Here's to You, Zeb Pike

by Johanna Parkhurst

  Still, I hate talking in this class. Every time I do, that stupid kid who made that remark about Jack on the first day of school finds some way to say something to me, and a whole group of his friends laugh. Mr. Lewis yells at them for it whenever he notices it, and a lot of the time he sends the jerk, Rick, out of the room, but I’m still not happy when Mr. Lewis asks me to get up in front of everybody—even if everyone in the class has to present their topic today.

  I mean, I’ve only been in this school a week, and I’m already coming to the conclusion that I’m going to have to do something about this Rick guy pretty quickly.

  Not that I have a lot of options in that area. Rick is about five inches taller and sixty pounds heavier than me.

  I get up slowly to go the front of the room, and I instantly hear snickers behind me.

  “Um, I’m going to do my presentation on the Pike Expedition. The Pike Expedition began in 1806—”

  “Excuse me, excuse me, sir!”

  I do my best not to roll my eyes as Rick starts yelling out from the back of the classroom. Mr. Lewis sighs heavily and asks, “Rick, could you try raising a hand sometime?”

  “Sir, I’m thinking there’s no way you can grade this presentation fairly. His uncle is probably gonna make sure he gets an A no matter what he says.”

  I hear some of Rick’s cronies laugh, but Mr. Lewis just dryly says, “An assistance you could certainly use, Mr. Snyder. Detention.”

  Rick mumbles about how unfair that is, and I finish my presentation, pulling my desk chair out a little harshly once I get back to my seat. I’m definitely going to have to figure out what this dude’s problem is.

  After class Mr. Lewis asks to speak with me, and it doesn’t take Miss Marple to figure out what he wants to talk about. It’s going to make me late for lunch, but I pull up a chair next to his desk anyway. He’s a decent guy, and I knew there was no way he was going to let this whole Rick thing go.

  Mr. Lewis doesn’t beat around the bush. “Have you told your uncle about the hard time Rick Snyder’s been giving you since you got here?”

  I shake my head. “No… it’s not a big deal. I can handle him. I mean, it seems like he’s just pissed off at Jack or something.”

  Mr. Lewis kind of half-smiles. “How true. Rick was the star of our hockey team. Your uncle was forced to remove him because… well, let’s just say Rick wasn’t a very stable player.” I snort. That’s got to be an understatement. “Rick’s been harboring quite the grudge ever since. I’ve almost said something to Jack myself, but I rather had the impression you wouldn’t be the type to appreciate that. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

  Hell, yes. Not only would that be letting Rick win, but it would also be letting Jack know that I need him somehow. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything, Mr. Lewis. I mean, I’m glad you send Rick out when he’s wrecking class and all, but other than that, I’d like to handle this myself.”

  Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think Mr. Lewis looks impressed. “All right. If you’re sure. Just don’t forget that your uncle and I are both here for you anytime you decide you need us, all right?” I nod, and he goes back to talking. “So, Zebulon Pike, eh? That’s an interesting topic. I don’t think anyone else will be choosing it.”

  “Yeah, well….” I shrug. “I’m from Colorado Springs.”

  His eyes light up. “Ah, home of Pikes Peak! I see. Do you mind if I ask why you chose Zebulon? There are far so many aspects of Colorado Springs history you might have chosen.”

  I’m pretty good at shrugging when I’m talking to teachers, so I keep with what works and do it again. “I dunno. We were just starting to learn about him in school before I moved. I thought it was kind of interesting that he got the mountain named after him even though he didn’t finish climbing it.”

  “Yes… do you find it to be of great importance that he didn’t make it to the top?”

  Of course I don’t really know the answer to that, which is why I’m researching Zeb Pike. “I don’t know much about him yet. I mean, that’s sort of what I wanted to find out—whether or not it mattered if he got to the top. And if he really wanted to turn back, or wanted to die trying, or whatever, and how he still ended up getting the mountain named for him. ’Cause, shouldn’t it have been named after the Native Americans who lived there first anyway?” I throw that on at the end partly in homage to Ms. Carlson and partly because it really does sound right.

