Unforgettable (14 page)

Sharing Secrets

Halle's head is framed by the smoke-spewing stacks of the factory. I zoom out and she becomes a miniature-doll version of herself in her short leather coat with the fur-lined collar. The dark brown fur looks like a fake extension of her peanut butter–colored hair. I zoom back in until I can see the dimple in her chin. She licks her lips twice. I'll edit that out later.

Eddie waits until the noise of a passing truck fades away along with the dust left in its wake, then motions for her to start. She nods and blinks at the camera. “I live in the town that taconite built. It's all I remember growing up. Like everyone else here, I never questioned the safety of taconite processing. Until my grandpa got sick. He had mesothelioma, a rare form of cancer that's known to be caused by asbestos. Grandpa had worked in the plant for over forty years. Lots of people who worked at the plant started getting sick and dying of that same cancer. Last year, Grandpa died, too. If he were here, he'd say it's a trade-off, like the mining dust that used to get in people's lungs years before. He'd say it's the way of life on the Iron Range. Just part of the industry, just …” Her voice breaks. She pauses and gulps a breath of air. “But it doesn't have to be. People don't have to die to make a living. We deserve to have safe places to live and work. If things don't change, then someday we'll be known as the town that taconite killed.”

She looks down. “That was terrible. I want to do it again. I can do it better.”

My voice is soft. “No. It was perfect.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Don't change a thing.”

When Halle looks up, her eyes are wet. “What if this doesn't make a difference?”

I stop filming and put down the camera. A hawk flies overhead and lands on the high metal fence surrounding the plant. Across from it are thick trees filled with wildlife, dense forests, and lakes. They're unlikely neighbors. Down the road is a flattened animal, roadkill from the trucks that carry tons of rock. The hawk flaps its wings and I feel compelled to speak. “Sometimes a single voice can make a difference.”

“It's a nice metaphor, but that's all it is,” she says, sounding annoyed.

“I'm one person, one single voice. I testified against my mom's boyfriend. He went to prison because of me.”

Halle stares at me, her face blank.

“You're screwing with us.” Eddie's voice is unbelieving.

I keep my eyes on Halle. “No. It's true. That's why we moved here.”

“So, are you saying you're in the witness protection program?” Eddie asks.

“No, nothing like that. He was released from prison a few months ago, and we didn't want him in our lives again. We wanted to get away. Far away.” It feels right to tell them this, to share a real part of my life, one of the true parts. I wait for Halle to say something.

Her lips turn up at the corners. “Well, that explains a lot. No one in his right mind would move here unless he was hiding out.”

Eddie glances around as though he's being followed. “So what did this dude do? And is he the vengeful type?”

“He stole money from the clients at his workplace. And yes, he wants revenge because I testified against him. He wants to find me and break my legs, or worse. I don't think he's looking in Minnesota, though. We don't have any ties to this place.”

Halle's eyes widen. “The plot thickens. A mysterious past and the pursuit of a convicted felon. Ooh, I love it. What's the jerk's name?”

“His name's Dink.”

She makes a shivering motion. “Even his name is disgusting.” She takes my arm. “We'll have to keep a close eye on you. Maybe fit you with a disguise. Dye your hair blond or get a fake mustache.”

Is she making fun of me? Does she believe my story?

Halle cocks her head. “Hey, Eddie, do you think Baxter is ready for a tour of a haunted mine?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “If he's looking to hide, that's the perfect place.”

Okay, so maybe they don't believe me. It doesn't matter. Some of the weight of my secret has been lifted. I can breathe easier, and Dink doesn't seem quite so scary now. I hold up the camera, ready to play along. “Maybe we can put it in our video.”

•  •  •

Halle's brown eyes grow dark and her voice takes on a foreboding tone. “Jasper Campbell was his name. He died along with nine others when the mine was flooded. Turns out it was too close to the lake. Jasper could have climbed out and lived, but he stayed behind to pull the warning whistle so other miners could get away. The warning whistle continued to blow for days after he died, until they finally cut the rope. They had to drain the lake in order to find the bodies. Took them nine months. They say you can still hear the whistle blow at the same time that it flooded.”

We'd followed a narrow trail across rolling hills through a forested area of crunchy leaves. My legs are sore and a cold wind whips through my jacket. I wished I'd dressed warmer. Plus I have to worry about the camera. If I drop it, I'll have more than Dink to contend with.

