The Battle of Junk Mountain

by Lauren Abbey Greenberg

  “I know about accidents, believe me.” He grips the handrail and gazes out to the horizon.

  “The fire?” I ask in a small voice.

  Cranky turns to me and frowns. “Is that your business?”

  “No, sir,” I say, staring at my feet.

  My Way rocks over the gentle swells. I widen my stance to keep my balance.

  “Fire marshal ruled it accidental,” he says after a moment. “Faulty wiring on a porch light. I was out at the time it started, and when I came home, the whole place was up in flames. When I ran in to see what I could salvage—”

  With wide eyes, I interrupt. “You ran into a burning house?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe not my smartest move, but there was this thing I had to try to save. Something that belonged to my late wife that she cherished.”

  The Medal of Honor! Linc said only a few things survived the fire, so that has to be what he’s talking about. I can’t believe he risked his life for it, and I can’t believe Linc thinks it’s okay to take it without asking. I don’t care if he’s mad at me; when I see him again, I’m really going to let him have it.

  “I’m sorry about your house, Cranky,” I say without thinking.

  He freezes before slowly turning to meet my gaze. “What did you call me?” His eyebrows practically touch.

  The blood drains out of my shocked face. Please tell me I did not call him Cranky to his face. For a crazy second, I think he’s going to hurl me overboard, but instead he starts to laugh, slow and low, which gains in speed until he’s slapping his leg and hacking a smoker’s cough.

  “My wife used to call me that, because she said I was the crankiest SOB she’d ever met. Still loved me, though, for forty- two years.”

  He removes his sunglasses and presses a fist to the corner of his eye. I can’t tell if the tears are from laughing or crying, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still horrified.

  He’s about to put his sunglasses back on but winks at me first. “Let’s get this boat to shore so I can get paid.”

  After a series of group pictures, Cranky and I run down our cleanup checklist before heading home. We bounce along the winding roads in his rattling pickup truck, silent but comfortable, like two tired fishing buddies after a fruitful day at sea. As we pull into his driveway, I see Linc waiting at the bottom of the porch steps dressed from head to toe in reenactor regalia: long navy coat with gleaming gold buttons, sky blue trousers, and, of course, his trusted kepi. I glance at Cranky, wondering if this will thoroughly irritate him, but his bored expression doesn’t change.

  As we exit the truck, Linc walks toward us with a huge smile on his face. He looks different, taller. My eyes flicker to something on his jacket. Pinned on front is his great-great-great-grandfather’s Medal of Honor for everyone to see.

  • CHAPTER 17 •

  KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL

  On the rickety steps of Cranky’s porch, Linc fills me in. Turns out, this morning Cranky gave him the medal to wear for the day as a sort of consolation prize. He felt bad about telling Linc to stay home. (Not that Linc felt badly at all—being banned from My Way was like winning the Battle of Vicksburg. His words, of course.)

  “Isn’t it awesome,” he says, sticking out his chest. The weight of the medal tugs at the wool coat.

  “I’m glad you don’t have to sneak around anymore,” I say. “Your grandpa told me everything about the fire.”

  Linc looks shocked. “He did?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say smugly. “The relationship between captain and deckhand is one of mutual trust.”

  He sticks a finger in his mouth and pretends to throw up.

  At that moment, Bea steps out of her house with several shopping bags draped off each arm. “You’re back,” she calls out as she approaches us.

  “That your grandma?” Linc whispers.

  “Yep.”

  He points to the bags. “What’s she got in there?”

  I sigh. “Who knows?”

  “You must be Linc. I’m Bea, nice to meet you.”

  He jumps to his feet. “Do you need help? That’s a lot of stuff you’re carrying.”

  “Well, aren’t you a gentleman.” Bea’s eyes twinkle with excitement as she sets the bags on the ground. “The Baslers were having a yard sale, and it would have been rude if I didn’t see what they had to offer.” She digs into one of the bags and pulls out a Nerf football with a chewed-off tip. Must have been a dog toy.

  She hands it to Linc. “Here.”

