The Talent Diary

by Chris McFarland

  Chapter 13: Decisions

  They made Becky put the painting away and Becky joined Samantha on the couch. Samantha still did not know what to say and could not get the horrible image of the screaming boy out of her mind. The harder she tried to forget, the more the painting implanted itself. What is Mark seeing right now, she thought again, or does he not see anything at all?

  Becky seemed ashamed for painting something that made people feel bad. She was quiet, watching the blank television screen. Marissa got impatient at the silence and blurted out a question.

  “So how did you find the tunnel? Tell me about it.”

  “We found it while we were working on the new path I’ve always wanted to build,” Samantha said. “You know the one towards the second tree? Anyway, we were building it and Cliff swung his axe and hit something metal. We cleared all the dirt away and found a trapdoor. It was like the one over the second entrance. We opened it and saw a tunnel underneath. We didn’t go in that day because it was raining.”

  Samantha looked at Becky because she had been there and Becky nodded her head in agreement.

  “So you lucked into finding this tunnel,” Marissa asked.

  “I guess my Grandpa used to know about it a long time ago, but he never told me. The next day I was stuck in the house because it was raining and neither of you were, you know, around. So, I went over to Mark and Cliff’s and they were getting ready to go into the tunnel. I went with them. We went in and it was long. Way longer than any of us expected. We walked for a while and saw another trapdoor in the ceiling and Mark wanted to see where we were. So, he tried to push up on it, but it didn’t go anywhere. He pushed harder and nothing happened. I was almost laughing because I knew that I…”

  Samantha stopped talking, frightened at how close she had come to saying she could have opened the door easily. If only she could tell her friends about her talent. It would make things so much easier.

  “You knew what,” Marissa asked.

  “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lift it either, because it looked like it was heavy,” Samantha said quickly. “Anyway, Mark fell and hit his head on the wall of the tunnel and his flashlight broke. We ran to him to see if he was alright and he was, but groggy. Then I noticed that Cliff had dropped his flashlight to and it had rolled into the water and it went out. So it got really dark. We all started to walk back the way we came because we were worried about Mark. It was scary walking without knowing what you were stepping towards. I kept imagining some monster would come out after us.”

  “Oh my,” Becky said, her hands cupping her face, almost like she was watching a scary movie. “I’m glad that I wasn’t there.”

  “So we kept walking and it got a little lighter. I didn’t know where the light was coming from at first, but then we saw another trapdoor and there was light around the edges.”

  Samantha stopped talking again, thinking hard. After they searched the tunnel for Mark, the police said all the trapdoors were welded shut. However, if the doors were all welded, why had she seen light coming in around the edges of that trapdoor? Had the police made a mistake?

  “What is it,” Marissa asked.

  “The trapdoors had light around the edges, like they were loose in their frames. Why would we see light around the edges when the police said that they were all welded shut?”

  “They said there was no other way out of the tunnel except at the end, right,” Marissa asked.

  “Yeah, and the end came out into a locked room in the church basement. But we did see some light. I know it because I could see the walls of the tunnel.”

  “What do you think it means Samantha,” Becky asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we know one thing,” Marissa said. “The police would have checked all the trapdoors carefully, so we know they didn’t make a mistake. They said they were welded so they must be welded.”

  “Then you must have been wrong,” Becky said. “There couldn’t have been any light from the doors.”

  “But there was. I know it. It was the only way we could see before the turn.”

  “What turn?”

  “The tunnel turns to the left. That’s all.”

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter,” Marissa said. “Mark wasn’t in the tunnel anyway. They don’t even know if he went into it at all.”

  “Cliff seemed to think he did,” said Samantha quietly.

  “Why did he think that,” Becky asked.

  “Because he found an empty battery pack on their bed and the house flashlight was gone. Also, Mark had been talking about going back to the tunnel all night.”

  “So he went into the tunnel and then went somewhere else, like maybe to the market to get some candy or something,” Marissa said.

  “And you think someone got him there,” Becky said, her voice scared and unable to hide it.

