William S. and the Great Escape (19 page)

It was only a few days after school started, when another letter arrived at 971 Eleanor Street. The letter was addressed to William S. Hardison, and the return address was “
Clarice Ogden, 1036 Gardenia Ave., Crownfield, California
.”

William was surprised and, well, pretty curious. Jancy, who had been looking over his shoulder when he got the letter out of Aunt Fiona's mailbox, seemed to be even more so.

“Hey,” she shrieked. “Look at that. It's from Clarice. I bet it's a love letter.”

William ignored her. Turning away, trying to keep her from reading over his shoulder, he tore open the envelope and began to read.

“
Dear William
,” the letter began.

“Dear William!” Jancy was squealing. Clasping her hands under her chin and looking soulful, she kept repeating. “My dear, dear, William.”

“Get out of here, you lamebrain,” William told her. “That doesn't mean anything. That's the way all letters start. ‘Dear whoever.'” Sure enough, the first few lines were just the usual how-are-you stuff. But then came:

I saw Julia Scott last night. She came to a party at our house, and she was telling us about how she is going to be the director for a Shakespeare
festival in the Bay Area next summer.
And
that she is going to ask you to try out for the role of Puck in
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. I know you'll get the part. After all, Miss Scott will probably be doing the casting. How could you lose? Ha! Ha!

But now comes my big news. My folks have to do a lot of traveling next summer, and they'd already asked Miss Scott if I could stay with her while they are away. And last night she told my folks that it would still be all right for me to stay with her if I didn't mind going to the Shakespeare thing. So maybe I'm going to be in the play too. Well, maybe not actually acting in it, but Miss Scott says that if I don't get an actual part in the play, I can probably get a job in the costume room or else doing makeup. I'm very good at making people up
.

William grinned, thinking that was for sure. He had good reason to know that Clarice Ogden had been pretty good at making up a bunch of police cars and posters, not to mention a Baggett murder victim.

The letter went on for several paragraphs after that. One whole section was about how she had been getting along with her parents much better recently.

I guess it wasn't so much that they wished they didn't have me, like I used to think. It's just that lawyers have to keep their minds so full of all those legal facts that they can't be expected to spend much time thinking about less important stuff—like their only child. But now that I'm old enough to think up a lot of good ways to help them remember, we seem to be getting along better
.

Then there was another paragraph about how she was sorry she'd been so angry at William when he took the little kids and went off without even telling her he was going. But she had completely forgiven him now, and she knew that they were going to go on being “
very close friends
.”

Not too bad, except for the underlining. But Jancy, who was back to reading over his shoulder, again began to squeal.

“
Very close friends.
” She giggled. “Very, very friendly.”

But then Trixie, who had suddenly appeared on the veranda, said, “Who's friendly, Jancy?”

“Clarice and William,” Jancy told Trixie. “Didn't you know?” She rolled her eyes and clasped her hands over her heart. “Clarice is in love with William.”

“And Jancy is nuts,” William said. And then to Jancy,
“You were the one who said that if Clarice was crazy about anyone, it was Ariel, not me. Right?”

Jancy was still snickering. “Oh, sure,” she said. “But if she was crazy about Ariel, how do you think she's going to feel about Puck?”

“I don't know,” William said. “I don't know about that.” He shrugged and gave Jancy a sheepish halfway grin. “But it looks to me like …”

“Like what?” Jancy insisted.

He paused, trying to think of a
Shakespeare
quote that said what he had in mind. Of course there was, “
All's well that ends well
.” That would be a good quote, he felt sure, to describe what William
S
. Hardison's thirteenth summer was going to be like—at least for the most part. For the terribly exciting part in which he would have a great time being Puck in an important production of
A midsummer night's Dream
. But as for a summer spent with Clarice Ogden, more or less in the same scene …

“Who knows?” he told Jancy. “I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait for what?” Jancy demanded.

William threw out his arms, bent one knee, and did a fancy final curtain bow. “For the end of the play,” he said.