My dad gave me the satchel he’d used on his own bike trip. I expected some sort of sentimental speech about his legacy and the Mellor brothers.
“Here,” he said.
Juliette probably would have been his first choice to receive this valuable piece of family history, but my mom had gotten her a new satchel. My dad’s satchel was dusty blue and wrinkled. But it was stronger than my school satchel, and I liked the idea of having something with me that had already made the journey successfully. When I inspected it, I found a slim book with a marbled cover tucked into one of the pockets. I opened it. Canada Trip, it said. My dad was not known for being descriptive. But on the inside pages, I saw directions, maps, even sketches of the landscape. His handwriting was small and hard to read, but I decided to keep it with me anyway; it had made this trip once, too. Had he forgotten about it? Or left it there on purpose?
The morning of our journey, I lined one side of the satchel with a towel. Then I sneaked back to the garden shed and loaded Alph inside, in a portable aquarium, equipped with the air pump but without much room for hopping. I’d packed the roaches into a gauze envelope, and I stuffed those in the satchel next to his tank. I put some provisions for us on the other side, including a container of water, to even out the weight.
I met the others out front.
Davy’s mom was talking about a camping trip she’d taken with the Girl Scouts, to an amusement park in Pennsylvania, where they’d camped near the train tracks. Leroy’s parents were saying a lot of embarrassing stuff about being glad that Leroy was making friends with some nice kids.
Then the parents took a photo of us together on our bikes. Leroy’s bike was more beaten up than the rest of ours, but, as we’d learned on our trips to the shore and back, he’d tweaked it so it was faster and maneuvered better. Davy’s bike was the newest and didn’t have a scratch. He didn’t ride as much as the rest of us. I wanted to bring out Alph and let him pose with us, but that would have derailed everything. I needed to remember to restage the photo once we were on the road, and once we’d told Juliette the real reason for our trip.
“Be good,” said my mother.
“Be careful,” said Davy’s mom.
“Send me a photo if Valentino’s is still there,” my dad said. That was an ice-cream shop where he stopped with the Mellors thirty years ago.
“We will,” I said.
“Take care of my girl, now, Juliette,” Delphinium’s mother said.
“Of course,” Juliette said.
Alph made a noise. Not a full-throated call, like he was looking for a girlfriend; more like he wanted to join in on the conversation.
“Excuse me?” my father said.
“Oh, that was me, Mr. Goldstein,” Leroy said. He started drumming on his stomach. “I have a problem with my digestion.”
Leroy’s mother shook her head.
“I hope you’re taking something,” my mother said. “An antacid. A gut pill?” She hugged Juliette and then me and then Juliette again. “You’re fine?” she asked, searching Juliette’s face.
Juliette kissed her on the cheek, which was a dodge I’d have to remember. My mother could interpret it however she wanted, which right now was: Of course I’m fine. You don’t have to worry. We knew she’d still worry. My mom wasn’t quite as bad as Davy’s mom, but she was close. She’d seen enough of the world to know what was out there, even if she pretended not to.
My dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said.
“Whatever.” Except for making this trip, I didn’t do anything the way my dad did it. I never had.
“Walk with me,” he said. He waited until we were out of earshot. “You want me to change my mind about you going?”
“You can’t change your mind now.” I sounded more confident than I felt.
“I am your father,” he said. “So yes. I can.”
We looked directly at each other. Finally, he looked away. “Go on, then,” he said.
Leroy was the one who started pedaling away from everyone, before his “stomach” could make another sound. The rest of us followed him down the walk and up the street. When I looked back, our parents were in the road, sweating and snapping photos, except my dad, who stood with his arms crossed.
“I thought we’d never leave,” Delphinium said. She pedaled past me, creating a wind that pulled the hair back from her face. By the time we reached the Harbor Way Bike Pike, a smooth path with a metal roof that wound through the countryside, she was in the lead.
