Rocket Ride

by Graham Salisbury

  “Little Johnny!” somebody called.

  Dad waved.

  He turned back to us. “Privacy is a bit hard for me to come by these days.”

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Rachel said. “He loves it.”

  We walked down past the one-legged pink flamingos, the fishponds, and the big blue pool to the beach bar. Rachel chatted with curious people along the way. We sat in a roped-off area around a couple of tables, looking out over the bright sand to the calm sea.

  Wow, I thought. It’s like we’re with the president of the United States or something.

  “Look at the water,” I said. “It’s so smooth!”

  Ledward leaned close. “This side of the island is sheltered from the wind. We live on the windward side, which means—”

  “We get all the wind.”

  “You got it.”

  I snapped my fingers. “That’s why all the sailboarders and windsurfers come to Kailua!”

  “Yup.” Ledward ruffled my hair with his big hand.

  Dad studied us with a half smile. “So,” he said.

  We waited for him to say more, but he just smiled.

  “Why don’t you tell us about your tour, Johnny?” Mom said.

  That seemed to come as a relief to Dad. “Well … I never thought my life would get this frantic, but I guess that’s what … you know … what success does.”

  He looked up and waved. “Over here!”

  A huge smile crossed his face. “And this, folks, is my Marissa.”

  “Ho,” I whispered.

  Marissa could have stepped right out of a magazine. She had long brown hair and wore white shorts, a yellow tank top, and thin leather sandals on her tanned feet.

  She came to me first and looked into my eyes. “Without question, you are Calvin. I see Johnny all over you. Am I right?”

  “Uh … yeah. That’s … me.”

  “You are every bit as handsome as your father.”

  I must have looked like a cow standing there with my mouth open.

  She hugged me, then crouched down to look Darci in the eye, too. “And you are Darci, every bit as beautiful as your mother.”

  “Thank you,” Darci squeaked.

  Right away I could tell Marissa was special. It was her eyes! They were light blue, like when there’s no wind and the ocean looks like glass. You just stare at it, thinking, Wow. Her eyes were like that. And when they focused on me, I felt like she really, really liked me.

  I glanced at Mom.

  Did she see this, too?

  Mom smiled.

  Marissa winked at Darci, then stood and turned to Mom. “And you’re Angela.”

  “Yes.” Mom reached out to shake Marissa’s hand. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, ­Marissa.”

  Marissa smiled. “Me too. And to be honest, I thought this moment would be awkward. I was so nervous that I … well, for one thing, I spilled orange juice all over the table at breakfast.”

  Dad laughed. “And in my lap.”

  Marissa grabbed his hand. “But you know what?” she said. “Right now I feel … well, like we’ve been friends for years. I don’t know why I was so bumbly about all this.”

  Mom stepped forward and gave Marissa a hug. “Welcome to the other half of your family, Marissa.”

  They hugged again.

  Marissa wiped a tear from her eye.

  Amazingly, so did Stella.

  While Mom and Ledward talked to Dad and Marissa at the beach bar, Darci and I went swimming. It was fun running back and forth between the big blue pool and the beach.

  “Come swimming!” Darci shouted to Stella, who was lounging by the pool with a book.

  Stella smiled and waved her off.

  Darci and I plopped down into the small waves that slapped up onto the sand.

  “What do you think of Marissa, Darce?”

  “She’s nice. I like her.”

  “Yeah, me too. Do you wish Mom and Dad were still together?”

  Darci shrugged.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. “It’s sort of okay like it is, isn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh, because we have Ledward and Stella now, too.”

  “Stella! Are you crazy?”

  “I like Stella.”

  “I like her, too … like I like scorpions.”

  “Because she calls you Stump?”

  That started a water war.

  A while later, Dad walked down to us. “You two want to go for a walk with me and Marissa?”

  “Yeah!” we said at the same time.

  So, along with the two silent giants who ­followed at a distance, we headed down the beach.