  “Um… thanks?” He gapes at it like it’s an alien baby.

  “You’re welcome.” She grasps the handles once again and clomps up Cranky’s porch stairs.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Being neighborly. I found a New England Patriots baseball cap. Never worn. Maybe he’d like it as a housewarming gift.”

  “Why do you think he would want a hat?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? It’s free!”

  I bury my head in my hands as Bea lets herself inside with a “Yoo-hoo, hello!”

  Linc looks at the football. “Interesting.”

  “Very.”

  He laughs and for the first time I notice the dimple in his chin.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks.

  I snatch it from him. “Duh, throw it.”

  As I suspected, Linc can’t catch a ball to save his life. You would think the football was a greased watermelon; he either bobbles or drops it. One time, the ball smacks him right in the chest and he falls over in slow motion. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s clowning around on purpose.

  “So, listen,” Linc says after he picks himself off the ground. “I forgive you for your rudeness the other day.” He holds up a hand to shush me before I can protest. “What I wanted to tell you was I found this place on the Internet called the Soldier & Saber. It specializes in military antiques, and you can bring in stuff to get it appraised—you know, to see how much it’s worth.”

  My pulse quickens. “Really?”

  “Even better,” he says, “Grandpa said he’d take me there after dinner, so I can stock up on reenactment gear. So, either I can ask about the bullets for you, or you can come with us.” He stops himself, as his ears turn pink. “That is, if you want to.”

  “Are you kidding? I definitely want to go. Thank you so much!” Before I know what I’m doing, I throw my arms around him in an epic bear hug. He doesn’t return the hug and when I step back, he looks totally spooked.

  Behind me, a throat clears.

  Poppy’s blue eyes are wide with disbelief. My face heats to a thousand degrees and Linc’s looks like he landed on the sun.

  “We were throwing a football around,” I explain idiotically.

  “In what century?” She makes no effort to hide her disgust with Linc’s outfit.

  “Do you want to play?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

  She pauses, then shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

  We stand in a triangle formation and throw the ball to each other, but unlike a few minutes ago, no one is having any fun. In fact, I can tell Linc is trying his hardest not to make a mistake. I only wish he wouldn’t make that oof sound every time he makes a catch.

  Once, when Linc throws it to me, Poppy says to him, “No offense, but you throw funny.”

  The stricken look on his face makes me mad. “Poppy, don’t be mean.”

  She jams her hands on her hips. “I’m not being mean, it’s a fact. He’s not using his legs. Shayne, give me the ball.”

  I toss it to her.

  “You need to step into the throw,” she instructs while winding her arm back behind her ear. She takes a step and launches a perfect spiral to Linc. I see him raise his hands, but the next thing I know, he’s writhing on the ground in pain.

  I rush over to him. “What happened?”

  “Jammed my finger,” he says in a strained voice.

  “Maybe you need ice,” Poppy says.

  Linc glowers at her. “Yeah, ma
ybe.”

  Poppy waits until Linc is safely inside before she goads me. “I didn’t know you and the tent troll were, like, besties.”

  “I’ve gotta go.” I turn to Bea’s place, but Poppy grabs hold of my arm.

  “I’m kidding. Can’t you take a joke?”

  I whip around and throw my hands in the air. “Just because you don’t like Cranky doesn’t mean you should take it out on Linc. He’s a Civil War reenactor, and he takes it very seriously. That doesn’t make him a bad person, you know.”

  Poppy’s face softens. “Look, let’s not get into a fight over some boy. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Like?”

  “Like the Cumberland Fair. It’s in town, and Leanne said she’d take us tonight.”

  Drat! Why tonight? I love the Cumberland Fair. Rickety rides, tractor pulls, cheesy games. Poppy and I go every summer. How can I miss it? But I already told Linc I’d go with him to the Soldier & Saber. Then again, he could go alone. He already said he’d ask about the bullets for me. But if they’re worth a ton of money, shouldn’t I be there to hear it first?

  “I don’t know,” I say, still debating the thought in my head. “There’s this thing I was supposed to do.”

