April went by, and it was almost May. Dr. Farrigan had sent a letter to the school board saying that he thought Isaac should finish the school year with Mr. Lincoln, as returing to the classroom would put his health in jeporady. Isaac was rather glad someone had finally recognized this fact, which had seemed quite obvious to him ever since kindergarten.
Taylor was happy because he was the Student of the Month for his class. He got a certificate and a bumper sticker that said �My Child Was Student of the Month at Washington Elementary.� Dan stuck it to the back of the Volvo.
And then there was the house. The new one. The one that Dan and Nora said they were going to move into, as soon as they moved out of the old one. (First, though, they had to do some repair work, on the new one, which was actually pretty old.)
�Is the house supposed to be two different colors?� Isaac wondered.
�Don�t climb on that porch. . . we have to rebuild it,� Nora warned.
�Why is there a door that goes outside, but there�s no stairs going down?� Taylor asked. �So, if you walked out the door, you�d just have to jump?�
�Look.� Zac pointed to a crack in the wall. �The house is breaking.�
�Nora, is that wall going to collapse and bring the entire house down with it?� Dan called.
�The inspector said it was only a superficial crack,� Nora called back.
�I think maybe somebody started to paint the house, and then they forgot to finish,� Taylor mused.
�I think they painted the house many, many years ago,� Dan corrected, �and haven�t touched it since.�
�Maybe that�s what,� Taylor agreed.
In the kindest terms, 717 Reilly Street was a �fixer upper.� Structurally sound, (except for the back porch) it was two stories of dingy paint, cracking walls and ancient hardwood floors. �It was owned by a lady who just moved to Florida to live with her son,� explained the realtor who�d taken them through it two weeks before. �She is in her eighties, and raised six children in this house. . . she couldn�t bear to leave it.� The realtor consulted her checklist. �The house does need a bit of repair, but the roof is only a few years old. . . and the structure itself is ninety-two years old.� She smiled. �We could all use a little repair, at ninety two. If restored, this house could be a showplace!�
�Who would we show it to?� Dan blurted. He didn�t intend to be rude, but his questions never seemed to phrase themselves the way he wanted them to be phrased. Nora tightened her grip on his arm.
�I mean, er. . .� Dan bit his lip.
�Dan, lots of people come and visit after you�ve moved into a new house.� Nora realized that she didn�t sound all that intelligent either, but a stupid question seemed to require a stupid answer.
�Oh, right,� Dan agreed, falsely cheerful. He was dreading the housewarming already.
�It could be a beautiful house,� the realtor went on.
�Wow,� Taylor breathed. �The people who lived here before must have liked wrecking stuff up.�
�It was an old lady!� Nora protested.
�She wasn�t very nice to her house.� Taylor shook his head. �That was a bad, bad old lady.�
�What�s up here?� Zac asked Dan, from the top of the stairs.
�What do you think is up there?� Dan called from the bottom.
Zac looked around. �Rooms,� he answered.
�Right,� Dan agreed. �And one of them is your room.�
�My room?� Zac looked puzzled. �Why?�
�Because we�re moving out of the other house and going to live in this one,� Dan explained, climbing the stairs. �But not for a little while.�
�Oh.� Zac didn�t quite understand this. �Which one is your room, Dan?�
�This one.� Dan led him down the hallway and into the master bedroom, which wasn�t particularly big (as far as master bedrooms went) but had a door out onto the porch and a large picture window.
Zac gestured for Dan to lean his ear down. �There�s nothing in it,� he whispered.
Dan grinned. �We�ll bring stuff,� he promised Zac. �Which room do you want?�
Zac didn�t hesitate. �I know,� he said, and pulled Dan down the hallway.
�What if Gallagher doesn�t like it here?� Taylor looked worried. �What if he likes the other house better?�
Nora tried to hide her grimace. �He�ll like it here,� she promised Taylor.
�And if he doesn�t, Tay, it would be mean to make him live here,� Isaac interjected. �We�d have to leave him.�
Taylor�s lower lip quivered. �I don�t want to leave him!�
�But you wouldn�t want him to be sad, would you?� Isaac asked, all innocence.
�Ike!� Nora exclaimed. �Of course Gallagher will like it here!�
�Of course he will,� Taylor assured Isaac.
�Zac!� Dan�s anguished cry could be heard all over the house. �You don�t really want this room!�
�I do.� Zac folded his arms across his chest, resolute. �I do want this room.�
Dan took a deep breath. �It�s not really a. . . sleeping room, Zac. There�s no room for a bed, or toys, or books or anything.�
�I don�t care.� Zac set his chin. �I like it in here. It has a nice sink, and a bathtub, and it even has a toilet in here.� He grinned, because he�d said �toilet.� It was the kind of word you were not really supposed to say much, so it was funny.
�Zac, you don�t want to live in the bathroom.� Dan shook his head. �Look, there�s a nice room over here, right next to the bathroom.�
�But I like the baffroom!� Zac protested.
