by D. G. Driver
“Grandma?” I asked. “Where do you shop and get gas? We didn’t pass any stores or anything on the way here.”
“Oh, that’s because all the shopping is on the far side of the lake. There’s a whole civilization over there. We’ve got a Target and McDonald’s and all that familiar stuff. It’s too far to walk or ride a bike, but it’s an all right drive. I bet you were worried it’d be all garden vegetables and Wheel of Fortune while you were here.”
I laughed. “A little bit.”
“It won’t be that bad, I promise.” She got up from her recliner and stretched. “I’m afraid it’s getting late for me. You go ahead and stay up if you like. I’ve got your room made up for you when you’re ready.” Grandma gave me a hug. “Oh, and I’ve got a surprise for you in the morning.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t tell,” she sang. “You’ll have to wait.”
“Will I like it?”
All she did in response was wink at me before disappearing into her bedroom.
As soon as she left the room, I flipped channels until I found a show about crazy skateboarding stunts on MTV. My mind began to wander. What could Grandma have in store for me? Was it something I would actually like or just something she thought I would like? Grandmas are notorious for thinking kids’ll like things and being so wrong. My dad’s mom, for example, still buys me art kits and Barbies for Christmas. And I never liked those things, even when I was younger. She thinks a fun outing is a trip to the museum or some historic landmark.
But so far Mom’s mom was turning out to be pretty cool about stuff. I’m hearing words like McDonald’s and getting to watch MTV. So, maybe she really had something sweet in mind.
Maybe she had a boat.
My heart started to race.
Maybe she had a wave runner!
I straddled the arm of the couch and pretended I was riding the wave runner. I banked to the right, then the left. Oh! I crashed through a wave and it tossed me off into the cold water!
Well, actually, I landed on the braided carpet of my Grandma’s living room. Now crumpled on the living room floor, I came back to my senses as I rubbed my sore butt.
My grandmother did not have a wave runner. She probably was just planning to take me to Waffle House for breakfast and thought that would be a big trip.
I let the excitement pass and considered going to bed in the little sailor room. For some reason I just couldn’t motivate myself to go back in there. While I procrastinated, I got comfy on the couch and used an endless stream of brain warping entertainment to help me deny the fact that the room kind of creeped me out. Hours later, I finally fell asleep with the TV on.
3
Going to the Town Square
When I woke in the morning I was still on the couch. At some point Grandma had put a quilt over me, turned out the lights, and switched off the TV. I moaned quietly, guiltily hoping she’d done all that when she woke up for the morning and not in the middle of the night because the TV had kept her awake. I could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen and hear the patter of Grandma’s slippers on the linoleum. Groggily, I got up and wandered into the kitchen.
“Sorry about falling asleep out there,” I said.
“Not a problem,” Grandma said. “I do it all the time. Except when I fall asleep it’s usually in the middle of one of the afternoon talk shows I like. And when I wake up, the news is on. I miss all the juicy stuff.” She held up a coffee mug. “Want some?”
“No thanks.”
“Breakfast?”
Here it comes. The Waffle House invitation. I tried to fend it off by lying. “I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“Well, you’re going to have some today. You’ve got an adventure to go on later.”
Adventure was an intriguing word. It hinted that she was going to give me something I might actually like. Waffle House was not an adventure, not even to old people.
“Okay, then. Fill me up.”
We ate a delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, and biscuits with homemade blueberry jelly. She assured me that we wouldn’t eat like that every day in case I was worried about my cholesterol or calories. Most days she just had cereal. I said that was fine. No one ever accused me of being overweight, but two weeks of eggs, bacon, and biscuits as tasty as these might change that.
