The Puzzle Master

Copyright © 2012 by Heather Spiva

This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places
and events are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

For Adam, Joshua and Caleb

Contents

Chapter 1: The Junk Store

Chapter 2: Iris

Chapter 3: Grounded

Chapter 4: The Fishing Pole

Chapter 5: The Truth about Iris

Chapter 6: Devil’s Hill

Chapter 7: The River

Chapter 8: Alone Again

Chapter 9: Now Everyone Knows

Chapter 10: Working the Puzzle

Chapter 11: Halloween

Chapter 12: Thanksgiving

Chapter 13: The Big One Finished

Chapter 1: The Junk Store

The sun peered through the window and Marshall’s eyes opened with a start.
What time was it?
He sat up in bed and checked his clock. 7:05. Perfect, still early enough. He scrambled out of the sheets, already hot and sticky, and headed for his closet, tiptoeing past his older brother.

The last thing he needed was Mason complaining about how early he was up, especially since it was the week before school started.

Marshall opened his closet and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt with the word “Hawaii” written in neon blue. He flipped on a baseball cap, and closed the door.
Stupid door
, he thought a second too late. It had always been loud. It squeaked and squawked like a dying car and Marshall nearly smacked himself for forgetting.

Mason’s bed sprung and shook.
Shoot.

He rolled over. “Marshall Thompson, what the heck are you doing?”

Marshall shrugged his shoulders and didn’t answer.

“It’s seven in the morning!”

“Yeah?”
Marshall asked, not wanting to explain.

“On a Saturday.”

“So?”

“So why don’t you want to sleep in like every other normal twelve-year-old?”

Marshall straightened his ball cap and pulled it nearly over his eyes.

“Just be quiet,” Marshall finally said. “I don’t want mom and dad to wake up.
And especially not Leila.
She’ll cry like a wolf.” He sighed remembering the last time he tried to sneak out in the morning. Practically the whole neighborhood heard her because she wanted to come with him. Then because she
woke
everyone up early on a Saturday and wouldn’t
stop
crying, Marshall ended up not going anywhere; his parents had grounded him.  

He straightened his hat again. “Keep quiet or we’ll all be in a heap of trouble. I’m going to Luke’s.” He watched his brother groan under his breath. “You
wanna
come with me?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “No, I
don’t
want to come with you. I start high school in a few days, and I don’t want to miss my last chance to sleep in.” He pulled his sheet up to his ears. “And we don’t need any more puzzles either.”

“Why do you care?” Marshall whispered. “It’s not like you touch ‘
em
anyway.”

Marshall wanted to yell at him for not caring about anyone other than himself, but it was pointless. His brother had other priorities. And it was just fine with him if Mason didn’t like puzzles, or was bored with them after five minutes.

Marshall thought of them as like a whole new world unfolding before your eyes piece by piece; exactly like a good book unfurling page by page. At the end, all you care about is finishing the thing and seeing what you have in front of you.

Marshall left his room content to see his brother go back to sleep.
If that was all Mason wanted to do, fine.
He didn’t need to remind Marshall every cotton-
pickin
’ second that he was starting high school. Marshall couldn’t wait for Mason to leave for college one day—then he’d get his own room back.

He passed Leila’s room. She was quiet and he subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. Even if she was five and starting kindergarten, his parents treated her
like
she was still two. She cried at everything, and got her way all the time—a typical baby of the family and milking it for all it was worth. She had gotten his old room too, and that was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

He stepped outside and breathed in the heat and humidity. Sacramento was always warm in the summer, and this year was no exception. They’d already had twenty-five days of above one hundred degrees.

But Marshall could tolerate the insipid heat for one reason: fall. Autumn was on the way with her crisp, cool mornings. It was when school, books and friends sort of crowded around in your head day in and day out, and summer’s heat faded away like a bad dream.

He squinted at the sun coming over their trees. The sun was warm, too warm, especially for seven in the morning. But it’s just how it was; high in the sky and ready to make you miserable. It was also the main reason Marshall had to do what he wanted to do: get to Luke’s Junk Store before anyone else did.

