The waiting had gone on much too long as far
as Tabitha was concerned. All afternoon she had
hung around with nothing to do. She had homework,
and Mom would soon be expecting her to have
started supper. Greggy had said he wanted to help
but he just stood there staring into space.
"Come on," she snapped. "Take my hand!"
Aware of his new power, Gregory almost said
'Make me.' Even yesterday, that's what he'd have
done. Now, he didn't feel right about it. Funny.
Revenge had never stopped him before.
"Aw, come on, Greggy!"
"Say please."
"Please."
"With sugar on it?" He could't resist
teasing her.
"With sugar and peanut butter and bananas and
JAM on it! Now HELP ME!"
It did not occur to Gregory that Tabitha
really was very rude, because she had always been
like that. "Not till you tell me what happened,"
he insisted.
"I did say 'please' and that's a magic word."
Gregory did not want to mess with magic. He
asked, "Will you tell me if I help?"
She had no idea how it worked. For sure she
couldn't control it or she wouldn't have got stuck
where she was. Still, what if he walked away and
left her floating there? "Maybe," she said.
"Not good enough." He turned to walk away.
"No, don't go!" she begged. With her hand
tucked close to her side where he couldn't see it,
she crossed her fingers. Then, feeling safe from
lightning bolts, she fibbed, "Will you help me if
I tell you the whole story?"
"Sure, but only if you promise."
"I promise," she said.
"Promise promise, and hope to die?"
 |
Would the
crossed fingers
cover this one?
She put
both hands
behind her back
and tightened
the crosses just
to be safe.
|
Thus armed, she said, "Promise promise."
"And?"
"Uh--and hope to die." This was getting
serious. She had never dared break such a
promise.
Gregory added, "What do you promise?"
Tabitha sighed. He had won this one. "I
promise to tell you the whole story if you help
me." Tab hesitated. I mean, she thought, how
much did she have to tell a pesky kid? Get real!
"Of what?"
What a pest! "How I got to be up here."
What was that? Something was touching her seat
and felt sharp against her hands and back. She
turned her head to look, and scraped her ear
painfully on the rough plaster of the ceiling.
The ceiling! She couldn't believe it.
Sharp points of plaster pushed into her back
through her thin clothes and her hands stung
where they were scratched. She stared at the
ceiling as if she had never seen a ceiling before.
Of course it was true. Who ever looks at a
plastered ceiling really close up, like denting
her cheek?
Greggy thought she looked really strange,
as if she could hear weird music...and hadn't
she risen higher?
It was not music. In the new silence, she
thought how bizarre it was. If she turned her
thoughts upside down, the ceiling looked like a
flat field of wind-whipped snow, its tiny drifts
in perfectly regular swirls. She smiled as she
thought of what Miss Longshanks would think of
that strange comparison. If she wrote that, would
her teacher take a short gasp of air as she
sometimes did, when Tabitha came out in class with
one of her far-out gems of originality? Would she
say, 'Spoken as a poet,' as she sometimes did, or
would she think Tab was crazy? "It looks like
snow," she announced.
"Ho-lee," Greg said.
Meanwhile, Tab kicked off from the ceiling,
only to bounce back up again. Again and again she
flexed her body, only to scrape her back and hands
painfully. No use. She looked at Greg still
waiting there, so far below. "Try the chair," she
said more gently.
He tried but it was such a heavy chair....
"No, STAND on it, Dummy!"
 |
Even so, their fingers
didn't even come near
touching.
"Got a ruler?"
he asked.
"On my desk."
"Great!" Quickly he
was back on his chair
again, reaching up with
the meterstick. She
grabbed it, and he pulled.
"Gosh, are you glued
up there?"
"I don't kno-ow!"
With tears of frustration
and pain she wailed,
"Now it's even worse,
and I don't know why!"
Tab couldn't even
make herself bounce
anymore, so tightly
was she forced against
the sharply decorated
ceiling.
|
And it hurt so much! Tabitha was scared.
Gregory was scared too. It didn't make
sense. They stared at each other, wondering what
else to do. Maybe... Yes, it just might work.
"Where's that long skipping rope?" he asked.
"Rope? Gee-- Front closet, I think." Greg
was gone before she could ask him why. While she
waited, she struggled against the force that
threatened her with puncture wounds and bruises
as it pinned her to the ceiling. No luck.
He tied one end of the rope to the leg of her
heavy bed, and said, "Catch."
"Why?"
"Tie it to yourself or something."
"What good--"
"Just do it."
"I can't... Ow, that hurts!" There was no
way to get it behind her back. "There's no
space..." Then she brightened and tied it to her
belt. Still it made no sense until she saw him
take the thick wooden ruler, and tourniquet-style,
start to turn the rope around and around over-under-
over-under like a big infinity sign (a shiver went
up and down her arms at its significance though
Greg would have called it a number 8 on its side.
Better to go with that...) Tighter.
Greggy
knew all about
simple machines
from Science
class. He tucked
the end under
and over until
he could hardly
move it anymore.
Wedging
the ruler under
the rail at the
end of her bed
and using it as
a lever, he put
his full weight
on the longer
end.
"You're
trying to winch
me down," she
whispered, and
felt it working.
|
|
The pressure against the ceiling was definitely
not as strong.
"Sort of," he said as he took up the slack in
the rope. "I said I'd help you down," he said,
taking up a lot more slack, "I meant I'd get you
DOWN!"
"Aaaaaa!"
