Ray is the one who wants to go to the lighthouse. Hazel would rather stay on the beach and find more sirens or a real sea monster to show her little brother. But Ray pulls Ezrah to the sea-rusted door and picks up the octopus knocker lying on the hollow step.
“Go ahead and knock,” Ros suggests, bringing Hazel along behind her. Ray looks down at the rusted iron octopus.
“Who lives there?” he asks.
“The lighthouse keeper,” Ezrah provides, stepping around the words man, twisted, and hand. Ray raises the knocker and looks at the older boy. Ezrah nods, and Ray knocks and holds the octopus twisted tightly in his hands. The lighthouse keeper comes to the door with his scraped-off whiskey bottle, tinted brown so you’d think it could be root beer, and as Hazel and Ray’s eyes traveled to his free fist, he immediately becomes the old man with the twisted hand. Hazel props her fists on her hips, about to tell the man with the twisted hand why she’s angry.
“Why isn’t your knocker where it’s ‘posed to be, Mister Lighthouse Man?” she demands. The old lighthouse keeper chuckles.
“I like to see who’s been knocking,” he answers and turns his eyes to Ray. “So, Mister, what do you want?” Ray juts his chin out like he does when he’s trying to be like Hazel.
“I want to see the lighthouse.”
“See it?” the man with the twisted hand booms. “Well, it’s right here.” Ray pulls his chin back. He hadn’t prepared an answer for this. Ros places her hand on his tiny shoulder. She doesn’t speak for him but waits for the words to untangle on his tongue.
“I-I,” he starts, “I want to see the light,” he demands in true Hazel-like fashion. The man with the twisted hand smiles a soft smile that, had you not seen it before, you would have not expected to see on his grizzled cheeks.
“Well, that can be arranged.” And the lighthouse keeper invites them in.
