The Cloud Reader

MOLLY

"What do you mean he reads clouds?"

"Just what I said. He's like a fortune teller with tea leaves only he reads clouds."

"That's nuts."

"Hey, I'm just telling you what I heard. Kenny says he asked the guy about getting his driver's license and the guy told him the clouds said yes, but not the first try."

"That must have pleased Kenny."

"Yeah well when he went he didn't pass but they told him to come back in a month and they would give him his permit, so there."

"Well it's still nuts. The clouds said. Right. What's his name again?"

"Hector Nublado. He lives somewhere out on Larkpoint."

That was the first time I heard of Hector Nublado, the Cloud Reader.

******

My name is Molly Howe. I'm twelve and three quarter years old, and I'm almost as tall as my mom. I live at fifty-seven Woody Lane with mom and my pesky younger brother, Brian. My dad is a soldier and he went away not too long ago-I don't know where-and he hasn't come back home yet. My mom was very unhappy and scared when he left and we learned that it was wise to stay out of her way or we would get yelled at.

Finally, after too many arguments and upset feelings, mom sat Brian and I down at the kitchen table and tried to explain what could happen to our family if anything happened to dad. It was confusing and upsetting but Brian and I said we understood if only to end the troubling amount of information. She added that he might have to go away somewhere else and that it was possible we might not see him for a long time.

We still don't really understand but mom says she and dad are hoping he will return home soon and things will work out okay. Meanwhile, working out, it seems, was deciding on a schedule for Brian and I to follow when we were home alone without mom. She had to go out to work because dad couldn't send enough money home from wherever he was to pay all the bills. Mom just cried when she told us.

*****

We did the best we could over the summer, helping out without too much fuss and accepting the fact that there was little money for treats and extras. When summer vacation ended and we were back in school, mom got a call from the army saying dad was being shipped home because he was sick and that he would be in an army hospital for a while then transferred to our local hospital if he didn't improve.

The strain on mom was huge and both Brian and I could see it and we were scared. There were other kids at school who only had one parent at home for one reason or another, and they seemed to be getting along okay. But when Brian began failing his grades and becoming a problem in class, mom had to see the principal and explain the family situation, promising to devote extra time to his needs.

After a while things improved a little but he was still behaving like a brat. It wasn't until mom came to my school one day and took me out of class. When I asked what was wrong, she told me that dad had been transferred to the local hospital like they said and that he was very sick. Brian was already in the car, crying, and he started bawling even louder when I got in.

At the hospital, the doctor told mom that we should wait in the lounge because it might be too upsetting for everyone if we went to dad's room. Brian and I sat alone in the corridor, crying together while people passed by throwing sympathetic looks but little comfort. When mom came out she was all white and her eyes were rimmed with red.

She came and sat beside us, gathering us both up in her trembling arms. Dad was sick-that much we guessed-how sick was a different story. Mom told us the best she could, which wasn't much, because the doctors couldn't find anything concrete; it had something to do with dad's reaction to his army business; it had been going on for some time.