Part of me wanted to catch up with her, but I was carrying Alph, so I thought about her instead, and about naming things. The island was still nameless, but I thought I might call my bike the Pequod, after the boat in Moby Dick. I hadn’t read the whole book yet—just the first three chapters and enough of the summary to recognize that I was developing an Ahab-like single-mindedness when it came to frogs.
The bike pike wasn’t in good shape. The roof, which wasn’t painted like the one at school, was held suspended by a pole every few feet. We could see the rust. And there were whole sections where the roof was missing, a victim of a storm, maybe. Every once in a while, there’d be a fan or an artificial rock blasting cool air at us, but there were no walls to hold it in. And every two hundred meters, we’d see a sign that said something like YOU’LL HAVE IT MADE IF YOU STAY IN THE SHADE and WANT MORE FUN? AVOID THE SUN. Of course we were already out of the sun when we saw the signs. They would have been more effective someplace else.
As soon as we really got moving, Davy needed to pee. It was against a new environmental ordinance—I forget which number—to do it on the side of the road, so we stopped at Silver Mart, a small convenience store on the way out of town. They didn’t have a lot of merchandise—it was more convenient to have items delivered directly to you—so the store was mostly a collection of bicycle and car parts and reasonably priced bathroom access. While Davy ran inside, I unzipped my satchel so Alph could have more air. It seemed stuffy in there. What if the pump wasn’t enough? I sat down and pulled out my pocketknife. Sorry, Dad, I thought as I pierced the leather satchel. I cut a hole in the side, like a window.
“What are you doing?” Leroy asked.
“Air,” I said. “But I need something to block it, so no one can look in.”
“Yeah, you do.” He looked toward the store. “Now would be good.” He stepped to the right and planted his feet between me and the Silver Mart. I moved my head to see what he was hiding. The doors of the small building had opened, and Derek walked out with his brother. Oh. He was hiding me.
The Ripleys walked toward us. Peter was carrying a volleyball, tapping it back and forth in his hands.
I slapped my hand over the hole I’d just made.
“Nice bag, Slime Boy,” Derek said, going back to my original name, even though Frog Boy was definitely more accurate. “Glad someone in your family recycles.”
My sister had been leaning against the building, but she stood up straight when the Ripleys approached, as if she had a metal rod inside her spine.
“Is that how you’re getting to Massachusetts?” Peter pointed to her bike. I guess she hadn’t told anyone she wasn’t going on the senior trip. “You’ll save me a dance, right?”
“Drop dead,” Juliette said.
He put his hand to his heart. “Juliette, I’m hurt.”
Davy came back outside, holding a bathroom key, which was attached to a long strip of metal. He waved it at us as he ran to the back of the building.
“You’re not bringing these guys on the senior trip, are you?” Peter asked.
“I’m not going.”
“How come?”
Juliette faked a yawn. “Not in the mood.”
Davy went sprinting past us again, to return the key to the cashier.
“So you’re babysitting instead?”
As someone who was also our age, Derek looked like he wasn’t sure whether to smirk or look indignant.
“They’r
e more mature than you are,” Juliette said as Davy came back outside. That’s when Alph decided to do his thing again.
ERRRRRRR.
“Digestive problems,” Leroy said.
“Real mature, Lobster Killer,” said Derek.
Leroy didn’t respond. He just got on his bike and started pedaling. I got on mine and met him on the other side of the lot.
Peter and Derek didn’t follow, even after Juliette called Peter a name that my mom wouldn’t have thought was in her vocabulary.
“That felt good,” she said. “Well, not good. But better.”
We followed Harbor Way past apartments, past kudzu and witches’ fingers, past fields of solar panels, which farmers liked planting better than food because it had a guaranteed yield.
Juliette was in the lead now, pedaling so fast it made me think anger might be the world’s best untapped renewable resource. We took the pike north, taking a few breaks and walking up some of the hills. Around dinnertime, we decided to stop for the night in a town called Heaven.
