Authors: S. A. Harazin
Chapter 8
The next morning I’m not in the mood to play a video game or read or look out the window, so I decide to drive the car around the circular driveway. It’s pretty long.
I back out of the garage into the driveway, put the car into Drive, and go to the road. I turn around and go to the other end of the driveway. I do that over and over again, hoping Luna will show up today.
I haven’t run over anything so I’m going to drive down the road. I’ll turn around before I get to the stop sign. I’m cheating by counting my driving time without having somebody with me. I know that. But who’s going to help me? I have to do it myself.
Spencer’s probably with Cassandra today, and Luna’s probably looking for another job.
I drive down the road and pass Cameron’s house. He’s sitting on his porch with a dog that never even gets to go for a walk. I wave to him. He’s lived in the broken-down house ever since he came back from Afghanistan.
Right before the stop sign I pull into a dirt drive that leads to a fenced-in field to turn around. I make the turnaround without problems, but right before I pull back onto the road, a car runs the stop sign and another car collides with it. Metal flies into the air and drops to the ground. Other cars stop to help. I can see one of the victims leaning forward inside his car.
I get out of my car, go over, and tell the man that help’s coming. He nods, and I can hear a gurgle when he breathes. I wonder if that hurts. It sounds like it would.
The paramedics arrive within minutes, and I get out of their way. I head home.
Luna’s standing in the driveway holding her notebook. I don’t know how I missed seeing her.
“Don’t you know it’s cold today?” she asks when I get out of the car.
I’m not wearing a jacket. “I was in the car most of the time,” I say. “You see the accident?”
She nods. “I saw you turning around too. I am sorry about yesterday. I embarrassed you.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“I’m not a scammer.”
“I don’t know where Cassandra got that idea,” I say.
“I spend hours a day alone with you in your room and get paid.”
“My grandmother is thankful you come over. So
is Veronica.”
“They want you independent.”
“I try to be. I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe,” she says.
I glance at the notebook. “Taking more notes?”
“Yes,” she says. “If that’s okay.”
I tell her she cannot use my name or any identifying information.
We talk about her one day going to graduate school and hopefully getting her PhD.
We walk into the kitchen. Nana’s sitting at the table working on a word-search puzzle. Some days she’s fine. Some days I can’t tell. Other days she’s out of her mind. The sitter’s across from her.
“Where’s David?” Nana asks.
“I’m here, Nana.”
“She asks about you dozens of times a day,” the sitter says. “She thinks you’re in the hospital, and she wants to go see you.”
I don’t know what I’ll do if—when—Nana dies.
“You have a bucket list,” Luna says. She’s at my desk revising my schedule. “You should have told me before.”
“Lots of people have them,” I say.
“Not like this.” She reads it out loud.
“See something spectacular? Like what?” Luna asks.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I’ve never heard of a bucket list like this,” she says. “It’s different. It’s heartbreaking.”
Great. I’ve broken a girl’s heart, and I’m not even trying. “I’m a beginner,” I say.
Our eyes meet. “All those times you were in the hospital, did you ever see the tunnel of light?” Luna asks.
“Just ducks. I heard quacking. I figure I made a wrong turn.”
“Maybe you had a quack doctor,” she says and starts quacking. I laugh with her.
“Once, a doctor got this idea that if I was tasered every day, it would stimulate the growth of nerve endings,” I say. “Obviously, it didn’t work, but I shook and laughed. It felt like tickling.”
“So you can feel some things?”
“Yes. I feel touch, pressure, and itching,” I say. “So what about you?”
“I’m boring.”
“Probably not to a duck. You quack well.”
She laughs. “I grew up competing in beauty pageants. I loved dressing up and pretending to be a princess. It was my mother’s life. We competed nearly every weekend. She’d make me beautiful,” Luna says. She smiles.
That’s what makes her go from plain to beautiful.
“You are beautiful,” I say.
Luna laughs. “I can merge some of the things from your bucket list to the schedule. That way, you’ll have something to work toward.”
I’m looking at my revised schedule, which includes a calendar. “Spring Festival?” I ask.
“It’s part of life skills,” she says. “I’ll meet you there.”
Under Spring Festival, I see “cab” circled.
“Maybe you’ll meet a girl there you like,” Luna says.
