The Great Gilly Hopkins

“Oh.” Then, “What stuff?”

“William Ernest. I haven’t got all day. Do you want to help or not?”

He guessed so. Well, it would have to do. They had already delayed far too long. She gave Agnes some last-minute instructions out of range of the boy’s earshot. Agnes would have to be paid in cold cash to keep her big mouth you-know-what. Then she went and got W.E. by the hand, and using the key that Trotter kept, they let themselves into Mr. Randolph’s house.

The house was dark and damp-feeling even in the daytime, but fortunately the boy was used to it and walked right in.

Gilly pointed out the top shelf of the bookcase. “He told me he had the stuff right behind that big red book.”

W.E. looked up.

“See which one I’m talking about?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “I can’t reach it.”

“Of course not, stu—I can’t reach it, either. That’s why we both have to do it.”

“Oh.”

“Now look. I’m going to push this big blue chair over and stand on the arm. Then I want you to climb up the back of the chair and get on my shoulders…”

He drew back. “I want to wait for Trotter.”

“We can’t do that, William Ernest, honey. You know how hard it is on Trotter climbing up and down. It wouldn’t be good for her.” He was still hesitant. “Besides, I think it’s kind of a surprise for Trotter. Mr. Randolph doesn’t want her to know about it. Yet.”

The boy came close to the chair and tiptoed up toward her. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“Sure you are. But just think, man, how proud everybody’s going to be later. After the surprise can be told and everything. When they find out who it was that…”

He was already climbing up on the chair. It was an old, solid overstuffed one, so that when he stood on the arm and then on the back, it never moved. Gilly got up on the chair’s fat arm and helped him onto her shoulders and held his legs. The little cuss was heavier than he looked.

“OK. First pull out that big red book I showed you.”

He grabbed her hair with his left hand and stretched toward the shelf without straightening and pulled out the book. It fell to the floor with a crash.

“I dropped it.”

“Don’t worry about it! Just look back there behind where it was.”

He leaned forward. Ouch—she was afraid he’d take her hair out like weeds from a wet garden.

“It’s dark.”

“Look, man! No, stick your hand up in there.”

She had to shift her balance as he leaned forward to keep from crashing to the floor herself.

“Pow,” he said softly, bringing back a dusty fist. In it was a rubber-banded roll of bills.

Gilly reached up.

“Don’t let go my legs!” He dropped the money and grabbed her hair with both hands.

“Is there any more?”

“Wheeeeeeeeeet!” Agnes’s signal.

Gilly nearly fell off the chair as she snatched W.E. off her shoulders, then scrambled back on the top of the chairback, tilted “Sarsaparilla to Sorcery” back in place, jumped down, stuffed the roll of bills into her jeans, shoved the heavy chair forward, grabbed a startled William, and dragged him out the back door.