It was a tiny town, with a small “designated forest area,” and a certified campground that had water (limited and for a fee), bathrooms (limited and for a fee), and a scenic overlook (unlimited, for a fee, and with a few optimally placed billboards that changed every twenty seconds).
By then, we’d gone eighty-two kilometers, which was a lot, given our lack of training. We’d taken our time, partly because of Davy, who rarely exercised, partly because of Alph, and partly because of the heat, which blurred the bike path into a dream. It was hard to imagine that my dad had gone this far on the first leg of his own journey, but that’s where his journal said he’d stopped.
There was no one at the campground’s entrance to register us—not even a hologram. Instead, there was a rusty machine with a spot for our fingers and a keypad so we could punch in the number of our tent site. Just looking at it would probably give us tetanus. MONITORED BY MAINE PARK SERVICE, a sign said. DISPOSAL UNITS AT NORTH END OF CAMPGROUND. PLEASE KEEP OUR FOREST CLEAN. And then, above that, another small sign. WELCOME TO ANGEL’S REST CAMPGROUND. THE TREES HAVE EYES: YOU ARE UNDER VIDEO SURVEILLANCE. On top of that was yet another sign that said, simply, PLEASE DON’T FEED THE WILDLIFE. And scrawled under that in black, someone had written: What wildlife?
The campground was nearly deserted, except for a family of six, with their guitar, and a couple that looked just a little bit older than Juliette. When we started to set up our tent, they went back to the check-in station. Then they picked up their own tent and moved it across the campground, without even folding it up first.
We spread out the tarps, set up our tents, and got a few amalgamated logs from the dispensary. Davy put a tablecloth, which his mother had packed him, over a wobbly picnic table.
ERRRRRRRRRRR.
Leroy slapped his hand over his stomach.
ERRRRRRR, said Alph again.
“Are you going to do that all night?” Juliette asked Leroy.
Leroy shrugged. “Depends on what we eat for dinner.”
“Hand over the water,” Juliette said, moving toward my satchel.
“I already unloaded it.”
“Then what’s in there?”
I let out a breath. She was going to have to find out and we were a whole day away from home. “Leroy’s indigestion,” I said.
She looked at me like I was speaking Portuguese.
“I’ll show you in the tent.” If the campground was really under surveillance, I didn’t want to take any chances.
Juliette rolled her eyes, but she followed Delph, Leroy, and Davy through the flap into the girls’ tent. I lifted my satchel off the back of my bike and joined them. The sun hadn’t set yet, and the walls of the tent seemed to glow a little. I lifted out Alph’s aquarium and set it down in the middle.
Juliette leaned close to the ground so she could check out Alph from the side instead of through the screen on top. He moved toward her. “What is that?” Juliette said.
“A bullfrog,” I said. “They’re rare.”
“I know it’s a frog,” she said. “I mean what—where did you even get it?” She looked straight at Leroy. I guess I might’ve looked at Leroy, too. He was new to our group, and the lobster story had been all over town. Plus, it was his stomach issues that had been covering for Alph’s croaks.
“We found it,” I said. “Him, actually. It’s a boy.”
“Congratulations.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I’ve never even—” She put her hand on her throat.
“His name is Alph,” Delphinium said.
“And we’re setting him up on a date,” added Davy. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain the rest of it to my sister, so I was sort of glad Davy did.
“A date?”
“Yeah,” said Davy. He’s more a blurter than an explainer. “With a lady bullfrog.”
“We’re going to try to mate him,” Leroy added.
Juliette reached for the portable aquarium, which looked even smaller with Alph inside it. She lifted it up and studied Alph’s amber eyes. He was pretty calm, given that he’d just spent the day in a stuffy satchel on the back of a bicycle. “Well,” she said finally, “at least someone’s got a social life. Where’d you find him?”
“Around,” I said.
“Around where?”
“Around the harbor,” I said.