He jumped onto his bike, making sure to keep quiet as he left the side yard, and pedaled toward the store. Marshall had never been too keen on Luke’s until Mason came home with an old guitar last year. It was the most ragged and beautiful thing Marshall had ever seen. Mason couldn’t play it worth anything, but that didn’t matter. And Marshall knew that, too. What mattered was that it was a treasure; Mason had found it.

And it was all his own.

Ever since then, Marshall had been looking for a special treasure too; that something that would make his hunting through the dusty old place worth his time. Not that he minded the dusty junk. That was all part of the fun. But, to find a treasure that someone else thought was pure rubbish was joy; to dig through piles of things he didn’t need to find that one thing he
did
need, that was excitement. And today was going to be the day he found his treasure.

After leaving the neighborhood, Marshall pedaled onto the main road for a quarter mile. He passed more rows of homes that looked the same. They all had identical rooflines, shrubs and trees; as if they were cardboard cutouts. His home was one of those cutouts too. But he didn’t care if he was like everyone else, because deep down, he knew he wasn’t.

Marshall was positive—very positive—that no one had a lamer brother and dumber sister than him.

***

Marshall rounded one last corner, and rode up to the strip mall. The place was deserted. Only the mini-mart was open. Luke’s didn’t open until eight. Marshall went into the mini-mart to grab
a chocolate
milk. He had to use his own money, but that didn’t bother him. All that mattered was that he would be the first one there when the door opened. He had to be ready to get in and find that treasure before anyone else got to it.

Eight o’clock came and he locked up his bike. He didn’t want anyone mistaking it for a piece of junk. Last thing he needed was to buy his bike back from Luke.

At 8:01, Luke walked to the front of the store and unlocked the door.

“Howdy there, Marshall,” said the old man. He had a cigarette hanging from his lower lip and it moved up and down with his jaw when he spoke. Marshall wondered how he was able to keep it in his mouth without dropping it. But he figured a hundred years of practice made it all work together just right. Luke smoked like a chimney. But, Marshall didn’t mind. It made every item in there more valuable. If they
were infected
with Luke’s Marlboros, then they were infected with Luke’s brand of care and kindness.

“Hi Mr. Luke,” Marshall said. “You got some new stuff?” He walked in as Luke opened the door for him.

“Don’t I always?” he answered with a smile, his yellow teeth lighting up the darkened room. The room was small, no bigger than
his
and Leila’s rooms put together. But with the amount of stuff piled all over the place, you could spend hours in one spot and not have seen one percent of the store. It was that good.

“Does your mama know you’re here already?”

“Yeah, I told her last night,” Marshall said peering into a giant fish tank, empty with little castles and pebbles in bags waiting for the right home. He looked at the price tag: $15.00. Marshall thought about it. It was a good deal. New ones were going for tons more. But his room was already crowded with him and Mason sleeping in there.

No, it wasn’t the thing. It wouldn’t work.

He patted his pocket, feeling his wallet, and said a small prayer. That perfect toy, or item, or thing … he just had to find one. And there was a lot to go through. Monday was the reveal day for all the stuff dumped at the store that week—old sporting equipment, yard furniture, any doo-dad and thing-a-ma-bob imaginable. People discarded the stuff because they had no use for them. Or they reeked of ugliness, age, or just plain old wear and tear. Sometimes there was great stuff, brand new stuff. And Marshall wondered how anyone could give away such amazing things.

One time, there was a whole box of toys—like water guns, action figures, basketballs all still in their boxes. And he wondered what kid had missed out. It was a stash of birthday gifts or Christmas toys, or something like that.
Did he get grounded
too? Had his parents taken away the cool toys? Or maybe he got hurt, or hit by a car, and was in the hospital.
Maybe, the kid had died
. Marshall stuffed that thought away. Kids weren’t supposed to die young. That couldn’t be it.

Marshall loved that junk store because there was a story behind every item. And whether Marshall knew that story or not wasn’t important. He made one up as he went along. This satisfied his curiosity and put to rest the unease that some of the items brought with them.

Luke sorted all the stuff outside in the middle of the alley, and then brought it inside to the back of the store to put it out on display. He’d put price tags on things he thought should have a tag on it and leave the rest for customers to bargain
with
. He’d lay them on tables, and under chairs, and any place there was an empty spot. He would’ve hung things from the ceiling if he could, but he didn’t.