I stare at my bucket list. I already have met a girl, but I’m a research project to her.
Chapter 9
I blow-dry my hair and comb it carefully. Then I dress in black jeans and a button-down shirt. I splash on Terre d’Hermes. It’s for the man who has his head in the stars and his feet planted on the ground or something like that. I want to be him.
I grab my jacket and cane. Stepping into the hallway, I shut my door, and then I walk down the hall to Nana’s room. I glance in. She’s lying on her bed talking on the phone. I wave bye to her.
“Wait, James!” she calls out. “Got to go,” she says into the phone.
But I’m not James. You’d think after eleven years, she’d remember my name. “I’m David,” I say with a squeak in my voice. I try hard not to make a big deal out of it.
Nana motions for me to come in. “You look so much like your father,” she says, staring at me.
James hasn’t been around for over a decade, but I figure at seventy-eight years old she has a right to get mixed up once in a while and forget today and yesterday and years of her life. If I had all those memories floating around in my head, I’d get mixed up too.
“Who called?” I ask.
“Stanford asking for a donation.”
I stay quiet. Nana graduated from Stanford in 1959. You’d think somebody as smart as her would never get mixed up.
I stand at the foot of her bed. She’s dressed in pajamas. “Where’s the sitter?”
“In the kitchen.”
I’ll have to check to be sure. I never know what to believe, but if the sitter’s not here, I can’t go anywhere.
“I’m going now,” I say.
“Where?”
“The Spring Festival,” I tell her for the second time today. “Remember? The band’s playing in the
Waterly’s Got Talent
show.”
I’m not playing. I haven’t talked to Spencer since the day I found out I looked weird onstage. They haven’t practiced in my basement.
Nana starts to get up. “I forgot. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
I grab onto the bedpost. “I don’t need you to drive me. I’ll call a cab, and Luna’s meeting me.” From the look on Nana’s face, I know she doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.
I’m not calling a cab. I lied to Luna too. I don’t need riding in a cab as a life experience. I got my learner’s permit yesterday, and there’s a hardly used car in the garage that’s calling to me.
Nana lies back down. Her eyes droop, and her head falls forward.
“Be careful, David.”
At least she got my name right. “I’m always careful,” I say, kind of sad. She’s always been afraid for me and sometimes terrified, but I’ve been doing better while she’s been getting weaker.
Nana looks up and throws me a kiss.
I smile at her and throw a kiss back.
As I’m going downstairs, the sitter’s headed up. She’s carrying Nana’s protein drink. Tonight it’s strawberry.
I smile, breathe a sigh of relief, and tell her I’m going out.
I grab the keys from the spider plant, and then I check the thermostat. It’s a perfect fifty-six degrees outside. Two hours ago, it was a perfect fifty-seven degrees.
I get into Nana’s Lexis and take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this. I want to see Luna, and I don’t want to arrive in a cab.
At the end of the road, I look left, right, left, and then slowly turn left. My heart pumps as hard as a fire hose when the hydrant’s turned on. Driving is scaring the heck out of me. I thought I’d feel powerful. I thought I’d feel like I was in control of something. I wonder how Seth was feeling when he was driving before the tree fell onto his car.
When I finally arrive at the Spring Festival, I park where there aren’t any cars for me to hit and walk across the road, the air tasting like smoke and new flowers. The sky’s star-filled. I walk along a trail toward the bonfire in the middle of the field. About a hundred people I don’t know are celebrating spring.
Along the sides are booths with vendors selling popcorn, pizza, hot dogs, and drinks. I smell cotton candy and see pink clouds in my head. Best of all, there’s a lit-up Ferris wheel on the other side of the field. I’ve never ridden a Ferris wheel or been on a roller coaster. All I’ve ever ridden is a merry-go-round, and Nana was afraid I’d fall off the horse.
I look around for Luna, but I don’t see her.
She said she’d be standing near Spencer’s band. She said I should act like I didn’t care that they didn’t want me. “If they don’t want you, then you don’t want them,” she said. “It’s like falling in love. If somebody doesn’t love you, then forget them.”
There’s Spencer next to the stage at the north corner of the field, and for some reason I think about the time I helped him with math. My answers were wrong because I did the wrong page. Spencer said it was all right. He said that he would’ve done the wrong page too.