  No one said anything for a minute, each thinking their own thoughts. Samantha kept thinking of Becky’s painting and the boy screaming in a tunnel. The painting was a coincidence, Samantha thought, brought on by Becky having seen the tunnel opening earlier the day she painted. But why was she certain something had happened to Mark in the tunnel? Was it because of an empty battery pack and a missing flashlight, or was it because going back to the tunnel seemed like something Mark would do? The facts indicated that nothing happened in the tunnel even if he did go in, but facts weren’t silencing the small voice of doubt. Her doubt, not only of what the police believed, but also of why they believed it, was based on the same thing. When the police walked through the tunnel, they were trying to find a missing child who might be injured. They weren’t approaching the tunnel as if it were a crime scene. Whatever clues there might have been, however obvious, may have been passed over without another look because the police only had a single goal. Could she do better? Samantha discovered she had made a decision.

  “I’m going back to the tunnel. I’m going tonight,” Samantha said bluntly.

  “What!” Becky exclaimed.

  “I’m going back to the tunnel to look for clues myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know there was light around the trapdoors and the cops didn’t see it. Since I know there was light there, then someone must have changed the doors after we left. Otherwise the police wouldn’t have said they were welded. Why would someone change the doors if they weren’t trying to hide something?”

  “So what do you think happened,” Marissa asked, with a trace of her old smugness. “Do you really think someone waited for him and kidnapped him inside the tunnel? A tunnel no one knew about for years and years? Come on.”

  “Why is that so hard to believe? We don’t know where any of those trapdoors come out. They could lead anywhere. Maybe Mark opened one and got in somewhere bad.”

  “Or maybe they lead nowhere. And it doesn’t matter anyway because the police said they were all welded. Why would someone kidnap him in a tunnel? Why not kidnap him at his house. Or on his way home from school?”

  “I don’t know,” Samantha said. “Maybe because it was hidden and no one would see?”

  “And why Mark?”

  “I don’t know,” Samantha said.

  “This is crazy,” Marissa said. “Mark probably either ran away from home or got kidnapped. You going back into that tunnel won’t help him one bit.”

  “But the trapdoors weren’t sealed before. Why would they be now?”

  “Because they were sealed before and you only thought they weren’t Samantha! Mark was hurt and you were panicked. I’ve heard that people can see fake lights when it is dark and they are under stress. I’m sure that is what happened to you too.”

  Samantha stayed quiet and just looked at Marissa, who didn’t drop her eyes and seemed extremely upset by Samantha’s persistence.

  “Becky,” Samantha said. “Will you go with me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t seem like anything
will be down there and it’s a school night,” Becky said. “If we get caught we’ll be in really bad trouble and I don’t want to be.”

  “What if there’s a clue down there and we don’t find it because we’re worried about getting in trouble,” Samantha asked, getting angry herself. “And not finding it makes the difference between Mark being alive or dead?”

  “Don’t say that!” Becky said, putting her hands over her eyes and shaking her head from side to side.

  Samantha looked back at Marissa, whose frown had creased her forehead between her eyes in a vertical slash.

  “What about you,” Samantha asked her.

  “What about me?”

  “Are you going? I’m heading in at midnight, with or without you two. But I really want someone else with me.”

  Marissa didn’t answer and looked at the ceiling. Becky was looking at Samantha with her hands still over her ears. She seemed to be locked in an internal struggle.

  Finally, with great effort, she took her hands off her ears and said, “OK.”

  “Alright,” Samantha said, excited. “And you can get out pretty easy, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on Marissa,” Samantha said. “What about you?”

  “I live too far away,” Marissa said. “How am I supposed to get over to your house in the middle of the night?”

  “You could ride your bike.”

  “Easy for you to say! You’re only going into your backyard. What if my parents wake up and see that I’m gone, now that Mark is missing? They’d freak out and call the cops. I wouldn’t just get in really bad trouble. I’d be grounded for the rest of the year. No way I’m going. And you say that if there’s a clue and we don’t go then that would somehow make a difference between Mark being alive or dead? That’s just dumb. Even if we found a clue it would mean nothing because they already searched it and found no sign of Mark! Why don’t you understand that?”

  Samantha looked at her and said. “Fine. I guess it’s just me and Becky then.”

  Marissa snorted in disgust and looked at Becky.

  “You’re going to go, huh? Think about what your parents would do if they found you missing. They would probably drop dead right there.”

  “You’re right,” Becky said quietly.

