Sky Jumpers Series, Book 1

by Peggy Eddleman

  As soon as we were all near Mr. Allen, Nate raised his hand before anyone else, as usual. “My team found six!”

  Jella flipped her braid over her shoulder. “We found eight.”

  “Nice job!” Mr. Allen said. “Anyone get more than eight?”

  Sam held up two sacks of Ameiphus. “We got nine!”

  I mentally crossed off half the groups. Maybe mine could win!

  Carina held up her two clumps of Ameiphus and yelled our team’s total before Mr. Allen even called on her. “Eleven! We found eleven!”

  “Us too!” Aaren said.

  I grinned at Aaren. I couldn’t believe our teams tied! I was trying to figure out how six people could each have a turn at Mr. Allen’s desk in only five days, when I heard a commotion behind me. I turned to see Holden and his team crash through the bushes at the side of the road.

  Holden took a few panting breaths before he managed to get out, “Fourteen!”

  My hopes for a homework-free week fell.

  “Congratulations!” Mr. Allen said. “I hope you enjoy spending the mornings of the next week taking turns on a cushioned chair, and the evenings doing something other than history homework. Now, remember what we talked about in class—choosing your split is a very important thing. You’ll want to choose one you enjoy, and today you’ll see what it’s like at the mines. Let’s go—Mr. Williams is going to show you something on this field trip that no other group has ever seen.”

  After ten minutes of walking through the trees as they became more sparse, we entered a clearing, the edge of the lake in front of us, the mines at our right. Sandy, Mr. Williams’s golden retriever, ran up to meet us. She wagged her tail as we all tried to pet her at the same time, then she ran back toward Mr. Williams, like she couldn’t stand to be away from him for another second. We chased after her and sat down in front of Mr. Williams at the opening of the mine. Mr. Allen tied Arabelle to a post at the mine opening and sat down with us.

  Mr. Williams scratched Sandy’s ears, then folded his huge arms and smiled, which seemed to spread his thick mustache even wider. “Raise your hand if you like rocks. Do you like to throw them, dig in the dirt with them, collect them?”

  Most of us raised our hands.

  “Then working in the mines might be the split for you.” He brushed his hands together, and a fine white powder blew away in the slight breeze. “Here at the mines, we get to play with several different kinds of rocks every day.”

  Mr. Williams had us turn around to face the tunnel where the river flowed in from the other side of the valley—the only way into or out of White Rock. “You all know the green bomb made this crater, but the slope is steeper on this side of the valley.” He gestured over the river to the south, where no homes were built. “Does anyone know why?”

  It hadn’t occurred to me why it was that way—it just was. A couple of kids raised their hands. Mr. Williams called on Sam.

  “Is it because of the rock?”

  “Very good. Most of our valley has a layer of dirt over it,” he said as he pointed north, “but a large seam of rock passes through on this side. When the green bomb hit, it couldn’t push the rock as far as it pushed the soil. Who can tell me what kind of rock gives White Rock River its name?”

  The whole class raised their hands. Mr. Williams pointed to Ellie.

  “Limestone.”

  “That’s right. Limestone is important for a couple of reasons. It’s the softest rock in this seam, so when the green bomb hit, it pushed the limestone farther than it pushed the harder rock surrounding it. If it weren’t for the limestone, we wouldn’t have the opening into this valley”—he pointed to the tunnel at the other end of the river—“and there wouldn’t be a groove in the stone for the river to pass through. Instead of staying on the third ring, like it does now, the river would just come in through the opening and flow right down there to the middle of the valley, first flooding City Circle, and eventually filling the entire valley. Because of this seam, it flows into our little lake, which is actually just a place where the limestone seam widened considerably. It then flows through caves in the mountain and comes out the other side.”

  Mr. Williams led us into the mining cave with Sandy at his side. The opening was tall enough that one of us could stand on someone else’s shoulders and still not hit our heads as we walked inside. The cave wasn’t new to me—Aaren and I had explored it a few times when we came to the lake to swim, but always after the people who had mining as a split had gone home.