  Mr. Lewis just smiles. “I look forward to seeing what you learn in your research, Dusty,” he says.

  I ASK Casey for more info about Rick at lunch. He is knee-deep in a Sloppy Joe, making a good case for why it’s called that. His face is covered in meat and sauce.

  “Rick Snyder? He’s giving you trouble?”

  “Sort of.” I tell him about history class, and Casey snarls. “Just like that moron to be in a freshman class his junior year. He’s got no brain cells, I swear. Drank ’em all away.” He chugs his milk and finally wipes some of the meat off his face, which at least makes it easier to take him seriously. “Anyway, Dusty, that’s why he hates your uncle so bad. He was the star of the team last year, but Coach Morton kicked him off during the season for drinking and some other stuff, too, I think. Emmitt was thrilled—he was the only star left.”

  That does explain a lot.

  At least, other than Rick, school is okay. It’s school. It’s routine. Essays, notes, grades, books—a part of life I’ve always handled just fine. It’s all the other stuff I still seem to be having problems with.

  Beth is a happy room mother at Danville Elementary, and Matt’s joined the soccer team. Every morning I say good-bye to the kids and wait as long as possible before Jack pulls me out of the house and away from them. When school is over, I wait impatiently for Jack to be done with meetings and other teacher stuff. We head home, and I hope all the way to make it there before the kids finish their homework, but they’re always done and playing by the time we make it to the house. We have dinner, and if Beth hasn’t manage to usurp all the bedtime duties while I frantically do my homework, sometimes I get to read Matt and Julia a story before bed.

  Then there’s the Emmitt… thing. I don’t feel like I can really call it a problem, because it isn’t. It isn’t anything. Casey and I are spending more and more time together at lunch and in between classes, and we usually eat or hang out with Emmitt. The more we do, the more I want to spend time with this guy. Everything I learn about him just makes me like him even more. He’s incredibly smart—currently fourth in his class, but he is pretty sure he’ll lock in third by the end of the year. He’s the starting forward on the school’s hockey team, which almost made it to the state championship last year. (Apparently Jack is a pretty good coach.) He’s as serious about some things as he was about being my tour guide, but he can also be really funny and relaxed. At lunch he once snorted milk up his nose because he was laughing so hard over a movie he and Casey saw that weekend.

  What am I supposed to do? Ask the starting forward of the Colby hockey team, who appears to be about as straight as a 180 degree line (that’s right, I can pay attention in Geometry) to have dinner? One thing’s clear: I’m either going to have to learn to like girls or look forward to a life of solitude. At least Alicia can’t get enough of me. Last week I had to tell her to tone down the Facebook messages because I don’t have time to answer them all.

  I desperately need a break from both issues, so I can’t help but really look forward to the upcoming weekend, when Matt has his first big Danville soccer game.

  IT’S THE Friday morning before that game, and it seems like my break is finally in sight. Jack’s driving us to school when he puts his hand on my forehead for a second. “What?” I demand, looking at him warily. I have been working so hard to be okay with Beth and Jack taking over Matt and Julia’s life, and I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job. What does Jack want now?

  Jack looks over at me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, nothing. You�
�ve just been so quiet lately, and Beth thinks you fall asleep too easily. She wants me to take you to the doctor.”

  Screw that. I’m fine and I know it. I only fall asleep when I don’t want to be awake anymore. “I’m great, Jack. Just tired from school, I guess.”

  Jack clears his throat quietly. “Dusty,” he says, “have you given any more thought to seeing a counselor?”

  Not this again. When Matt and Jules and I first got to Vermont, Jack and Beth made a lot of noise about getting us a shrink to help us deal with “everything we’d gone through.” Matt and Julia ended up seeing their school counselor regularly, but I told Jack and Beth I didn’t want anything to do with a therapist. I thought they’d let it go—apparently not. “Jack, I told you before, I don’t want a shrink, okay? I’m just tired.”