  “You know I am. I want Mark back to but going into the tunnel makes no sense. Even if this was a weekend in daylight it still wouldn’t make any sense!”

  “She’s right,” Becky said. “I can’t go. My parents would kill me.”

  “But you said you would,” Samantha said.

  “I’m sorry Samantha. But you know my Mom and Dad. They worry about every little thing. And tomorrow is a school day.”

  “I can’t believe this! You’re more worried about getting in trouble than helping Mark.”

  “If I thought I would actually be helping Mark then I would do it. But we’d just be wasting time for no reason. The best thing you can do to help Mark now,” Marissa said, “is pray.”

  There was an extremely awkward silence. Samantha broke it not by speaking but by standing up and walking to the stairs. With one foot resting on the bottom step, she turned to them and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow at school. If I’m not there, you better pray for me too.”

  She walked up the stairs in a hurry and walked right passed Becky’s Mom without so much as a goodbye.

  She walked home from Becky’s and, although it was a long trip, she felt as if no time had passed when she rounded the corner and followed the sidewalk into her cul-de-sac. Exploring the tunnel for clues the police overlooked seemed like such a good idea to Samantha that she could not understand why her two best friends refused to help. Samantha brooded on their reluctance for the entire walk, alternating between disappointment and anger. Turning the corner, she saw two police cars parked in front of the Wilson house and a young boy sitting on the porch. For a moment her heart pounded in her chest, thinking it was Mark sitting outside. Then she saw the blondish hair and realized it was Cliff. Her hope faded back to frustration. Why would the police be back already unless they brought bad news?

  Samantha walked to the Wilson’s and across their front lawn. Cliff looked up at her as she approached, but his emotional state was difficult to determine.

  “Hi Cliff.”

  “Hey.”

  “Is there… is there any word yet?”

  “No,” he said, looking at his shoes, covered in thick mud. “My Dad came home this afternoon excited because someone said they had seen Mark the day he disappeared. He was down at the mall, they said. The police questioned them but I guess the guy turned out to be a hoaxer and my Dad was really mad. That’s why I came outside.”

  Samantha sat down by Cliff, feeling the weight of what she was planning to do that night in her stomach. She wanted to tell him, but lacked the trust to do so. Cliff leaned closer to her, causing her to flinch back, but he only wanted to talk quietly.

  “I found something in the backyard today.”

  “What?”

  “Come see.”

  They walked to one of the backyard gates. A cool wind was blowing and clouds thickened over the pinkish western sky. The wind made the air feel like impending rain. They walked into the backyard and Samantha could hear Cliff’s Dad still shouting to the police.

  “The police are only staying to make sure my Dad calms down,” Cliff said to her, his voice casual but his eyes worried.

  “I don’t blame him. I’d be mad too. What did you want to show me?”

  “It’s back by the fence.”

  Cliff led her across the wide lawn and to the loose board that led to Samantha’s eucalyptus grove. He pointed down. A small scrap of dark clothing lay crumpled on the ground by the fence. She reached over to pick it up but Cliff stopped her arm.

  “You can’t touch that. It’s evidence.”

  “Evidence? So you told the police about it?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think this was here the other day. I think this is new but I can’t say for sure. If I tell the police then my Dad will get excited again. But who knows when this was dropped. You know what it is, right?”

  “I think it’s that silly hat Mark was wearing when we first went into the tunnel. Did it fall off when you were coming back that day?”

  “I don’t think so. I remember him taking it off when he laid down on his bed. And I don’t think it was out here when I came to show the police the entrance to your yard. I think we would’ve seen it.”

  “Maybe it was under a leaf or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it just showed up here in the past day or so.”

  “So what are you saying,” Samantha asked. “Do you think that Mark is out there hiding and he dropped this?”

  Samantha could see from Cliff’s face that he had thought of that, and that he wanted desperately to believe it, but he didn’t.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess it’s possible. Or maybe we really didn’t see it lying here and the wind blew the leaf off of it.”

  “How did you find it?”

  “What do you mean,” Cliff asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “Were you going into my yard when you found it? Were you going back to the tunnel?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Come on. Just tell me if you were. I’m not going to be mad, but I want to know why you were going in there.”