And now this. A small plaque. I expected more. It lists the names of the dead. The lake is visible through a curtain of maple and aspen trees, a pristine waterway that juts to the right. Waves slap eagerly at the shore as though awaiting more victims.

Eddie rubs his hands together. He has on a light jean jacket. No one seems to dress for the cold here. They just endure it. “It's not just the whistle. When they tried to reopen the mine, the first miners down there saw the decaying body of Jasper Campbell with the rope still tied to his waist. They left and never went back, and the mine closed down for good.”

“This is it? Where's the mine?” I look down at the iron plaque. If they're trying to scare me, they could at least bring me to some spooky ruins.

Eddie points at the lake. “It's under there. When they closed the local mines and stopped pumping the lakes, nature reclaimed the area.”

I imagine trout and walleye swimming through the submerged mine shafts and rotting wood. Okay, that's a bit scarier, but it's nothing compared to Dink's gargoyle tattoo. And it's actually kind of scenic here. The bright blue of the lake is set against a background of yellow, orange, and red forest. Cattails line the east side of the lake, their cigar-shaped ends waving in the breeze. I've never seen anything so beautiful. We're surrounded by a picture from a postcard.

“But there's more.” Halle motions for me to follow her. She leads me away from the plaque around a row of tall pine trees where the terrain juts up against a rocky hill.

“Back here.” She pulls at some vines and shrubs to reveal a deep hole in the hill. “We found some rusty equipment in here; wooden logs and old axes and shovels and pieces of iron ore.”

I peer into the darkness of the hole. It's barely big enough for one person to crawl through. “How far back does it go?”

Eddie takes a flashlight from his pocket and waves it in the opening. “Drops down suddenly about twenty feet in. Probably led down to the shafts, but it's full of water now, too.”

Halle pushes at my back. “Go on. Don't be scared. You won't fall down a rabbit hole. Just a mine shaft.”

I stiffen. “I'm not scared. I just don't want to break the camera.”

“Then leave it out here and go in. I'm right behind you.”

Part of me wonders if they're playing a trick on me. Are they going to do something like put a rock in front of the hole after I crawl in, just to scare me? I don't want Halle to think I'm a coward, so I set the camera in the grass and crawl through leaves and tree branches and rocks, cautiously moving my hands along the cold ground. Who knows what creatures are living in here now?

I'm relieved when I hear Halle right on my heels. “This is so exciting,” she coos. “This place always gives me goose bumps.”

Somehow, with her behind me it doesn't seem so bad. If Eddie weren't here, it would almost be romantic. Our own make-out mine shaft.

I stop not far inside. The small entrance expands into a tall tunnel. I stand up and wipe at the rust stains on my jeans. It's the color of the landscape: birches and pines and red earth.

Eddie flicks his flashlight toward the far end of the tunnel where pieces of wood are nailed together in the shape of an X, like a railroad crossing post. I can hear the distant sound of water gurgling in a hole beyond the wood.

“This was part of the mine?” I ask.

“We think so. We haven't told anyone else about it.”

We sit on wooden logs. An old helmet fitted with a half-burned candle sits by my feet.

Halle grabs the flashlight from Eddie and aims it at her face. “The only people who know about this place are Eddie and me and Gina and Roxie. And now you. So you have to make a solemn vow never to reveal this location to anyone else.”

“Shouldn't you have made him promise that before you showed him where it is?” asks Eddie.

She shrugs and shines the light on my face. “He'll never remember how to find this place anyway. So, what do you say, Baxter?”

She never showed Hunter. It makes me feel all warm inside, even though my hands are frozen. I squint in the light. “I promise.”

Halle waves the flashlight back and forth in front of my eyes. “You can use this place for your special hiding spot, in case you need to get away from Duke.”

“Dink,” I say.

“Right. Whatever. But first you must undertake a very important task to show your commitment to the Mental Club.”

I haven't felt this way since kindergarten, when Halle and I pretended we were the king and queen of the castle and tried to keep everyone else out.

I'm ready to take on the world. Even Dink doesn't scare me as much now. Somehow, telling people about him makes him less of a threat. I've never felt so happy to be in a cold hole in blustery Minnesota. “What do I have to do?”

How to Spend $65,358.97

Editing a video is more difficult than I thought it would be. It requires creativity, which has never been part of my vocabulary.

Luckily, Eddie has a vision.

