My Chemical Mountain

by Corina Vacco

  I help Charlie pile the water balloons into a laundry basket. He gives Bryan a Popsicle, and Mom makes him eat it on the front porch, because she just mopped the floor. I’m so hungry I can’t make it to the porch; I eat my Popsicle over the sink.

  Ellen comes in from outside and almost drops the potted plant she’s carrying. “Charlie, my God! You’re so tall. You and Randy could be twins!”

  “I’ll be way stronger than Randy by the end of summer,” says Charlie.

  Mom packs suntan oil and a hairbrush into her purse. She tells Charlie to stop drinking all our Kool-Aid. Then she says, “Your mom’s not coming? Is she busy with her flowers?”

  I glare at her. She already knows Mrs. Pellitero has a black eye. I told her what happened last night, because I had to tell someone, and she promised not to say anything.

  Charlie looks down at his sneakers. “She’s not feeling well.”

  “Did she send a dish along with you?”

  “He brought Popsicles,” I say quickly.

  Charlie’s hand covers his mouth as he grins. Either he doesn’t pick up on Mom’s nastiness or he doesn’t care. He gets the box out of the freezer. “Want one, Mrs. Hammond? I got grape, cherry, or green.”

  I almost laugh out loud. She never says no to food these days.

  She chooses grape. “Didn’t Randy apply for a warehouse job at Mareno Chem a while back?”

  “Yeah,” says Charlie. “They never called him, though. It’s hard to get a job there because the pay’s so good. There’s a wait list or whatever.”

  “Interesting,” says Mom. “Because I heard someone shot and killed a whole bunch of birds and then piled the corpses in front of the Mareno Chem administrative office. Did your brother have something to do with that?”

  Charlie stops smiling. “Randy wouldn’t shoot birds.”

  “So that’s your story and you’re sticking with it, eh?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I glare at Mom.

  Charlie is as quiet as a stone.

  We make our way out the door, single file. Charlie carries the cooler. Mom has her beach bag. I lug the basket of balloons. Bryan follows us across the street, shooting our backs with his squirt gun. I think of Kevin Thompson, how he probably would shoot me in the back with real bullets if he could get away with it.

  “What a beautiful day,” Mom says. “Blue skies still feel so new to me. When I was growing up, back when the steel industry was really booming, ore dust and ash from the Bethlehem Steel furnaces used to block the sun, making the sky glow orange, like it was the end of the world, like the waterfront was on fire. It’s so different now. Buffalo gets a lot of sunshine, and over here, we’ve got smoggy skies mostly.”

  I know what she means. Whenever we drive along the shores of Lake Erie, it’s like touring a ruined kingdom. You see castle-sized factories; rotting barges with no freight on board; giant smokestacks, like organ pipes, cutting through the sky; and you realize it’s all a bunch of skeletons. Industry is dead in Buffalo. The warehouses and foundries still in operation are found here, in Poxton. You look out your window most days and you see swirling gray till you’re almost seasick. Sometimes we get a different kind of smoke, opaque white in color, and my sinuses drip down the back of my throat, filling my mouth with a weird taste that makes me think of rubber bands.

  Today is a great day, though. Today I don’t catch a whiff of anything I don’t like. Burgers, a charcoal grill, citronella candles, and fireworks. That’s how summer should always smell.

  The Kuperskis’ backyard is filled with people. Sid has on a plastic apron. He’s got a split-level grill with wings on the top, hot dogs on the bottom. Gloria, dressed in red, serves drinks. Every glass is topped off with a paper umbrella.

  Valerie and Jill are at the far end of the yard, sunbathing on lawn chairs. “Two hot girls and free food,” says Charlie. “This cookout officially rules.”

  I stand next to him, frozen. Sometimes I wonder why Charlie, who always takes the best of everything, has chosen Jill—a cute girl, yes, but not gorgeous. Val is the really pretty one. I can’t believe I forgot to read her note last night. It’s still folded up in my jeans at home.

  “Why are they giggling?” I ask Charlie.

  “Girls giggle. That’s what they do.”

  All summer, I’ve been waiting for this day. I came here to stuff my face and get barbecue sauce all over my T-shirt and do cannon-balls into the pool and have a food fight with Charlie. Now my appetite is sort of gone.

