp room,” I claimed. “Couldn’t we just stay here and, um, study the ecosystems of the meadow and stream and stuff? I can look after myself, you know. I’m practically twelve. I can look after Tilley, too.”
    “I don’t know, Rosie,” Dad said.
    “I hate the way you think that if we’re not supervised every second we’re going to throw ourselves into traffic, or make friends with weirdos or something.” I searched my mind for the right buzz words. “It lowers my self-esteem.”
    “And there’s no traffic here,” Tilley pointed out.
    “No weirdos either,” I said. Mom wasn’t saying anything, so I guessed she was on my side. I had an inspiration. “How can you expect us to develop any sense of responsibility when you won’t give us any responsibility?”
    Dad and Mom looked at each other. “We’ll obey all your rules,” I persisted. “We’ll use common sense. We’ll be on our best behaviour. We’ll be mature for our ages. We’ll be....” I paused to think.
    “Good,” Tilley supplied.
    “Good,” I agreed.
    “Maybe we could give it a try, David,” Mom said, and then they both recited rule