  “Because I started thinking about it all again and it seemed like something Mark would do. And because of the battery pack lying on his bed, and the missing flashlight. I know that he stayed home that day so he could go back in. I know it. But I can’t prove it, so I was going to go in and look for some sign.”

  “But you stopped.”

  “Yes. I stopped when I saw his hat. I didn’t know what to do. I was going to tell my Dad as soon as he got home, but then he came home all excited because someone thought they had seen Mark. And then he got so mad. I couldn�
�t tell him. You won’t tell him, will you?”

  “Cliff, this could be important.”

  Samantha found herself wanting to say to Cliff exactly what she had said to Marissa and Becky. Why were people so worried about getting in trouble or making others feel bad when they could do things to help find Mark? Whether their attempts succeeded or not, how could they say staying out of trouble was somehow more important? However, she didn’t have the energy to fight all over again. Her decision had already been made.

  “Alright,” she said. “I won’t say anything. But I think you should. I really do.”

  “Maybe. Maybe once my Dad feels better.”

  Samantha nodded. “I need to get home. Are you going to school tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know,” he said sadly. “Part of me really wants to but if I say that my parents will say I don’t care about what happened to my brother. But I think I’d feel better if I could go and see everyone again. My parents won’t even let Mink come over. It’s like they’ve kidnapped me!”

  Samantha found she had nothing to say because every thought seemed coarse and unfeeling. Finally, she said, “Well, I hope they let you,” and climbed through the loose fence board and into the quiet, deserted eucalyptus grove.

  .

  “Hi Samantha. How was school?”

  “It was fine Mom.”

  “Was everybody there doing alright? Was everyone there?”

  “It seemed like everyone was there, except for Cliff of course. People were sad too.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re home. I guess they thought they spotted Mark the other day at the mall but it turned out to be a false alarm.”

  “I know,” Samantha said, “Cliff told me. I saw him in the front yard when I came home and he said his Dad was really upset.”

  “It’s absolutely horrible. Who would make up such a thing?” Sandra paused and looked at Samantha more closely. “Are you alright? I thought that you were going over to Becky’s after school?”

  “I did but I came home early.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to! Why are you asking me so many questions?”

  “I hardly think five questions a lot,” Sandra said mildly. “Anyway, your Grandpa is coming over for dinner again so would you mind giving me a hand? Your Dad called and told me a few minutes ago.”

  “Grandpa is coming over again,” Samantha asked. In truth, she felt a little worried he might stay the night, which would make it difficult to sneak out.

  “Yes. He’s been over a lot lately but it’s always nice to have him. It helps your father to be closer to him, I think. They talk so much more now.”

  Samantha stopped gathering cooking pots and turned to look at her mother carefully. Sandra was removing two boxes of spaghetti noodles from the cupboard and didn’t seem to think she had said anything unusual.

  “So Grandpa and Dad didn’t used to talk much,” Samantha asked.

  “No. In fact, they even went a couple of years without speaking to each other back when I first met your father. Things between them got much better around the time you were born.”

  “Really?”

  “I was glad to see them start getting along. Holidays weren’t much fun when your father and grandfather weren’t on speaking terms. Your grandma had passed away long before I met your Dad, so Grandpa was the only one left.”

  “I never knew any of this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Well, I guess we never thought about it. Why bring up old stuff that would only hurt? Your Dad gets along great with Neil now. He’s over there helping him box up some of his old diaries.”

  “Diaries,” Samantha said, and she remembered she hadn’t looked in her Grandpa’s diary the day before, and that she hadn’t written in her own for two days. The last two days had been nothing but a narrow escape and she hadn’t even realized it. No wonder her Grandpa was coming over so much more often.

  “Hey Mom. Can I do something real quick and come back and help you in like five minutes?”

  “Well, I really do need help to get this dinner done.”

  “Five minutes! I’ll be back, I swear.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  Samantha ran down the hall to her room and grabbed her Grandpa’s diary. She sat down on the edge of the bed, opened the book, and scanned the looping, carefree handwriting her grandfather had entered fifty years before. Besides a very quiet hum, probably from the thermostat in the hall, the house and her room were completely quiet.

  The day before contained nothing of interest, so she read the entry for the current day and was alarmed to see the entry was over a page long. She read it, her heart sinking.