“I brought music to overlay the video. A ballad that's guaranteed to pull on the heartstrings,” he says. “It makes my mom cry whenever she listens to it.”

Pictures of the deceased flash across the screen against the stark background of the plant that we'd filmed earlier. Bob helps us, explaining how to combine live action, still pictures, and blank screen with writing on it. I even take notes, and keep them next to me so Eddie can see me checking them from time to time.

While I'm fake-looking at the notes, I think about how someday science will find a way to manipulate memory, to download or upload experiences that we want to remember or forget, just like editing a movie in our brains. The first thing I'll do then is erase every trace of Dink. I'll erase the gargoyle tattoo and the Winston cigarettes that made him smell like a walking chimney, and then the fake smile he flashed like he really cared about you.

I hate that he gets in my head when I'm trying not to think about him. I hate remembering him at all.

“I'll pick you up again tomorrow on the way to school,” Eddie offers, his voice sounding almost friendly. I'm finally beginning to feel like part of the club. I almost look forward to the secret task Halle has planned for me.

•  •  •

“So, do you know why I'm supposed to go to the football game on Saturday, and what Halle wants me to do?” I ask as we're copying the video onto a DVD. It's 7:38 a.m., the third day in a row that I've come in early. I stayed late once, too. But Eddie has spent even more time on it, skipping lunch and study hall and an occasional class.

Eddie smirks. “Of course I do. You don't think she's the only mastermind in our group, do you? We all like a good prank.”

A prank? The hair on my neck bristles. “What kind of prank?”

“The only kind there is: the kick-ass, hair-raising kind.”

I put the DVD in my backpack and try not to show my anxiousness.

He notices anyway. “Don't worry about it,” he says. “The Mental Club takes care of its own.”

Eddie says “its own” like I'm part of the club, part of the group. It's the first nice thing he has ever said to me.

“You're the only senior in the club. What will happen next year without you?”

“Halle's the heart and soul of the club. Besides, I'll still be hanging around. Gina and I, well, I think we're in it for the long haul.”

“You're not going to work at the plant, are you?”

Eddie forces a laugh. “No way. I know; there's not much else to do in town. It's the whole moral dilemma of this place: the taconite plant keeps this town going, but do the environmental concerns outweigh the benefits? We can't have both, so should we be happy to just have jobs?” He shakes his head. “I'm going to be the first one in my family
not
to work in the mine. Just because they bought into all that bull doesn't mean I have to.”

“So are you going to leave?”

“They're not getting rid of me that easy. But working on this video made me think. There's a graphic design program at the community college in Hibbing. I might look into it.”

I nod. “I can see you doing that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your hard work on this. I know it's not necessarily your thing.”

“I'm beginning to understand it more,” I say, because it's true. “We could add another interview if you want. I could tape you.”

“We got enough sob stories. I don't want to overdo it.”

“But your perspective would add something.”

“Why? Because we need the Native American point of view?” he says sarcastically. “You want to film me looking at the plant and then show a tear running down my face?”

“No. I meant that the other interviews were all girls. It'd be nice to have a guy's perspective.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. You don't have to … I mean, it's private and all,” I fumble with the words.

Eddie holds up a hand. “Take it easy. I'm the one who should apologize. I just didn't want to make it a cultural thing. I mean, we're talking about cancer. People want to ignore it. Look at the kids at this school. They don't give a rat's ass about our club because they think it can't happen to teenagers. But it can. It
has
happened …”

“To who?” Then it hits me. “You?”

Eddie scowls.

“You have cancer?”

“Had.” He grimaces. “This is strictly confidential.”

“Oh, yeah, I wouldn't … mesothelioma?”

“No. A different cancer. I was born with it, but we still think it was environmental because my mom worked at the plant.” He taps the desk with his hand. “I've been cancer-free since I was four. So, no, I'll never work there. But my mom still does.”

Eddie's anger makes sense now. “That has to suck.” It's the only thing I can say.

“It does. But things could be worse. I could have a lunatic convict after me.” He raises his eyebrows.

I nod. “Touché.”

“You're okay to send the package?” Eddie asks.

“Priority mail,” I confirm. I'll add the note that Roxie wrote imploring a study on the taconite mines and factories, along with case histories that she and Gina have put together. All in a padded envelope to the Institute of Natural Resources.

Bob comes out of his office. “You two should be proud. That video was better than I thought possible.”

