by Caleb Smith
Off in the distance he saw a large shadowy figure towering in the middle of the trail. As the boy got closer, he realized it was a brown bear waiting to devour him as a snack. In the physical world, Noah probably would have run the other way, but not in this world – and not now that he could run at this velocity. The bear appeared to be growing larger as the boy approached. He pushed himself harder, and when he arrived within five feet of the beast, he jumped with all his might. Up and over he went, feeling the tips of the creature’s sharp nails scratch the soles of his sneakers. He had no fear as he jumped because he believed. He just knew there would be a positive outcome, and so there was. He landed gingerly, still in stride. The bear growled and began the chase. It might have been a close race, but the boy simply increased his speed now that he understood how. And, once he accelerated to sixty miles per hour, the bear could not keep up.
Noah was now sprinting down the path again, but just ahead, the trail ended in a vast pit of nothing – an endless hole of darkness and silence that was waiting to swallow him. It was too late to put on the brakes, so he didn’t even try. He jumped and welcomed the fall, closing his eyes and counting, one…two…three.
When he opened his eyes, he was back on his bed, lying on his stomach with the final page of the manual staring at him.. That was the quickest book-reading experience he had ever had! There were no page numbers to record the distance of his learning tale, nor did he need any proof. He knew what this was; he knew exactly. It was the beginning of bigger things to follow.
Chapter 9
It was Monday, and there was still a month and a half of school left before summer vacation (Noah was keeping a quiet count of the days). He had spent the previous day with his mother because she had insisted. They had gone out to lunch before grocery shopping, and they had also stopped at a bicycle shop so that Noah could pick out a lock for his new, albeit used, mode of transportation. While purchasing the lock, he couldn’t help imagining painting the bike in a new, glossy, black finish and polishing up the spokes and rims. This would be the reason for his next visit to the shop. But, the lock and chain would serve their purpose well, and they were made of durable steel with a thick plastic coating covering the binding chain. It was a combination lock; Noah opted out of buying one with a key. The memory of a combination was far harder to lose than a key.
After eating, Noah had asked his mother if she would like to see the book shop that he had previously visited.
“I’d love to Noah, but we have to get home and get these groceries in the fridge. Maybe another time.”
He had brought his treatise with him, just in case, so that he could return The Boy Who Could Run and pick up a new book. His mother spotted the faded, green cloth cover.
“What do you have there?”
“Oh, nothing; just an easy read that the shop owners let me borrow. I read it the other night.”
Chapter 10
The sight of his three tormentors pulling up next to the bike rack cut into Noah’s thoughts, just as he clicked his new bicycle lock at school the following day.
“I see you got a bike,” Joe Dwyer was the first to speak.
Noah ignored him and walked around toward the steps leading into the school, trying to keep his distance.
“Hey! I asked you a question!”
Maybe the book lent him the courage, but Noah’s first-ever rebuttal to the bullies spewed forth; “It was a stated observation, not a question,” he said without breaking his hopping stride up the big granite steps.
“Hey! Get back here; I’m not done with you yet,” Dwyer howled, as his accomplices chuckled at his stupidity.
Blowing the enemy off, Noah entered the building with a smile, unsure and a little less worried about what the new day would bring. He felt refreshed with the start of the new week. With each step, he seemed to gain a little more confidence. For a whole year, these bullies had harassed him every day upon arrival, but this day had been different – and he hoped there were many more to come – it was something to smile about.
Walking down the halls, he felt like a new boy. He was excited to see Wendy and tell her of his new found book store. He knew she probably wouldn’t be excited because it didn’t have anything to do with automotive engineering, but he had to tell someone. But when he ran into her, it looked like Wendy had been hit by a truck. Her clothes were dirty, and her unwashed hair showed like it could be housing nests of birds.
“Holy cow! When was the last time you showered?” Noah asked and looked at the black grease stains on her shirt.
“Didn’t have time. I’ve been way too busy stripping parts and helping out in the shop.”
Groups of prissy girls looked mortified as they passed by in flocks, visually assaulting Wendy from head to toe. But Wendy did not give two damns about what anyone thought of her, and she wasn’t afraid to let them know.
“You peons got a staring problem? Go ahead; get a good look if it makes you feel better.”
Noah ducked his head, fielding the embarrassment. He didn’t know how she did it. Allison Bowman, the standout and vocal part of the group, got brave. “You stink, and you’re filthy. Why don’t you just go home – or better yet – move away?”
Wendy chuckled. “How about this, Allison? You start walking away before I grab a handful of that pretty, washed, silky hair and rip it out of your head?” She then smiled.
Noah chuckled as the others standing by snarled.
“Oh, is that your defense? You’re going to hurt me?”
“You’re God damned right, I will!” Wendy yelled, grabbing the attention of teachers standing outside the classroom doors.
Mr. Fuller, a seventh-grade science teacher, walked over. “Is everything all right over here, ladies?”
“It couldn’t be better, Mr. Fuller,” Allison replied with a fake smile. “Come on, girls. Let’s go to class.”