  December 17th, 1941 Day 18. Today I lost control in public for the first time. My Dad was so mad at me that I have to stay inside for the first week of Christmas vacation, which starts in a couple of days. Frank and I were playing football in the lot and a few other guys from around the neighborhood joined in. We were having a good game but it was getting late. Two other guys showed up. One was Jefferson and he’s fine, but his friend is that little punk Sanford. I don’t know why he hates me so much, but on his first play, he tripped me and I fell in a big mud puddle. I was mad and my arm started tingling like crazy, but I did like Dad said and just kept my eyes opened and took deep breaths and looked at the sky. On the next play I felt a little better, but was still mad, so when Frank caught the ball I absolutely laid Sanford out on a block. He fell, hit his head, and our team laughed at him. Even some of the other team did because no one likes him much. Anyway, on the next play they threw a pass to me. Just as I was about to catch it, he punched me right in the face, and I fell over. I was hit so hard that I think I passed out for a few seconds. I got up, and people were standing around him, yelling and kind of pushing. A couple of his friends were pushing back, but he only looked down at me and smiled. There was blood all over my shirt from my nose, so I got up and ran through everyone to hit him as hard as I could. He didn’t even move! I swung at him and had so much energy that I lifted myself a little off the ground and swung over his head. He laughed and moved back a step. I got so mad, because I could break a table but I couldn’t knock him over, that I hit at him as hard as I could, but I missed when he ducked. He pushed me while I was off balance and I fell over again. Then he smiled and walked off the field. I was so mad that I picked up the football without even thinking about it, and kicked it. It went really high into the air, off the field, and over the first row of houses. Everyone saw, so I tried to make it sound like I was only mad, and everyone seemed to sort of believe me. But when I told Dad I got in a lot of trouble. Now I’m grounded and I still couldn’t knock that punk over.

  She put the diary aside, wondering if her midnight tunnel expedition was still a good idea. Her Grandpa had not used his talent in the middle of the night but it made Samantha nervous. It seemed possible that she could use her talent around the same time her grandfather was using his and she had no idea what would happen if they conflicted. Would there be more available, making her even more powerful, or would there be no strength at all, causing weakness? She had no idea but didn’t know how to ask Neil without making him suspicious.

  She promised herself that she would write in her diary later and got up to help her mother with dinner. Walking slowly to the kitchen, Samantha was torn by indecision. She wasn’t planning to use her talent in the tunnel unless she opened one of the trapdoors. But opening a door could be a bad idea because she didn’t know where the doors led. What if she opened one and it led into someone’s house? Being discovered in that situation would be hard to explain. What if she met the kidnapper and needed to use her talent to get away? Would her talent be there, or would she get weak and be unable to do anything?

  She made the spaghetti sauce, nodding to questions her mother asked without listening. Sandra noticed Samantha was distracted because after a few questions she stopped talking and focused on chopping onions. Saman
tha was setting the table when the front door opened.

  “We’re home,” Thomas said from the living room, his voice cheerful. There was the rustling sound of coats being removed and placed on the coat rack by the door. There was the sound of feet on the hardwood floors leading to the kitchen, and then her father and Grandpa came around the corner, both smiling. They didn’t talk for two years, Samantha thought, bewildered. Why would they have been so angry at each other?

  “Hello dear,” Sandra said, walking past Samantha and giving Thomas a quick kiss. “How did the packing go?”

  “It went well, don’t you think Dad?”

  “I’d say so. It shouldn’t have taken much time at all, but I had to stop and read bits and pieces from all of them. It’s amazing how much you forget and how much you can remember simply because you wrote it down.”

  “Well, there sure were enough diaries. They were scattered around the house,” Thomas said, “which is another reason it took so long. We filled ten boxes.”

  “Ten boxes,” Samantha exclaimed.

  Thomas laughed, but her Grandpa only grinned and gave her a quick wink, which let her know he knew what she was thinking. How many pages would it take to fill up ten boxes?

  “Well, we’ve got spaghetti for you boys. I made a huge pot so I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Ravenous,” Thomas said.

  He sat down at the table and started putting food on his plate, but Neil first went to the sink to wash his hands. Sandra walked past him carrying the spaghetti pot, which she placed in the center of the table. Samantha realized she looked silly because she hadn’t moved from her place by the table for over a minute. She went to the counter, grabbed a basket of bread rolls, placed them on the table, and sat down herself.

