The Pantry Door - Julie Steimle (reading strategies book txt) 📗

slowly down the road towards the raging river that had gotten very high in the last rain. And one by one, they dived into the river, trying to swim to the other side as if something better were waiting for them. But each rat drowned—all except one. That one, if anyone had asked it, would have said the music promised mountains of food, pillars of drink, and oh the most wonderful sweet things that a rat could taste within its claws—all dreams that left him wanting forever after.”

“Boring,” Carly said, tossing her head and rolling her eyes.

Katy turned her head and with a dry look said, “You don’t have to listen. You can go do something else. I’m not keeping you here.”

The other kids’ looks said the same thing. Her own cousin hushed her, glaring with a finger crossed in front of her mouth.

“Well,” Katy looked back to the other kids as her confidence grew—realizing she had stood up to Carly and Carly was now the one being cowed. “The villagers rejoiced—”

“What does rejoiced mean?” a little boy asked.

Blinking, Katy shrugged and said, “They had a big party.”

Grinning, the boy bobbed his head waiting for more.

Smiling wider, Katy lifted a finger. “Yeah, they had a big party because the rats were all gone. But when the piper came back to get his pay, the mayor thought about all that silver, and he really didn’t want to give it up. So when he met the piper, he dropped six coins instead of sixty into the piper’s hand.”

“I heard it was ten,” a girl said.

Katy shrugged. “My grandpa says it was only six. Not even ten. And that made the piper really mad. He demanded that he get paid the full sixty. But the mayor just laughed at him and said, ‘The rats are all dead. What can you do about it?’ Ooh, the piper knew then that they would never pay him. And ooh, the piper fumed until his face grew red. But then as the sun set and the moon rose, the piper played a different tune.”

At once Katy began to whistle it. All the children rose on cue and started to dance. Here Katy wished that she had the clarinet so she could play it properly. But when she finished the tune, Katy smiled and swung back on her swing. “And all the children came out of their houses. And all the adults stood where they were, unable to move.”

The children stopped dancing and stared at her, their eyes bulging as she continued the sorrowful end to the tale.

“And worse, the piper walked to the raging river, and all the adults, from the beggar up to the mayor could do nothing but watch their children walk towards their doom.” Many of the little kids gasped. Katy winked at the first boy and said, “But the piper did not lead them into the river to drown. Instead he led them up into the mountains where a dark hole opened up, and they all walked inside—except one. That one could not walk as fast because his leg was lame.”

“You’re lame.” Trent Gibson was now standing next to Carly.

“Lame means you can’t walk, stupid,” Katy said.

“Don’t call me stupid! Dork! Why don’t you just say he had a gimp?” He clenched his fist, but his older cousin shook her head and held him back.

Katy merely shrugged. “Whatever. Same thing. The point is, that kid didn’t end up in the mountain. He was left behind. And when he came back to Hamlin, he told his parents what the piper’s magical music promised.”

The children who had been dancing nodded and looked up, almost repeating the words Katy said next. “Candy, rivers of lemonade, cakes, and chocolate, cream, and pie. And games, endless games that they could play forever and ever—a child’s wonderland.”

Katy nodded. Every one of the children watched her with bated breath now.

“No one ever saw the pied piper again. But somewhere on the other side of the mountain, it is said a group of people appeared and made a village with much of the same customs and dress as Hamlin town, speaking the same language and telling a strange and mysterious story of when they lived in a dark cave, wandering for years—and of the promises a piper made but never fulfilled.”

“And that’s it?” Carly asked aloud, looking disgusted at Katy. “That’s a sucky ending.”

Katy just shrugged. “But that’s how it goes.”

“But what happened to those kids?” Carly asked.

Standing up from her swing, Katy gave a snort. “They’re the people on the other side of the mountain, just all grown up.”

“But why did the piper take the children?” Martha asked, staring at Katy, really wanting to know.

Growing exasperated, Katy tossed up her hands. “How should I know? Maybe he thought they were bad parents. Or maybe he—”

“He was a kidnapper,” older Gibson girl said, though there was no spite in her voice. She frowned though. “Maybe he was after the kids.”

“A terrible, sucky ending,” Carly said again.

Katy shook her head with vigor, a growing desire to defend that piper welling up her chest. “No. I can’t believe that. The piper kept his half of the agreement. It was Hamlin town that was acting all…all stupid.”

“They didn’t pay him,” Martha said, nodding.

Katy nodded back, briskly. “Yeah.”

“So he stole their kids?” that Gibson girl repeated.

Wincing, Katy shrugged. “It’s a fairy tale.”

“And what are we suppose to get from it, then?” Trent Gibson said with bite.

“That you have to pay the piper, or else.”

But it wasn’t Katy that had said it. She looked up and all the other kids did too. Mr. Johnson grinned at them nodding at Katy before gesturing to the other children.

“Free ice cream is being served near the bandstand,” he said.

An immediate squeal exploded from the tots, middle-grade kids, and young adolescents that had been sitting at Katy’s feet listening to her story. Even the older teens moved with a hop, and the crowd parted.

