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Authors: Philippa Dowding

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BOOK: Jake and the Giant Hand
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Chapter 2

Cold Rooms

T
he
next morning Jake unpacked, then took the curving wooden stairs down to the kitchen two at a time.

His grandpa was staring at the window. A big fly buzzed against the glass. Sure were a lot more flies around here than Jake remembered. Big, gross flies.

“Can I go see my friends now, Grandpa?”

“Sure,” his grandpa said. “But we're having spaghetti for lunch. Please go down to the basement and grab me a can of sauce before you go. First cold room on the left. Tomorrow it's your turn to cook.”

“Yeah, sure, hot dogs tomorrow!” Jake said. Whenever he came to visit, they took turns cooking. One day it was Grandpa's turn to cook, the next day it was Jake's turn. Luckily his grandpa wasn't a fussy eater, because they ate a
lot
of hot dogs when Jake was around. It was basically the only thing he knew how to cook.

That and toast.

Jake started down the steep wooden stairs in the dark, gripping the handrail. The light switch was at the bottom of the stairs. Electricity was added long after the farmhouse was built, and that's where the switch ended up. His grandpa never changed it, even though he probably should have. It wasn't exactly safe going down those steep, slippery old stairs in the dark.

Once upon a time, you would have had to go into the farmhouse basement by candlelight.

The thought made Jake's neck prickle. The basement was pitch black and smelled like musty, spidery corners and rotting leaves. Plus it was cold and damp. When he was little he had refused to go down there at all without his grandpa or grandma.

Jake snapped on the light. The couch and TV were down there, and the weird little “cold rooms.” They were small rooms all around the outside of the farmhouse basement wall. They were cold and damp, because they were basically outside the house, underground.

In the days before refrigerators, people kept food like cheese and eggs in the cold rooms, but now most of the rooms were empty. A few held Grandpa's extra farm tools, and a few were locked. The first one on the left was the only one that was used all the time, and it had shelves and shelves of sauces and beans and soup and food in cans.

All those tiny, dark, locked rooms would be a great place to hide someone …

… or some
thing
. Jake shivered a little.

But he was twelve now. He wasn't going to let a dark, creepy, musty basement filled with locked little rooms bother him.

Jake walked into the first cold room on the left and scanned the shelves for spaghetti sauce. He grabbed a can and ran back up the old stairs into the kitchen.

“Bye, Grandpa, see you for lunch!” he called. He ran out the front door and into the barn. His old green bicycle was leaning against the wall. He'd been riding it since he was eight. Every year his grandpa raised the seat and the handlebars a little more and oiled it up for his visit.

Jake took a few moments to say hello to Maggie and to stroke the horse's soft nose. The old horse nodded like she remembered him from all the summers before. Then he swung his leg over the bike. It was almost too small.

“Bye, Maggie! See you soon!”

He rode off down the lane with his knees almost touching his chin, whistling as loud as he could, weaving across the gravel. It was late morning and soft sunshine filtered through the leaves. The lane was lined by big oak trees, and there were meadows on both sides with wandering cows. It smelled great, like mown grass and sweet clover and fresh air forever. It couldn't be more different from the apartment block in the city where Jake lived. That didn't smell like anything except car exhaust, garbage, and gum.

Jake rode to the Cuthberts' house, the next farmhouse down the lane. Chris and Kate Cuthbert were twins, and Jake had been friends with them since he was little. They were two years older than Jake, and they got a little bigger each year, but nothing much else ever changed about them.

The twins were out front helping their dad load a cow into a trailer. They saw Jake and ran over. Chris smiled and shook Jake's hand. Kate grabbed Jake's handlebars and slapped him on the shoulder.

Kate grinned. “Hey, Jake! Wow, that bike is
way
too small for you this year.”

Kate had long, dark hair and freckles. Chris was blond and tall. For twins, they couldn't look more different. They didn't act much alike, either.

“Hey, come see this, Jake!” Kate led the way to the back of the barn. “Dad got it for us for our birthday last month.”

The twins took Jake around the barn and showed him their gift: a bright blue mini-bike with silver wings painted on it. It reminded Jake of a giant fly.

Two cool skull helmets were on the seat.

“Wanna ride?” Kate grinned.

Jake grabbed a helmet and strapped it on. Kate climbed onto the seat ahead of him, strapped on her own helmet, then shouted, “Hold on!” over her shoulder. She revved the whiny engine, and they tore out of the yard and into the open field.

Jake did hold on. For dear life. They flew over rocks and through the creek bed as mud and sticks and pebbles went spinning off behind them. Then Kate veered into the woods and along a special path their dad had made for them. Jake was dizzy as trees sped past them, too fast to see. They roared back onto the field and Jake couldn't believe how small the twins' house suddenly was from the edge of the forest.

Kate idled the engine and pointed into the woods. “We built a cabin back there,” she yelled. “Do you want to sleep over in it tonight? We can tell ghost stories like last year.” Her voice got a little quiet and creepy.

… a long time ago, a little old lady disappeared….

Jake looked into the deep green woods and gulped. “Yeah, I guess,” he shouted back.