  “How was school today honey,” Thomas asked.

  Neil stopped washing his hands and quickly walked back over to the table, drying them on his gray shirt, leaving wet, trailing fingerprints. Sandra grabbed a bowl of fruit, went to the table, and sat down by Thomas.

  “It was good. I was glad to be back.”

  “Good. How was everyone?”

  “Quiet.”

  Thomas nodded. Then he scowled at the spaghetti sauce.

  “There are mushrooms in this sauce!”

  “Yes, I wanted to try something different for a change,” Sandra said.

  “But I hate mushroom!”

  “Then you can either pick them out, not eat at all, or eat and pretend they aren’t there. I think it tastes good.”

  Thomas frowned again at his plate but continued to eat. Samantha laughed inwardly, although she was careful not to let any sign of it show on her face. Neil was moving the spaghetti around on his plate, eating very slowly.

  “We heard the false alarm about Mark today,” Neil said. “Very disappointing. I hope your class wasn’t too upset by it.”

  “We didn’t hear about it until after school,” Samantha said.

  “What did people think happened to him,” Neil asked quietly.

  “They thought he went into the tunnel and got kidnapped. Mink was sure of it.”

  “He was, was he? Why was he so sure,” Thomas asked.

  “He’s just the type of guy who is sure about everything, even if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Samantha said.

  “Oh,” said Thomas.

  “Can we talk about something else please,” Sandra said quickly, her voice a little distressed. “We don’t need to keep rehashing about Mark. I’m sure he’ll be found alive and well.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “what did your class do today then?”

  “We, um, we drew a card to Mark’s family and wrote down questions that we had. Then we went over them.”

  “That Mr. Stillson comes up with some good ideas, doesn’t he Dad?”

  “Yes, he’s quite good,” Neil said, again winking at Samantha.

  “Tell me more about your diaries Neil,” Sandra said. “I’ve always found it amazing that you’ve been able to keep them going so long and so consistently.”

  “I wanted them all in a single place,” Neil said. “That’s why I asked Thomas to give me a hand, although I doubt that he knew what he was getting into. Those things were everywhere. I even found one in the cabinet where I keep that old china. They migrated over the years. I’d pick one up and read a little of it, then carry it with me and put it down somewhere. They all look alike, so it was easy to forget which one you were reading from last. That’s the other thing we did today, you know. We added a little label on the cloth binding of each that indicates the year and month”

  “Tell us about something you read today,” Sandra prodded.

  “Hmmm. What did I read that was interesting today? I did find a good one that talked about finding that tunnel out there. We used to play in there some when I was a kid, older than Samantha is but only by a year or so. It had been so long since I was in there I had forgotten it existed. After reading my description of it in the diary it sounded like the absolute pit of hell!”

  Samantha started laughing, almost choking on the piece of bread she was eating. Neil laughed with her.

  “I thought you’d like that Samantha. Of course, it’s been a little different the past couple of days, but we used to have a lot of fun in that thing. It was a great way to get around. There wasn’t any bamboo back then. It was all farmland and it was an early irrigation pipe, I suppose.”

  “Why did it go all the way back to the church then, Grandpa? Did the farmland used to go over there too?”

  “Sure it did. Farms stretched over this whole area. And that church is pretty new. Believe it or not, but it was a bank back when I lived here. But the bank burned down. It was a vacant lot for another few years, and then they built the church. The pipe is older than all of them. I went into it the first time on a dare. We broke the lock on it with a sledgehammer, threw the door aside, and I jumped right in. Scared out of my wits too. But we walked the whole length of it and back and nothing bad happened, so we started playing in it.”

  “What else was in there,” Sandra asked.

  “The diaries or the tunnel?”

  “The diaries,” Sandra said, laughing softly. “Tell us more.”

  Neil told them a few more stories. Samantha was interested at first, but as the stories wore on, not about anything of importance, she started to tune out and think about her plan for the night. She would walk to the kitchen without making the hardwood floors creak, and then open the door to the garage without the hinges squealing. She would grab a flashlight before she left. She would need warm clothes but she couldn’t put them on too early or it would look suspicious.

