The Pantry Door by Julie Steimle (top 100 books of all time checklist TXT) 📕

as she was concerned, she sobbed, wishing Grandpa hadn’t died and her mother had not left her there to fend for herself among the Gibsons.

Suddenly, her anger flared up. Katy stood upright and stomped down the street towards her grandmother’s house, fuming. Her mother had abandoned her there. How could she be so unfeeling? It was unfair! Didn’t she know what kind of place she was leaving her? Didn’t she know?

“Whoo hoo!” A truck rumbled and screeched right in front of Katy with three Gibson boys in the back. Thomas was at the wheel with a friend at his side. “If it isn’t the little witch!”

Katy jumped back, looking left then right for a way to escape. At the right was the road where they could run her over. The left was a neglected yard full of dry grass, fenced. She didn’t think longer than a second before ducking into the yard and running for her life.

The Gibson boys jumped out of the truck back, chasing right after her while the tires to the truck ripped over the gravel to head her off somewhere else. Both groups hooted as wild men on the hunt. Darting through the grass was tough enough on her short legs with Trent, Mark, and their cousin, Simon, hard on her tail, but Katy also had to break through the thick shrubbery that divided the Christensen’s lot from the Dixon’s land to get to the Hunsaker’s property where Katy knew they kept a mean bull.

“Come back here, witch!” Trent shouted just like a barking dog ready to bite.

Not at all motivated to stop, Katy climbed into the fenced lot and ran straight through at full speed. She only hoped the bull wouldn’t get to her in time, since she hadn’t seen him yet.

The bull didn’t show himself.

Trent and Mark climbed into the field after her.

Their cousin halted at the fence panting. “I’ll go around.”

He was a fat kid anyway. It seemed strange to Katy that a fat kid could grow up on a farm, but then lately life had been full of surprises. The biggest surprise was that the bull was nowhere to be seen, and Trent and Mark were gaining.

Katy climbed over the other fence as if she were flying, her leap throwing her into yet another neglected yard where someone had abandoned old farm equipment, now rusting from disuse. She still had a ways to go. As Katy reached the road, she could see the Gibsons’ truck pull up with the friend getting out. Thomas Gibson’s eyes glittered darkly as his prey was coming to him.

Still, Katy climbed towards the road hoping to find some way to cross the street before he tried to hit her with the truck. Thomas revved the engine, letting off the brake. Trent and Mark climbed over the fence right after her. Darting as fast as she could, Katy could also feel the coming of the truck. She just needed to go faster. She could beat it. She could. If only time would stop, she could do it.

She heard the screech of the tires. She heard the shouts. But Katy tripped and fell flat on her face, the gravel gouging scratches into her arms and legs in a skid. Then—

Nothing.

Silence.

Katy’s head had been down, sure she would be crushed, or squashed, or something. However, she lifted her head up, hearing a voice then feeling a cooling shadow over her.

“Well, well, this won’t do.”

She blinked, squinting as the sun made a silhouette around the man that stood over her. He reached down, extending his hand. Katy wasn’t sure if this was some nasty Gibson prank, but after staring at the man’s thin fingers, the formal cut of his suit, and his strangely non-calloused palm, she knew this man wasn’t a Gibson at all. She took hold and let him heave her onto her feet.

The man let go the moment she stood stable, and tipped his hat to her, which was more like a business style fedora than a Stetson. “You be careful, young lady. Better to stay with friends than wandering off by yourself, don’t you think?”

Katy just nodded, not able to make out his face in the shadow of the high sun.

He chuckled and turned to go. Looking around, Katy saw, just inches from where she had fallen, the truck had stopped with skid marks right behind the wheels, even in the gravel. Thomas Gibson was still at the wheel, looking downright gleeful in his wicked intent to run her over—but not one inch of him moved. Trent and Mark were in the middle of the street frozen in dramatic poses, as if playing Red Light, Green Light. But the weirdest thing of all was the friend in a midair jump of surprise, entirely horrified at what was really happening.

Katy walked off the road, her eyes fixed on this impossible scene. She searched and found the mysterious stranger in the hat strolling down the road as one who had all the time in the world to go anywhere he wanted.

She called out to him, running after him. “Wait! What if they keep chasing me?”

The man glanced back with a smile. She caught a glimpse of his face before the strong shadow covered it. “Then I suggest you use your clever little head and run.”

Taking a step back with an earnest nod, Katy then turned left for the quickest way to her grandmother’s house. And she ran. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her. And as she ran, Katy didn’t notice when things started to move again, but she was sure it was when the stranger with the face of Mr. Fugit from Nissa’s dimension had gone from the street.

