Marshall didn’t have the fastest bike. Brewster and Benton had both gotten new bikes last Christmas; top-of-the-line sports bikes at that. Marshall’s bike was Mason’s hand-me-down from five years ago.
He leaned into the bike, back parallel with the road and the bike. His hands gripped the bar, unwilling to yield to anything. He was going to get to the bottom of the hill if it was the last thing he did.
He thought about going to Luke’s at four, and dearly hoped he didn’t hurt himself. No one gets road rash that badly from playing out in the front yard, and his parents would know in an instant he’d gone down Devil’s Hill. Benton moved ahead of them. Then Brewster moved ahead. They were moving too fast to pedal. All they could do now was steer and pray they didn’t hit anything or anyone.
Marshall leaned in even more, so that his head was almost below the handlebars. He couldn’t get too low, or he’d lose control of the bars and be tossed off. The wind was in his face, pushing him back and whistling over his ears. He wished he’d had his sunglasses. Bugs smashed into his mouth, his lips. He wiped them off and ignored the smell of fish food.
The end of the hill was near; they were heading into the neighborhood. They had to pass Anna Caplowsky’s house for the race to end. It was at the start of the neighborhood, but far enough away so that most people couldn’t see who it was coming down the hill.
Marshall began to laugh. Brewster leaned in and howled. Benton laughed and looked back at them. But that was his last and biggest mistake. Because when he looked away, it steered his bike away, so that he almost ran into a parked car. He slammed on his brakes so hard, that the sound of squealing rubber and metal grated their ears. Brewster and Marshall didn’t slow down. Benton deserved to lose.
They sailed past Anna’s house, past Jerry’s house, and flew by the cookie cutter homes. Brewster and Marshall were neck and neck—dead even. And just like that, the race was over. Benton, way behind them now, scowled at them and then pedaled to his house.
Marshall waved to Brewster, and that was it. The race was over; nothing more to be said. Marshall was happy. He’d finally tied one of the twins, and not only that, he managed his asthma. He’d never been able to control it before, but this time he had.
He pondered this inspirational event and went inside. Leila was in front of the television watching her Saturday cartoons. Mason was out back mowing the grass, and getting paid too much for it.
It was only ten. What else could he possibly do to make the time go by faster? He wondered what Iris was up to. Maybe they could meet up now, and work on the puzzle later?
He thought about calling Luke’s. She was probably there.
Marshall sat on his bed. He wanted to turn the air on. It was so early, but so hot. After the bike race, he was sticking to his clothes and it made him itchy all over. He thought some more about Iris, and what it was like to keep switching from house to house from year to year with various family members. It had to be confusing, never fully knowing how the day was going to end.
He licked his lips and tried to relax on his bed. He couldn’t. He needed water; something cold to jump in. He could imagine the calm—the refreshing feel. Where could he go if Jerry wasn’t well enough to invite him over to the pool?
“The river,” he said out loud. “Of course.” A few blocks away, and even further down the hill where he lived was a park that led to a fork of the river, the main one that ran through the city; the American River. His parents wouldn’t let him go alone, or swim alone for that matter, but just to touch his toes in the water, or to splash some of it on his skin, would be perfect.
He snapped off of his bed, grabbed his inhaler and headed to his bike. He didn’t dare ask Mason to go with him. He’d probably just say no anyway.
His mom was working in the kitchen, making pancakes for them. It was Leila’s second breakfast. He rolled his eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asked. A dishtowel was draped over her shoulder, and she was flipping the pancakes like she was swatting flies.
“Was going to the river, you know, Fool’s Landing.”
She nodded.
“Where’s Dad?” Marshall asked.
“He’s at the office.”
“Again?”
She didn’t say anything, but kept right on tossing the flapjacks. She piled them onto a plate, and set them on the table.
“Just make sure you don’t go in the water. There’ve been enough drownings reported there this year already. We don’t need anymore.” He figured that was her way of saying to take care of himself.