  “Why do you have bodyguards, Dad?” I whispered.

  “To tell the truth, I don’t know. I’m not that famous, for sure! The bodyguards were Rachel’s idea.”

  “Johnny had a small problem at one of his concerts,” Marissa said. “A fan got a little too … friendly.”

  “Huh?”

  Marissa laughed. “Okay, this woman jumped up onstage and ran over to Johnny and hugged him right in the middle of a song. Security had to rush in and take her away. It was innocent, but it got Rachel worried. What if some violent person did that? So now Johnny has bodyguards.”

  “Wow,” Darci said.

  “Wow is right,” Marissa agreed.

  I glanced back at the giants. I was glad they were there, even if they didn’t smile or speak.

  Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “You know, Calvin … I was so … anxious about seeing you and Darci. I haven’t been an on-the-job kind of dad. In fact, I’ve been pretty terrible, and I’m so sorry about that.”

  I kind of nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

  Marissa took my hand.

  Dad smiled. “From now on things will get better. I promise. I can’t tell you how much being away from you eats at me.”

  Marissa grabbed Darci’s hand, too. “But that’s all going to change.”

  Dad reached over and gave me a quick hug. It felt good. “You know, now that things are working out well for me, I’ll be able to fly you and Darci over to Las Vegas. Would you like to come stay with me and Marissa sometime?”

  I looked at him. “You mean … fly by ourselves? Just me and Darci?”

  “No, I’d come get you.”

  That was a relief. “Well, in that case, yes!”

  “How about you, Darci?” Dad asked.

  “Can I bring Stella?”

  “Sure you can,” Marissa said. “Everyone who wants to come is welcome in our house. It’s not that big, but we’ll make room.”

  Why had I felt so nervous about all of this?

  Dad still liked us.

  And so did Marissa.

  There was only one thing left that I really wanted to know: What was Dad like when he became Little Johnny Coconut?

  The next day during morning recess I hid from Tito in the bushes. Everything about the concert was all figured out … except for Tito. All I had to do was hide from him for two more days.

  Julio, Rubin, and Willy helped me keep watch.

  Willy tapped my arm. “Look.”

  I peeked through the weeds. “Aiy.”

  Tito, Bozo, and Frankie Diamond were strolling our way.

  “He knows we’re here,” Julio whispered.

  “How? He can’t see us.”

  “Trust me. He’s going to walk up like nothing is going on, and then when he’s close, he’s going to pounce on you.”

  “I’m outta here.”

  “Me too,” Rubin said.

  We all eased back into the bushes.

  “Uh-oh,” Julio said. “Here they come. Run!”

  We took off and ran around the cafeteria to the front of the school. We slid to a stop. Where to go, where to go?

  “The library!”

  We sprinted across open ground to the library. I prayed Mr. Tanaka, the librarian, wasn’t there. He might just kick us out.

  “Well, well,” Mr. Tanaka said, looki
ng up as we burst through the doorway. He was on a stool with his guitar. “Come on in, boys. I was just showing these kids how to write a song.”

  A big group of second graders sat around him on the carpet. All of them turned to gawk as we slipped into nearby chairs. I glanced over my shoulder at the door.

  No one there.

  “Do you know who these boys are?” Mr. Tanaka asked the second graders.

  They shook their heads, no.

  “Well. These boys are here to help us write songs today.”

  Wait. What?

  Mr. Tanaka looked past us toward the door.

  Tito, Bozo, and Frankie Diamond stood at the entrance to the library, probably for the first time in their lives.

  Mr. Tanaka turned to me and raised his eyebrows.

  I opened my hands as if to say, If you kick us out I’m dead, Mr. Tanaka.

  Mr. Tanaka said, “Come on in, boys. The more the merrier.”

  They came in and sat behind us.

  Mr. Tanaka picked up his guitar. He had lots of instruments in his library. He was a librarian, but he also played in a band.