As they walked off, Mr. Fuller asked Wendy if everything was okay.
“Sure, everything is peaches and cream, sir.”
Just then, the bell rang for roll call to start, and students dispersed into their respective classroom. Chatter died down in the corridors, and doors slammed as they were swung shut. Noah and Wendy quickly found their way to the back of the room avoiding any more attention to themselves.
“Wendy, I have to talk to you about something,” Noah whispered, half-leaning over in an aisle so she could hear.
“Noah Thomas, is there something you would like to say to the class?” Mrs. Dean asked, annoyed by the interruption. Noah, easily embarrassed, gently replied, “No ma’am.”
“Well, good then; I can continue.”
As she went on with the lesson, Noah let her words fade away and was transported in his imagination back to the book store. It had captured his mind, and he couldn’t wait to tell someone about it.
Chapter 11
The only challenge the day had posed was the extra slow clock that took its ever-loving time to reach 2:30 PM. There had been no scuffle or stealing of lunch money, no toilet swirlies, and no face plants. It was most likely because Mike Nason was out for the day and Joe Dwyer, with the rest of the cronies, hadn’t gotten around to approaching Noah after what had happened at the bike rack earlier in the day.
The future of the receding day held two possibilities for Noah: a quick get-away from school or another visit to the book shop. He had tried to tell Wendy about his book shop adventure during lunch, but she clearly hadn’t been interested. Instead, all she had wanted to talk about was car parts and her latest idea of building a race car. She was vocal and more aggressive, and her thoughts had dominated their conversation. Noah had pretended to listen, but his mind had been in another place, a place of adventure and mystery, and he was ready to know what would be coming next.
Now, after gathering his day’s belongings, he waited for the bell to ring. Two, twenty-two, fourteen, thirty-six –he recited his lock’s combination over and over in his mind. Wendy was on her own today, and he wasn’t waiting around. It was b
ook shop or bust.
The bell sounded, and he was the second person out the door with backpack on his shoulders. The back door was closest to his chair. He ducked and moved swiftly through the crowd. While most were going to their lockers, he bolted through the first set of doors and flew down the staircase, busting through the doors. He had first access to the bike racks, and he released his lock easily.
He centered his backpack on his shoulders and tightened his straps. Mounting the bike, he imagined being on a horse while pedaling off school grounds and into town. Traffic was abundant as his trusty steed brought him through the cobblestone streets of an ancient city. In his imagination, he was somewhere in Europe galloping through streets with no names, a new adventure awaiting him around every corner. He was loose with his direction; he may not have been taking the most direct route, but it would get him there safely. This had been planned. He had been studying the safest routes from school to the book shop since finishing the first book installment.
He was good with maps and navigating – another passion. He had also managed to acquire a city map of Mid-Town from his mother on the previous Saturday. It had been a last minute purchase on the way to the cash register. Noah had asked his mother politely for one and she had obliged. He had highlighted the route from school to the book store and back to his house. He had also marked the routes from his house to Wendy’s, and from Wendy’s house to the book shop. Now, after looking at the map and his planned routes, he knew where he was going. With this simple knowledge, he no longer had to worry about getting lost. Instead, he could pretend he was on a horse across oceans in a different time.
Cars driving down nearby streets doubled for other horses and buggies, and he held onto his top hat while cruising through the streets on his strong steed. He had a black stallion beneath him and he was controlling him beautifully, cutting through a park diagonally and drawing closer and closer to his destination. There were only a few streets left until he reached Main Street, his destination, and one of the most traveled streets in town. Most of the streets in his large, square-block neighborhood funneled out onto Main street. He would follow Main all the way down to Center Street, inevitably leading to the book shop. Four lanes added to the chaos, as well as those who were walking. School may have been out for the day in Mid-Town, but the business day was still in full swing. It got to the point where Noah had to slow his horse down slowly to avoid hitting pedestrians.
It took twenty minutes, but he finally made it. He tied his horse, Theodore (the name had come to him on impulse), to the stalls in front of the shop. He put great faith in his trusty transportation that had brought him back to the book shop.
Noah blew through the solid-oak doors, adorned by giant panes of glass. To his surprise, the book shop was dead and lacked the vigor of his recollection.
He had thought he’d be walking into a magical environment, led by two giant, nearly identical twins. With what he had experienced on his last visit, why would he expect anything less? Instead there was an older boy working at the counter where the first floor register was located. The boy was face deep in what appeared to be a good book and he paid no attention to Noah, who had brought a whirlwind of energy with him through the front door. After standing for a moment without being addressed, Noah spoke up.
“Excuse me. Is Mr. Enoch around?”
The older boy, who appeared to be a high schooler, couldn’t be bothered to look up and replied nonchalantly.
“They left a while ago. Not sure when they will be back. And you are…?”
“I’m Noah. Noah Thomas.”
“Of course you are.”
Noah was unsure how to react to this boy’s sarcastic demeanor, and so there was a short uncomfortable silence until the adolescent continued.
“They left this book for you, but expect an exchange.”
