The Puzzle Master (4 page)

“What’s so great about this one?” She asked, trying to figure out the mystery and joy on Marshall’s face. “Is this one unusual?”

Marshall’s mouth opened. “Don’t you know anything about puzzles?”

She shrugged her shoulders again. “I’ve maybe done one or two.”

“This is the biggest piece-count I’ve ever seen. Can’t believe someone would give this away—this isn’t junk at all! It’s the cream of the crop.”

“You know the saying,” she said softly,
like
she was about to fade away into nothingness, “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”

“You think this is junk?”
Marshall asked, certain that she did.

“No. I’m just surprised that a kid like you likes these things.” Iris looked at the puzzle box. “Most boys your age are overwhelmed with excitement at video games, or cell phones, or some other electronic gadget.
But not these.”
And she tilted her head toward the box.

Marshall walked around the table and looked at the box too. “I know. But, there’s something about these that’s so much better than all that stuff.” Marshall didn’t care if she thought he was dumb. But, he looked at her face for a reaction anyway. She just nodded and continued to stare at the box, her eyes glazing into thought.

Marshall read the box. “The dimensions to this thing are enormous.
Four feet by five feet.”

“Is that unusual too?”

“I’ll say… it’s way larger than most of ‘
em
I’ve done.”

She nodded as if she understood and then looked at the table.

“You think we should set it up?” she asked. Her lips were large and poufy like pillows. He wondered what they felt like if he touched them. Then he thought about his parents, and hoped they hadn’t found out he was gone.

Marshall cocked his head. “How old are you?”

“I’m eleven.
Going into sixth grade.”

“
So’m
I. Well, I mean I just turned twelve. But, I’m going into sixth too.” They both looked at the picture on the box, the golden grasses looking like a blanket of smooth silk.
“Sorry about your parents, anyway.”

She pressed her lips together and stared at the table. “Thanks.”

“I … can’t imagine what it would be like to not have parents.” He hoped his mom wasn’t having a conniption fit that he wasn’t on his bed. She was probably hyperventilating.
Serves her right.
And he hoped his father had tears of remorse that he sent him to his room. Serves him right too.

She slowly opened the lid to the box. “It happened when I was four. So,” she tilted her head, “I’ve been without them for longer than I was with them.”

He thought about that. How far away and foreign that was from his life. He couldn’t get further away from his parents if he wanted to, at least not permanently. And she couldn’t get any closer.

Marshall spoke. “Guess it’s not so bad at times—especially when you want to do something they don’t want you to do.” He put his fingers in the box. It looked like a million pieces in there; like all the puzzles he’d ever done were in there.

“Yeah, except sometimes, you just want someone to tell you what to do or what to follow so you feel like someone else is there to take care of you; to help you.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way before either. “You’re smart,” he said looking at her with a sideways grin. “You seem smarter than most kids our age.”

Her ringlets bounced as she sat down. A slight flush creeped into her cheeks, and her lips spread apart into a smile. “Let’s dump it out. That’s why he cleared this table, you know. You should have seen it before you got here.”

Marshall raised his eyebrows. “Bad?”

“Bad, as
in an old-bachelor-without-any-maternal-instincts
, bad. I counted four old pizza boxes … four.”

Together, they both held the box and flipped it over. The pieces landed on the wooden table like an ocean of water, spilling, thrashing and filling even the remotest places.

Iris was suddenly on her hands and knees. “Some of them fell on the floor,” she said, sounding far away.

He found his way next to her, and they picked up pieces of golden grass, the tail of a cow, a barn door, and a mountain cap of snow.

“I’m not supposed to be here you know,” he said, picking up a picture of a window, glinting with the glare of a setting sun. She looked at him, dark eyes and hair blending into the dark wood of the table. She sat down on the linoleum, cross-legged and casual, and then reached for more pieces under one of the chairs.

He copied her and picked up pieces and kept talking. “I’m supposed to be at home, in my room and grounded. I wasn’t supposed to return here tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. I sort of deserved it.”

“What’d you do?”

“I came home late from this place this morning, when I was supposed to be on time like I promised.”

 “Oh.”

“And to make things worse, I told my dad tonight that he wasn’t acting like a dad should.”

“Hmmm.”

Marshall bit his lip.
What did she mean by that?
But he went on anyway. “Suppose that was out of line.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“And because of that, I was sent to my room for the night without dinner.”

“Then what if you’re caught?” she asked, as if it were theoretical and not actual. “That you’re not at home?”

“I could be grounded for a hundred years or so,” he said, voice lowered in a growl. “Not a good result, really.”

The air condition was cool and icy under the table. A spider web hung down in one of the corners of the table leg, and a spider the size of a penny worked its way across it.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe you should go home, and come back when you can be here.” She looked at him with eyes of dark holes. He wondered how much knowledge was in her little head, because she seemed already thousands of books ahead of him in smartness.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.
Although, it could already be too late.
Leila, that’s my younger sister, finds any good reason to snitch on me.”

They crawled back out and stood up, the mound of pieces facing them like a mountain of sand that they had to climb up and over. She held out her hand again, and they shook.

“I’m Marshall, by the way,” he said straightening his baseball cap.

“Marshall, that’s nice … sounds like a police officer kind of marshal.”
He smiled. He liked that analogy. That actually made him sound important. “Got any other brothers or sisters?”

“Other than Leila, I’ve got an older one Mason, he’s fourteen.”

She nodded.

“What about you?” he asked.