  He strummed a chord and looked out over the group. “Who knows who Little Johnny Coconut is?”

  Almost every hand went up. “ ‘Rocket Ride!’ ”

  Someone else shouted, “A singer!”

  Mr. Tanaka strummed a chord again. “Correct! Who knows who that boy is right there?”

  He pointed at me.

  “That, my young songwriters, is Little Johnny Coconut’s son, Calvin. He goes to our school.”

  In one tick of the library clock, I became famous.

  I slid down in my seat.

  “Come up here, Calvin.”

  Great. He was making me pay for interrupting his class.

  “Sit.”

  I pulled a stool over and sat next to him, facing the second graders. I looked at Tito, waiting for him to smirk.

  But he didn’t.

  “Your dad writes his own music, right?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Did he ever show you how to write a song?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s not so hard. Here. I’ll strum two chords and you think of a melody, and maybe some words if they come to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Why not?”

  Mr. Tanaka strummed one chord for a short while, changed to another, then went back to the first.

  Tito leaned forward, listening.

  Mr. Tanaka strummed the chords again. The only song I could think of was the Starship Troopers song “It’s a Good Day to Die.”

  I sang, “Uh, look out the window and see that big blue sky, / It’s so hot on the road you could watch a fried egg fry.”

  The second graders laughed.

  I sang more.

  “So you’d have to agree, uh…”

  I looked at Tito.

  “Uh, you’d have to agree it’s not a good day to die.”

  “Dumb!” Bozo shouted.

  Mr. Tanaka held up his hand. “Cork it, Bozo. Remember where you are.”

  “Yeah, sure, Mr. T., but that’s just dumb words he made up.”

  “All songs begin with an idea, Bozo, and Calvin’s idea was about what a nice day it is. Am I right, Calvin?”

  “Exactly, Mr. Tanaka, it’s a nice day to be alive.”

  Man, did I want to get out of there!

  Tito said, “That was pretty good, Coco-dude. Keep going.”

  Huh?

  Mr. Tanaka jumped in. “See, class, see how it works? We’re starting to get somewhere. Calvin had an idea, and Tito liked it. We have a song started.”

  The second graders nodded.

  “Tito,” Mr. Tanaka said. “I’ve heard you play before. Come on up here and take this guitar.”

  Tito grinned and got up. “My uncle taught me. But only slack key.”

  Slack key was Hawaiian music played on a guitar that was tuned different than regular.

  Tito sat, tweaked the tuning, and started to play.

  My jaw dropped. Tito played like someone on the radio. He was good!

  “Wow,” Willy whispered.

  “No kidding,” I said.

  When Tito finished, everyone clapped, loud and long.

  He gave the guitar back to Mr. Tanaka. “Sorry, Mr. T. Got kine of carried away.”

  “Anytime, Mr. Andrade. Anytime.”

  “Someday I going play in a hotel. That’s what I want.”

  Tito suddenly kissed his fingertips and blew the kiss to someone in the back of the room.

  Lovey Martino was standing in the doorway.

  “That song was for you,” Tito said.

  Lovey humphed. “Not bad.”

  “I knew it. She loves me.”

  Tito looked at me. “Maybe someday I might be famous like your daddy.”

  I had to agree.

  Me and my friends headed back to class, still amazed at what we’d just heard.

  Tito caught me in the cafeteria at lunch.

  “Heyyy, little bug, you know you can’t hide from me.” He put his arm over my shoulder. “Outside. We fine a place to talk.”

  I glanced around for help.

  Julio, Willy, and Rubin kept their gaze on their trays.

  Tito scoffed. “How come you looking at them, Coco-moco? They not going help you. Anyways, you just going give me that ticket. We out of time.”

  Tito and I went out into the sun.

  “Uh, listen, Tito … I don’t, you know … like … have any tickets? I gave them all away.”

  “Huh. That’s too bad … for somebody. So what ticket you going give to me? And how’s about one for Frankie?”