  Jack looks like he wants to argue with me about that but seems to stop himself. It’s a few minutes before he says anything else. “Well, listen. I’ve got a staff meeting after school today, and I know for a fact it’s going to go for a while. How about seeing if Emmitt and Casey want to hang out after school? They live nearby.”

  I perk up so quickly my own smile surprises me. That’s a great idea. Casey has been asking me when he can take me to the skate parks in the area, and I’m willing to bet he’ll still lend me a skateboard. Not to mention that Emmitt will most likely come with us. He and Casey are almost as close as Matt and I are—maybe closer. They spend an awful lot of time together, especially for brothers who are so completely different.

  “Sure, Jack. I’ll ask ’em.” Whaddya know, for once I’m not going to be in any hurry to rush Jack home and take the kids’ evening time away from Beth.

  Casey’s reaction at lunch is impressive. “Right on!” he exclaims loudly through a mouth of french fries. “Luckily for you, I just happen to keep an extra skateboard in Emmitt’s truck. I’ll show you the park below the tracks I’ve been talkin’ about. So, I’ve gotta show you this new ramp they just put in….” I have to admit, it’s cool hanging out with Casey. Aside from giving me lots of access to Emmitt, the fact that he’s friends with, or somehow knows, almost everyone in the ninth grade means that I don’t get hassled by any of the crowds within the school except Rick’s. Casey is just one of those naturally cool guys who doesn’t have to be anything but himself. He’s just so relaxed—like Race.

  Race. I haven’t thought about him much since I arrived in Vermont. I’m not about to start now, when I am finally going to get to skateboard with somebody who probably won’t throw me under a bus if I ever need help.

  It’s starting to get really cold in the afternoons, so I grab my heavy coat the second the final school bell rings. Casey and Emmitt are already waiting for me on the front steps when I get there.

  “Jeez.” Emmitt shivers. “It’s freezing out here. You guys really wanna skateboard?”

  Casey flips his board up in the air. “Dude, no air touches me when I skate. You know that.”

  Emmitt rolls his eyes. “Dusty, sometimes I’m amazed his head even fits through doors.”

  Casey rolls his eyes back and shoves his brother, and we start the short walk to Emmitt’s truck.

  Casey squeezes me in between him and Emmitt in the truck’s small cab, and all I can do is hope that nothing about my reaction to being this close to Emmitt will give me away. I must hide my emotions even better than I think I do, because neither brother says anything out of the ordinary on the way to the park. When we finally pull up, I wonder what Emmitt will do while Casey and I skateboard—he seems to think skateboarding is pretty stupid. Then he pulls a pair of rollerblades out of the back of the truck, along with an extra skateboard for me. I realize how serious about hockey this guy must be.

  Emmitt laces up his blades and starts doing some pretty impressive moves around the perimeter of the park—he’s going backward, looping, making other moves that probably have names I could never even imagine. He’s a natural at it; it’s like his feet were meant to exist on blades. I’m having trouble looking away from him, and it takes Casey’s loud babbling to finally remind me that I’m supposed to be here to skateboard, not ogle his brother.

  Casey immediately starts inspecting how I stand on my board. “Pretty good… you know your stuff.” He hikes up his pants and grabs his board. “Follow what I do…. I’m going to teach you the difference between regular and goofy position.”

  That’s pretty easy—I’ve always known those; I’ve just never known what they’re called—but then Casey starts going into ollies. “C’mon, Dust!” He’s an accomplished coach. “Bend your knees and brace for the impact before you go down.” He goes over everything he thinks I need to know, from good position to the best facial expression to have when you hit the ground.

  Eventually the wind starts to pick up, and Casey stops telling me how to hold my hips long enough to notice that Jack’s meeting should be done soon. He gestures to Emmitt, who skates over to us effortlessly.

  “Dusty, what are you doing for Halloween?” Emmitt moves to put his shoes back on, and Casey’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah! I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you about Aaron’s party.”

  “Party?” I can’t remember going to a real party—something that wasn’t for a birthday or run by parents—well, ever. There were always more important things to do. “What kind of party?”

