Halfway to Harmony

by Barbara O'Connor

  “Easy peasy,” Banjo said. “Kudzu will drive y’all to the high school to witness my victory.” He turned to face Evalina and looked imploringly into her eyes. “However, I would like to extend an invitation to you, Miss Evalina, to accompany me on my glorious ride to victory, otherwise known as my bodacious adventure.”

  What?

  Walter couldn’t believe it.

  Banjo was inviting Evalina to ride in the balloon!

  What about him and Posey?

  Posey started snapping, “No fair” and “Why her?” and “What about me and Walter?”

  But before Walter could join in, Evalina began to shake her head.

  “No way,” she said. “I’m scared of two things on this earth. Snakes being one and heights being the other.”

  “Miss Evalina can wait down here with me,” Kudzu said, smiling at Evalina. “I will take care of her every need like the fine Southern gentleman that I am.”

  Banjo’s face turned red. “My dear, dear Evalina. You cannot soar with the eagles if you hang out with the turkeys,” he said, glaring at Kudzu. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

  “Sorry, Jubilation,” Evalina said. “My feet are staying on the ground.”

  “Me and Posey will go,” Walter said. “Right, Posey?”

  “Right,” Posey said. “Besides, you owe me and Walter a ride. That balloon wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us.”

  Banjo scratched his chin and glanced over at the balloon, then back at Walter and Posey.

  “I guess y’all got a point,” he said. “Then prepare yourselves for one bodacious adventure.”

  Posey whooped and cheered.

  Walter whooped and cheered.

  Today was going to be a day he had needed for a long, long time.

  A bodacious adventure.

  THIRTY-SIX

  “Let’s get cracking,” Banjo said. “We gotta get this balloon ready for liftoff. Walter and Posey, y’all just wait here until I tell you it’s time to get in the basket.”

  Walter, Posey, and Evalina watched as Banjo and Kudzu got to work.

  Kudzu grabbed a long rope that was attached to the balloon and tied it to the bumper of Banjo’s truck.

  “Safety line,” he explained. “To keep the balloon from floating off before we’re ready.”

  Banjo turned on a large fan that blew air into the balloon.

  Slowly the balloon began to fill and before long, it really did look like a balloon instead of just silky fabric on the ground.

  It was beautiful.

  Every color of the rainbow with silver stars and golden moons.

  And of course, Evalina in giant yellow letters on the side.

  Posey kept rattling off stuff she had learned from Land, Sea, and Air: A Child’s Book About Transportation.

  But Walter wasn’t listening.

  He was mesmerized by the sight of that balloon filling with air.

  While Kudzu scrambled to hold another one of the dangling safety lines, Banjo crawled into the wicker basket, which was still lying on its side.

  When the balloon was completely filled, Banjo pushed a small lever on the burner at the top of the basket frame. Suddenly a loud blast of a flame shot out into the balloon.

  “That heats the air inside the balloon,” Posey explained, lifting her chin proudly. “And everybody knows that hot air rises, right?”

  Again and again, Banjo pushed the lever on the burner.

  Again and again, a loud whoosh of a flame shot into the balloon.

  And slowly …

  Slowly …

  Slowly …

  The balloon began to rise up off the ground and hover over the basket, which gradually tilted upward until it was sitting upright, with Banjo standing inside it.

  Kudzu pulled hard on the safety cord, keeping the balloon steady.

  “Okay, y’all,” Banjo called. “Climb in!”

  Posey scooped up Porkchop, and she and Walter raced over to the basket.

  “Whoa, now, Miss Posey,” Banjo said. “You can’t bring that mongrel. He’ll be yipping and yapping and irritating me. I do not need to be irritated on my bodacious adventure.”

  “I’ll tell him to be quiet,” Posey said. “You won’t even know he’s there.”

  Banjo scowled at Porkchop. “Then y’all get on in here, if you’re coming.”

  Posey grinned at Banjo and carefully placed Porkchop in the basket and climbed in after him.

  Walter climbed in, his heart pounding.

  He glanced around him and could hardly believe his eyes. All the other balloons at the fairground were filled with air like Banjo’s.

  Striped ones.

  Checkered ones.

  Balloons with butterflies.

  Balloons with hearts.

  And so many bright, beautiful colors.

  Posey kept saying, “Whoa!”

  Porkchop barked a couple of times, but Posey quickly told him to hush.

  Walter couldn’t even speak. He thought he might burst from the thrill of it all.

  “Y’all keep an eye on that man in the red cap on top of that truck up yonder,” Banjo said, pointing. “He’s going to blow an air horn and that means it’s liftoff time.”

  Walter watched the man in the red cap, his heart racing.

  Suddenly the shrill sound of the air horn signaled the start of the Macon County Key Grab and everyone cheered.

  Kudzu dropped the line he had been holding and raced to untie the other line from the bumper of the truck.

  Banjo pushed the lever.

  Flames whooshed upward.

  And that balloon began to rise slowly off the ground.

  Up.

  Up.

  Up.

  Walter looked down and saw Evalina and Kudzu waving excitedly below them.

  They grew smaller and smaller as the balloon rose higher.