“I didn’t think they lived in salt water,” she said, which was more than I thought she knew about frogs. Her eyes flickered, like she was calculating. “Would this be around the time you needed an emergency shower?”
“Around then, yes.”
“And where’s this hot date?”
“Wodiska Falls,” I said.
“We’re going to see Mole Rat,” said Davy. “He owns the girlfriend. But it’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone.”
“I can’t tell anyone that we’re going to see a mole rat who owns a frog?” she repeated. “Gee, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“It’s a code name,” Davy said.
Juliette was quiet, taking it all in. She looked in the direction that would have been home, and I wondered, for a minute, how much talking I was going to have to do to keep her from turning back.
“So the reason you wanted to take this trip,” she said finally, “was because you’re playing matchmaker to a pair of frogs?”
“It wasn’t the only reason,” I said. I thought about the Disciples and wondered if they took chaperones. “This really is our only chance to take a trip like this. And we really are following Dad’s old route.” Mostly.
Juliette nodded, once. “Make the fire,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“Whew,” Davy said out loud. We’d gotten off easy. I hoped Juliette would be just as unflappable when I told her we had to sneak across the border. I figured that part could wait until we got there.
Scientifically, the night sky in the middle of nowhere is pretty much the same as the night sky at home. What’s different is the way you see it. What’s different is how you feel.
Last fall, Davy and I went to the harbor with my telescope to look at the stars. There’d been no light pollution, and it had felt like we were in a different universe instead of three kilometers from home.
The universe above Heaven felt even more different than that one. The sky seemed clearer. The stars seemed sharper.
“There are so many,” Delphinium said. She sounded breathless, like each star had taken a bit of air from her throat and made it hard for her to breathe. Except in a good way.
Juliette stared at the fire instead of the stars. Leroy covered the hole in my satchel with a piece of gauze from the first aid kit Davy’s mom made us pack, and his famous tube of Bind-oh. Then he lay back on the bare ground, arms behind his head, looking up. “I’ll bet we’re setting the world’s record for length of time outside,” he said. “Hey. Shooting star! Did you see that?”
“You get a wish,” Delph said. “Close your eyes.
”
I had about a thousand wishes I would have made. I hoped none of Leroy’s wishes had to do with Delphinium.
“I missed it,” said Davy.
“You’ll get the next one,” Delph said in that encouraging way she had. It was good to have her on your side because even if you weren’t winning, she had a way of making you feel like you might.
“A shooting star isn’t really a star, anyway,” Davy said. “Just dust and other particles. But that doesn’t sound as good. ‘Shooting particles.’ ”
“It sounds like a band name,” I said. They could play with Renegade Amoeba.
“I’ll stick with stars,” said Delph.
“Suit yourself,” said Davy. Then, more excitedly, “I can’t believe we’re here. Alone in the forest.” I guess some people would feel scared being alone in the woods at night. But to me, it felt safer. Especially with my friends.
“I’d better check in with my mom,” said Davy.
“Bro, can’t you hack her One or something?” asked Leroy. “Make her think she’s talking to you when she’s not? That’s what they do in movies.”
“Working on it,” Davy said. He took his One out of his pocket and walked away from us.
“My parents were glad to get me out of the house,” Leroy said.
“How come?” asked Delph. Of course.
“My brother’s hard to handle. Well, we both are. I think they liked the idea of having just one of us to deal with, after the whole lobster thing. They didn’t much like the EPF hanging out on their front porch. Also”—he added this last part like he thought twice about saying it—“my parents thought you might be a good influence.”
I remembered what Mrs. Varney had said about being glad Leroy was with nice kids. “Why would they think these guys would be a good influence?” Juliette asked.
She was teasing, but Leroy answered seriously. “They see their names on the announcements from school all the time. ‘Delphinium Perez pitches a no-hitter.’ ‘Jonathan Goldstein wins Science Fair.’ ‘David Hudson scores a hundred and seven percent on National Latin Exam.’ ”
One Small Hop Page 9
