by D. G. Driver
“Chris,” I said. “What is your last name?”
“Higgins,” he said. “Why?”
“You play video games?”
“Who doesn’t?” he laughed.
“Are your initials CDH?”
Chris snaked a look over at the arcade machines and grinned. “Yeah.”
“I challenge you to a video game-off,” I said. “I’ll play one while you play the other. Whoever lasts longest is the winner.”
Chris shrugged and nodded. “Sound okay to everyone else?”
They agreed with cheers and hollers. In seconds we were all out of our seats and gathered around the video games. Chris took Donkey Kong and I saddled up to Pac-Man again.
“I have the top score on both these games,” Chris said. “You’ll never beat me.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
Brian and Jasper dropped in the quarters for us, and the bleeping, clicking, and whirring began.
Alex and Lamont stood behind me while Jasper and Brian kept moving back and forth to keep watch of both games. They all cheered and sighed with every success and setback. It was hard to concentrate with all the noise, but I could hardly tell them to be quiet. Thanks to the brothers, I knew every time that Chris went up a level. Of course, he knew when I went up a level too. The information wasn’t terribly helpful, but it kept me motivated.
All I could think was that I really wanted to go on this campout. Somehow. Some way. I just had to eat enough dots and monsters.
Minutes flew by and the guys lost their enthusiasm for shouting as much. Pac-Man and Donkey Kong aren’t exactly the most exciting games to watch. Boring graphics. My right hand started to cramp, and I missed a few dots trying to stretch my fingers for a second. After all, I had been playing for a long time before this race. Pain started creeping up the back of my hand and wrapped itself around my wrist. I didn’t think I could do this much longer without shaking my hand out. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I kept playing, wondering how much longer I could hold out.
Then I heard it.
“Crap!”
“Whoa!” Brian and Jasper shouted.
“What?” Lamont and Alex wanted to know, leaving my side to see what had happened to Chris.
I dared a glance. Chris had backed away from the machine and was cussing under his breath. Not daring to stop playing just yet, I kept my focus on the game until someone officially told me I won.
“It isn’t a fair competition,” Chris said. “Pac-Man is a baby game compared to Donkey Kong. Everyone knows that.”
I took that as being official enough and chose to let my little guy get eaten for the last time that day.
“Way to go, Danny,” Lamont said to me, patting me hard on the back. It hurt a little, and I tried not to show it. He wouldn’t have pounded like that if he’d known I was a girl, I’m sure. While my back stung, I took a peek at my score just to see how well I’d done against myself.
Not only had I beat Chris in the race, I also beat his high score on the game! Sweet!
Chris watched me punch in my initials where his used to be. “Great,” he grumbled. Then he pushed open the door. “I’ll see all of you dorks tomorrow morning.”
Lamont chased after him. “C’mon, Chris, don’t be a sore loser.”
“Shut up, Lamont,” Chris said.
Lamont followed him out the door. I watched them talk to each other out on the sidewalk but couldn’t hear them. I hoped everything would be all right between them.
Alex smacked me on the shoulder. I was going to be covered in bruises before the day was over. “Now you get to go with us!” he said. “You can be my buddy. I’m a freshman too.”
“That’d be great, Alex,” I said. “Thing is, I still have to get my hands on a kayak. If I had to put money on it, I’d bet my grandma doesn’t have one.”
Jasper shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You’ve got to have a boat to go. Those are the rules.”
“I know,” I said. “Anyone got an extra that I could borrow?”
“Every boy in town is going,” Brian said. “Borrowing isn’t going to be an option.”
“I know what you can do,” Alex announced.
I laughed. “You’re always the one with ideas, aren’t you?”
“I guess.” Alex grinned. “But here’s the thing. There’s a boat and tackle shop right here in town. They rent boats for fishing and stuff. Maybe you can rent a kayak.”
“It won’t hurt to check it out.”
The boys picked up their plates and the aluminum trays the pizzas had been on and carried them to the counter. Behind the register, the lady who owned the shop smiled graciously. I wondered who had taught these guys to have such good manners. Again, I realized that my friends and I would never have cleaned up after ourselves at a restaurant. We would have left it for the bus boy to take care of. There had been times we’d left messes at fast food digs where you’re supposed to throw out your own trash. Suddenly I felt so ashamed for what a slob I really was and vowed silently to do better.
Alex held the door open for me, which made me pause for a second. Did he suspect that I was a girl after all? Jasper and Brian squeezed past me. They sure didn’t think it.
“Come on, Danny,” Alex said.
I went through, and as he let go of the door behind me, he slapped me hard on the back like Lamont had. Real hard. No, he didn’t think I was a girl.
Once we got outside, we found Lamont by himself. He mumbled something to Jasper about how Chris would be fine. Then we all walked a couple blocks over to a small shop called Taylor’s Tackle and Fishing Supply. Unlike the other stores around it, with their beige walls and large windows, this shop had rough, wooden paneling all over it and a small foggy window blocked by a shelf or something on the other side. It was completely pointless, as no light could filter in or out of it. The sign on the door was flipped to OPEN, so we went inside.
