Читать книгу Don Quixote and Me - Donald Barr - Страница 7

Chapter 1

In which books about knights and chivalry cause a problem

Sandy thought he heard his mother coming up the steps. He got up and checked to make sure the door of his bedroom was shut. He listened but didn’t hear anything, so he got back on top of the bed and started reading again.

Sir Edwin, the Knight of the Shining Sun, mounted his chestnut charger. Firmly grasping his shield, which had on its front the image of a rising sun, he held his lance at the ready and urged his faithful horse forward. The giant, on seeing Sir Edwin in his brilliant armor, put down the fair maiden, Hillary, and prepared to do battle. The giant’s monstrous size was not to help him today, for before he could respond, Sir Edwin thrust his lance…

“Sandy, are you in bed yet?”

Oh, no! It’s my mom. I was supposed to be in bed a long time ago. I had promised her I was only going to read one more page…

“Sandy… What are you doing?”

That’s me, Sandy. My real name is C. Sanders Preston, so they call me Sandy for short. The C is for Clarence, and don’t you dare call me Clare. Whoever thought of naming a boy Clarence should have his head examined! If I were to let my friends (most of whom are 12, like me) know what the C stood for, the whole school would start calling me Clare. That’s why my name is Sandy.

“Just a minute, Mom, I’m almost ready.”

Too late! My bedroom door opened and there she stood.

“Are you reading those books again?” she said. “I thought we’d already talked about this.”

“But, Mom, these books are important!”

“Getting to bed at a decent hour is more important! All these books about knights and dragons and rescuing young maidens are starting to pollute your brain.”

I think the thing that bothers Mom the most is the part about rescuing young maidens. Mom’s a feminist.

“If you don’t stop wasting your time with all this nonsense about knights and chivalry, you’ll never catch up on your schoolwork.”

“But this is history! How can I be wasting my time if I’m studying history?”

“For the last time, young man, these books are fantasy and not history. They tell make-believe stories about make-believe people who do make-believe things. All this stuff about knights in shining armor is a bunch of…”

I think she wanted to say “crap,” but after stopping herself, she said “nonsense.”

“If I catch you reading these silly knight books one more time when you’re supposed to be doing something else, I’m going to get rid of every last one of them. Now go to bed!”

I can’t figure out why Mom doesn’t like these books. Maybe she’s right, and some of the stories might be make-believe. But make-believe or not, they’re great! Sometimes after reading them, I can imagine myself as a knight sitting at King Arthur’s Round Table, living by the code of chivalry, traveling all over the place helping people. With all the trouble the world is in these days, it’s too bad we don’t have any more knights left.

There’s something about stories about knights that really bothers Mom. I have a feeling it has something to do with my dad. My parents split up when I was little, and my dad moved away. I spend a couple of weeks with him every summer, and sometimes he’s here during Christmas vacation and we go shopping or to a movie or something.

My dad’s a doctor. He works at a big hospital in San Francisco. (Sometimes Mom calls San Francisco “the pit.”) He used to be a doctor in a little town in the middle of Idaho. In my dad’s house, there’s a picture of the place that he and Mom used to work. The sign over the door in the picture says Mountain Health Center. It’s not there any more. Now it’s a chiropractor’s office. Mom doesn’t like to talk about the health center. Which reminds me, if I don’t get back in bed now, Mom is going to do something drastic.

I finished putting on my pajamas, turned out the light, and got under the covers. For a long time I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. What was going to happen to Sir Edwin and the giant? Did he kill the giant? If only I could read one more page, I could find out, and I could get to sleep. One more page wouldn’t be that bad.

I found the mini-flashlight I keep in the back of the drawer of my nightstand and pulled the covers completely over my head.

Sir Edwin thrust his lance through the giant’s evil heart. With a dreadful moan and a thunderous crash, the giant fell to the earth, never to torment the kingdom again. Sir Edwin rushed to Hillary’s side and, after finding her unharmed, knelt down on one knee and once again pledged his loyalty. They mounted his horse, and rode together towards the setting sun.