  The first room was large enough that all eighteen members of my class, along with Mr. Williams, Sandy, and Mr. Allen, could fit without being squished. Mr. Williams told us how they dug out the limestone and hauled it to the ball mill, which was like a big spinner with hard rocks inside, and it ground the limestone into a powder so they could make it into cement.

  Mr. Williams gestured to the cave. “The limestone seam goes right through the mountain. As we mined last month, we accidentally broke through to the river below because we didn’t anticipate such a large air bubble above the river. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  He grabbed a lantern and led us farther into the cave. Off the main room, a passageway with a slightly lower ceiling curved to the right. We followed the passage as it meandered deeper into the mountain, wide in some places, skinnier in others. Along the path, the walls were mostly limestone, with darker rocks showing through in places. As we rubbed against the walls in the skinnier hallways, a white powder covered our clothes. The narrowest hallway led into another cave room filled with sounds of the river.

  “Okay, everyone, gather round,” Mr. Williams said as he walked to a hole in the middle of the room. Sandy ran excitedly around the hole, then to the opening to hurry the rest of us along, then back to Mr. Williams’s side.

  The hole was bigger than I’d imagined. I thought it would be about the size of my fist, but it was probably three feet wide.

  “Come on in. Don’t be afraid,” said Mr. Williams. “This is the only place where the floor is thin, and we installed support beams below this whole area to make sure it wouldn’t break more. It’s safe to stand here.”

  We all formed a wide circle around the hole and leaned forward to see inside. It was completely dark until Mr. Williams tied his lantern to a rope and lowered it down the hole. The river rushed past only ten feet below the opening. There was an actual bank on one side of the river at least eight feet wide, but it narrowed both upstream and downstream to barely wider than the river itself. The ceiling got lower, too.

  “Have you gone down the river?” I asked.

  Mr. Williams shook his head. “When we set the support beams, we walked along the bank for a distance, but we turned back when it became too narrow and dangerous. We worried that in some places, the cave might only be as big as the river itself—no space above it, no space on the sides of it.”

  Everyone gasped as we collectively imagined being swept downstream underwater, unable to come up for a breath. He looked at us pointedly, to make sure we weren’t going to try it ourselves sometime when he wasn’t there. But really … even I didn’t take that big a risk.

  I wove through the crowd of people who milled around the dozens of mismatched tables we’d used for last night’s Harvest Feast. The tables now sat under the shade tents, covered with all the inventions.

  Even though there was a big crowd here every year for the Harvest Festival, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the sight of so many people gathered in one place. Sure, town meetings were crowded, but everyone who wasn’t too sick to walk, crawl, or drag themselves came to the Harvest Festival. Plus, we’d welcomed nearly two hundred adults from Browning through the tunnel yesterday afternoon, so the group was massive.

  I wished kids from Browning came, too. They used to, just like kids from here used to go to the Spring Festival every year in Browning. But when I was three, bandits attacked our caravan on the way home from the Spring Festival, and people died. Even kids. Now they never let us
go.

  Aaren, Brenna, and I wound through the maze of inventions until we found where Aaren’s and Brenna’s had been placed. When I woke up this morning and thought about how I was the only person over age four who didn’t have an invention displayed, I actually considered not coming to the Harvest Festival. I was good at history—I would trade being good at history for being good at inventing. I was good at reading and math—I’d trade those. Or any subject, really, that people cared less about than inventing. For a minute, I thought about staying in bed.

  But I couldn’t. The bathrooms at the community center still had to be cleaned. Besides, I knew feeling sorry for myself wouldn’t fix anything—it would only make me miss one of the best days of the year. I took a deep breath and forced a smile on my face just like I had earlier this morning. This was a party, and I intended to enjoy it.

