The Wikkeling by Steven Arntson Page B

school?” Henrietta knew what Gary was referring to—a movie called
They Built with Trees
, about how people used to make things out of wood. “It can’t be a stump,” Gary mused. “Stumps aren’t that big. You could park four cars on that!”
    â€œBut it is,” said Henrietta.
    â€œWow,” said Gary, and he looked up, obviously trying to imagine theenormity of the tree that once grew there. “Hey,” he said. “What do you suppose will happen if we go outside now? Will it be now, or then?”
    They opened the trapdoor. Henrietta looked at the housecat, who silently watched from the couch. Before it on the coffee table sat the open
Bestiary
.
    â€œIt looks like the cat’s been reading,” Henrietta joked.
    Gary laughed. “Studying for the Competency Exam!”
    They dropped into Henrietta’s room and returned to the living room, where their mothers were still talking, sitting on the couch.
    â€œReady to go already?” said Ms. Span as Gary entered.
    â€œUm . . . actually, if it’s okay, Henrietta and I are going to work on homework together. I thought I’d help her with math.”
    â€œThat would be wonderful, Gary,” said Henrietta’s mother. “I’m sure Henrietta would appreciate it.”
    â€œI will,” said Henrietta. “And we were just going to also . . . ”
    â€œGo outside for a second!” said Gary.
    The two children, nodding in unison, rushed to the front door and exited onto the sidewalk.
    Before them stretched the same scene they saw every day: a four-lane asphalt road crammed with cars. Traffic lights winked. Enormous plastic houses squatted behind green squares of fake turf.
    â€œI wonder when they widened the street,” said Gary.
    â€œI guess things had to get bigger,” said Henrietta. “Did the clothes those people wore remind you of anyone?”
    â€œThrough the windows?” said Gary. He shook his head.
    â€œRose—with the headache. She wears a wool shirt sometimes.”
    â€œYou’re right,” said Gary.
    â€œWe should call her,” said Henrietta, stepping back inside. “We could invite her over.”
    They entered the living room to find Gary’s mother preparing to leave.
    â€œGary, I’m glad you’re going to help Henrietta. But be on time for dinner, and be
careful
when you cross the street.”
    â€œI will, Mom,” said Gary.
    Ms. Span turned to Henrietta’s mother. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Aline.”
    â€œAnd you, Margaret.”
    Ms. Span departed.
    â€œMom, we were wondering,” said Henrietta, “if we could invite our other friend to study with us. She’s in kindergarten. She was sick yesterday at school, and Gary and I helped her.”
    â€œSick?” said her mother. “Is she contagious?”
    â€œSick from headaches, like me. Can we invite her?”
    â€œYour father will be home soon, dinner is on the way, and I’m still finishing up some work . . .” Her mother trailed off when she realized how nice it was that Henrietta was gaining some friends. “Oh, all right,” she said.
    Henrietta and Gary returned to Henrietta’s room, where they looked up Rose’s number on the school network. Rose’s mother answered and agreed that Rose’s father could bring their daughter over and that, of course, he would enjoy seeing Henrietta’s house and meeting her mom.

    They waited out on the sidewalk. Traffic crawled through the lilac haze, and they thought about the street in the past. Henrietta wondered if the red bricks had been buried under the asphalt. Gary wondered about the trees, and the giant stump—were the roots still growing underground, even now? The thought made him feel claustrophobic.
    â€œI wonder what kind of car Rose’s dad drives,” said Henrietta. “Hey, did you see any cars when we looked