Chesil’s ball slipped from her fingers and bounced down the old street. She gasped and gave chase. She would not lose that pink ball. It bounced past the old cloth factory, over potholes, past the weathered houses, and finally jumped behind the overgrown bush in the back corner of the Smith’s yard. Chesil leaned down beneath the bush feeling for it. Her hands patted the dirt and felt sticks, but no ball. With a sigh, she stepped up by the wall and drew back the bush. She crawled under it. That’s when she saw the crack. 

She walked back up the street wondering if she should mention the crack. It such a small crack, surely nothing damaging could enter through it. Chesil heard her name and looked up. Her best friend called her to go get some ice cream. Chesil ran off with her and forgot about the crack.

Two days later, Malo wandered by the outside of the city. He passed the high gates. No use trying to enter through them. The gatekeepers would never allow it. His eyes lit up when he saw the crack. He wiggled the stones and widened it enough to slip through. It took but a moment to get inside. Malo grinned. He was one step closer to reaching his ambition. Ever since he was a boy, Malo longed to rule a city. From one city it would grow to be an empire. Maybe this was the first city! 

A light rain started falling, Malo pitched his tent behind the bushes in the back corner of the Smith’s yard. It was so overgrown that Malo did not fear anyone finding him. He stretched out and started daydreaming of the time when his empire would rival that of King Theo. They had been rivals since boyhood and somehow King Theo always showed him up. But now Malo was inside one of King Theo’s cities. With careful planning, he knew it could be his. 

He lived under his tent for several days, occasionally slipping into the main square of the town and buying some provisions. He started to make himself familiar with the local protocols and traditions. He even stole some clothes from the tailor to fit in better. 

Chesil skipped along one afternoon, singing a happy song. Her kite flew in the wind. Mostly, she let it go wherever it wanted and followed it. It flew over the wall by the bush. That reminded Chesil of the crack. She slipped behind the bush to look. Her hand let go over her kit and she let out a small scream. Someone was sleeping here! 

Malo started at her scream. “Hello,” he said, trying to act calm and natural.

“Do you live here,” Chesil asked, wondering if anyone else knew of this and who she should tell.

“Yeah,” Malo said, “I know the Smith’s but they are out of town.”

“Oh,” Chesil said, nodding her head, “They went to visit Mrs. Smith’s sister-in-law. She got sick suddenly. They say it’s going to rain tonight. Your tent doesn’t look very waterproof.”

“It does alright,” Malo said, glancing up at it. “Although it is rather flimsy.”

“Then, you should build a little house to live in, just until you can get into the Smith’s house.”

“I thought of that, but do not have any building materials.”

“We have some old boards hanging around, I’ll bring them to you.” 

Chesil did not give Malo time to respond but dashed off down the street. Malo grumbled something about hoping she kept her mouth shut and crawled out from under the bush. He walked to the front of the Smith’s house and stood with his hands on his hips and an annoyed expression on his face. 

Chesil rummaged around behind their old shed. She loaded several old boards, pallets, and sheets of metal onto her wagon. Carefully, she pulled it down the bumpy streets. Once they almost slipped off, but she managed to catch them. Malo met her in front of the Smith’s house. He carried them around back and expressed a great appreciation for them. That afternoon he constructed a makeshift lean-to. He surveyed it with satisfaction. Now, he could live and look less rumpled or wet after the rain. 

Chesil stopped by to see him several times after that. Malo learned to appreciate these visits. She was carefree and forgot about him between visits. Malo learned much about the town from her. He grinned when he heard that the town’s people ruled themselves and rarely appealed to King Theo. 

One day King Theo did come to town. Chesil discussed nothing else for a week before his coming and asked Malo if he would go. Malo shrugged and said he might. Chesil went to see him that night and demanded to know why he had not come. Malo explained that he did not feel like his clothing were good enough. King Theo was such a tyrant, he likely would have hauled him off to prison. Chesil nodded and left full of new thoughts. 

The next day she ran into her friends. “Say,” Chesil said breaking into their conversation about the day before, “Do you think King Theo is a tyrant?”

Maria shrugged, “He might be. He does want us to be awful cheerful even when things go bad. He discussed that at length yesterday. But still, I think he is okay.” 

But that started Maria thinking and she asked her friend if King Theo was not a little bit exacting to ask them to always be cheerful. That friend told another friend that it did seem ridiculous for King Theo to cared about their attitude. It hinted at micro-management which was bad leadership. More and more people started wondering if the king was a bit too harsh and not such a great leader. Malo grinned when he heard these murmurings and always added something he had heard about the king. 

The leaves started swirling from the trees as a cold breeze came over the city wall. Chesil pulled her hood over her ears and hurried down past the Smith’s house. She noticed draft coming in between the cracks in Malo’s lean-to. “It’s going to be cold here,” she remarked taking a seat.