I helped her with dishes and then put on some fresh clothes. Grandma told me to meet her out back as soon as I was ready, so I hurried and slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt. Unlike Jenna, who was a big fan of skinny jeans and tight tops that showed off her figure, I preferred baggy clothes. I got my jeans from the boys’ section, and I always made my mom buy my shirts a size to big, so they hung down past my hips and the sleeves nearly touched my elbows. Today I chose one of my favorites, a black shirt with a Batman emblem across the front. I ran my fingers through my hair and tied the laces to my Converse high-tops. Curiosity nagging at every bone in my body, I dashed down the hall, pulled open the back door, and stepped out onto her deck, not sure what to expect.
The first thing I noticed was that the big green wooden doors of the garage were open. I didn’t see Grandma right away and wondered if she was in the garage waiting for me. Morning sunlight came from the wrong angle to light up the interior, and the garage appeared as dark as a cave. It felt like I was being tugged by an invisible hand toward the garage as I headed down the porch steps. One step across the gravel driveway and that tugging sensation released. I stumbled backward like when the other team lets go of the rope in a game of tug-of-war. If not for the railing of the porch steps, I’d have wound up on my butt.
Out of nowhere, Grandma skidded up beside me on an old bike and stopped inches from me. “Not bad for an old broad, huh? They say, ‘once you learn, you never forget.’”
I laughed at her. She was such a weird lady.
“Is that your bike?”
“It’s yours now,” she said. “While you’re here, anyway. I imagine you have a much nicer one at home, but this one’s in pretty good shape. We had two of them, ten-speeds, and rode quite a bit when we were younger. I gave mine away a few months ago to a friend of mine’s granddaughter as a birthday present. I’m sorry about that now. I know this is a boy’s bike, but your grandpa took good care of it, and it’s in better condition than the other one. I hope that’s all right.”
She struggled to get off of it, because it was a bit too tall for her. Then she held it out for me to try.
“That’s no problem,” I said. “My bike at home is a boy’s bike; I like them better.” I got on and found my balance on it. “This is awesome, Grandma. Thanks.”
It wasn’t a wave runner, but it was still a pretty cool surprise. Not a single speck of rust marred the brilliant blue metallic paint. The seat was in good shape, not loose or torn. I climbed on and rode it in a big circle around her house. All the rocks and grass made it bumpy going, and that made me miss my dirt bike from home. Still, a bike was a bike, and that was always better than walking. I pulled back up to Grandma and put my feet down. Well, my tip toes. I was nowhere near as tall as my grandpa had been and a hair shorter than Grandma.
“It’ll be better on the road,” Grandma said. “Go take it for a spin.”
I shrugged. “Where?”
“Do you remember how to get back to the Square?” Grandma asked. “That’s not too far from here.”
“I think I can remember,” I said, although I couldn’t figure out why I would want to go there. “I was kind of wanting to spend some time on the lake.” All the lines in her face deepened for a moment. I thought I’d hurt her feelings, so I added quickly, “It’s still a great bike.”
“Oh,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, and then she forced a smile out of her pursed lips and the lines softened again. “It’s just a bike. Nothing special.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll have some time on the lake. Together. Later in the week. Today, you can explore town. Away from the water.
“It’s not a bad ride.” Grandma gestured all
the directions as she spoke them. “It’s a straight shot over the hill and down through that first neighborhood. The road shouldn’t be busy at this time of the morning but be careful and watch for traffic. Some people drive very fast up that hill. There are some shops and food over at the Square. Here’s twenty bucks,” she handed me some cash. “Have a good time and be back by four o’clock.”
It was only 9:00 in the morning. I couldn’t imagine there was enough to do at the Square that would keep me busy that long, but I didn’t say anything. I pocketed the cash, said thanks one more time, and took off down the driveway. Before I got too far, I skidded to a stop and pedaled back to her.
“I don’t have a cell phone or anything,” I told her. “Mom made me leave it at home because I got in trouble for texting at the dinner table. She didn’t want me on the phone all the time instead of visiting with you.”
“Well, I’m sorry you got in trouble and lost your phone,” she said with a gentle smile, “but I appreciate her wanting you to be all mine for a few days. It wouldn’t matter, cell phones don’t work very well out here by the lake, anyway.”