  All around them, the other balloons rose, too, until it seemed like the whole sky was filled with colorful balloons, their whooshing flames flashing in the still-dark morning sky like giant fireflies.

  Slowly they began to drift higher and farther until before long, Evalina and Kudzu were nothing but tiny dots and the fairgrounds disappeared behind them.

  Eventually Banjo pushed the lever less and less and the other balloons drifted farther away from one another and the most amazing thing happened.

  They were swallowed up in silence.

  Complete and total silence.

  And they floated slowly along in the gentle August breeze.

  Every now and then, the balloon would begin to drop ever so slightly until Banjo pushed the lever and the whooshing flame lifted them up again.

  The dark sky began to lighten to pale blue with streaks of rose.

  Everything around Walter disappeared except that soft, rosy sky.

  No Posey.

  No Porkchop.

  No Banjo.

  No whooshing flame.

  There seemed to be nothing but Walter, alone in the sky as the balloon drifted silently on.

  Ever so slowly, the sky grew lighter and there on the horizon was the sun, just beginning to rise, as if it were peeking at them from the edge of the earth.

  The sun rose higher and higher, turning the sky around it a brilliant orange.

  And then the sun was completely visible and the sky was the loveliest, softest blue.

  The balloon continued to drift in the breeze.

  Every once in a while came the whoosh of the flame, lifting them a little higher.

  As if by magic, fluffy white clouds appeared around them.

  Walter felt as if he could reach right out and touch them.

  Once in a while, the balloon floated right through a low-hanging cloud and they were briefly swallowed up in a cool fog.

  Finally, for the first time, Walter looked down over the edge of the basket to the ground far below.

  He drew in his breath at the sight.

  The tops of pine trees.

 
Ribbons of roads meandering through the countryside.

  Fields of corn.

  Tiny houses perched here and there.

  Underneath them, flocks of birds flew with outstretched wings.

  In the distance, miniature traces of small Georgia towns dotted this amazing world below him.

  Then Walter suddenly realized the whooshing flames were not as frequent and the balloon was sinking ever so slowly downward.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “There it is!” Banjo hollered.

  Sure enough, the Oakley High School football field had finally come into view not far in front of them.

  Walter and Posey cheered.

  “Okay, Jubilation,” Posey said, “go get your new truck!”

  “That is precisely what I plan to do.” Banjo’s face had confidence written all over it.

  Walter turned away from them both, because he was worried that his face had skeptical written all over it.

  This competition suddenly seemed a lot harder than he’d thought it would be.

  For one thing, there were balloons floating around them.

  Beside them.

  Under them.

  Over them.

  Each one heading for those truck keys on the goalpost in the football field.

  For another thing, could Banjo really maneuver his balloon so it came down ahead of the others and lined up so perfectly that he could reach out and grab those keys?

  Posey had explained to him that Banjo couldn’t steer the balloon like a car. The only thing Banjo’s balloon could do was drift along in the direction of the wind. And the only way to maneuver the balloon toward the goalpost was to raise and lower it using the whooshing flames.

  “Wind direction is different at different altitudes,” Posey had explained, but Walter didn’t really get it. All he knew was that grabbing those truck keys seemed next to impossible.

  Banjo squinted down at the football field, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth. Every few minutes, he pushed the lever to send flames up inside the balloon and it would rise a bit. Before long, it would begin to drop again.

  Posey waved her arms frantically, yelling:

  “Go left! No! Too far! Go right!”

  “Quiet!” Banjo snapped. “I need to concentrate.”

  Down, down, down they drifted, getting closer and closer to the football field.

  Several balloons had passed them but hadn’t gotten close enough to the goalpost. They dropped slowly down and landed with a bump and a bounce or two onto the football field.

  Walter looked around. Some of the balloons had veered off course and were definitely not going anywhere near those keys. But a few of them drifted right alongside Banjo’s balloon. Posey waved and smiled at the folks inside them while holding Porkchop.

  “Don’t be fraternizing with the enemy,” Banjo told her.

  Walter leaned out of the basket a little and looked up. There was a balloon almost directly over them. A bright yellow balloon with a fire-breathing dragon on the side that began to drop until it grazed the top of Banjo’s balloon.

  Banjo let out a string of cusswords the likes of which Walter had never heard.

  Posey was yelling, “No, not that way! Go more that way!”

  Now they were lined up perfectly with the goalpost and continuing to drop.

  Down …

  Down …

  Down.

  The farther they dropped, the more Walter could make out things on the football field below.

  People, cars, trucks.

  Balloons that had already landed.

  “Evalina and Kudzu!” Posey hollered.

  Sure enough, Walter could make out Evalina and Kudzu way down below, waving frantically at them.

  The dragon balloon above them hit them again, causing Banjo’s balloon to drop a little.

  Banjo shook his fist, but kept a steady eye on the goalpost not far ahead of them.

  Now Walter could actually see the truck keys on a large metal ring hanging from the top of the goalpost.

  Suddenly the dragon balloon that had been above them was right beside them.

  Banjo glared over at it. Then his eyes grew wide.

  “Wiggins Rafferty!” he said.

  “Who’s that?” Posey asked.