  She was deep into her thoughts and didn’t notice her grandfather had stopped talking and tilted his head slightly to the right. The drumming sound of rain on their tile roof brought her back to the present.

  “Raining hard,” Neil said.

  “Good,” said Thomas, “We need it badly. I heard the reservoir is almost empty and if it stays this dry we’ll have to go back to water rationing next summer.”

  Samantha listened to the rain, wondering if it was yet another omen telling her to stay inside. The thought of sneaking out to the tunnel seemed much less attractive if she was doing so in a heavy, cold rain.

  They had been finished with dinner for a long time and Samantha pushed back from the table, carrying her plate to the kitchen sink. As she ran water over the plate, washing off the food particles, she looked out the kitchen window, saw the rain, and had the impression of strong wind. Frustrated, Samantha dropped her plate into the sink, walked out to the living room, and collapsed on the sofa. Her Grandpa and her parents remained at the table, talking and laughing, not noticing her bad mood. She was grateful.

  She couldn’t go into the tunnel tonight. The weather was bad and she didn’t know what would happen if she tried to use her talent while her grandfather was using his at the same time fifty years before. She just couldn’t go. There were too many risks. She didn
’t want to risk having no strength if she did find something or someone down there. Most importantly, she didn’t want to risk changing history. What if she did something that completely changed her grandfather’s life and her own family ended up poor, or unhappy, or living in some other place? She would be the only one who would remember that their lives used to be different and better. And she would only remember for a short while. What if she accidentally changed history and woke up the next morning to find that she had no friends or family? What if she changed history and she no longer existed?

  Brooding on these uncomfortable thoughts, Samantha didn’t even notice her Grandpa walk in and sit in the recliner, until he spoke.

  “What’s on your mind Sam?”

  Startled, Samantha sat up, looking around. “Huh?”

  “What’s on your mind? I got the feeling something is really bothering you and I wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it.”

  Samantha was unsure how to proceed. She had already made up her mind not to go out to the tunnel that night, but she wanted to go as soon as she found out the answers to her questions. She had to find out what she needed to know without her Grandpa figuring out what she was planning.

  “I was reading your diary this afternoon and there was one day that made me have a question.”

  “Let me guess. The day I kicked that stupid football about two hundred yards?”

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “I remember that day better than any other day that first year. I remember breaking the table, when I first found out I had the talent…”

  Samantha suddenly realized she could no longer hear her parents. She leaned back over the arm of the couch and craned her neck to see in the kitchen No one was there. Neil laughed.

  “Your Mom and Dad went out to get a movie. Your Mom said she has a hard time letting a rainy night go by without watching a movie.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “Like I was saying. I remember many days and times using the talent. I remember some later ones very clearly. But that day playing football I lost control. I thought I was going to be found out for sure and I got in so much trouble with my Dad. Of course, at that age it didn’t mean a whole lot. He worked all day and my Mom didn’t think punishing me for something I couldn’t control was a good idea, so I was able to sneak out during the day for Christmas break. Still, I always wondered what my friends thought of me after that. With a couple of them, they seemed to stop hanging around us as much. They believed what I told them about being mad and full of adrenaline, but deeper down they must have realized there was something different about me.”

  “Who was Sanford? That kid that made you so mad?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t know. But I guess you’ve never heard his first name.”

  “Whose first name?”

  “You haven’t guessed? Well, never mind that for the moment. Let me tell you what happened the day after. Otherwise I’ll forget and you’ll read about it in the diary and I want you to hear it from me. Like I said, it was the start of Christmas vacation so I was out playing during the day. My friends and I were in the gully behind my friend’s house, which is where that shopping center is now. We used to spend a ton of time in that gully. We were headed there a day after the football game and we saw Sanford by himself, walking along the edge of the water with a bb gun. He was probably hunting the birds that lived in the reeds along the water.”

  “He was shooting birds?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Well, a lot of people like to hunt. I wasn’t worried about that at the time, though. We snuck around the far side of him, which was easy to do because he was moving so slowly. We hid in the bushes and jumped out at him when he got close. I kicked the BB gun out of his hands and my friends tackled him. Before he could do anything I hit him right in the face. I broke his nose.”

  “Grandpa! That wasn’t fair.”

