The Anything Box

like some of the brats she had met in her time. She twined both legs around
the legs of her chair, running both hands up through her hair. She paused
before tackling the next problem to glance in at Dubby. A worry tugged at her
heart as she saw how pale and fine-drawn his features were. It seemed, every
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time she came over, he was more nearly transparent
She shivered a little as she remembered her mother saying, 'Poor child.
He'll never have to worry about old age, Have you noticed his eyes, June? He
has wisdom in them now that no child should have. He has looked too often into
the Valley.'
June sighed and turned to her work.
The heating system hummed softly and the out-of-joint day settled into a
comfortable accustomed evening.
Mrs. Warren rarely ever left Dubby because he was ill so much of the time,
and she practically never left him until he was settled for the night. But
today when June got home from school, her mother had told her to call Mrs.
Warren.
'Oh, June,' Mrs. Warren had appealed over the phone, 'could you possibly
come over right now?'
'Now?' asked June, dismayed, thinking of her hair and nails she'd planned
to do, and the tentative date with Larryanne to hear her new album.
'I hate to ask it,' said Mrs. Warren. 'I have no patience with people who
make last minute arrangements, but Mr. Warren's mother is very ill again and
we just have to go over to her house. We wouldn't trust Dubby with anyone but
you. He's got that nasty bronchitis again, so we can't take him with us. I'll
get home as soon as I can, even if Orin has to stay. He's home from work right
now, waiting for me. So please come, June!'
'Well,' June melted to the tears in Mrs. Warren's voice. She could let her
hair and nails and album go and she could get her geometry done at the
Warrens' place. 'Well, okay. I'll be right over.'
'Oh, bless you, child,' cried Mrs. Warren. Her voice faded away from the
phone. 'Orin, she's coming—' and the receiver clicked.
'June!' He must have called several times before June began to swim back up
through the gloomy haze of the new theorem.
'Joo-un!' Dubby's plaintive voice reached down to her and she sighed in
exasperation. She had nearly figured out how to work the problem.
'Yes, Dubby.' The exaggerated patience in her voice signaled her
displeasure to him.
'Well,' he faltered, 'I don't want to play-like anymore. I've used up all
my thinkings. Can I make something now? Something for true?'
'Without getting off the couch?' asked June cautiously, wise from past
experience.
'Yes,' grinned Dubby.
'Without my to-ing and fro-ing to bring you stuff?' she questioned, still
wary.
'Uh-huh,' giggled Dubby.
'What can you make for true without anything to make it with?' June asked
skeptically.
Dubby laughed. 'I just thought it up.' Then all in one breath, unable to
restrain his delight: 'It's-really-kinda-like-play-like, but-I'm
going-to-make-something-that-isn't-like-anything-real-so it'll-be-for-true,
cause-it-won't-be-play-like-anything-that's-real!'
'Huh? Say that again,' June challenged. 'I bet you can't do it.'
Dubby was squirming with excitement. He coughed tentatively, found it
wasn't a prelude to a full production and said: 'I can't say it again, but I
can do it, I betcha. Last time I was sick, I made up some new magic words.
They're real good. I betcha they'll work real good like anything.'
'Okay, go ahead and make something,' said June. 'Just so it's quiet.'
'Oh, it's real quiet,' said Dubby in a hushed voice. 'Exter quiet. I'm
going to make a Noise-eater.'
'A Noise-eater?'
'Uh-huh!' Dubby's eyes were shining. 'It'll eat up all the noises. I can
make lotsa racket then, 'cause it'll eat it all up and make it real quiet for
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you so's you can do your jommety.''Now that's right thunkful of you, podner,' drawled June. 'Make it a goodone, because little boys make a lot of noise.''Okay.' And Dubby finally calmed down and settled back against his pillows.
The heating system hummed. The old refrigerator in the kitchen cleared its
throat and added its chirking throb to the voice of the house. The mantel
clock locked firmly to itself in the front room. June was absorbed in her
homework when a flutter of movement at her elbow jerked her head up.
'Dubby!' she began indignantly.
'Shh!' Dubby pantomimed, finger to lips, his eyes wide with excitement. He
leaned against June, his fever radiating like a small stove through his
pajamas and robe. His breath was heavy with the odor of illness as he put his
mouth close to her ear and barely whispered.
'I made it. The Noise-eater. He's asleep now. Don't make a noise or he'll
get you.'
'I'll get you, too,' said June. 'Play-like is play-like, but you get right
back on that couch!'
'I'm too scared,' breathed Dubby. 'What if I cough?'
'You will cough if you—' June started in a normal tone, but Dubby threw
himself into her lap and muffled her mouth with his small hot hand. He was
trembling.
'Don't! Don't!' he begged frantically. 'I'm scared. How do you
un-play-like? I didn't know it'd work so good!'
There was a choonk and a slither in the front room. June strained her ears,
alarm stirring in her chest.
'Don't be silly,' she whispered. 'Play-like isn't for true. There's nothing
in there to hurt you.'
A sudden succession of musical pings startled June and threw Dubby back
into her arms until she recognized Mrs. Warren's bedroom clock striking seven
o'clock—early as usual. There was a soft, drawn-out slither in the front room
and then silence.
'Go on, Dubby. Get back on the couch like a nice child. We've played long