 

The Rumors

 

Katy’s safe arrival at Grandma Schmidt’s home was unheralded. Her grandmother greeted her first with a smile, but that vaporized when she saw all the scratches on Katy’s arms and legs. They spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up her cuts. While Katy sobbed, her grandma tried to cheer her up by baking a cake. But while the cake was delicious, it didn’t help. Katy said for the billionth time that she wanted to go home.

“I’m sorry, Kathleen, but you mother won’t be here for at least another week.” Grandma Schmidt set her empty plate aside. “I can call Sheriff McGiven again and tell him what you told me, but there really isn’t anything I can do.”

“Grandma, Thomas Gibson tried to run me over!” Katy shouted. “And Martha was only pretending to be my friend.”

She saw her grandmother uncomfortably flush pink in her cheeks, averting her eyes. Katy frowned, knowing it was likely her grandmother might try to set up another play date with one of the other local girls.

“But, did you have fun?” Grandma Schmidt asked, trying to ignore what Katy had just said.

Moaning and slumping her shoulders, Katy answered her with a dirty look: “Martha says people think I’m a witch and Grandpa is a devil.”

Her grandmother froze. It was as though those words hurt her more than anything, and Katy had been the unwitting deliverer of the poison. Her grandmother frowned for the both of them.

“I see.”

Grandma Schmidt stood up. She collected their plates, covered the cake, and carried them back into the kitchen. Setting the plates into the sink and the cake onto the counter, she said, “Then, maybe it is better that you remain here at the house for the next week. You can practice playing all of your grandfather’s instruments.”

Rising from the couch, Katy followed her grandmother into the kitchen. She saw tears drop from her grandmother’s cheek, though her head was turned. An old wound had been opened, a wound Katy had not known about before. Had her grandmother been called a witch too? Had Grandpa Schmidt been accused of being a devil because he was a foreigner? Had they been bullied before this?

Katy walked to her grandmother and wrapped her arms around her, hugging tight. “It’s ok, Grandma. I’m ok.”

Her grandmother turned and embraced Katy, pulling her very close and stroking her head. “Don’t listen to them, Kathleen. Don’t listen to them. You and your grandpa are special. People like the Gibsons don’t understand people like you and Peter.”

Peering up at her, Katy felt chills run up her arms. “People like us?”

A smile broke through her grandmother’s tears. “Gifted musicians, my dear.”

Katy smiled and hugged her grandmother close and tight.

They spent the rest of the afternoon together watching television. That evening a friend of her grandmother’s came around to see how she was faring. Katy snuck off to the cupboard and climbed into the secret room where she picked up her flute and cleaned it to play. Katy played her flute up until it was near dinnertime, going through all the melodies she knew, wondering to herself what exactly had happened that afternoon.

Her mind was on Mr. Fugit. It was also on her narrow escape. She had wished for time to stop, and it did. She had met a friend of Nissa’s father who knew lots of strange and magical people. And Mr. Fugit seemed to know her. Katy’s mind reeled, wondering over all the things she had seen from the strange behavior of the animals, the pixies attacking Lloyd Gibson, and the gnome spying on her in the yard. Even as she played, Katy could have sworn she saw the dandelion fluff lift off from their stems out of the yard and swirl up in a dance, forming patterns on the wind. Birds outside the window zipped and dived through the floating fluff. Dragonflies darted in and out, everything twisting and dancing as Katy’s own heart calmed through the music. Then she stopped, lowering her flute.

“You’re very good.”

The voice came from below. Katy looked out the window and down at where a man in a straw cowboy hat stood. He peered up through the holes in his hat, his face showing a non-malicious smile. He couldn’t have been a Gibson whoever he was.

“My—my grandfather taught me,” she said.

The man nodded, smiling only a little wider. “But you have talent.”

Guessing this was Nissa’s father, Katy tried to inspect his clothing and what she could see of his face to determine what was so magical about him. So far, he looked ordinary. “Is Nissa home yet?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No. Her mother took her to the doctor and then shopping. They’re buying clothes for school.”

Katy frowned, dropping against the sill. “Do you have to send her away? I’m going to miss her.”

There was something in his smile that said he was sorry, yet determined to keep with his plan. “Kathleen, sometimes people are sent away to save them. Do you really think my baby girl would be happy living where she’d be badgered all the time by kids who don’t understand her?”

“But can’t she—”

“No, she can’t come with you either,” he said as if reading Katy’s mind.

Katy pouted, sinking lower against the sill. “Not fair.”

He chuckled. “You’ll understand in time.”

Moaning, Katy pulled back into the room. “Adults always say that. My mom says that. But she sent me to this rotten place—”

“To save you,” Nissa’s father said.

“But Thomas Gibson tried to run me over with his truck today!” Katy shouted back. “He