It was poorly lit, and there was so much stuff in the shop that the place looked a lot smaller than it probably was. We had to split up just to get around all the displays and shelves. Even at that, I bumped into boxes sticking out from shelves and got poked in the ribs by some kid-sized fishing poles gathered in a tall bucket.
The shop was also really small because the counter at the back had a wall and a door behind it that hid an office or storage room with refrigerators full of worms and flies and junk like that. The only light in the room, a bright fluorescent, hung over the counter and lit up a sign on the wall that read, “Boat Rentals”. Underneath it was a chalkboard with a grid on it. In the left column he had written a list of all the boats he owned, and along the top were days of the week. A lack of times or checkmarks made me assume that none of the boats were rented at the moment. It was Monday after all. Not your usual “Let’s go fishing” day.
An older guy with neatly trimmed white hair, wearing a denim button-up shirt sat on a stool behind the counter working on threading a fishing pole. He acted like he wasn’t paying attention to us, but I could tell by the tilt of his head that he had us clear in his sights. My guess was that he was the Taylor of Taylor’s Tackle and Fishing Supply. I wondered if Taylor was his first or last name.
“Go ask him,” Alex said and gave me a push.
I looked around nervously. Jasper and Brian were poking each other with rubber bugs used instead of live bait for fishing. Lamont had a book full of maps on Tennessee state parks and was thumbing through it.
“Do you need something?” the man asked me.
“Uh,” I said. Alex nudged me again, so I walked up to the counter. Stepping into the bright light, I suddenly felt like I was in an interrogation room at the police station. “I…uh…was wondering if you rented kayaks.”
“You want to go on the campout tomorrow,” he said, nodding. It wasn’t a question. Chris had been right. Every man in town knew about the campout. “I might have something that’ll work for you.” He pulled out a three-ring binder full of boat pictures in cellophane sleeves and
flipped through them. He stopped on a picture of a sleek blue kayak. “You know how to use one?”
I shook my head. “Not really,” I confessed. “I kind of hoped the guys would help me.”
“We got our own dock where we keep the boats. You rent one, and my son will meet you there half an hour before the rest of your friends show up. He’ll give you a quick lesson in the basics.” He moved his eyes to Alex who was lingering behind me. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be there early too, son, being as how you have a new rig yourself.” This man had a great accent, old timey, warm, and deep. It reminded me of Grandpa. I bet they had been friends.
“How much is it?” I dared to ask.
“Fifty a day,” he said. “That’d be a hundred even ’cause you’ll have it overnight.”
A sigh escaped me. I tried to control it because I knew that the rental was going to be expensive. I hadn’t expected it to be quite this much.
“I’ll have to check with my grandma,” I said glumly. “Any way you could make me a bargain?”
“Who’s your grandma?” the man asked, but not in a way that made me feel like the right name dropped would net me a deal. He merely seemed curious about me, as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
“Oleta Garrison,” I answered. I felt the hope make my voice crack. Maybe he’d break the price in half because he was friends with my family.
He didn’t. Conversely, he seemed to wince at my grandma’s name, like maybe he didn’t like her or something. Although that’s not what he said as his features went right back to his neutral, if not totally bored expression.
“A good woman. Means well,” he said without any particular enthusiasm. “Your grandpa was a regular customer of mine. Helped keep me in business. Not as many people fishing as in the old days. Or renting boats either.” He wrote down the details of the rental on the back of a business card and handed it to me. “You call me when you know what you’re going to do.”
I took the card and gave it a quick look before I put it in my jeans pocket. Taylor was his last name. Joshua Taylor. Before I could walk away from him, Mr. Taylor tapped me on the shoulder.
“Don’t remember your grandpa mentioning he had a grandson. I could have sworn he said he had a—”
“Thanks for the info,” I said, interrupting him.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Hmmm.”
Not giving him a chance to say anything else, I headed for the door, passing by Lamont. I peeked over his shoulder and saw that he had a book open to a full spread map of the lake. Dad was absolutely right about it being huge. The lake had all kinds of bends in it, wrapping around landforms and broken up by a few islands. While it did give the appearance of being a winding river, there was one vast area that was the main portion of the lake, and it was quite wide and round.
“Which one is the campout island?”
Lamont put his finger on a small dot toward the eastern edge of that wide area, right before it narrowed again into a winding body of water that I would still call a river not a lake. I was trying to figure out where my grandma’s cabin would be when Lamont snapped the book closed and tucked it back on the rack where he’d found it.
“You done?” he asked.
“For now,” was all I could say to that, but I kept my eyes on the book’s spine, feeling that I really should pull it back out and look again. I didn’t because Lamont had already stepped away and was gathering up his friends at the door. With one fleeting glance at the bookshelf, I shrugged and followed them out.
Back out in the sunshine, we all squinted. That store had been so dark.
“So?” Alex asked. “Whatcha gonna do?”
I shrugged. “I gotta go to my grandma’s. I guess if she says okay, I’ll meet you all tomorrow morning.”
“You know where?” Lamont asked.
“Every guy in town knows,” I answered with a smile. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”
The guys all slapped me on the back and wished me good luck before they took off the opposite way.
