The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick

Chapter 7- Secrets

Chapter 7

Secrets

HUGO HAD NEVER BEEN INSIDE the bookstore before, but of course he knew exactly where it was. He knew every inch of the train station. Opposite the cafe, not far from the main waiting room, there were two wooden tables covered in books flanking a door that read: R. LABISSE, BOOKSELLER, NEW AND USED.

A little bell jangled as Hugo stepped inside the store. He was rubbing the buttons on his jacket, and one came off in his hand. He slipped it into his pocket, where he continued to rub it. His heart was pounding.

The place smelled of old paper, dust, and cinnamon. It reminded him of school, and a brief flash of his old life pleasantly filled his memory. His best friends, Antoine and Louis, both had black hair and liked to pretend they were brothers. Hugo hadn't thought about them in a while. The taller of the two boys, Antoine, used to call Hugo "Ticktock" because he always had clockworks in his pockets. Hugo wondered about them. Did they still pretend they were brothers? Did they miss him?

Hugo also rememebred that sometimes at night, Father would read to him from amazing adventure stories by Jules Verne and a collection of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales, which were Hugo's favorites. He missed being read to.

A clerk sat at the desk, between two tall piles of encyclopedias. Hugo looked around. At first he didn't see anyone else in the shop, but then, like a mermaid rising from an ocean of paper, the girl emerged across the room. She closed the book she had been reading and motioned for Hugo to come over.

"Papa Georges still had your notebook."

"How do I know you're not lying? You lied before."

"I didn't lie. He's tricking you."

"Why are you telling me this? Why do you want to help me?"

The girl thought for a moment. "I want to see what's in your notebook."

"You can't. That's a secret," said Hugo.

"Good. I like secrets."

Hugo thought she was a very strange girl. She called to the clerk sitting at the back of the store, "Monsieur Labisse, I'm taking the book on photography. I'll bring it back soon."

"Yes, yes, fine, fine," he said distractedlly as she left the bookshop without looking at Hugo.

Part of Hugo did not believe the girl. Maybe she was playing a trick on him. But since he had nothing to lose, he marched over to the toy booth and waited until the old man was finished with his customers. The cogs and gears in his head were spinning out of control.

"What are you doing here?" asked the old man.

Hugo took a deep breath. "I don't believe you burned my notebook."

"You don't?" The old man seemed surprised. He thought about it for a few moments and said, "Well, I don't really care. Maybe you're right, maybe those were not the ashes of your notebook, but you won't ever find out, will you?"

Hugo inched closer to the booth.

The old man calmly straightened the toys on the counter and said to the boy, "You should not have returned here, Hugo Cabret. Now go away."

Hugo did. But later, alone in his room, and while he scurried through the walls fixing the clocks, Hugo thought about the automaton. He convinced himself he had to keep trying. He returned to the toy booth the next day, and the day after that. At night, new drawings accumulated beneath his bed.

Finally, on the third day, the old man came at him with a broomstick. Hugo flinched, thinking that the old man was going to hit him. But instead he raised the handle toward Hugo and said, "Be useful."

Hugo took the broom and began to sweep the floor around the booth.

The old man watched carefully.

When Hugo finished sweeping, he handed the broom back to the old man. "Now give me my notebook."

The old man coughed and reached into his pocket. He pulled out some change. "Go buy me a croissant and a coffee, unless you're going to steal my coins, too."

Hugo happily grabbed the change and returned quickly with two croissants and two coffees. They ate and drank in silence.

When they finished, the old man got up from the bench they were sitting on, went behind the counter, and found the remains of the little blue windup mouse that Hugo stepped on when he was caught stealing from the booth. The old man laid the crushed pieces on the counter and said, "Fix it."

Hugo just stared at the old man.

"I said, fix it," he repeated.

"I need my tools," Hugo said.

The old man took out a small canister of tiny screwdrivers, pliers, files, and brass hammers. "Use these."

Hugo hesitated for a moment, but then set to work. The mouse skittered noisily across the counter.

"So I was right about you," said the old man. "You've got some talent. Now will you tell me why you came to me? Will you tell me about the drawings in your notebook?"

"Give it to me first," said the boy.

The old man exhaled. "If I didn't burn your notebook, there's only one way I would even consider giving it back to you. Children like you are not worth the rags you wear, but most children like you would have disappeared completely after being caught. And most children like you aren't so good with mechanical things. Maybe you will prove that there is more to you than being a thief. Perhaps you can earn back your notebook. But remember, you are gambling with your time, because you might work for me for months and months only to find out that you were wrong about the notebook. There's a chance it's already gone. That's a risk you'll have to take.

"You'll come to the booth every day. I will decide how long you must work for each of the items you stole, and it will be up to me to decide when you have earned back your notebook, if it still exists. Do you understand?"

"I already have a job," Hugo said.

The old man laughed. "Thief is not a job title, boy."

"I have another job, but I'll come here when I can."

"You begin tomorrow," said the old man, and Hugo ran off down the empty hallway, careful not to click his shoe heels on the stone floor.

This wasn't the perfect plan, but for Hugo, at least it was a start.