Among the Barons

CHAPTER 3

Luke sat at the top of the steps that led to Hendricks School. Smits Grant was due to arrive any minute, and Luke had already begun his charade.

My brother’s on his way, Luke told himself I’m so excited, I couldn’t wait inside. I couldn’t stand it ~f I weren’t the first one to see him.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Mr. Hendricks had all but threatened Luke with a firing squad just to get him outside. As far as Luke was concerned, he’d be happy if he never saw Smits.

Could that happen? What if Luke turned around now, hid inside, and somehow managed to stay out of Smits’s way forever? They ought to have different classes. Luke could find out the other boy’s schedule and make sure their paths never crossed. Luke had plenty of experience hiding.

Of course, to avoid Smits he’d also have to go without eating. All the boys always ate together, in the dining hall.

Luke just couldn’t see Mr. Hendricks agreeing to let Luke eat somewhere else.

And he didn’t want to. His friends would all be eating in the dining hall. What he really wanted was for Smits to be the one set apart, hidden. That is, if he had to be at Hendricks at all.

For perhaps the billionth time since he’d learned about Smits, Luke wondered, Why in the world would he want to come here?

Luke kept his eyes on the long, curving driveway A dark car turned in at the Hendricks School gates, disappeared behind a clump of trees, reappeared, and sped on toward the school. Luke’s stomach churned.

The car pulled up in front of the school. It seemed about as long as a tractor and a hay wagon combined. The windows — all ten of them — were tinted black, so Luke couldn’t tell if there was a boy inside staring out just as intently as Luke was staring in.

Oh, no. What if Smits’s parents had come, too?

Luke hadn’t thought of that before. Now panic coursed through his veins. He couldn’t meet all three Grants at once. He just couldn’t.

The driver’s door glided open — smoothly, like it was on oiled hinges. Luke held his breath, waiting to see who would appear. A polished boot stepped out, followed by a second one that seemed even shinier. Then a tall, aristocraticlooking man in a dark blue uniform and stiff cap stood up. The uniform had gold braid around the cuffs and collar, and at the rim of the cap. Luke could even have believed it was real gold, pure metal.

The man turned and practically marched, soldierlike, to the other side of the car. He opened a second door, held out his hand, and said, uSir?~~

So this wasn’t Mr. Grant This was a servant. A chauffeur.

Luke could see a very pale hand thrust out of the car and clasp the chauffeur’s. Then a boy stepped out. Luke recognized him from the picture of Smits Grant.

Somehow Luke managed to make his feet maneuver down the stairs, toward the car. Mr. Hendricks had made it quite clear: Luke had to act eager to see Smits. He had to rush over to him right away But Luke’s mind was racing faster than his feet.

What am I supposed to do when I get there? Shake his hand? Or — oh, no. What ~f the Grants are the type offamily who hug one another?

Luke stumbled at the bottom of the stairs but caught his balance again quickly. He didn’t think the chauffeur or Smits even noticed. They weren’t looking toward Luke. Luke planted his feet a mere yard from the younger boy, but he had to clear his throat before Smits turned his head toward Luke.

“Hi, uh, Brother,” Luke said awkwardly.

He lifted his right arm tentatively, to shake hands if that’s what Smits wanted to do. Or if Smits stepped close enough and reached out, Luke could probably force his arms to wrap around Smits in something like a hug. If he had to.

Smits didn’t move.

His cold gray eyes looked straight at Luke— straight through him, it almost seemed. For a horrible second Luke was afraid that Smits was going to refuse to acknowledge him, maybe even yell out, “This boy’s a fraud! He stole my real brother’s name!” Then Smits’s gaze flickered away, and he mumbled, “Hey, Lee.”

Luke exhaled, only barely managing not to let out an audible sigh of relief.

Smits looked at the chauffeur.

“My luggage?” he asked.

“Of course, sir,” the chauffeur said, and walked to the back of the car.

Luke let his half-extended right arm fall back to his side. It was clear that Smits didn’t want Luke to touch him. While Smits was watching the chauffeur, Luke got the nerve to peer past him, into the car. If Mr. and Mrs. Grant were in there, he wanted to be prepared.

“They didn’t come,” Smits said.

Luke jumped. “Huh?”

“Mom and Dad,” Smits said. “They had no interest in accompanying me here.” He sounded so smug saying that, Luke wanted to punch him.

“Oh,” Luke said. “Well, why would they?” He was trying to sound casual, the way he would with his own brothers. His real brothers.

“Because of me,” Smits said. “Because they might have wanted to say good-bye to me.”