Read Brass Monkeys Online

Authors: Terry Caszatt

Brass Monkeys (42 page)

She said this in a kind of detached voice, and “awful” seemed a tame word to describe that scene. But then I remembered how she had bathed in the waters of the Grotto and had a final glass of it too, and how Adjana had said it would help ease the pain. And I was glad for Harriet. I wouldn’t have wanted her to remember the true horror of that moment.

I hurried on to our adventures in the Blue Grotto, and when I mentioned the Silver Ball she suddenly broke into tears.

“Harriet …” I said. “I’m sorry.” I stared at her helplessly. “Don’t cry.”

She tried to smile. “It’s okay. I just remembered how I felt when they gave it to me and how beautiful the ball was. It was such a special moment.”

“I know,” I said. “It was special.” Her eyes filled again and so I moved on to the battle, hoping to distract her a little. She remembered almost all of that part until we got to the loading at the station. For some reason she couldn’t recall how difficult Plumly had been and how he had run off.

Finally, I explained how I’d figured out the memory secret.

Her eyes lit up. “I actually sang, too! Or well, I hummed, because I was scared. I just vaguely recall it, but I think I did the ‘Unicorns’s song for a short while.”

“Maybe that’s why you remember so much,” I said.

She nodded. “This is so wonderful. Jack, Lilah, and Teddy … they’ll be just the best teachers. And Jack is the new McGinty. Do you think he knows?”

“No.” I told her about how Jack and the others hadn’t sung on the way up. “I think they remember something—you can see it in their eyes. But it hasn’t come back in any clear way.”

She studied me for a moment and then her eyes clouded over. “But what about Adjana and the battle that’s going on?”

“That’s the bad part,” I said. “Even though Ming’s a prisoner, the Stormies are a real threat and it could get worse.”

Harriet shivered. “Do you think Ming might ever escape and come back here?”

I shrugged nervously. “I don’t think so, but who knows? If she came back to the surface, I think she’d go for another school. Something fresh.”

I watched Harriet nod, then run a hand through her short, curly brown hair. She looked up with a slight frown. “I have the feeling she’ll be back.”

I gave her an intent look. “You mean it’s like fate?”

She gave me a faint smile and nodded. “I feel we’re still caught up in something.”

I heard Weeser’s asthmatic voice coming from the living room, then a burst of laughter from Alvin and Ray.

“Are you going to tell Alvin and Weeser everything?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Probably, if they ask. They’re not quite as curious as I am. I don’t think they sang at all on the trip up.”

Just then Alvin and Weeser came barreling into the room.

“Caught you!” said Weeser. “Whatever you’re doing.”

“Let’s get rocking,” said Alvin. “We’ve got school tomorrow.” He hesitated, then held out a large hand. “All righty, Tonka-bud. Great party.”

I shook hands with him. He tried to give me one of his scalp burners, but I squirmed away.

“We know you were really trying to help,” Alvin went on, “when you read that fardexy poem in Ming’s class.”

“You big dorf,” said Weeser, “you didn’t know that!”

“Yeah, but we know now,” insisted Alvin. He turned back to me. “And Harriet thinks you had something to do with Ming leaving.”

“What was that?” called Mom from the living room.

“Nothing Mom,” I said. “Harriet and the others are leaving.”

Weeser opened his green eyes wide. “Duwang! Now we’re ‘the others.’“

I followed the three of them to the door. Alvin and Weeser ran on ahead and promptly got into a snowball fight. Harriet turned to me.

“There is one thing you forgot,” she said. “Remember when we were in Ming’s awful room and you said there was something you wanted to tell me?”

I suddenly felt warm all over. “I remember,” I said. Without hesitating, I leaned over and whispered exactly what I had always wanted to tell her. Every word of it.

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, then she simply smiled and gave me a kiss right on the lips. Just before she went out the door, she shot me a last look. And man, that look! It said she had things she could tell me that were every bit as interesting, if I was ever lucky enough to hear them.

Ray joined me at the door and we watched the three of them get into the Jeep. Alvin honked the horn like a maniac and they all waved at us as they went down the snowy drive.

“Well, Bumpus-man,” said Ray, “about time for me to go, too. But before I do, I guess we’d better get to the last part of the mission. Once I get your decision on that, I can head back.”

“So what’s the last part?” I asked.

Ray took a deep breath. “You know that Adjana always wanted John Ashford—the other McGinty—to finish his book so we could expose old Ming-daddy. Well, she evidently knew he was getting sick and might not be able to finish it, and so she was already looking around for someone else who might do the job. And guess who she started thinking about?”

“Jack, obviously. He’s the new McGinty, even if he doesn’t know it.”