Noah was thrilled that they had remembered him, but he hid his excitement.
“So, Noah Thomas, do you have something to return?”
“Sure do,” he replied, as he set his pack on the ground and fished the book out from one of the compartments.
“Here you go.” He then placed the washed, green book on the glass counter next to the comic-reading teen. The older teen was forced to stop reading and even sighed at the interruption. He turned and reached behind him for a book, lying alone on a storage counter. It had a sticky note on the front cover that read, “For Noah.” He took the green book and tossed it behind him, while Noah grabbed his next adventure and slid it safely into his backpack.
“Is there anything else that I should know about this book?” Noah asked. “Any instructions?”
In a less than enthusiastic voice, the kid replied, “Ahh. Yeah. Read it.”
“Well OK. I guess I’ll be on my way now. I’ll be back in a day or two. Would you let them know?”
“If I remember,” the boy replied.
This was not the type of person Noah had been expecting, and he strapped up his pack, making it bike-travel ready. He was taken back that the twins would have someone like that working in the store. What was he like around little kids? Certainly, he wasn’t friendly or accommodating. He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the kid scared away business, rather than welcomed it.
His mind was now focused on getting home to read his new book. He rode his bike in reality mode, saving his deep creativity for the read. He must have pedaled harder because he got back home in fifteen minutes, rather than in the twenty he had predicted. Hauling his bike up the front steps, he entered his apartment. He left his bicycle leaning on a wall in the front hallway, out of the way, and made a beeline for his bedroom. But then the phone rang, and after the fourth ring, he remembered his mother wasn’t around to answer it; she was still at work. He sighed and walked to the kitchen, picking up the receiver and cradling it beneath his chin. It was Wendy.
“Why didn’t you wait for me after school? It’s like I give you a bike, and now you don’t want to talk to me anymore.”
That was not the case. Noah valued his friendship with Wendy. He understood that Wendy was just being Wendy.
“I’m sorry, Wendy, I had to go to the book shop.”
“Book shop. What book shop, and why didn’t you invite me?”
“I tried to tell you about it at lunch, but you didn’t give me a chance. You were talking about car parts the whole time.”
“Well you should have spoken up.”
Noah was getting a quick lesson on the world of women, outside of his mother.
“I tried, Wendy, but you didn’t give me a chance.”
She raised her voice. “Don’t turn this around on me like it’s my fault.”
Noah didn’t want to argue, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind to help him out of the conversation.
“Wendy, my mom just got home. I have to go and help her with the groceries. Can we continue this tomorrow?”
“Whatever. I guess so,” she replied like a child not getting his or her way.
“OK. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a nice night.”
“Byeeee!” she said in a loud, irritating tone and hung up.
“Finally,” he mumbled under his breath and put the phone down. Just then the front door flew open and his mother called out his name. He rolled his eyes and said wearily: “Can’t I just be left alone?”
Evelyn took offense. “Nice to see you, too,” she replied with a wounded look on her face. What’s your problem mister?”
Not the “mister” card! It pissed him off, but he told her he just wanted to be left alone to read.
“Is your homework done?”
“Sure is.” She should have known better.
“How about your chores?”
It took him by surprise. “What chores?”
“The kitchen needs tending to, and I need help with dinner.”
He rolled his eyes and bit his tongue. What good would come of arguing? He would be grounded and then unable to reach the book shop for an exten
ded period of time. His voice of reason replied, “What do you need help with?”
His mother, surprised and ready for a verbal smash-down, decided not to discipline the boy.
“Well, you can do the dishes in the sink for me and set the table.”
Noah didn’t reply. Instead, he fell into action, working efficiently, and he was finished with everything in ten minutes. “I’m done!”
“Well, good. Then you won’t mind making the salad,” his mother answered.
He grumbled a little but soon realized that his alone time with the new book would surely be interrupted by an early dinner bell. The last thing he wanted was to start exploring the new lands of his book and then have to be called out for dinner by his mother. He needed to go in, cover to cover, without interruption. And so, Noah took his time slicing the tomatoes and chopping the cucumbers and celery. He turned the carrots into the thin little spears and broke the lettuce into managing pieces. He threw it all in the large plastic bowl and hand-tossed it all together, creating a veggie collage of goodness.
“I hope your hands are clean.”
“I washed them after the dishes. There. The salad is done.”
She looked it over with diligence before saying, “Looks good. Put it in the fridge to keep it cool while I cook the pasta and tomato sauce. Could you grab that loaf of garlic bread for me?”
It was across the kitchen by the bread box. He now felt like a retrieving dog, under command by master, and replied as he handed the hearty loaf over, “Here you go, chief.” After he uttered the words, he felt regret; his ego had won this time.
“What was that, Mr. Smart Ass?” she asked, gently slapping him above the temple. “If you want to be disrespectful, then you don’t have to eat tonight.”
The funny thing was, it was only four o’clock, and he wasn’t hungry. He had actually had lunch earlier, the second time in the school year, and that had been holding him over.
“I’m not even hungry,” he replied.