Another band is playing right now, and people are dancing. I weave through the crowd. I say hi to Spencer as I pass him, walking like I’m on my way somewhere important.
“Hi,” he says, but that’s all. I find a place to stand near a soccer goal somebody forgot to move. There are not many people hanging out at the soccer goal, and it’s easier for me to keep an eye out for Luna.
Then the MC says, “Now we have Geo.” The audience applauds.
All at once I feel like my heart’s fallen into the dirt. They go onto the stage, and the music erupts.
She was just seventeen…
They’re strong, loud, and playing better than ever. I feel only the music, barely aware of anything else around me. I imagine I’m up there with them.
Then it’s over, and the audience applauds wildly. Cass takes a bow, throwing kisses, eating up the attention. I look away. Then I gasp in disbelief. I think I see my dad maybe thirty feet away. I head in that direction, weaving through the crowd, but then he’s lost among all the bodies. Thing is, the guy’s too young to be my dad. My dad would be middle-aged by now, and he wouldn’t come back here for a million dollars. After all these years, he’s probably dead. I blink him away.
Around three years ago, a car was found in Paper River, which is not too far from us. Skeletal remains were inside. For a few days we thought the person was my dad, but later we were told the body was Noel Peeples, who had gone missing forty-five years ago.
I buy a bottle of water and twist off the cap. Then I feel a touch on my arm.
“Hi,” Luna says. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater. She smiles. Her breath smells like apple mints. I love apple mints. “Want to dance?” she asks.
“Not really.”
“You don’t know how?”
“Actually Nana taught me to waltz.”
“That would be cool,” Luna says. “I’ve never waltzed before.”
“Nobody’s playing a waltz. I bet you added dancing to my life-skills list.”
She doesn’t answer.
We end up waltzing to a song. Luna, my cane, and me. I like the feel of her hands touching the back of my neck. I get butterflies in my stomach. It’s how I imagine I’d feel on a roller coaster the moment right before the fall. I won’t ever forget this. I count, “One, two, three,” and I could do this forever just to be close to Luna.
Then the music stops. I hold Luna for a few seconds, even though we’re a foot apart. Then she says we should go over to the bonfire. “See that girl?” she says. “You should say hello to her.”
“And then tell her I don’t know any pickup lines?” I say. “No thanks.”
“You have to start somewhere,” she says and hooks her arm around mine. We go over and stand near Spencer, Marcello, Cassandra, and the girl Luna wants me to meet. They’re talking and laughing. Luna punches my arm. “Tell Spencer they did great,” she says. “And then introduce yourself to the girl.”
“She’s with Marcello,” I say as Marcello puts his arm across her shoulder. I turn my head and see a guy squirt lighter fluid onto the fire. Flames erupt. The guy drops the lighter fluid can at the edge of the fire, too close to the blaze. A can of lighter fluid exploding is like a bomb with shrapnel going everywhere. It could kill somebody, and I’m not in the mood to die. I go over, pull the can away from the fire with my cane, and pick it up.
Luna screams. I look down and see my jacket sleeve burning. I drop the can, pull off my jacket, and stomp on the flame. I fake scream a little too, to sound like a normal person. At the same time, I hear Spencer yell, “David!” and then he’s charging toward me, but everything’s moving in slow motion. I keep hitting the fire until it’s out. Smoke fills my lungs, and I smell burned hair. Coughing, I quickly touch my hair to make sure it isn’t burning. It isn’t, but the odor’s probably caused by singed arm hair. I’d rather smell hair than flesh.
A crowd is gathered around me. Luna’s crying. “It’s all right,” I tell her. “I’m not burned.” I make that up. I don’t know if I’m burned or not without looking.
Spencer walks up to me, his face sweaty. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you that metal in a fire is hotter than hell?” he whispers.
I look at cotton candy somebody’s holding. “Yep. It would’ve hurt anybody else. I figured I had to do something.”
“But it hurts you too, only you don’t know it. You’re not a superhero,” he says.
“I know.” I stopped believing that a long time ago.
Spencer’s shaking his head. “You’re either the luckiest person I know or the unluckiest.”
A security guard yells, “Move along. The excitement’s over.” He picks up the can.
I kind of laugh. The Spring Festival is supposed to be the excitement. I can smell smoke and lighter fluid on my clothes.
