Read The Clearing for Free Online

now before it gets too warm outside." He took his plate and set it in the sink.
    "Don't know what's got into that boy," Grandpa murmured as Henry walked out of the kitchen, heading straight for the back field.

    ***
    How long could he pretend to mow the path to the clearing? So far, the careful mowing had not paid off. He'd taken his time, rol ing over and over the same section of perfect green, and stil no Amy.
    It was a few hours after dinner now, and his bel y was ful of the leftover ham and cake. He was ready for a rest. Henry pul ed his copy of The Sound and the Fury out of his back pocket and lay down beside the mower. He was strategical y positioned along the edge of the mist, about twenty yards from where he'd seen Amy the other day.
    "Through mowing for the day?"
    Henry was startled to see his grandfather walking toward him. Grandpa never came out to check up on him—it wasn't at al his normal pattern. The old man slowed his walk and took off his hat to fan himself.
    Henry sat up in the grass. "Just taking a break."
    "I see. Wel , don't forget about the lettuce. Your mother's going to have supper ready in a few hours, and she wants you to bring in some greens for the salad."
    "Yes, sir. I'l do it." Henry picked up his book, expecting the conversation was over.
    Grandpa stood there, giving him a funny stare. "Eerie out here, don't you think, Henry? Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the hammock?
    That's your normal library."
    "I felt like relaxing in the grass, Grandpa. It's only a short break," Henry said. "I'm going back to it in just a moment."
    "Wel , when you complete this path, you have the entire lawn near the house. Not sure why you'd want to work out here in the back in this foggy swamp."
    Henry shrugged. "I know, sir. It's just that I'm trying to finish the part of the job I skimped on the other day."
    "Al right, then. I'l cal you for supper. Don't fal asleep out here. If your mother doesn't get her salad greens after while, she'l be awful y disagreeable." Grandpa Briggs walked off, shaking his head.
    Henry read a few more pages until the grasshoppers, stirred up by the mowing, started interrupting. After swatting a few of the critters away, Henry got up and carried his book to a stump farther inside the cool mist. He lost himself in the story, reading about Benji and his family.
    And then, a voice cut across the clearing. "Hey!"
    He looked up to see Amy moving toward him in the curtain of mist. He smiled, setting his book on the stump. "Hel o. I wondered if you'd come back."
    "Yeah, wel , here I am, I guess."
    Henry studied Amy. Long brown hair, deep brown eyes, her eyelids painted with sparkly silver makeup. She'd be even prettier in a fancy dress at a high school dance, or in a colorful skirt and blouse, but, Henry noted, again Amy wore dungarees and a plain undershirt. This one was blue and printed with the words OLD NAVY. He didn't understand why such a pretty girl wore such plain, masculine clothes.
    "You know someone in the service?" he said, pointing at her shirt.
    Amy gave him a disbelieving look. "Um, my dad's in the army. But this is from the store—you know, Old Navy?"
    Henry stared hard at the shirt's printing. "Never heard of it."
    "Wel , they're kind of everywhere. Don't you ever go to the city to shop?"
    "We don't need to leave the farm," Henry said careful y.
    "Yeah, I didn't see you at school yesterday or today."
    "That's right. You went to school," Henry said. The idea of school seemed very unreal to him. He'd liked high school, had been a good student, and got along wel with his teachers and friends. He missed the chal enge of learning new things and the thril of throwing out a runner on first when he pitched for the Rockvil e Roosters basebal team. His classes seemed so far away.
    "Are you homeschooled or something?" she asked.
    " Homeschooled —you mean tutored?"
    "Yeah, I guess. Supposedly there are a few kids in the val ey who are."
    Henry sat down on the stump. "I don't go to