She shook her head now.
“Just me, myself and I.
I keep pretty busy with them, you know.”

Marshall smiled. She was funny too. He began to feel a tingle in the back of his throat, as if the walls of it were shrinking. It felt like someone had put their hands around it and was beginning to squeeze
.
Hard.
He didn’t want to use the inhaler in front of her. He didn’t want her to know about it yet. He had to leave.
Stupid asthma
, he thought
, stupid, stupid asthma.

“See you tomorrow then?” she asked, to his relief.

He hoped so. Who knew how much discipline he’d brought upon himself with this
stunt.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He thanked Luke and told him he’d be back as soon as he could. He just hoped it was before he turned thirty-three.

Chapter 3: Grounded

The ride home was difficult. Marshall wasn’t sure how he was going to do it all quiet-like and get back inside. He’d only been gone for an hour, but someone surely had checked on him …
hadn’t
they
? They had to know he was gone.

The sun had already set when he cruised home and a sliver of it was still on the horizon, like a slice of orange. It was a bit cooler now, the smell of autumn lingering above his head, just waiting for the cue from Mother Nature to descend.

No one was out front. No one was waiting for him. That was a relief—sort of. He pedaled his bike through the gate, and put it back in his spot, next to the minivan.

Marshall walked to his bedroom window. He looked in through the curtains and saw no one. Not even Mason. He slowly raised it and jumped onto the ledge, kicking himself in and onto the floor in a heap.

Suddenly, a voice pressed gently into his senses. “Is there any reason why I should keep quiet about this little trick of yours?”

Marshall looked up from the floor, his hair in his face. Mason was lying on his bed with his hands behind his head, watching his brother unfurl from the drop.

“
Sheesh
Mason, what’s the deal?” Marshall picked himself up; trying to act like this was a normal, everyday occurrence.

“The deal is that you were supposed to be in this room. And I just caught you
sneakin
’ in.”

“So … what’re you going to do about it?”

He shrugged his shoulders and stared at the ceiling. Marshall stood frozen to the floor, like a flagpole in December. The constricted feeling in his throat returned and he forced himself walk over to his bed. He had to stop using his inhaler so much. He knew if he tried to control his breathing—for even half the time—he could cut down on using it. He could be more normal. Even Iris wouldn’t have to know.

“I don’t know Marsh,” Mason was serious and rolled to his side to face him. “If I don’t tell, you
gotta
promise not to complain about me making money for chores.”

Marshall took a deep breath. No way. That was why he was in his room to begin with.    

“No.” Marshall lay down and watched a fly buzz around the ceiling, moving back and forth like a jumping bean.

The tickle had to go away
. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
He had to make it go away.

“Okay,” Mason sneered. “Have it your way. You’re
gonna
wish you’d said yes.”

Marshall kept his eyes closed. Mason got up from his twin bed in a huff and closed the door.

Marshall faced the wall. He didn’t care what happened to him. At least he’d gotten out.

The tickle in his throat backed away. Despite Mason finding out about his little trip, Marshall felt content. He’d
learned about the surprise … he had met Iris
.

***

Marshall awoke with a jump. The air conditioning was off and he could hear the fly buzzing around his window. He looked at his clock. It was ten.
What had happened?
His head was fuzzy.

He felt his legs. He hadn’t even changed into his pajamas.

Then memories came to him like a long lost friend.

Oh yeah, sneaking out to Luke’s.
The puzzle.
Iris.

Mason was in bed, snoring. Marshall wondered if he had told on him to their parents. He thought no because his dad didn’t come in to talk to him, and his mom didn’t come in to say anything either. Leila hadn’t burst in singing her chants of disdain.

He felt a thump against the wall. His dad had thrown his shoe into the closet. Marshall heard muffled voices.

“I don’t know what to do,” said a voice that was distinctly his father’s. A pause, another thud against the wall—the other shoe. “We have to instill obedience in him Marsha.”

Every time his dad said her name, Marshall thought of himself. Mom said she named him after her, because he was a handsome gift, which is what Marsh meant. Dad insisted he couldn’t have a son named Marsh; it sounded too girly. He wanted Marshall instead. So they came to an agreement. But she called him Marsh whenever she could.

“Yes but, he’s a kid,” she pleaded. “And he loves the junk store. He’s been saving money all
summ
— ”

“I don’t care what he’s been doing. If he can’t be home when you say he should, then we ground him. If he’s going to sneak out and try to get away with it, then he gets more discipline.” He grunted and Marshall could hear the springs in the bed. The walls were too thin. He felt like he was in the room with them. “You see where this will lead if we let it be?”

“Yes but, he loves that place … he starts school in a week. This is it for his summer fun.”

“Marsha, it’s a no. He
’s grounded
for this entire week.
No in or out, unless it’s for church, or with you somewhere.”

The conversation ended, and he heard running water.

Church?
Marshall wanted to laugh. They hadn’t been to church in years.

The fly buzzed again, the room was hot. Mason had opened one of the windows before he’d gotten into bed. Marshall usually had ears like a cat and could hear anything. But he hadn’t heard him. And it was so hot. If only he could be back in the junk store with the air conditioning.

He took off his shorts and t-shirt and tossed them next to his bed. He was in his underwear and it was still too hot. Dad said the air had to go off at nine. And Marshall was sure Mason had turned if off early just to get him back for saying no to him. A small haze was at the windows and a glazed light fettered through the curtain, even though the sun had been down for a while.