“Yeah. We did good, New Kid.” Eddie gives me a slap on the back. Another compliment from Eddie. I shrug, not sure what it means, but it feels good for a change.

We walk down to the first floor, where we're showing an advance screening, a celebration of all our hard work. Halle's bringing snacks. I'd be more excited if I weren't still worried about the prank they're planning. Dink left me gun-shy about surprises.

A large screen covers the whiteboard and a row of chairs is set up in front.

Halle stands behind a table with the treats she brought: taconite cookies (chocolate-drop cookies in small round balls with chocolate frosting) and red punch.

“I made them myself,” she says triumphantly, handing me a cookie. They're as hard as real taconite, but I smile and ask for seconds.

Eddie claps his hands. “Welcome to the world premiere of the Mental Club's first live-action movie. If I say so myself, it's worthy of an Oscar.”

Halle sits next to me and leans in, like we're a couple and have been for a while. I sneak glances her way without being too conspicuous. I've tried to memorize Halle's face and failed. Not because I can't remember it, but because it changes every time I see her. There's always another line in her frown or a sparkle in her eyes that I haven't noticed before. I could spend a lifetime trying to memorize it.

The video ends with pictures of all the people who've died of mesothelioma. The words at the end emblazon the screen:
TACONITE KILLS!

Roxie claps and wipes tears from her eyes. “It's great. It'll knock their socks off.”

Gina lets out a hoot. “It looked like a real freakin' movie,” she says. “We may have to change our name to something more elite than the Mental Club.”

Halle nods and claps, but her smile is fixed and transparent. Something is wrong. She goes to pack up the refreshments. After I celebrate with the others I approach her. “What did you think?”

“It's a great video,” she says, but her voice lacks its usual sparkle.

“You didn't like it.”

“I love it, really I do,” she insists. “I'm just afraid that it's not enough. My dad says that they've complied with all the regulations and have a good relationship with the Department of Health. When I confronted him with the list of names, he said they all had different jobs at the plant and the mine. And they could have been exposed to asbestos or some other chemicals at home or somewhere else.”

She waves her hand. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to spoil the celebration. I'm just afraid for Eddie and Gina and Roxie, of getting their hopes up and having them squashed down. I'm afraid they'll give up, and it will be the end of everything; the club and the protests and …”

“I'll still be part of the club. I won't give up.”

She gives me a kiss on the cheek. “That's because you're the real thing, Baxter.” But her voice is sad.

I researched taconite production and I know there's no easy fix. When the pure iron ore ran out on the Iron Range, taconite became the next big thing, even though it had been considered a waste product before. The hard rock is broken up, ground into a powder, and the extracted ore is rolled into marble-sized pellets. It's dirty and dusty and hard for workers not to inhale the taconite fibers, which might cause mesothelioma. But the old equipment at the plant, which has since been replaced, contained asbestos—and that also causes mesothelioma.

When I get home from school I wonder what I can do to put the sparkle back in Halle's voice. She already has lots of nice clothes and she isn't into fancy cars or motorcycles. If I spend sixty-five thousand dollars on her, it has to be for something special, something she wants more than anything else in the world.

I go to the closet and take the envelope out of the guitar case. How would Mom feel if she knew I had the money? How would Halle feel if she knew I was a thief?

The hundreds dangle like Monopoly money stuck beneath a game board. I played Monopoly with Dink once. Dink cheated.

I draw my fingers through the crisp bills. I can't tell anyone about the money; not Mom or Halle, or even Dr. Anderson. And if I can't tell anyone, then how can I spend it? What will they say if I buy something expensive? They'll wonder where I got the money. It's a lose-lose situation. I have all this money that I can't spend.

But no matter how scared I am, there's no way I'm giving the money to Dink. I sit on the edge of my bed and kick off my shoes. I take out the DVD and the letter Roxie wrote, along with the three pages of case histories. I read them, all eighteen of them, including Halle's grandfather. I read how he'd started at a young age at the iron ore mines before they closed down, and then transferred to the taconite mines, working his way up to middle management. He said that mining was in his blood; if you cut him, he'd bleed taconite. He'd fought the cancer for three years before he died. I read how he was Halle's best friend, and how much she misses him every day.

I stop reading. That's who she's really afraid of losing. It's not the club, really, or the protesting. Halle's grandfather is the sparkle in her voice. I hear it whenever she talks about him. I even hear it on the video when she mentions him.

Suddenly, I know what I'm going to do with the money.