It felt like money. Lots of it. What else could it have been, shaped like that (unless Wills had been collecting Monopoly money!)? What else would he have to hide under his mattress so that nobody would find it, he hoped? It couldn’t just have been pocket money he had saved up. Anyway, he always spent his pocket money as soon as he got it.
The front door slammed. Wills. I bundled the envelope back under the mattress, straightened the comforter, dashed out of his room and into my own, threw myself onto the bed, and picked up a book. I could hear Wills raiding the fridge. I tried to get my breathing under control. After a few moments there was a loud burp followed by Wills’s great feet galloping up the stairs. I took a deep breath.
Through my half-open door I watched him go into his room, throw his schoolbag down, then bend to lift up his mattress. As he did, he must have sensed that he was being watched, because he dropped the mattress and turned. I snatched the book up in front of my face. Wills blew a raspberry and kicked his door shut. He came out again soon afterward and pushed my door wide open.
“You been in my room?” he asked.
My heart did an impression of a big bass drum.
“Not likely. I might catch something,” I muttered from behind my book. “Why?”
“Someone’s moved my shark’s tooth,” he said accusingly.
“Probably Mom trying to clean,” I suggested.
“I told her not to touch my fossils,” Wills complained.
Mom’s voice sailed up through the house. “Hello, boys, I’m back,” she called.”Anyone want a cup of tea?”
Wills charged downstairs and yelled at her for touching his things. I could hear Mom calmly telling him that she hadn’t been near his fossils and that he had probably moved his shark’s tooth himself. Wills was adamant that he knew exactly where he had last put it and that it had definitely, definitely, DEFINITELY been moved by someone else, and that if she hadn’t moved it then it must have been me and that I was a liar. Mom told him not to say that and that he was getting himself into a state about nothing.
“It’s not nothing,” shouted Wills. “It’s not nothing when a little twerp goes into your room and messes with your things.”
I could tell from Mom’s voice that she was struggling to stay calm. I decided to go and face the wrath of Wills.
“It wasn’t Mom,” I said. “It was me. I didn’t mean any harm, I just wanted to see how many fossils you’ve got now, and I thought the shark’s tooth was really cool.”
I thought Wills would go berserk at me. I’m sure he was going to, but then he said, “That shark’s tooth is 20 million years old. That’s even older than Dad.”
“Funny,” said Mom, looking relieved.
“You can get even older ones,” Wills continued. “The oldest shark fossil ever found is 409 million years old.”
“That’s even older than Grandpa,” I chuckled, hoping that if we could all have a laugh together Wills would forget to be mad.
“Nobody’s older than Grandpa,” hooted Wills. “He’s got more wrinkles than the world’s wrinkliest tortoise.”
“Poor Grandpa,” said Mom. “That’s from years spent working outside in the sun and the wind.”
“Dad won’t get like that, then,” sniggered Wills. “His skin should stay as smooth as a baby’s bottom from being in an office all the time and from being fat, so the wrinkles all get stretched out.”
“He’s not fat,” retorted Mom. “He’s nicely rounded.”
“You’re only saying that cuz you still like him and you want him to come back,” said Wills. “But I won’t let him come back because he shouldn’t have gone in the first place, and that will be his punishment.”
“Shut up, Wills,” I jumped in.
“Don’t you tell me to shut up,” he fired back. “And don’t you dare go in my room again or I’ll break your scrawny neck.”
“Wills, stop it,” pleaded Mom.
“It’s his own fault,” said Wills. “He started it. He should say sorry for messing with my things.”
“I’m sorry,” I groaned.
“So you should be,” said Wills. “What’s for dinner, Mom? I’m starving.”
Mom closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She opened the fridge.
“Fishcakes,” she said. “Now out of the kitchen and go and do your homework.”
“Later,” said Wills. “Come on, Chris, I’ll beat you at that Grand Prix game.”
“Wills,” Mom said loudly. “Homework, now. Remember your promise.”
“All right, Momsy-Womsy, no need to get snappy wappy.”
He went up to his room and came back down with his school books, which he spread all over the kitchen table. I disappeared up to my room. It wasn’t long before I heard the television go on, and Mom’s despairing voice urging Wills to come back and do his work.
I pulled my story out from under my bed and read what I had written so far. I was itching to write some more, but I didn’t want Wills barging in again and making rude comments, and anyway I had homework to do as well. I was about to put it away when the next bit flashed into my mind. I grabbed a pencil and scribbled it down quickly.
A hurricane can cause total devastation. It can flatten everything in its path. Can you even begin to imagine that? Now imagine living with one. I bet you can’t.
A loud shout from Wills made me stuff it back under the bed. I pulled my homework from my backpack and tried to concentrate on fractions instead, but I started to think again about the envelope under Wills’s bed. What was in it? Was it really money? Was he checking to see if it was still there when he caught me watching, or was he about to put something else there? And what about the knife? Was that there somewhere, and was there a link