  “I know, I know. I felt bad about it for years. Still to this day I wish I hadn’t done it. It has led to many problems, I’ll tell you.”

  “Like what? Did you get in trouble for that too? You should have.”

  “I’ll tell you about that part of it later too. My friends kicked him a couple of times and I think I hit him in the face again. It was like I didn’t know what I was doing. But I was at least aware enough to realize my arms were starting to tingle and I knew if I hit him again, I would be doing so with my talent. He was defenseless, almost unconscious. If I had hit him then I’m sure I would have killed him and my life would have turned out very different. I probably would have been sent to one of those juvenile halls. Then I would have gone to jail when I turned eighteen. I was almost mad enough to do it too, but I was also young and I was able to stop. Instead, I started to pick him up. My arms were tingling like mad by then and I could have done it myself, but my friends helped. We threw him into the gully. It was soft sand, and he hit the side, but he still must have slid down about fifteen feet to the water. Then we ran.”

  Samantha looked as if she might be sick. It wasn’t how she felt about what her grandfather had done that made her feel ill. What was worse was that it was her grandfather. Her entire life he had been a calm, friendly man who was always there and always helpful and fun. She rarely saw him upset and he had never been openly angry towards her. Now, though, through the lens of his story, she saw him as what he must have been, an angry, rambunctious young boy who had attacked another kid with several of his friends.

  “Surprises you, does it,” Neil asked.

  He seemed at ease with himself, not disturbed by either the story or the memory of what he had done.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s hard, I imagine, realizing that I was a kid once, just like you.”

  “A kid like me,” Samantha said, almost angry. “I never would have done that.”

  “If that’s true, then I’m very happy for you Samantha. It means that our family has improved through generations instead of stagnating or getting worse. Certainly your father is a better man than I am. Like I said, I’m not proud of what I did but I don’t think there’s ever been a time when I didn’t understand why I did it. And Sanford was fine again after awhile. The interesting thing is that he never turned us in, although he must have known I was part of it. He avoided us, turned in on himself, and didn’t seem to make many friends. I had no other run-ins with him for another year. That was when he moved across town, to the very house where he now lives.”

  A sudden suspicion ran through Samantha’s mind. Looking at her grandfather, at his knowing, wrinkled, kindly face, she knew her suspicion was correct.

  “Sanford Henson, you mean? Mr. Henson’s first name must be Sanford.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You did that to Mr. Henson? But why didn’t you tell me before Grandpa?”

  “I guess it never came up.”

  “I can’t believe it was Mr. Henson, of all the people. No wonder he’s always hated us so much.”

  “Yes. It makes more sense now, doesn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  Neil looked at his hands, which were resting lightly on his knees. Then he said, suddenly, as if he was spitting out each individual word.

  “You should stay away from him as much as you can.”

  “Stay away? What do you mean?”

  Neil sighed. “Many years ago, before you were born and when I first was moving out, I suggested to your father that he move as well. He didn’t think that was a good idea. I wasn’t going to be around and I didn’t know if Sanford still wanted revenge.”

  “Revenge? But that was fifty years ago when you attacked him. He would have tried for revenge way before now if he wanted it, wouldn’t he?”

  Neil didn’t say anything for a minute. He seemed to be debating with himself, unsure again. He rubbed his face with his hands, suddenly, like he had a washcloth and was cleaning deep dirt.

  “I don’t know Sam. And thing
s happened between us much more recently than just that day.”

  “Like what,” Samantha asked, concerned but excited.

  “Well,” Neil began, and then stopped. Then Samantha heard the garage door as well. Her parents were home from the video store already. Samantha could hear the drumming sound of a heavy rain on the roof. When she looked back across the living room she saw her Grandpa looking at her kindly, but with the slightly defensive posture she had never seen before she discovered her talent. She knew he would not answer any additional questions tonight and his reluctance to do so rekindled her nervousness. There always seemed to be a larger secret waiting to come out of her grandfather’s mouth, but he kept it under tight rein. Each time she asked her grandfather questions she came away knowing more, but feeling each time that there was even more to know.

  The door from the garage opened and her parents walked in, talking between themselves. Samantha couldn’t hear what they were saying. They walked into the living room with a plastic bag containing a couple of cassettes. Not interested in watching a movie, Samantha got up and went to her bedroom.