  Aaren grabbed my hand and pulled me to one of the tables that held inventions by adults. Someone had mixed two metal alloys, one that was unique to the mountains surrounding our valley. I tried to listen to him go on and on because it made him so excited, but once he started talking about the properties of the new metal, I tuned out. Finally, another invention caught his eye, and we moved on.

  The smell of fresh-baked blackberry pies wafted across the invention tables, and my mouth began to water. Not only did Mrs. Davies make lunch for us at school every day, but she also, along with my mom and a dozen other people, made individual-sized pies each year and cooked them in solar ovens by the tables. Their smell alone made me wish we had the Harvest Festival every day. While Aaren explained yet another invention to me, I imagined myself holding one of the warm mini pies in my hands, biting into the flaky crust, and sinking my teeth into the sweet filling. By the time he finished talking, my stomach was growling.

  Brenna tugged on Aaren’s sleeve. “Those kids are taking toy boats down to the water. Can I go?”

  “In a minute.” Aaren leaned in closer to an invention.

  She folded her arms and huffed. “No, now.”

  “I can’t see the bank from here, Brenna, so I can’t watch you. We’ll play in a minute.”

  Brenna let out a defeated breath but didn’t take her eyes off the river. I didn’t blame her—looking at inventions was boring. I glanced over to where a few horses were penned by the wagons that had brought all the supplies to the festival and saw a flash of red hair. I knew it was Cass, a girl who had graduated from Sixteens & Seventeens last year. Now her split officially was taking care of the horses, even though she’d been doing the job unofficially for as long as I could remember. Sometimes during the summer, Aaren and I would come up here and watch her trick-ride on Arabelle. Always Arabelle. Maybe that was why she was my favorite horse—because I saw how much fun Cass had riding her. I’d much rather hang out and talk to Cass about horses than look at inventions. But just like Brenna, I walked through them with Aaren anyway because the Harvest Festival was only once a year, and we both knew what it meant to Aaren.

  I turned from one table and bumped into Amy Beckinwood. She took a step back and brushed her long brown hair off her shoulder.

  “Hey, Hope. I feel so bad they wouldn’t let you put your invention in the show.”

  Great. I’d had a stupid wish that somehow no one outside of my class knew. But Amy’s brother Sam was in my class, and if Amy knew, everybody knew. At least she was being nice about it. Amy was nice only some of the time. “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “I mean, I’d feel terrible if year after year I was never able to do something worthwhile.”

  Okay, so I was wrong. She wasn’t being nice about it.

  “Amy,” Aaren growled. He stepped in front of me, like he could protect me from her words.

  “What?” she said way too innocently. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Besides, she’s got to be used to it by now. You’re used to it, right, Hope?”

  If I were used to it, I probably wouldn’t have had to convince myself to come to the festival this morning, or not to kick Amy in the shins right now. Luckily, something else grabbed Amy’s attention. She pointed across the crowd. “What do you think’s going on over there?”

  Brock stood away from the main group of people, pleading with someone from Browning who I knew I’d seen before. We couldn’t hear them over the noise, but Brock looked upset. The man put his hand on Brock’s shoulder and said something. Brock dropped his head. After the man patted his shoulder, Brock trudged away.

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  Amy spun toward her friends and gossiped about what had just happened.

  Before I even had time to think about what I’d seen, Mr. Hudson’s voice boomed and quieted the buzz of the crowd. “Gather around! It’s time to announce the Inventions Contest winners.”

  We found Carina as everyone moved toward the performance platform where Mr. Hudson stood, bullhorn in hand. “There were some great inventions this year!” he said. “That means many people did what?”

  Everyone called out, “Worked with their strengths!”

  Mr. Hudson read the names of the winners in Fours & Fives and in Sixes & Sevens, then named the overall winner for lower grades. All three kids came to the front, beaming, to get their medals. The cheer from the crowd was deafening.

  “And for Eights and Nines,” Mr. Hudson said through the bullhorn, “the winner is Amanda Allen for her automatic chicken scratch spreader. For Tens and Elevens, the winner is Livi Johnson for her recipe for ink. And for Twelves and Thirteens”—I grabbed Aaren’s hand and squeezed tight—“the winner is Brock Sances, for his bale grabber.”