“I guess what I’m saying is, Mom would never let me go out of the house without my phone to use in case I got in trouble. I can’t call you if I get lost.”
She chuckled at me in a way that made me feel foolish, and heat rushed to my face. “You won’t get lost, Danielle. But if you do need help, just go to the pharmacy and mention my name. They’ll let you use the phone or get you headed in the right direction.” She pointed down the road. “Go on now. Daylight’s wasting.”
Again, I pedaled away, but this time I kept going until her house and yard were out of sight. There was only one road in and out of this log cabin campsite. I followed it through the woods, careful to stay as close to the shoulder as possible because there wasn’t a bike lane. I was going downhill and not totally in control of this tall ten-speed. I didn’t like the hard, skinny seat under my bottom or having to lean over so far to reach the handlebars. The gears were a mystery to me, and the handbrakes didn’t feel natural to me at all.
A car whizzed toward me in the direction of the lake. I didn’t think I could swerve off the road fast enough. Panic erased any decision-making ability in my brain. Then, feeling just like someone yanked me by the shoulders, I tumbled over into the tree trunks with the bike on top of me. The car zoomed past, and the force from it made my bike tremble and my teeth buzz. I’d say that it was the speed of the car that knocked me over, but I’m sure I fell before it got to me.
By the time I finally got my heart to stop pounding and untangled the ripped cuff of my jeans from the pedal, the car was already coming back from the other direction, going even faster, the driver honking the horn at me like I was in his way even though I was off the road. I guess the driver didn’t find what he was looking for or hit that dead end and realized he was in the wrong place. He dashed down the hill, wheels on both sides of the double yellow line. I was at a safe distance, but I still stayed on the ground a moment to catch my breath and clear my head. I heard something scamper away in the woods, but I didn’t see any brush moving. Must’ve been my imagination.
From that point on I didn’t see any more cars until I entered the neighborhood at the bottom of the hill. When my parents had driven through town, I didn’t pay attention to street signs. My ability to think had been hampered by my full bladder. I figured out my way by recognizing some of the trucks and boats I’d noticed in the yards. I didn’t do too badly at finding the Square. Only one wrong turn took me down a cul-de-sac where I had to turn around.
Being a Monday morning, the Square was busier than it had been when we arrived the day before. Cars and pedestrians filled the streets and sidewalks. I hadn’t noticed the day before how the Square was an intersection of four avenues with an old-fashioned courthouse smack-dab in the middle of it. Shops lined the perimeter of the Square and then continued down the blocks away from the center. Doors to the shops were open, and it all seemed much more inviting. There were a lot more shops than I had thought there would be, and it occurred to me that my dad didn’t drive through the heart of this “downtown” but skirted around it.
To the side of the courthouse’s front steps were some bike racks. I left the bike there and explored the area by foot. There wasn’t much around that interested me. A tackle shop caught my attention. I’d want to check that out if Grandma had a fishing pole. Surely, she did, living on the water and all. I didn’t know how to fish, but I thought it would be fun to learn. There was a drugstore with a good assortment of candy. I saw an ice cream shop, and there was a small used bookstore next to it. Out in front was a shelf of books with a sign that read, Free. Take one but replace it with another. I thought that was a neat idea. If I finished a book, I could put it on the shelf and get another book for nothing. Too bad I didn’t see any good titles. They were all romance and crime novels.
I wandered down one of the long streets and wound up by the pizza restaurant I had noticed the day before. I stepped inside and nearly fell to my knees in happiness for the miracle happening before me. Arcade games! They only had two, Pac-Man and Donkey Kong. Classics. Next to them was an old school pinball machine. My day just improved!
Without even looking around to see if anyone was in the joint, I went straight to the counter, slapped down my twenty-dollar bill, ordered a soda and got a whole bunch of quarters. My only plan at that moment was to stay until my initials were the top score on both machines.