  “I’m telling you, I don’t even have one.”

  Tito nodded. “Yeah. But do you get what I saying? Come on. The bell going ring soon. Give me um.”

  He reached out and wiggled his fingers.

  I looked at him. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “Yeah. But that’s your problem, right?”

  “No.”

  He squeezed my neck. “What?”

  I crunched up my shoulders. His grip was like giant ­pliers.

  “ ’Kay, okay,” I said. “I’ll get one. One! That’s all.”

  Tito patted my back. “Fine. Frankie don’t care, anyway. When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck.

  Tito clapped his hands, grinning big. “I going bring my binoculars. I like to see um up close. Go.”

  Tito gave me a shove.

  What a big fat mess.

  In class I could hardly listen to anything Mr. Purdy was saying.

  Think, think, think.

  Break the problem down.

  Okay. Number one, Shayla isn’t my good friend. Number two, she isn’t my family. Number three, sometimes I don’t even like her very much. Number four, if I don’t give Tito a ticket he could cause trouble for me and my friends. And number five, Shayla won’t complain.

  I don’t like where this is going, the little voice said.

  What else can I do? What else!

  I scowled at the floor. Under Mr. Purdy’s desk, a dead roach lay on its back with its feet in the air.

  That afternoon as I was walking home from school with Darci and my friends, I stopped cold.

  Julio looked back.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “I have to do something.”

  “What?”

  I turned back toward school. “Darci, walk home with Maya. Tell Stella I’ll be home soon.”

  “Where are you going?” Darci asked.

  I didn’t answer. My fingers were trembling. Do it! Just do it, do it, do it!

  You can’t, the little voice said. It’s not right.

  Shhh.

  I sort of knew where Shayla lived. Maya had told me. It was an old building about a mile past the school, called Paradise Village.

  Out on the street in front of the apartment building, five boys from the midd
le school were shooting hoops into a loop with no net. I had to walk by them to get to Shayla’s apartment.

  The kid with the ball looked at me and passed it, missing its mark on purpose. The ball bounced toward me.

  I stopped it with my foot and picked it up.

  Five sets of eyes locked on me.

  I tossed the ball back and one guy caught it, never taking his eyes off me.

  Nobody moved.

  “Who are you?” the guy with the ball asked.

  Dang.

  “Uh … um … a friend of someone who lives here?”

  Dumb. It sounded like a question.

  “Yeah? Who?”

  “A girl. Uh … Shayla?”

  Four of the five guys laughed and shoved the one kid who didn’t. He glared at me. “Whatchoo want with her?”

  “I have … just something to tell her. We’re in the same class at school.”

  “I’ll tell her, what is it?”

  Ho, now what? “I need to tell her ­myself.”

  “Melvin,” someone called. “Leave him alone. He’s my friend.”

  Me and the kid, Melvin, glanced up to the outside walkway that ran by the doors on the second floor. Shayla waved at me. “Calvin! What are you doing here?”

  “I came to … to talk to you.”

  “Well, come on up.”

  Melvin shrugged and tossed the ball to another kid.

  I headed up the stairs.

  Shayla waited at the railing outside her door. “This is so weird, I mean, to see you here.”

  The door to her apartment was open and I glanced inside. It was a small place with one couch and a couple of chairs. No pictures on the walls, but there was a mirror.

  “Want to come in? We have some guava juice.”

  “No, that’s okay. I have to get home, you know, so my mom doesn’t worry.”

  Shayla smiled. “Okay. What did you want to talk about?”

  Yeah, genius, the little voice said. Let’s hear it.

  I looked over the railing, down at the guys shooting hoops. Melvin kept glancing up at us. This was going to be harder than I’d thought.

  “Well, you know how I said you could go to the concert with us and—”

  “Yes! And I can’t wait!”

  “Uh … well … um, ­something’s, um, something’s changed.”