  Valerie is smiling at us, or maybe at me, and I pretend not to notice her. I’m not like Charlie, who can stand over a pile of greasy wings and still look cool. Charlie, who isn’t shaken up by suntan oil and bikini straps.

  “That bikini is … Wow,” I say.

  Mom sits at a card table with some of her friends from the air products plant. Two of the women have already been in the pool; their hair is stringy and wet. Ellen flirts with a mechanic, some guy with biceps the size of car batteries, while Bryan digs holes in the pile of fly ash that spilled over the privacy fence. Three men I don’t recognize are drinking beer on the Kuperskis’ roof. One of them jumps into the shallow pool, and I am sure he’s going to snap his neck and die, but he climbs out of the water with a triumphant grin on his face, and a couple people laugh and cheer like he’s some kind of hero.

  Risky behavior. Dad would never have done that, and he’s dead, while this jumping-off-the-roof guy is alive and happy. It’s like a bad math problem. I don’t get it. I really don’t.

  Charlie bites his thumbnail. “I might out-eat your mom today. There’s a very good chance.”

  “Not even possible. She’s been sucking down cookies since we got here. She has an insurmountable lead.”

  I’m not a horrible person. I don’t exactly like it that we rip on Mom all the time, but if she wouldn’t eat so much, people wouldn’t say stuff.

  “What’s up with that guy who keeps jumping off the roof?” says Charlie. “He’s splashing all the water out of the pool.”

  “We should tell him to stop. Sid won’t say anything. He’s too nice.”

  “Or we could just swim at Two Mile later.” For Charlie, our creek is always the first, best choice.

  The Jell-O salads are attracting flies. One card table, the one filled with brownies and Polish desserts, is surrounded by kids. We carry our plates to an unoccupied table next to a picnic bench, where Theresa Seaver is fanning herself with a Frisbee. Theresa was one of the people who told Dad to keep his mouth shut when Mareno Chem resumed production of Phenzorbiflux. She told him it was a secret project so he should mind his own business. He said five-ton containers of an illegal chemical was his business, especially when he was forced to work with it every day in the processing plant. She was supposed to be his friend, but she couldn’t risk losing her job. And when he died, she still didn’t speak up about Phenzorbiflux. She just shrugged her shoulders, like Dad was crazy.

  I wolf down a burger, some chips and salsa, and a piece of pie. Charlie flings chunks of potato salad at me, because he knows I hate the smell of mayonnaise. Peggy, Mom’s line manager at the air products plant, sits down next to Theresa. They start talking about the newest rumor: Mareno Chem is developing a new product line. Pesticides. That could mean more jobs here in Poxton. Or more jobs at their Ohio facility. No one knows for sure yet.

  That sounds about right. Mareno Chem took everything from me. But they keep growing, making money. Nobody cares.

  Near the pool, Bryan is crying. Ellen is kneeling beside him. He shows her his elbow. I want to go talk to Valerie, but first I have to think of something good to say.

  Charlie bites into a sausage. Grease spills down the front of his shirt. “Guess what’s happening one week from now?”

  I make a face. “Hmmm. Let’s see. I have to get through Monday night without Goat locking me in the Mareno Chem building. And Kevin the bird slayer is now stalking me, so one week from now I’ll probably be facedown in the dirt and
you’ll be picking BBs out of the back of my head with tweezers.”

  Charlie laughs.

  And then, like I summoned him or something, Kevin Thompson rolls up on his dirt bike.

  CHAPTER 9

  BUZZ KILL

  “UN-EFFING-BELIEVABLE,” I say as I watch Kevin and his friend Damon skip the food and make a beeline to the sunbathers.

  Charlie shakes his head at me. “Val is gonna try to make you jealous. You have to play it like you don’t even notice.”

  “I can’t stand this. I want to go over there.”

  “That would be stupid,” says Charlie. “Trust me on this.”

  Play it cool. I interpret that to mean, Don’t look over at Val no matter what. That’s about as cool as I can get.

  “So like I was saying.” Charlie takes another bite of sausage. “The neighborhood meeting about Two Mile is a week from today. Cornpup is hell-bent on talking. We’re gonna have to go to this thing and keep an eye on him.”