  I looked to Aaren, and then to Carina. “Brock had a good invention?” I hadn’t paid attention after mine failed.

  Aaren nodded. “Yep. He did good.” Then his focus went back to Mr. Hudson. I could tell he still hoped to be the overall winner for middle grades. He’d won it once before, so we both knew it was possible. I crossed my fingers for him.

  “And the overall winner for middle grades is Charles Beckinwood, for his wheeled seed-planting invention.”

  Aaren’s shoulders fell. I didn’t know anyone who was more of a perfectionist than Aaren. He didn’t care if something took all his free time, as long as it turned out well. Especially if it was anything science-related. I knew he felt terrible, and that made me feel terrible.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Me too,” Carina said. “You deserved to win.”

  “Brock Sances?” Mr. Hudson called his name through the bullhorn. Everyone searched the crowd for him. Once it was clear Brock wasn’t there, Mr. Hudson called out the winners for Fourteens & Fifteens and Sixteens & Seventeens, along with the overall winner for upper grades.

  “Because we had so many outstanding inventions this year, we added two new awards.” Mr. Hudson held up a nine-inch stone carving of someone holding a large bowl over his head that was probably meant to represent our valley. “One goes to the overall winner for kids, and one to the overall winner for adults. For kids, this award goes to Aaren Grenwood for his medicine thermometer.”

  I screamed and jumped up and down along with Carina and Brenna. Aaren looked stunned, relieved, and thrilled all at the same time. He was in such a daze, he barely managed to give me Brenna’s hand before he stumbled to the front to collect his award. The crowd hollered their appreciation of Aaren’s invention as he walked back to us, his grin bigger than any I’d seen.

  When Mr. Hudson was almost through announcing the winners in all the categories for adults, I heard a psst.

  I looked at Carina. “They’re starting the Twister after this,” she said. “If we leave now, we can be first in line.”

  “Wanna get in line?” I asked Aaren. He gave me a look like he couldn’t believe I’d suggest something as wrong as missing out on science-related awards, so I sighed and shook my head no.

  “This was a great year for inventions.” Mr. Hudson put his hand on the six-foot-high stone obelisk that sat in the middle of the platform. �
�Within the next week, everyone who has won today will have their names carved into the Difference of One stone. Congratulations, winners!”

  Aaren’s name would be carved for the fourth time—twice as a grade-level winner, once as a middle-grade winner, and now once as an overall winner. When Aaren looked like he’d finished basking in his win enough to leave, Carina and I pulled him and Brenna to the Twister. There was way too much fun to be had to spend any more time on inventions.

  Apparently Carina wasn’t the only one with the idea to get to the Twister early. Lots of kids beat us to the line next to the twelve-foot circle of wood, raised by a rod in the middle, with a three-foot wall around the outside. Ten kids sat inside at a time, their backs against the wall, while the older kids and adults spun the circle as fast as they could. Trying to stay standing when you got off the ride was almost as much fun as the way the spinning sucked you to the wall during the ride.

  “Puppy!” Brenna squealed as Holden Newberry got in line behind us, cradling his dog.

  Holden put his dog on the ground, and Aaren let go of Brenna’s hand as she bent down to pet him.

  “I’m gonna lift my butt when they first start spinning,” Holden said. “Then when it gets going fast, I’m gonna lift my legs to see if the force will hold me off the ground like I’m floating!”

  “We have to try it,” I said to Aaren and Carina as we moved forward in the line. “We’ll see who can stay up the longest.”

  I could almost feel my guts being pulled backward as I watched the kids on the Twister go around and around. If only there weren’t so many ahead of us in line. The performances might start before we got a second turn.

  “Brenna, do you—” I was going to ask if she wanted to sit between Aaren and me, but when I turned around, she was gone.

  “Brenna?” Aaren called out, his voice panicked.