A huge fly buzzed right into his face. He brushed it away.

Don't think about the swamp.… And where are all these disGUSting flies coming from?

Chapter 3

This Town Is WEIRD

K
ate
kicked the little motorcycle into gear. They were back at the twins' house in a couple of minutes.

“Wow, that was fast,” breathed Jake, taking off his helmet and spitting out grass. Chris was waiting for them. He looked worried.

“Kate drives like a maniac. Next time, let
me
take you for a ride.”

Kate laughed. “Don't let
Chris
take you for a ride, you'd fall asleep. He drives like a little old lady!”

Chris ignored her. “Do you want to sleep over in the cabin tonight, Jake?”

Jake nodded very slowly, but looked away. “Yeah. Kate already asked.”

“Okay, see you back here at eight o'clock. Oh, bring a sleeping bag and a flashlight,” Chris said, always the sensible one.

Jake didn't whistle as he rode home. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder into the woods. For the first time ever, he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep over at the Cuthberts'. Or in a cabin in the woods. Kate Cuthbert's ghost stories had a nasty habit of staying in your head and keeping you up at night, for years.

… a long time ago, a little old lady disappeared….

Jake shuddered and dropped his bike in the barn. He stopped to say hello to Maggie, then went into the farmhouse kitchen. The house smelled like spaghetti sauce.

“I'm starving, Grandpa! Let's eat!” Jake yelled too cheerfully. He set the table, and he and his grandpa ate their lunch.

His grandpa pushed his plate away and sighed. He picked at his teeth with a toothpick and looked out the kitchen window at the afternoon sun on the fields. Jake pushed his spaghetti around on his plate. He really wasn't very hungry.

“Grandpa?” he finally said.

“Uh-huh?”

Jake was silent. A cabin in the woods. Kate's creepy stories.
Swamp!

“Cat got your tongue there, Jake?” his grandpa teased. Jake squirmed a little. He hated when his grandpa teased him.

“No. I just wanted to know if I can sleep over … at the Cuthberts' tonight? They have a new cabin. In the woods.” Jake spoke fast, all the words jumbled together. His grandpa heard him, though, and nodded.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I slept in a cabin at the edge of the world?” His grandpa grinned and winked at him.

Jake felt a story coming on, a crazy grandpa story. Jake's grandpa told stories A LOT. Which is another way of saying he told lies.

They were interesting lies, though. And sometimes he'd surprise you by actually telling you the truth. Like the time he told Jake he once worked as a lion-tamer. Jake refused to believe it until he asked his mom.

She said, “Actually, Jake, it's true. Your grandpa
did
work one summer as a lion-tamer in a travelling circus when he was a teenager. Although I'm not sure how much taming was involved. Grandma always said the lion was really old and had arthritis and no teeth or claws.”

So you never really knew for sure what was true and what wasn't when it came to Jake's grandpa.

Right now, Jake didn't have time for one of his grandpa's stories. He didn't want to be teased. He was twelve now, and suddenly he just wanted permission to go to sleep at his friends' house. Was that too much to ask? If he didn't hang out with Chris and Kate, there wasn't going to be much else to do for the next two weeks.

“No, Grandpa. I haven't heard that one, about the cabin at the end of the world. Can you tell me another time? I really just want to go. Chris and Kate want me to sleep over in their new cabin in the woods tonight. Is that okay?”

His grandpa looked a little disappointed but grew serious. He leaned back further in his chair and stared at his grandson before answering.

“Didn't those two kids scare the bejeebers out of you last year with that story about poor Edwina Fingles getting lost in the swamp? They are two years older than you, you know.”

Jake was surprised that his grandpa knew how scared he was last year. He wondered if he seemed that scared now.

… a long time ago, a little old lady disappeared….

Jake sat up straighter and forced himself not to think about being scared by Kate's stories. They were just stories, it was fun to hang out with the twins, and he was a year older now.

This year was going to be different.

His pride was a little hurt, which is why he said what he said next.

“No, I wasn't scared of some dumb ghost story about a … swamp creature that lived in the woods around here. A bat
did
bang into the window right when Kate got to the part where the creature … the little old lady … Edwina Fingles … wandered around knocking on windows. That freaked us all out a little. But I'm a year older now, Grandpa. It's fine.”

His grandpa stopped smiling. He just looked at Jake for a while then said, “A bat, huh? Sure, you can sleep in the cabin with the twins tonight. But this town is a little weird, Jake, just keep that in mind.”

Then his grandpa went for his nap, and Jake spent the rest of the afternoon bravely playing ball with Gus. It was brave because Gus kept trying to eat the ball, and the tongue-of-death was everywhere.

But it was also brave because big, juicy flies kept smacking into Jake. They'd come out of nowhere with a huge buzz then slam into the side of his head or into his back. Even Gus stopped trying to bite them after a while and hid when he saw one coming.

Eventually, Jake had to give up and go inside to watch TV in the basement with the creepy cold rooms.

Which was
braver still
.

BOOK: Jake and the Giant Hand
12.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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