  “I’d rather stab my eyes out with a hot poker. But you’re right. He’s such a big mouth.”

  Mom’s line manager looks over at us. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you talking about that meeting they’re having about all the chemicals in the creek and whatnot?”

  “Leave them alone, Peggy. They’re eating.” Theresa has a deep laugh, a smoker’s laugh.

  Peggy makes a face. “The creek is a mess. That’s the honest-to-God truth. It can’t hurt to have someone clean it up.”

  “They’re not gonna clean it up,” says Charlie. “They’re gonna fence it off.”

  Theresa snorts. “Don’t tell my girls that. They swim in that creek all summer long. A fence is just about the worst thing you could do to them.”

  Peggy folds and unfolds her hands. She is a hard-core factory worker: no painted nails, no rings on her fingers, just calluses and scars. She says, “As much as I hate to think it, I feel like there’s something real bad in that creek. I just get a terrible feeling in my stomach.”

  “Subject change,” says Theresa. “Jason, honey. How are you doing? How’s your mom doing?” This is one of those questions that sound as light as air, except I know better. She really means to ask, How are you doing? How’s your mom doing? Because your dad is dead now, so you can’t be doing too well.

  I look down at my burger.

  “Rich was, wow, just a wonderful man, a good friend. I sure do miss him.”

  “You’re part of the reason he’s gone,” I say in a cold voice.

  Theresa looks genuinely confused. “What do you mean, honey?”

  I focus my eyes on a fly that’s buzzing around Charlie’s plate. Anger is churning inside me, gathering momentum like some horrible, unmanned machine. I want to throw my plate at Peggy’s face. I want to smear potato salad in Theresa’s hair.

  “Don’t get him started on this,” Charlie says. “He doesn’t want to talk about this.”

  Peggy places a rough hand on my shoulder. “I think I know why you’re upset. Your dad believed they were forcing him to process Phenzorbiflux under another name. He believed they were tampering with his safety gear. But it just wasn’t true.”

  “Stop it.” My hand slams down on the card table. Charlie’s soda spills everywhere. “Just stop talking.”

  A panicked expression washes over Peggy’s face. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know that we don’t blame him. We know he was just confused.…”

  Tears burn my eyes. Dad knew how to build bookshelves. He made minestrone soup from scratch. He was a drummer. He grew tomatoes in our backyard. He saved an injured hawk once. He wanted to take my mom to Vegas. And he liked watching shows about sharks. He had a football signed by the entire Bills team. He had a Minotaur tattooed on his right shoulder blade. He wasn’t confused. I will not let people talk about him over soggy paper plates and baked beans. I will stand up and scream if they don’t shut their pieholes.

  “I’m out of here.” I storm out of the Kuperskis’ backyard, not caring if Valerie is watching, and not worrying about Kevin and his guns. I don’t stop until I reach the middle of our street, which right now feels like a safe zone.

  Charlie is right behind me.

  “Go away.” The last thing I need is for Charlie to see me cry.

  “Jason, they’re idiots. Your dad wouldn’t want you missing this cookout because of them. He’d want me to drag you back to the table so you can see what I’m about to do.”

  The tone of Charlie’s voice surprises me. No cockiness, no sarcasm. He knows there’s a tear falling down my cheek, and he doesn’t even care. I wipe my nose with my thumb.

  “What are you about to do?” I feel an unexpected smile forming at the corners of my mouth.

  Charlie runs back to the cookout. I follow him. A really old Springsteen song blasts from a speaker on the deck. Adults are buzzed. Little kids are playing. Charlie grabs two water balloons from Bryan’s basket and whips one of them at me with his pitching arm. The water balloon hits me hard in the chest. My T-shirt is drenched.

  So he wants to have a water balloon fight? No problem.

  I run to the basket and grab some balloons to throw back at him. I also grab Bryan’s squirt gun and tuck it into the back of my swim trunks. I don’t have a strong throwing arm, but I’ll wait until that one perfect second, when Charlie gets distracted. I’ll launch my balloons at close range, pelting him so hard he’ll have red marks on his back.

  I hear shrieking. Commotion. I turn around.

  There are pieces of a busted pink balloon in Theresa’s hair. Her white tank top is soaked. You can totally see her bra. Peggy’s chunky eye makeup is running down her face like motor oil.