�This is the room I wanted,� Zac told Nora, �but Dan �splained to me that it�s the kind of room everybody has to share.�
Nora nodded. �That�s right.�
Zac sighed. �So I guess I have to have a different one, then.�
�Which one do you like?� Nora asked.
Zac became very serious. �I�m thinking about it,� he whispered.
Of the rooms upstairs, there were two that had entrances to the back porch. One was Dan and Nora�s. In the second room, Dan took Isaac aside.
�Ike,� he whispered, �do you like this room?�
Isaac shrugged. �All of them are nice.�
�Because, um. . . I don�t think it�s a good idea for either Taylor or Zac to have it.� Dan didn�t trust either of them not to open the door and fall off the porch. �I think maybe they�re too little.�
Isaac�s eyes grew wide, and he felt his palms begin sweating. �You don�t think they could fall out the door. . .�
�Well. . . I don�t want either of them to try to open it,� Dan told him.
�Yeah!� Isaac agreed, trying not to think about what might happen if they did.
�So do you think you want this room?� Dan asked.
Isaac looked puzzled. �We aren�t going to sleep in the same room?�
�If you guys want to. . .� Dan began.
Isaac thought about this. �No,� he said finally, his voice quiet. �No, I think I might like to have my own room.� He paused. �I mean. . . they can, too, right?�
Dan nodded. �Right.�
Isaac felt kind of guilty. . . as if he�d betrayed his brothers by telling Dan he didn�t want to share a room with them. He didn�t want to share a room with them, though, not if he could have his own. Sometimes, he just wanted Taylor and Zac to stop following him around, as if he was their mother or something. Still, though, he hoped it wouldn�t hurt their feelings.
�Ike!� Taylor yelled from down the hall. �Ike, come and see! I get to have my own room without you and Zac in it!�
Isaac grinned. This wouldn�t be anywhere near as bad as he�d thought.
�What�s this?� Zac asked Taylor, dragging him into the living room.
Taylor smiled with all of his seven year old authority. �A pin-ano,� he explained. �They have one in school, in music class, and you aren�t a�sposed to play it, but when you do, you go like this!� He ran one finger along the length of the keyboard, creating a tremendous crashing noise. �And you can make a song.�
�Wow.� Zac grinned, trying it. �Mr. Rogers has a pin-ano.�
�Piano,� Isaac corrected, from across the room. �And you don�t just do that on it.�
�I know.� Taylor nodded, banging out some notes in rapid succession. �You sing a song, too.� He made one up. �Playing the pin-ano, playing the pin-ano! Like Mr. Rogers! Playing the pin-ano!�
Isaac looked worried. �I don�t think you�re supposed to touch it. �I think it belongs to the people who lived here before.�
�No, it�s okay,� Dan called from the other room. �The lady who lived here before left it, because she didn�t want to cart it across the country with her, and all of her kids already had pianos, or didn�t want one.� He ran his finger through the dust on the piano lid. �They just threw it in with the house.�
�So we get to keep it?� Zac asked.
Dan shrugged. �Yeah. I mean, I really haven�t played one in years, but. . .�
�You can play the piano?� Taylor asked.
Dan sucked in his breath. �I was never very good to begin with, but maybe you guys might. . .�
�Play it.� Taylor positioned Dan�s hands on the keyboard. �Play the piano.�
�You really don�t want to hear me-� Dan began.
Taylor narrowed his eyes. �Play the piano!�
�Fine.� Dan sighed, apologetically. He squeezed his eyes shut. �I don�t even know if I remember anything. . .�
�Yes, you do,� Taylor informed him. �You can remember lots of things.�
�Play like Mr. Rogers,� Zac urged.
�Like Mr. Rogers?� Dan looked worried. �Um. . . well. . . I can�t really play like Mr. Rogers.�
Admittedly, the piano was five years out of tune, and had been collecting dust for months. Admittedly, Dan hadn�t touched a piano in a longer period of time than he cared to remember. Even then, he had never been very good.
Still, �Chopsticks,� the only thing he could remember at the moment, had never sounded quite so bad. �I�m sorry,� Dan apologized, crashing away. �I�ll remember how to do this in a minute. . . maybe.�
�Like this,� Isaac interjected, as Dan drew back from the keyboard. He proceeded to play the song from the beginning, without hesitation or error. �That�s the way you do it.�
Dan grinned, pleasantly surprised. �Where did you learn to do that?�
Isaac shrugged. �In our class, the music teacher left to go smoke in the teacher�s room a lot. So Erin N. taught me that. She took piano lessons.�
�Can you play anything else?� Dan asked.
Isaac shook his head. �Only that.� He decided he would play it again, and so he did, from the beginning.
�Teach me that!� Taylor exclaimed. �I want to do that!�
Isaac nodded. �Okay.�
Chapter Fifty-Eight?