Flight of the Phoenix by R. L. Lafevers Page A

Fludd? Well, who is that, I'd like to know."
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    The lawyer studied the paper in front of him. "A cousin of the boy's father. Lives in Batting-at-the-Flies up in North County."
    Miss Lumpton sniffed. "Well, what about me?"
    Suddenly Nate understood why she'd been crying. She hadn't been worried about him at all.
    "They've left you a Tidy Sum, Miss Lumpton. You shall not want."
    Miss Lumpton's tears disappeared. She sat up straighter and leaned forward. "How much?"
    The lawyer told her the amount of money she would receive. Her cheeks grew pink with pleasure. "Well, that should do very nicely."
    "In fact," the lawyer said, "my clerk is holding the funds for you. If you'd like to check with him when we're done--"
    Miss Lumpton stood up. "I think we're done."
    Nate looked at her in surprise. He didn't think they were done. He didn't understand why he couldn't stay with Miss Lumpton. Why couldn't things go on the way they had for the past three years?
    His governess came over to where he sat and gave him
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    an awkward pat on the head. "Good luck, dear boy." She grabbed one of the suitcases and left the room in search of her Tidy Sum.
    Nate did feel like crying then. Instead, he blinked quite fast.
    "Now," the lawyer boomed, "we must go, too." He pulled a pocket watch from his vest and looked at it. "You have a train to catch."
    "A train?" Nate asked.
    "Yes. Now put that book of yours away and come along." The lawyer closed his watch with a snap. "Eh, what have you drawn there?" he asked. "A walrus?"
    "Er, yes." Nate shut the sketchbook quickly, before the lawyer could recognize himself.
    [Image: The lawyer.]
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    "Well, do hurry. It wouldn't do to miss the train. It wouldn't do at all." The lawyer came out from behind his desk and grabbed Nate's suitcase.
    Nate stood up and tucked his sketchbook under his arm. The lawyer clamped his hand onto Nate's shoulder and steered him out of the office.
    Nate had to take giant steps to keep up. The train station was only two blocks away, but Nate was out of breath by the time they got there.
    "All aboard!" the conductor called out.
    "Here." The lawyer thrust the suitcase at Nate and shoved a ticket into his hand. "Hurry, boy! They won't hold the train for you." His voice was gruff and impatient. Nate wondered if the lawyer would get a Tidy Sum for getting him on the train.
    Once he was onboard, Nate hurried to the window to wave goodbye, but the lawyer had already left.
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    ***
    Chapter Two
    T he train didn't arrive in Batting-at-the-Flies until late afternoon. Nate was the only one who got off. An old dog slept in the doorway of the station, a swarm of flies buzzing idly around his head. As Nate walked toward him, the door opened and an old, bent man came out. He studied Nate. "You must be the newest Fludd. C'mon, I'm to give you a ride up to the farm."
    The stationmaster tossed Nate's suitcase into the back of a wagon harnessed to an old horse. Then he and Nate climbed in. The stationmaster clicked his tongue, and the horse set off at a slow clop.
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    They rode through a rolling green countryside dotted with farmhouses and cottages. Sheep stood in the pastures, twitching their tails lazily. Something about their dull, placid faces reminded Nate of Miss Lumpton. His eyes stung and his throat grew tight. He opened his sketchbook, took out his pencil, and began to draw one of the sheep.
    He sketched until the wagon turned down a rutted road and a rambling farmhouse came into view. The house was slightly rundown, with rough stone walls and a thatched roof that jutted out at a steep angle, like a bristly mustache. Two monstrous brick chimneys loomed against the skyline. Towers and gables stuck out from all sorts of odd angles.
    [Image: The sheep.]
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    It looked as though it probably had bats. Nate's heart sank as the wagon rolled to a stop.
    "Here ye go, then," the stationmaster said. The old man hopped down and unloaded Nate's suitcase. Before Nate could say thank you, the man tipped his