  “You little scumbag!” she shouts at Charlie. “What is your problem?”

  Charlie shrugs. “Sorry, lady. I guess my hand slipped.”

  But he is a precision pitcher. A quarterback. When he throws something, he hits his target. He doesn’t slip. Ever.

  The Kuperskis shake their heads. The way people glare at Charlie, it makes me feel like I got punched in the stomach. Even Mom, with a cookie in her hand, is scowling. Val and Jill stare at us, wide-eyed. Kevin and Damon are smirking. I know what they’re all thinking: Of course he ruined the party. A bad seed from a bad family; it’s to be expected. But all these good people from good families, they turned their backs on Dad when he needed them most. They chose factory jobs over a dear friend. Charlie would never sell out like that.

  “Look at them,” he says. “The same people who are all mad right now are gonna be cheering for me when I’m playing linebacker this fall. That’s the thing with a mob mentality. These people get happy together, and they get mad together, and if you pull one person out of the crowd, that person won’t know what the hell is going on.”

  Gloria brings Peggy and Theresa a towel.

  It’s crazy how a small taste of revenge makes me feel so happy. It’s like the whole crying thing never happened. If I could just somehow punish Mareno Chem for what they did to us, I bet I’d never feel depressed ever again.

  When we leave the cookout, Val and Jill look crushed. I think they expected us to go over and talk to them, but we don’t have to do what they expect. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kevin watching me so close it’s like he’s peering through the scope of a sniper’s rifle, but I don’t even care. We stop at Cornpup’s house and throw loose pieces of asphalt at his window, and when he doesn’t look out at us from behind his plastic blinds, we just laugh and say he must still be pooping the bed. Then Goat drives by with Randy and two girls in his car. He flips us off, and Randy laughs.

  “What was that all about?” I say.

  “Who knows.”

  Before walking up his driveway, Charlie stops and does something I’ve never seen him do before. He picks litter up off the street. A crushed soda can, a Snickers wrapper, an empty pack of Camels. Without uttering a single word, he tosses it all into his garbage can and closes the lid.

  “I’m still hungry,” he says, pu
lling his garage door up just high enough to slip through. “I’m gonna go boil some hot dogs.” He disappears into the darkness, and I hear him kick something metal, an oil pan maybe.

  The whole walk back to my house, Val is on my mind. It’s like all of a sudden I can’t wait another second to read her note. At my front door, I realize I don’t have my key, so I have to climb through the basement window, which I’ve done a hundred times. From there, I race up the stairs and into my room, where the jeans I was wearing last night are balled up on a pile of dirty clothes and stuff.

  Val’s folded note smells like vanilla. I open it, and read.

  Hey! Let’s do something crazy and fun. I can sneak out if you can. Call me later. –Val

  She probably expected me to call her last night, probably thinks I blew her off, plus I never even talked to her today at the picnic. Now Kevin’s trying to move in on her, which sucks, but I can’t go back to the Kuperskis’ now or I’ll look stupid, or at least, that’s what Charlie would say. If he were here right now, he’d tell me to watch TV for a while, and eat a hot dog, and let Val come to me, so that’s what I do. I’m trying real hard not to think about Monday night. I’m trying real hard not to imagine myself alone inside Mareno Chem. But I’m scared.

  CHAPTER 10

  MONSTERS

  IT turns out that a sudden disappearance can make a girl want you more. Val calls me when she gets home from the picnic. I’m passed out on the couch, all tired from eating too much on a hot day, so I don’t even hear the phone ring. She leaves a message on our machine. I call her back much later, when it’s dark out.

  “Can you sneak out tonight?” I ask her, energized from my nap, and heart triple-beating at the sound of her voice.

  She laughs, probably because I don’t mess around with a lot of small talk. “Why? Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. Just meet me by the old asphalt plant at midnight.”

  She says she’ll be there. She even says she’ll bring some food. I feel an adrenaline rush—not like what I feel when I crash my dirt bike. This is something different. This is something better. I stand in front of my mirror. I mess with my hair for a second. Then I flex my arm muscles. Working out in Charlie’s garage hasn’t made a huge difference, but my triceps look decent.