The next morning at breakfast, Mom didn’t say anything about my knight books. She told me she had a big meeting, and that she might be a little late getting home. She’s always having meetings. She’s the head of some community agency that helps poor people in Boise, where we live.

I grabbed my backpack and headed for the school bus. My corner is the next-to-last stop on the school bus route, so I usually end up sitting in front. That’s not too bad, ’cause it means I get to get out first. Today it was my English teacher’s turn to watch the kids get off the school buses. Mr. Priestly usually just stands back and doesn’t say anything unless the kids start goofing off. Nobody from my bus goofed off today, so he was in a pretty good mood when we got into class.

First period is math, so that goes by pretty fast. It’s second period I dread: English. I don’t think Mr. Priestly likes teaching English. He usually reads the first few paragraphs of whatever we’re working on, and then gives us twenty minutes to read the rest. Talk about boring! Today he started talking about archeological artifacts.

“Class, I want you to be aware that scientists working in Spain have found some important archeological artifacts. They believe they have found the bones of Miguel Cervantes, a man who died about 400 years ago. Before he died, Cervantes wrote the first modern novel, a book titled Don Quixote. Many scholars consider this one of the finest books ever written. Those of you who go to college may one day get the opportunity to read this great work. Unfortunately, as middle school students you simply aren’t ready for a book as challenging as Quixote.”

I didn’t want to hear about archeological artifacts! It wanted to find out what was going to happen to Sir Edwin and Lady Hillary. I snuck my book out of my backpack and put it in my lap.

When Sir Edwin and Lady Hillary arrived back at her father’s castle, there was wild rejoicing. Everyone had believed that Hillary would never be seen again. To see her not only alive but also unharmed was a clear signal to Lord William, Hillary’s father, of the bravery and skill of her rescuer. Lord William invited Edwin into his castle, and offered him…

“Preston! Come here and bring that book with you.”

Mr. Priestly didn’t sound very happy. Just like my mom, he’d warned me about reading knight books in class. I closed the book and sheepishly walked up to his desk. I could feel my face turning red. I hope nobody laughs at me. Why can’t he understand that these books are just as important as archeology and artifacts?

“Ensconced in chivalrous drivel again, eh, Preston?”

I wish he wouldn’t use words like that. I never know what they mean.

“I thought we had talked about this.” Mr. Priestly was glaring at me in front of the whole class.

“We had.”

Somebody in the back part of the room started to giggle.

“Well, I guess I am just going to have to speak with your mother. You may return to your seat, but please leave that book here.”

By the end of the day I wasn’t feeling nearly as embarrassed. A couple of my friends at lunch told me they thought I was brave. I couldn’t help but worry about what Mom would do when Mr. Priestly called her. Fortunately she wasn’t going to be home until late. Maybe Mr. Priestly would forget about it if he called and she wasn’t there.

The school bus route in the afternoon is the reverse of the one in the morning. That means that mine is the second stop. I let myself into the house with my key, got a bowl of ice cream from the refrigerator, and went up to my room. As soon as I got in my room I could tell that Mom had already been there.

My bookshelf was completely empty. My “Far Side” and “Calvin and Hobbes” books were still there, and so were all my “Sports Illustrated for Kids,” but there wasn’t a single knight book left. There was a note.

Sandy—I’m sorry I had to do this, but after talking with Mr. Priestly on the phone, I knew it was time to stop all this knight business for once and for all. I’m going to take your books to the recycling center. We’ll talk about it more when I get home from my meeting.—Mom

He must have called her at work. Now what was I going to do? All the books about knights and chivalry and adventure that I’d been collecting for years were gone. All the stories about Sir Palmerin of England, about Sir Olivante de Laura and Sir Belianis, about the Knight of the Cross and the famous knight Tirante the White. She even took my favorite, the book about Amadis of Gaul.

It was as if some evil wizard had, with one swipe of his wand, made all my books vanish in a puff of smoke.