Ray gave out a funny bleat of a laugh. “Good guess, but it ain’t right. Adjana says he hasn’t got the right temperament. He’s too antsy and a little too … what was it?—too snarly! No, there was someone else.”

“Oh, man, don’t tell me,” I began.

He grinned happily. “Yup. It’s you. The old monster-brain.”

I held up a hand to stop this nonsense right now. “Ray, I don’t have the talent for that kind of thing. I mean, the vocabulary, the smarts. And anyway, I can’t finish Ashford’s dumb book because it’s gone! You said so yourself.”

Ray waved his hands. “Forget all that. That ain’t the book she’s talking about, anyway! She wants you to write your own. Just tell about what happened on your adventure. She said it doesn’t have to be a huge—what did she call it?—a huge literary deal! Just tell the story in your own words. Just like it happened. She mainly wants the kids out there to know about Ming and the Stormies. And Adjana thinks you’re just the one to reach ‘em.”

“Oh man,” I said, “that’s more scary than anything that happened down below. I mean, it’s way out of my league. Shoot, if Jack and the others could remember stuff and help me, it would be different. But look at them. Jack doesn’t even know why he’s got that stupid white sport coat on, for crying out loud.”

Ray cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, I know. That part’s a big screwup and I did it. I’ll have to talk to Adjana and find out what she wants us to do about it. In the meantime, Jack and the others will just teach. What the heck, they’ll be great. But I still have to know about you.” He gave me a sober kind of smile. “You gotta get your boots on, Bumpus-man. Just like you told me back in the desert days, ‘Sometimes you have stop the talk and do the walk.’“

Out in the kitchen Mom dropped a pot on the floor and it rattled around for what seemed like a century. Ray watched me intently the whole time. Finally, the racket stopped and I muttered a faint “Pingeroo.”

Ray looked amused. “What’s that mean? Old pingeroo?”

“Nothing. It’s just something I used to say.” And I knew right then I’d probably never say it again, because it was a word that belonged to the past, to a kid who no longer existed.

I drew myself up and straightened my shoulders. “Listen, you can tell Adjana I said I’d do the mission, right to the end, and I will.”

“Flame on,” said Ray. “I figured you’d say that. You know, in my mind, you’ll always be the Bumpus-man I saw running across the sand that day, his old trumpet winking in the sun and half the Stormie army right on his tail!” He laughed as he grabbed up his jacket. “Well, I gotta go. Duty calls.” He headed for the front door and I followed.

He paused there. “Tell your Mom thanks for everything,” he said.

“I will. Look, Ray, why don’t you stay until tomorrow morning?”

He sighed. “Man, I’d like to. But Adjana and the rest are down there fighting for their lives. I told her I’d come back. And I’m going to.”

“Yeah, I know.” I choked up.

He put on his jacket and zipped it up. “All righty then.” He held out his hand and I shook it.

I could see his eyes filling.

“I ain’t crying,” he said. “Might look that way.”

“I know it,” I said. “Me neither.” And then I added, “Aren’t you going to need a ride back to school or something?” I gestured helplessly at the winter night. The sky had cleared, revealing a million stars. And it was bitterly cold.

“Nah … Can’t do that. It’s all gotta stay a secret. I’ll just hoof it to the school. The Big Monkey is there, waiting. So, Bumpus-man, I’ll just say goodbye so we don’t get carried away.” Without another word, Ray started down the road toward town.

“Ray, wait,” I called. But he didn’t stop. I ran inside and grabbed Todd Lemons’s trumpet and then came back out. I lifted the bell toward the glittering stars and started playing “These Boots Are Made for Walking.” The notes rang out and seemed to sparkle like fire on the cold, crystal air.

Off in the distance, I saw Ray’s hand go up once in salute, then he turned and went on into the night.

the end

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge the following:

My daughter Wendy Allen for her generous help and unflagging loyalty over the long years; Becky Chown for her laser-eyed editing skills and indomitable energy; Erin Anderson for her inspiration and tireless work on both early and late drafts; Anne Marie Oomen for her wise and informed critiques; Marguerite Cotto for her long friendship and critical acumen; Claudia Delp for her belief in the book and unwavering optimism; Anne and Brian Lewis at Mackinac Island Press for their valued expertise and steadfast support; Tom Mills for his creative work on the cover; Beverly Martin for her professional, heartfelt help and encouragement; Diane O’Connell for her sharp-eyed overview of the project; my former students scattered across the globe, always the affectionate focus of the book; and most of all Marlie, my wife, who read the manuscript too many times to count; and not least of all, Cynara, Ayesha, Xena the Warrior Princess and the great Nefertiti.

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