  “Dude, it’s gonna be awesome…. Aaron is on the hockey team with Emmitt. His mom is going out of town that night and he’s gonna have a party. Emmitt hasn’t decided if he’s going to let me go with him yet, but I think he will.” He tosses me a KitKat bar from his jacket pocket. “Now I know for sure he’s going to, if he’s inviting you.”

  Emmitt shrugs. “You didn’t realize you already wore me down? You may as well start inviting all the other little freshmen. If we’re going to let you guys in, we’re at least going to do this right and use it as an opportunity to prove how much better the junior class is.”

  He and Casey walk back to the truck, arguing about whether or not more freshman or juniors will show up to the party and which class is really superior. I trail behind. Every memory I have of Halloween involves taking the kids trick-or-treating. There’s no way I can disappear on them for their first Halloween in Vermont. There’s no way I want to, I remind myself, thinking suddenly of Beth.

  Emmitt laughs at something Casey has said, and he winks at me as he climbs into the truck. “You better come, Dusty,” he tells me. “I always need everyone I can to keep an eye on Casey here.”

  It’s the wink that always gets me. Why does he have to wink?

  Chapter 5

  THREE YEARS Earlier

  “What are you going to do if she’s still not home?”

  Race whispered the question to Dusty because he was holding Julia’s hand, and Dusty had made it very clear he didn’t want to worry Matt and Julia about the fact that their Mom hadn’t come home yet. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. I mean, she’s been gone for five days so far and we’re doing okay.”

  Race didn’t think Dusty was doing very okay. He had dark circles around his eyes, and he’d fallen asleep during math that day. Dusty had told the teacher his mom wasn’t feeling well and he’d had to stay up to help take care of her.

  Race wanted to tell Dusty he needed to say something to his mom about what was going on. He was pretty sure his mom would know what to do. He was not about to suggest that again, though. He had mentioned that yesterday morning and Dusty just about bit his head off. Dusty was his best friend, but he had a temper sometimes, and Race didn’t want to upset him anymore than he already was.

  He couldn’t imagine what he would do if his mother just left for days without even telling him. Of course, Dusty’s mother had been gone before, so maybe Dusty was used to it now. She had never left for more than a night, though, and Race knew the fact that she wasn’t home yet had to be making Dusty really nervous.

  They arrived at the door of the apartment, Race still holding Julia’s hand and Matt at Dusty’s
side. Dusty took a deep breath and opened the apartment door.

  And the smell of brownies immediately filled the air.

  “Mom?” Dusty walked into the kitchen, inhaling the scent. Race followed.

  “Dusty, baby!” Their mother threw up her hands and hugged each one of her kids. Race watched, amazed at how happy she looked to see them. Sometimes she was so mean to Dusty. “I’ve missed you! I knew you’d take great care of Matthew and Jules, though.”

  Dusty just nodded, looking dazed.

  “I wanted to make you brownies to thank you.” She picked up Julia and kissed Matt’s hair. “Did you miss me, babies? I missed you.”

  “Yeah!” Julia buried her own head in her mother’s shoulder. “Mama, I missed you lots!”

  Matt nodded. “Me too, Mama.”

  She carried Julia into the other room, Matt beside her, telling them about a present she’d brought them.

  Race cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you at least ask her where she’s been?”

  Dusty shrugged and started cutting into the brownies. “I didn’t think it really mattered.”

  “GO, MATT, go!”

  I can’t figure out who’s louder, Jack or me. We’re sitting together on the bottom row of the bleachers at the Danville third and fourth grade soccer game. Beth is out on the field helping the team, right where I want to be, so I’ve decided I’m just going to be the loudest person in the cheering section instead. I’ve forgotten, though, that Jack coaches hockey. He has a pretty impressive vocal range.

  Matt is the new star of the team, you can tell. They pass him the ball at least 50 percent of the time, and he has already scored two of Danville’s three goals. The other team hasn’t even come close to scoring yet, and you can tell they’re already beat. It’s pretty awesome to watch. Julia clings to my hand, asking “Who’s winning, Dusty, who’s winning?” every three minutes or so.