  “What thing could be more important than the fair? Word has it there’s a new ride this year called the Vomit Comet.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Come on, how can you not want to go? It’s tradition, just you and me.”

  Tradition. You and me. We certainly haven’t had a ton of that. If I say no, I might not get another chance.

  “If you make me go alone, I’ll die.” Poppy bows her head. Her hair falls across her face like a closing curtain before she crumples to the ground with her tongue stuck out in an elaborate, twitching death scene.

  She’s so over the top that I have to laugh. “Fine, you win. I’ll go.”

  Poppy springs up like a jack-in-the-box. “Cool, see you later, then.”

  “Okay, see you later.”

  She turns and tosses the football over her shoulder, and I wonder if I made the right choice.

  • CHAPTER 18 •

  STEP RIGHT UP TO THE FREAK SHOW

  “Let’s meet back here at ten o’clock,” Leanne says. She adjusts her straw cowboy hat over her bleached blond hair.

  We’re standing at the ticket kiosk at the fair’s entrance.

  “Where are you going to be?” I ask.

  “Away from you guys.” She laughs as Billy threads an arm around her waist and ushers her toward the main grandstand to watch the tractor-pull contest.

  A fireball sun hangs at the edge of the horizon. Poppy stuffs a wad of Admit One tickets for the rides into her pink wristlet. Her bare shoulders glisten with sweat even though she’s wearing a tank dress. The air is still and sticky and smells like a cross between fried dough and a barn. When you’re away from the water, you miss that breeze.

  We study a map of the fair and decide to head toward the midway. Tattooed barkers call to us, promising an easy win if we play milk-bottle toss or dart balloons. Oversized stuffed animals dangle from the ceiling, and suddenly I have to have a giant purple monkey. I blow through a bunch of dollar bills until I finally win a prize at the whack-a-mole game: a stuffed banana wearing sunglasses and dreadlocks.

  After downing a corn dog and sugary lemonade, I am amped up for a ride on the giant slide. We climb the tall staircase with burlap sacks slung over our shoulders and let a few people go ahead of us until two lanes open where we can sit side by side and race. I keep my hands up the whole time even though the first drop threatens to bring the corn dog back up. Afterward, we hit the Sea Serpent, one of our favorites. It’s a giant swing in the shape of a pirate ship that rocks back and forth. We sit in the back row where the motion feels the most intense and scream our heads off. Then it’s off to the bumper cars where I make it my personal mission to smash Poppy.

  By now, the sun is down and the neon lights are up. Families with small children head to the exits while teenagers show up in packs. We walk arm in arm by the deep-fried Twinkies stand when Poppy stops in her tracks.

  She grips my elbow. “Gio’s here.”

  I twist my neck to see a group of five boys by the fortune- teller tent. They stand in a semicircle, hands stuffed in their pockets and baseball hats turned backward or sideways. Gio, wearing a black T-shirt and camo shorts, is the tallest of the bunch.

  “Go talk to him,” Poppy urges.

  “No way,” I say.

  “Come on, what are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid. If you want to say hi so bad, do it yourself.”

  Poppy flips her hair off her shoulders and looks deep into my eyes like I’m her personal mirror. “How do I look?”

  “Possessed.”

  She sticks out her tongue at me before sauntering over to the group. My head starts to hurt. What is she going to say to him? I retrieve berry lip gloss from my purse to busy myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Poppy returning with Gio right behind her.

  Great.

  Gio acknowledges me with a ’sup before he and Poppy decide they want to go to the trailer turned haunted house. I quicken my steps to keep up with them.

  A shaky wooden bridge leads us into a dark room. Robotic monsters jump out of the shadows. Ghoulish moans pipe through speakers.

  “It’s not that scary,” I say into the darkness. No one responds.

  We pass by fun house mirrors. Gio has compressed to two feet tall. He flaps his stubby T. rex arms, and Poppy laughs like it’s the most hilarious thing on the planet. It’s not that funny. We continue through a dark corridor into a room full of stringy cobwebs where a furry puppet spider drops from the ceiling inches away from our faces. Poppy screams and leans into Gio for safety.