  “A highfalutin, good-for-nothing, namby-pamby know-it-all I’ve had the misfortune to run into from time to time.”

  Banjo concentrated on guiding the balloon toward the football field while glancing over at the dragon balloon every minute or so.

  “He sits around waiting for his daddy to hand him another wad of money,” Banjo continued. “He’s about as useful as a wooden frying pan.” He scowled over at Wiggins Rafferty. “He’s got more cars than I got underpants. He will not, I repeat, not get those truck keys.”

  But Walter wasn’t so sure.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Walter stood, quiet and stiff, gripping the edge of the basket.

  Every minute or so, he glanced over at Wiggins Rafferty in the dragon balloon.

  “Eat my dust, Banjo Fairweather!” Wiggins yelled over the sound of the whooshing flames.

  Banjo’s face turned red.

  He let a string of not-very-nice names rain down on Wiggins.

  Now Walter could hear folks on the football field cheering.

  The two balloons drifted closer and closer to the goalpost.

  Side by side.

  Banjo pushed the lever, releasing a whoosh of flame that caused the balloon to rise a little.

  Unfortunately, just enough to allow the dragon balloon to inch ahead of them.

  “Thanks, Banjo!” Wiggins yelled over at them.

  But luck was on Banjo’s side. His balloon caught a hint of a breeze to push it almost beside Wiggins’s again.

  As the two balloons neared the goalpost, it was clear that they would most likely reach it at the same time.

  Which was exactly what happened.

  Banjo on one side of the goalpost.

  Wiggins on the other.

  Those keys hanging there between them on a shiny gold ring that glittered in the early-morning sun.

  “I’ll grab ’em!” Posey said, reaching a hand out of the side of the basket while holding Porkchop with the other.

  “Naw,” Banjo said. “Let me have my moment of glory.”

  Posey stepped back and Banjo leaned so far over the edge of the basket that Walter was certain he was going to tumble out and drop like a brick to the ground below.

  Fortunately, he didn’t.

  Unfortunately, Wiggins, too, was leaning far out of the side of his balloon basket with an outstretched arm.

  With one quick swipe, Wiggins grabbed the keys and let out a loud “Yeehaw!” that echoed across the football field below them.

  He turned and grinned at Banjo, jiggling that shiny gold key ring in the air.

  Banjo was so whopping mad that Walter was seriously afraid he was going to keel over from a heart attack.

  The veins in his neck bulged.

  He stomped his foot.

  He banged his fists against the metal frame of the balloon basket.

  And he seemed to forget that he was supposed to land in the football field.

  Wiggins had already landed the dragon balloon and was surrounded by a cheering crowd, but Banjo was so busy ranting and raving that he let his balloon drift off course, not toward the football field, but toward County Road 19.

  The road that led to Harmony.

  “Hey!” Posey yelled. “Get a grip, Jubilation. You’re going the wrong way!”

  “Um, Banjo,” Walter said. “We’re headed toward the highway.”

  But Banjo kept ranting about that good-for-nothing, sorry excuse for a human being, Wiggins Rafferty.

  Posey set Porkchop down and hauled off and kicked Banjo in the shin.

  “Snap out of it!” she hollered.

  Banjo howled and grabbed his leg, which left him standing on his ridiculously dirty blue cast, which made him fall right
over inside the basket.

  Porkchop snarled and snapped at the air in front of Banjo’s face.

  “Get that three-legged fleabag away from me!” he said.

  Posey put her hands on her hips and stood over him. “You’re gonna kill us all! Are you gonna fly this balloon or just lay there throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old?”

  “Get outta my way,” Banjo said, struggling to his feet.

  He squinted ahead, surveying the countryside in the distance, then yanked on the lever, sending a whoosh of flame up into the balloon.

  Suddenly a gust of wind pushed the balloon faster.

  Farther and farther away from Oakley High School.

  Posey waved her arms. “You’re going the wrong way!”

  Walter’s heart pounded.

  They couldn’t go back.

  He peered out over the edge of the basket, watching the football field disappear out of sight behind them.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Below them were roads and power lines and churches and houses.

  Not places that seemed good for landing a balloon.

  Banjo’s eyes darted from side to side, surveying the sights below them. Every now and then, he pushed the lever to send up the flame.

  The balloon floated up.

  The balloon drifted down.

  Farther and farther from Oakley.

  “Um, Banjo,” Walter said. “Where are we going?”

  Banjo stared straight ahead, his twirly mustache blowing in the breeze. “I’m trying to find somewhere to land this thing,” he said.

  “Where in the heck are we?” Posey asked.

  “Well,” Banjo said, “near as I can tell, we’re halfway to Harmony.”

  Halfway to Harmony?

  Walter clutched the edge of the basket and gazed out at the countryside that stretched ahead of them.

  Suddenly his heart nearly leaped right out of his chest.

  There in the distance was the water tower with HARMONY painted in red on the side, where Tank and his friends had often hung out in the evenings.

  As the wind continued to push them along, he recognized more and more of Harmony.

  The steeple of Oak Grove Methodist Church and the parking lot where Tank had let Walter drive his truck.

  The Harmony High School football field, where Tank had scored so many touchdowns.