Building Blocks by Cynthia Voigt Page A

only every seventh stroke. He drove his arms into the water as strongly as he could without sacrificing rhythm. He hadn’t hurried the first lap, so he had all of his best energy to put into the second. He cut through the water like a power boat, delighting in the sense of his own muscles working, in a smooth stretch and pull, in the swift, clean movement. When he turned his head to breathe, he could see no sign of Suzanne.
    At the end of the pool, Brann grabbed the edge and grinned up at Kevin. Only Kevin wasn’t there.
    Surprised, Brann hoisted himself and looked across the lawn. Kevin was running into the woods.
    Brann turned around and saw Suzanne struggling to free herself from the grip of a short dark-haired man who leaned over into the pool and held onto one of her arms.
    â€œLemme go! Are you deaf? Let me go!” she shrieked.
    Brann hesitated between the girl and the woods. As long as the man was holding Suzanne, Brann could make it to the woods. But you didn’t go off and leave someone else in trouble. Did you?
    Why not? She’d been asking for trouble all day.
    Yeah, but you didn’t. Brann had no choice.
    He walked slowly down alongside the pool. The man was wearing an undershirt, a pair of baggy denim overalls, and heavy shoes without socks. His hair was slicked down.
    â€œI’ll tell my father!” Suzanne cried. “He’ll have something to say to you! You better be careful around my father!”
    The man took one look at Brann and nodded his head, in greeting. Then he lifted Suzanne up, out of the pool and onto the stones. He was strong enough,Brann thought. He kept his grip on her arm.
    â€œWhat names are you?’ he demanded. He spoke his words thickly, as if his mouth was full of potatoes.
    â€œSuzanne Connell,” she said, bold. “And my father’s Thomas Connell, the builder. You better let me go now.”
    The man held on and looked at Brann.
    â€œBrann with two n’s,” Brann said.
    â€œBrann what?”
    â€œConnell,” Brann said, before he thought. Suzanne flashed her eyes at him, but she didn’t say anything. A mean little smile turned up the corners of her mouth, as if she and Brann shared a secret, and she knew more about the secret than Brann did.
    â€œSuzanne and Brann,” the man said. “Good. We will be going down to seeing just what your great father says. Your friend has made a getaway, but you have not been so lucky.”
    â€œHe’s a chicken,” Suzanne muttered.
    Brann didn’t argue with her. He was disappointed. Not angry at Kevin, just disappointed. It was too bad the kid was the way he was, in that way. That wasn’t all there was, but that part was—too bad.
    â€œYou have been trespassing on private property.That breaks the law,” the man said. “We will go ask your father what he thinks about trespassing on private property.”
    â€œYou can’t take us home.” Suzanne sounded scared. Why should she be scared? “We won’t ever do it again. Honest. I promise. Please mister—you don’t have to tell him.”
    The man studied her until she finally stopped. “I do yes have to tell him. And this makes some importance to you. Good you got clothes somewhere? You, Brann, get them. Then follow up this way.” He indicated with his free hand the far wing of the house. “My truck waits for you there. You will not fear the dog barking, for he is enchained.”
    â€œYou gonna run away too?” Suzanne demanded. “I’ll tell anyway, you can bet your boots.” Brann didn’t bother to answer her.
    They rode down the long, winding hill in a pickup truck. Suzanne tried everything to talk the caretaker out of taking them home. Then she tried to talk him out of telling her father. Her father, she said, wouldn’t be home yet anyway, and he wouldn’t like being called away from work.
    The caretaker said he didn’t believe