  “It’s so fake,” I say, but they’re still not listening to me. Poppy is too busy doing whatever she can to touch Gio. She’s slapping his shoulder. She’s covering his eyes. She’s acting like a pesky fly. If I were him, I’d swat her.

  After the lame, not-haunted house, Poppy fidgets with indecision over what to do next. I suggest the Ferris wheel, which looms over the fair like a giant centerpiece.

  “Ladies first,” the ride operator says to Poppy and me when it’s our turn to get on. Poppy gets in, then me, then Gio. I’m sitting between them. And I really feel weird.

  “Wait,” I say. “I have to get off.”

  Poppy tugs at the hem of my miniskirt. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid of heights. What was I thinking? You guys go ahead and I’ll wait for you at the exit.”

  “Are you sure?” Poppy asks as I step out of the car.

  Gio scooches next to Poppy so close she’s practically in his lap.

  I’m sure.

  I walk to the nearest food stand to buy a bottle of water. A group of girls who look to be my age pass by. I think about my friends back home. If they were here, we would ride that Ferris wheel together, and no one would mind the middle seat. It’s the Ferris wheel, not the third wheel.

  I look at my dreadlocked banana. “Guess it’s you and me tonight,” I say. I try not to look alone and pathetic, but then again, I’m talking to a banana.

  After a few loooong minutes, Poppy and Gio’s orange car descends slowly to the bottom. The operator reaches for the latch to the door, but Gio says something to him and he pauses. Gio points at Poppy, who has a goofy grin on her face. I can’t hear how the man replies, but he steps away from the car and lets them go for another ride.

  “Oh, come on.” I pull the map out of my purse to see what else I can do to kill time. A nearby barn seems like a quick way to keep busy. Goats and sheep greet my entrance with a chorus of mehs and baahs. Bored cows swish their tails. The hay- covered floor feels soft under my high-tops.

  I give a farmer lady a quarter for some animal feed. The goats shove each other to get to my open, flat palm full of brown pellets. A black one with a white tuft between it
s ears wins. Its tongue tickles my hand as it laps up the food.

  After a squirt of hand sanitizer, I enter a pen where you can hold and pet baby bunnies. I almost have a heart attack when I see Linc sitting on a hay bale with a white bunny in his lap.

  I tap his shoulder. “Did you go to the Soldier & Saber?”

  He shakes his head. “Grandpa said we should take advantage of the fair while it’s still in town and go to that store another time.”

  When he finally looks up at me, his eyes are as red as the bunny’s. I sit next to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere,” he whispers.

  “For what?”

  Linc shuts his eyes and winces. “The medal.”

  My hand covers my mouth.

  “I was going to return it before we came here. Then I looked and… it was gone, just two holes left in my jacket from the pin.” His voice wobbles.

  I run a quick mental inventory of the afternoon. He definitely had it on while we hung out at Cranky’s place.

  “Does your grandpa know?”

  “Not yet. I’m dead.”

  He steals a glance over at Cranky, who leans against one of the stalls, the New England Patriots hat, the one Bea gave him, pulled low over his eyes. I’m not sure, but he may be sleeping.

  “Don’t panic. What we need to do is retrace your steps. What were you doing before you came here?”

  He releases the bunny from his lap. “I had dinner.”

  “And before that?”

  “I was in the kitchen icing my finger. Before that, you and I were throwing the football with that friend of yours.”

  I summon my mind for a clear picture of us outside. Did he have the medal on his jacket then? I don’t remember anything unusual, except for his horrible catches.

  My eyes widen. His horrible catches.

  “Remember how you kept falling down?”

  Linc nods slowly while he thinks about this. “Maybe the pin got knocked loose.” He jiggles his legs ups and down with nervous energy. “You think it’s in the grass? I want to go home and check right now.”

  “It’s too dark. I’ll help you look first thing in the morning.” I slide an arm around his back and give him a half hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it.”