“Yes,” Malo said, “But the wind only gets through the edges.”

“I brought a screwdriver,” Chesil said, holding it out, “Dad said you can pry open windows with them. I thought maybe since you are such friends with the Smith’s they would not mind if you got into their house that way. They could not have known they were going to be detained like this when they left and I’m sure they would not mind you getting in.”

“Mr. Smith said in his last letter he wished he had left an extra key with someone,” Malo commented. “This will be just the thing.”

And so, he moved into the Smith’s house. That night he started rearranging and redecorating. He used Mr. Smith’s clothes and started appearing more often in town. No one questioned him when he walked into the Smith’s house. He knew all about them and their family. After all, he had told them Mrs. Smith’s favorite type of flower, Mr. Smith’s hobbies, and best golf score. Obviously, he was an old family friend.

Spring breezes blew and the birds chirped. Chesil skipped rope down the street one day and saw Malo contemplating the front of the house. “What’s up,” she asked. 

“This wood is a bit rotten,” he remarked, glancing over at her. “I thought I’d help the Smith’s out by repairing it. But wood houses are out of fashion right now. In all the major cities everything is built out of stone.”

Chesil nodded thoughtfully. “They sell stone at the lumber yard, although I don’t know why since it isn’t lumber.”

“Do they,” Malo asked pondering the idea. “I don’t have a way to haul it.”

“We have a wheelbarrow,” Chesil suggested. “Dad used it to haul stones to go around our garden. I’ll bring it by later.”

The sun sank toward the horizon, as Chesil came down the street with her wheelbarrow. Malo jumped up from the front porch when he saw her. He hurried to the lumber yard for the first load of stones. Chesil chatted with him, as he started stacking them by the wall.

“What’s going on here,” a voice interrupted them.

They both turned to see a young man standing there in military uniform. His boot shone in the last gleams of the sun. The creases on his uniform were exact. His hair was neatly trimmed under his cover. “Emmet!” Chesil exclaimed in delight, “We are repairing the Smith’s house. Won’t they be surprised and thrilled when they get back?”

“Surprised for sure,” Emmet said. With a rapid step forward he grasped Malo. “What is your name?”

Malo wiggled. “Come on,” he said, “I’m a high school friend of Mr. Smith. Let me go.”

“What is your name,” Emmet demanded.

“I’ve known them for years ask anyone around here.”

“Where is your identification card,” Emmet asked. He grew more exasperated every moment.

“It’s inside,” Malo said. “If you let go of me I’ll go get it.”

“Where is it inside?”

“I don’t know,” Malo, “I can’t think with you gripping me. Just let me go get find it.”

“You should know where it is,” Emmet said, tightened his grip. As Malo attempted to wrench free.

“Tell him I’m alright,” Malo said to Chesil.

“He is,” Chesil said, “He’s a friend of the Smith’s. They did all sorts of things together. Why just yesterday, Malo told me that they used to go fishing together.”

Malo flinched when she said his name. Emmet tightened his grip. “Malo is it?”

“I’m not doing any harm,” Malo whined.

“He’s not,” Chesil said. “You should let him go.”

“Nope,” Emmet said. “He is on the king’s most wanted list. We have no place for criminals like him in this city.”

Emmet marched Malo down the street, never loosening his grip. Everyone looked on in surprise as they marched through the main square straight to the city gate. A rumor spread that this guy was on the most wanted list in the kingdom. Everyone declared that they had never had anything to do with him. Others wondered how he had gotten into the city in the first place. 

Emmet did not heed them. He ordered the guard to open the gate and flung Malo through the open gate. Malo tumbled down the hill outside and landed with a thud against a large rock at the bottom. The gate closed and darkness lengthened around him.

Having disposed of Malo, Emmet turned to Chesil. “How did this creep get in here,” he demanded.

“There’s a crack back of the Smith’s house,” Chesil said, a bit cowed. “I guess maybe he came in there, although it hardly seemed like it would fit a person when I first saw it.”

“Why did you not report it,” Emmet asked.

Chesil shrugged, “I forgot.”

“And why did you not report Malo, did you forget that too?”

“He seemed like he wasn’t harming anyone,” Chesil said. 

“Next time,” Emmet said, “You’d better tell someone or you will end up in trouble too.” He raised his voice, “Sergeant!” Another soldier ran up to him and saluted. “Get your men together and several stones and mortar. We have a wall to fix.”

The soldier saluted again and rushed off.

“If I were you,” Emmet said turning to the mayor and town council, “I would cut down all the bushes near the wall and make sure you have no more cracks. Malo will come back and look for another one.”

Emmet turned and walked back to the crack behind the Smith’s house. With the help of the other soldiers, he fixed the crack and ensured it was tight.