Spencer takes his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll give you a ride to the hospital.”
“No thanks. I know where it is.”
The girl I was supposed to talk to touches my arm. “You’re a hero.”
“I’m only pretending,” I say. I look away. I’m not a baby, but sometimes I think I’m waiting to be born. The first time, God forgot the neurons.
Now I’m embarrassed and feel like crawling into a hole. Luna’s seen the stupid part of me too many times.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I tell Luna. I can’t walk around smelling like a gas tank.
“Don’t your hands hurt?” the girl asks.
“Nah. I’m an alien from outer space,” I say and walk away.
In the car I turn on the light and check my hands. They’re red, but the light’s bad. I don’t trust it. A burn on my wrist looks like a tree turned red in the fall. Little blisters are forming. I’ll be okay. I’ll put some ointment on my hands later.
On the way home I’m thinking about what a loser I can appear to be. The Spring Festival will probably be going on for hours. I was only there for a short while, but I want to start over and not end up looking like an idiot.
I look for the stop sign at the dead end where I need to turn right. My fingers squeeze the steering wheel. Darkness engulfs the road, and I glance down at the switch to turn on the bright lights. When I look up, I see the stop sign ahead, and I brake, but the car keeps going. Gasping, I pump the pedal.
Please, please, don’t let me hit anyone.
The car enters the intersection and refuses to slow down. I’m in the middle of the road. My grip tightens on the steering wheel. I’m crossing the road, hitting the grass on the other side, and bouncing down an incline into a ditch. The car stops. Ten more feet, and the car would’ve been sinking in a pond full of catfish.
My heart’s pounding, but I’m not in shock. Well, maybe I am in shock. I can’t move. Two times tonight I’ve come close to getting hurt. I’ve got the right to be in shock.
And there’s only me to do something. Unwilling to move, I don’t. I can’t believe I’m having all this bad luck in one night.
“Do you need assistance?”
At the sound of the voice, I jump, and then I remember that the Lexus has an onboard emergency response system.
“I only need a tow truck,” I finally tell the person, balling my hands into fists. “I don’t need the police or an ambulance.” I’ll be in big trouble for driving without a license.
Do they put you in jail for that?
I wonder.
“Help is on the way.”
I shove the airbag out of the way, put the car into Park, and turn on the inside light. I check myself. I don’t see blood or bones sticking out. I must feel fine. Good thing there were no cars coming. Good thing I missed Mr. Henderson’s pond.
The brakes went out. I don’t know why. Brakes can fail suddenly. I’ve seen it happen on TV. Maybe I hit the gas instead of the brake, but the car never sped up. Suddenly, I know what happened. I panicked. My foot kept hitting the floorboard, and my brain was telling me it was the brake.
I get the flashlight from the glove compartment and then pick through the contents until I find the insurance card. Nana had a flat tire once, and I remember what she did. I could’ve changed the tire, but it was a hot, summer day, and Nana wouldn’t let me.
I grab my cane, open the door, and tread through high grass and briars to the front of the car. Shinning the light across the fender and then the hood, I don’t see any damage.
I climb up the slope behind the car to the side of the road and wait breathlessly for the wrecker. It’s dark, and I can barely see anything. I look down the road and see a car coming. It can’t be the tow truck.
I think about a commercial from TV where the first person to arrive at an accident scene was a lawyer in a hot-air balloon. Then I remember a movie I watched about a girl breaking down on a highway. A serial killer stopped to save her. But the car I’m watching speeds past me.
While I’m waiting for the tow truck, I think things out. I’m going to be in trouble for driving without a license, and I’m going to be in trouble for having an accident. I cannot hide that. But to avoid the most trouble, I have to get checked at the hospital or else I’ll end up being taken by Joe, and I’d rather have him yell at me on the phone than in person.
The tow truck pulls up. Sticking my hands into my pockets and walking over to it, I breathe a mix of relief and fear. The truck has “Hills Towing” written on the side of the hood, and a hook and chain in the bed of the truck. You’d think he towed hills instead of cars.
I ask the driver if he’ll drop me off at the hospital.
I don’t want to go to the hospital, but who would? Doctors never say anything I want to hear, and they always find something wrong I don’t want to know about.