It took me a couple of tries to get the hang of Pac-Man. The game was so simple compared to the ones I usually played on my PlayStation at home that I messed up a couple times at the start. Once I got the joystick moving well in my hand, I started scoring some real points. Everything around me vanished except for little monsters, dots, and a fun little openmouthed yellow circle. All sounds diminished under the bleeps of my little pixelated friend eating his fill.
So, I didn’t hear the bell on the front door of the shop chime. Nor did I fully process the laughter and joking of the four boys that entered. I was oblivious to it all even as they gathered around me watching me play over my shoulders. The game moved faster and faster with every level, and I had to concentrate. I was doing great until…
“Get that little guy up there!” one of them shouted right in my ear, jamming a pointed finger past my face at the screen.
I looked at the hand. Then I looked at the face that went with it. A boy about my age with shaggy brown hair. And while I did that, a different monster snuck up and ate my Pac-Man.
Whier whier whier whier whier, the sound effect played as my yellow fellow turned himself inside out and died.
The guys laughed, and one said, “You suck, man” as they strode over to a table and sat down.
I pretended to fumble with my quarters as I watched them through my bangs. They were all teenagers. Two of them looked old enough to drive—the one who insulted me and another one with super-curly brown hair. Both of those boys were fairly tall. The one that I already didn’t like was a little thick, like an athlete, with army-short hair. He was the only one in the group with hair shorter than mine, and I wondered if he came from a military family. Another boy in the group had a dimple in his right cheek just like the tall, gangly, curly-headed one, but his hair was just wavy. I guessed they might be brothers. Then there was the young one. He was short and skinny with a good mix of acne and freckles. From the way they laughed and joked with one another, I could tell I was forgotten already. Some kid from out of town that meant nothing to them.
Well, I’d change that. I’d make my mark on this stupid machine at least. Then weeks from now they’d wonder whose initials were DAB. They’d never figure it out. I smiled, imagining it, and dropped in another quarter. My plan was to ignore them like they were ignoring me. Unfortunately, that plan didn’t work out very well.
4
A Challenge and a Tradition
I focused on the game, trying to get back to the same level I was at before.
At first, my concentration was good, but then the smell of fresh pizza wafted by and my stomach growled. What time was it? Was it lunchtime already? I wanted to take a peek at my watch, but that would make me screw up the game. Somehow, even though I could tell the guys at the table didn’t give a whit about me, I knew they’d notice if I lost again. I was determined to win.
One of them got up from the table to pick up their pizza. He carried it right behind me on the way back to the table. The scent of pepperoni nearly pulled me off my feet, making me want to follow the tray and grab up a piece. I kept playing and passed another level.
I thought about quitting on purpose and getting myself a couple slices from the counter. If I did, I wouldn’t have enough money to keep playing. I wasn’t quite ready to go back to Grandma’s boring house yet. Bleep, bleep, bleep. Pac-Man ate more dots. This really was a stupid game. I bet this machine was old. My mom would have probably played this same stupid game if she had grown up in this town. Maybe I should just stop and go do something else.
“So, is everybody up for tomorrow?” the guy with the pizza asked as he rejoined the others. The other three guys cheered and hollered. I peeked over at them. Fast. Fast enough not to lose my place. I played on, but I wondered what they had planned that had them so excited.
“I got a brand-new kayak for my birthday,” another one said. I think it was the younger one who had broken my concentration earlier. His voice was higher, like it hadn’t changed yet. My voice was lower than his. “So, I get to go this year.”
“Awesome,” the first guy said.
Interesting. The country boys say Awesome. I wouldn’t have figured on that. I don’t know what I thought they’d say out here. “Wahoo!” or “Yeehaw!” That was a stupid thing to expect. They weren’t cowboys. In fact, they didn’t really sound all that country when I started actively listening to them. There was an accent, I guess, but they weren’t all backwoods double negatives and “y’all” stuff like in the movies. They talked normal, using the same slang we use back home.
