The Wizard's Map Read Online Free PDF

that very “Summer Hoose.” She turned over and buried her head in her pillow and thought she would cry. She was
that
miserable with her secret.
    Instead she fell instantly to sleep.
    ***
    In the morning, though Jennifer thought she had gotten up really early—the clock said 7:00—Mom and Pop were already dressed and downstairs watching the news on television with Gran and Da.
    When Jennifer walked into the room, they were all whey-faced and staring at the set. The room positively resonated with pain.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Jennifer asked, fearing a major war or an airplane crash or whatever else it was that made grown-ups unhappy.
    â€œGordon McIlreavy’s cornfields are full of crop circles,” said Da. “A line of seven of them showed up overnight.”
    â€œLucky the child didn’t find an eraser,” Gran said, “or the whole of the countryside might have gone missing. That blasted Michael Scot.”

Seven
Circles
    Jernnifer sat down between her parents and tried to make sense of the news. It seemed that a local farmer had gone to check on his growing corn—wheat, she reminded herself—and there, to his surprise, on the south part of his field had been seven large, awkward circles all in a row, mashing down his crop.
    A helicopter had taken a bird’s-eye view of the fields and it flashed onto the TV screen. The crop circles looked exactly like Molly’s drawings on the map.
    The TV announcer discussed with an English parapsychologist the many suggestions brought forth for the origin of crop circles, including thought waves, alien invasions, and hoaxes. Neither of them mentioned a wizard’s map.
    â€œBut that can’t be,” Jennifer said as Gran drew the map from her apron pocket and smoothed it out on the coffee table.
    They hunched over it, checking back with the television to match up the two patterns.
    â€œIt can’t be,” Peter, in his pajamas, echoed from the doorway.
    But it was.
    Even the line radiating from the last circle—where Jennifer had grabbed up the map from Molly, causing her pen to slip off the page—was indelibly etched in the com.
    They all looked at one another, stunned, except for Gran, who stared down at the map, her lips pursed thoughtfully.
    â€œWhat’s for breakfast?” Molly squeezed in past Peter, totally oblivious to the terror that had struck in the TV room. “I’m hungry.”
    Gran refolded the map carefully and shoved it back down into the deep safety of her pocket. “Porridge,” she said, standing up and going into the kitchen.
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Molly.
    â€œOatmeal,” Mom answered. “Best thing for all of us.”
    Pop laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “The Scottish cure-all,” he said.
    Nobody laughed with him. Instead they marched like zombies into the kitchen after Gran.
    There was an awful silence while Gran served up the porridge, accompanied by great mugs of dark tea for the grown-ups and glasses of milk for the children.
    Jennifer didn’t so much eat her porridge as stir it around and around with her spoon. The porridge was clumpy and the cream sat on top, refusing to be dissolved.
    Across the table, Peter did the same.
    Only Molly ate with any gusto, and when she’d finished, she announced, “I’m going up to the
actic
now.”
    â€œNo!” they all chorused, not even bothering to correct her pronunciation.
    â€œWe’re going for a walk into town,” Mom said. “To the castle.”
    â€œBut I want to bring the baby to the castle,” Molly whined.
    â€œShe means the doll baby she found,” Peter explained.
    â€œThey don’t allow babies in the castle,” Jennifer said quickly. As an excuse, it sounded pretty feeble, but it seemed to satisfy Molly.
    â€œI will stay here,” said Gran. “And make preparations.”
    No one asked her what the prep:irations were