Good luck. I nearly laughed even as my eyes watered from my stinging back. I was going to need that all right.
5
Grandma and the Boat
I pedaled back to Grandma’s house as fast as I could. Having to go up that hill was the only thing that slowed me down. I hadn’t asked how many kayaks were available to rent, and I wanted to make sure to reserve mine before someone else got it. Surely, some other boy in town was going to need one. While it didn’t look like Smithville hosted a huge population, I sincerely doubted that every boy here over fourteen owned their own kayak.
Up and over the hilly streets and around the corners I pedaled. The houses here were wide apart, all with big yards. There was nothing like it back home. In our subdivision the houses were built so close to one another I could practically reach out from my bedroom window and touch the wall of my neighbor’s house. We had small, bricked-in yards and wide double garages. Cars were kept inside those garages and garbage pails hidden discreetly behind fences in the side yards. Every plot of grass was neatly mowed and primly tended to.
Here, things were way different. The yards were so big, you could have full-on soccer games in each one and never have to worry about a ball slamming through someone’s window. Most of the driveways were gravel, not cement, and they were long, winding behind the houses, like at my grandma’s. No one had a garage. Or what served as a garage was really a storage shed. Even Grandma didn’t keep her car in her garage. From what little I saw this morning, it was stuffed with tons of other junk. Cars and trucks parked on all those gravel driveways, along with trailers and boats.
The more I paid attention, the more I realized that everyone in this town seemed to own a boat of some kind. I saw sweet speedboats, good-sized fishing boats, and a canoe was in one yard. At only a block or two from the hill that went up toward my grandma’s cabin I saw a teenage boy dragging a kayak out of the shed behind his house. Two doors down, another boy had his kayak up on wooden blocks and appeared to be waxing it. Turning the corner, I noticed two more kayaks leaning up against the front porch railing of another house.
Every family owned a boat, and every boy over fourteen did apparently own a kayak.
If Grandpa had grown up here, did they do this kayaking-campout-on-the-lake tradition way back then? They couldn’t have. I mean, that would have been back in the fifties or something. Were kayaks even invented yet?
Burning with these questions, I rolled up Grandma’s gravel driveway. I left the bike on the ground where I’d jumped off it to run inside.
“Grandma? Where are you?”
“Back here, honey,” she called back, her voice drifting down the hall from her bedroom. “You home already?”
A quick glance at the Felix the Cat clock that hung in her kitchen showed me that it was only 1:30. That seemed too early. I looked at it again. No, it was 2:30. I hated rotary clocks. Why couldn’t everything be digital?
I headed down the hall toward Grandma’s room. Her door was open, and I saw her sitting at her little roll-top desk, leaning way too close to the laptop screen in front of her. She wore reading glasses, but she still seemed to be struggling to see.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Checking my emails,” she said.
“Really?”
I guess the astonishment in my voice was obvious, because she huffed at me a little. “Yes, Dannie. I have a computer, and I actually know how to use it a little. My friends like to email me jokes and stories that I like, and I send them on to other friends. I also have a Facebook page, and I like to read the Daily Word website for a little pick-me-up each day.”
“I didn’t know you had internet,” I said, impressed.
She laughed. “Don’t get too excited. The connection out here is terrible. Way too slow to watch videos or play any games.” She hit a key and closed the window she had open. “When Sheila sends me pictures, it’s half the day before I can see them.” Cupping her hand like she was
telling me a secret she didn’t want anyone else to see, she added, “Frankly, it would be faster and easier for her just to drive over with the printouts, but she likes to pretend she in the modern age.”
Grandma swung her swivel office chair toward me. “I didn’t expect you back until much later. The Square not quite enough excitement?”
“It was all right. I met a group of guys, and they were pretty friendly.”
Grandma nodded, a soft smile on her lips. “Did you meet any girls?”
“No. I didn’t run into any girls.” Now that I thought about it, where were all the girls? Did they have their own tradition while the boys went camping? I could see a lot of the girls from back home using this boys-only event to strike up their own girls-only gig in retaliation. I imagined a dozen or so popular girls from school renting a room at a hotel somewhere for the night to watch movies and drink champagne that some generous adult supplied for them. “One of the guys showed me a picture of his girlfriend. That’s the only girl I saw.”
Grandma nodded as though that didn’t really surprise her. “There are some good boys around here.”
Oh good, I thought, she likes the boys in town. I took that as a cue to continue. I spoke as nonchalantly as I could. “They invited me to go on their big campout tomorrow night.”
That soft smile faded. Her whole face turned so dark, I admit I actually looked out the window behind her to see if the sky had clouded over. “Did they?”
“Is that weird, that they’d invite someone from out of town?” I asked.
“It’s unexpected,” she said. Her eyes drifted out the window and she sighed so heavily you’d think I just told her that I was invited to spend the night in prison instead of out camping.
“It’s just one overnight,” I said. “I’ll be yours the whole rest of the time.”
I figured she’d look at me then and either say “Okay” or “No, Dannie, I have something planned already.” But she just kept looking out the window, avoiding my face. She raised her hand to push her reading glasses up to her forehead, and I noticed her fingers were trembling.