“You tell a good story,” Mr. Johnson said to Katy who also had perked up at the news. She skipped to the edge of the playground, barely nodding to him. “Do you know what it means to pay the piper, Miss Neilson?”

Katy hastily shrugged as she leapt over the railroad tie. “Keep your promise?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that too. But it also means own up to a mistake.”

She looked back, wondering where this came from.

“We all have to own up to mistakes we’ve made. Including the piper.” Mr. Johnson walked off. But somehow his words lingered with Katy. What was he saying? What did he mean by it? Were he and Gran talking?

Looking over to the tent where she had been sleeping, Katy closed one cynical eye and muttered to herself. Buttering her up. Her grandma had been buttering her up—and everybody was now joining in on her mom’s scheme to turn her back into some docile goody-goody. More than ever, Katy just wanted to scream.

But first—ice cream. Even Katy wasn’t stupid enough to run off without getting some free ice cream first.

But then there were the jugglers. Katy had to stay and watch those. Also the cotton candy machine had at last been turned on. She had to get some cotton candy. And then another group of musicians played. It would be rude to sneak away and not listen. Besides, they were good.

Then there was hayride. Katy couldn’t miss that.

And then Martha Sandberg invited her over to join a bunch of her friends in the game of tag they were playing. Katy couldn’t possibly say no, especially since Martha had backed her up when she told the Pied Piper story. By the end of day, when the sun was setting, Katy had forgotten how angry she was at her mother and her grandmother for manipulating her. Instead she laughed with Martha and Martha’s friend, Tabitha, and Tabitha’s sister, Lindsay, looking up at the colors on the clouds with giggles, wishing that Nissa were there with them.

“Oh! They’re going to set off the fireworks!” Martha pointed up

“They gotta do the raffle first,” Lindsay said, pointing up to the bandstand.

Katy moaned. “That means I have to go up there.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Martha said.

With an appreciative grin, Katy nodded and skipped to where her grandmother was already shaking the box, peering through the crowd in search of her. Katy waved, running right over. Her grandmother smiled broadly, all her wrinkles folding peacefully with a happy look in her eye. She gestured with her head to her bag.

“Get out your grandfather’s clarinet. You need to play so people know it’s time.”

Nodding, Katy dived right down to take the instrument out of the bag. Digging through coupons, a hairbrush, a bottle of suntan lotion, Katy stumbled across a velvet bag and pulled it out. Loosening the drawstring, Katy slipped off the end of her grandfather’s antique woodwind.

“Oh, no! Not that one! The clarinet!” Her grandmother snatched the old pipe from her hands. “Find the case, dear.”

Rolling her eyes, Katy dug into the large purse again, noticing her grandmother had slipped the other instrument under her arm as she would hide a particularly sharp knife.

“Why did you bring that instrument anyway?” Katy took out the clarinet case and proceeded to get all the pieces together, cleaning it once more.

“Oh,” Grandma Schmidt took up her purse and tucked the velvet bag and woodwind back inside. “I brought it just in case.”

“But Grandpa never let me play it,” Katy said. She wetted the reed with her lips then started to tune the clarinet.

A wise look dropped in the twinkle of her grandmother’s gaze on her. “I know that, dear. But someday you will. But right now it’s dangerous, so—”

“I’ve never heard of a dangerous musical instrument,” said Katy and she played a short tune.

“Electric shock is pretty dangerous,” her grandma replied, clasping the bag closed. “Those electric guitars could kill somebody.”

Katy choked, the clarinet gave a high-pitched squeak as she laughed while playing. Lowering the piece, she just shook her head at her grandmother gone silly. “I don’t play the electric guitar.”

“Not yet.” Grandma Schmidt winked. “But someday you might.”

Shaking her head again, Katy played.

The crowds gathered like the rats in Hamlin town. All surrounded the bandstand. The Fireman’s raffle began. Katy was allowed to sit the rest of it out, watching with the other girls as they gave away homemade quilts donated for the fundraiser, pies, cakes, even a ski set for one adult. The Sandberg family had donated the grand prize—a small sleigh that a pony or a goat could pull in the winter for two people at the most. They showed it off with pride, and the winners jumped in each other’s arms when their number was read off. Though, Katy gave it one look and had to cough to hide an impolite snicker. She wasn’t so sure Martha would realize she was not laughing at her. Neither she nor her grandmother came away with a prize, but then they only bought one ticket between the both of them.

After that, everyone sat down and watched the fireworks the fire department set off. The sky glittered, raining down stars so beautiful that Katy had to say it. It had been a good day.

 

She walked home with her grandmother, carrying yet another cone of pink spun sugar and hefting a large spiraled lollypop in her other fist. Both of their feet were tired, and they strolled in the starlight without even a thought to the morning after. Downhill and going with the way of gravity, the pair chuckled, arm in arm, even up to the back door. They had eaten their fill of fried chicken, potato salad, hot dogs, and all other sorts—so washing up and going to bed was the only things on their minds. Katy so much wanted her own pillow under her head.

“Let me wash up first. I’m an old woman,” Grandma Schmidt said, walking straight through the kitchen to the bathroom.

“Fine.” Katy turned and sighed, crossing the room towards