“’Kay mom.” Marshall grabbed a couple of pancakes and stuffed them into his pocket. His mother looked at him, but said nothing, just a flick of her eyebrows. “I’ll be back before lunch.”
The ride was short and it was getting hotter. That crisp autumn smell from a few minutes ago was gone, and he rode slowly, trying to keep his breathing regular. The heat could make him turn like a top if he wasn’t careful. He patted his shirt pocket. The inhaler was there.
He locked his bike up at a bike rack once there, and walked the rest of the way to the water’s edge. Only a couple of fishermen were there and it was already late. The salmon only bit well in the early morning, or late at night. He wanted to tell them they were wasting their time, but didn’t.
He walked a ways on the rocky shore to where no one was around. The water was tranquil, and soft, and down about two feet from where it was before summer began.
He’d gone fishing for years there with his father and brother. It had been his dad’s favorite spot. But ever since Leila was born, his father didn’t have the time anymore or didn’t want to. Marshall picked up a smooth small stone and tossed it into the water.
Either way, fishing was no longer a part of their activities. “Dumb sister,” he muttered. He pondered at her ability to destroy just about everything good in his life. He threw another stone, and it sunk deep into the water.
Marshall picked up a larger and almost square stone. “This is for the stupid club at school.” He threw it further than the first, and it bounced once and sunk like a dead fish. He watched it fall through the water to where he couldn’t see it anymore.
He picked up another stone. This one was flat, and oblong: a perfect skipping stone. He flung it and snapped his wrist as quick as he could, just like his dad had shown him; quick, sharp, like a whip. “This is for Iris’ stupid cancer, and my lame asthma.”
The stone skipped six times, and sunk. That was the most he’d ever skipped a stone. He smiled. Finally, something good.
A white crane swooped over him and landed at the edge of the water, a matter of ten yards from him. Marshall had picked up another stone and was getting ready to throw it. It was a throw intended for his dad because he couldn’t make it to the river anymore.
But he set it back down when the crane looked at him while his lanky, thin legs chopped up and down in the water.
Marshall took a step toward it. The crane hadn’t even noticed him until then, its white body small but bright like the sun. He wanted to look at it close-up. He walked another step closer, the rocks moving and twisting under his shoes. He didn’t want it to fly away and he didn’t want to twist his ankle, so he had to be careful.
The crane poked his head into the water, grabbing at something; maybe a fish. Maybe at nothing. Marshall couldn’t tell, but he figured it had to be getting breakfast. A cool breeze floated off the water, and Marshall gently cupped his hand, careful not to disturb the bird, and took some water from the river to place onto his face. The water felt great.
Breakfast. He forgot about the pancakes. He slowly reached into his pockets. The pancakes were there—smashed, but still good. He broke one in half, and held it out into his hands, extended just enough to get the bird’s attention.
“Here crane, come here.” The bird faced him, and took a step toward him.
“Come here, it’s okay,” Marshall prodded. After a minute of slow motion walking, the bird’s beak was at Ma
rshall’s hand, and it scooped up the pancake piece, gulping it down in one bite. Marshall took the other half and ate it too.
They split the last one, and the crane sensing breakfast was over, flew away just as it had come in.
And it was quiet once again.
Chapter 7: The River
Marshall was at Luke’s door by four. He made sure to bring the can of spray glue for the puzzles because Iris had asked for it.
Luke’s was packed. There was a huge crowd of people in there, milling, talking, shopping and browsing. He thought it may have had something to do with the giant sign out front that said “End of Summer Sale –Everything 75% off.” But hoped it was also because the place was just plain special.
He fought his way to the front desk, practically having to sit on the junk to let people pass, and saw Luke. His cigarette was at the corner of his mouth, the smoke trailing up to the ceiling like a campfire signal. Despite the no-smoking laws in California, Luke still lit up, and not only was no one bothered by it, but no one seemed to care.
“Hey kid,” Luke said without looking at him. He handed back some cash to a customer. The customer looked happy, like he’d just found gold, and took with him a set of ten speed bikes.
“Mr. Luke, you got quite a sale going on.” Marshall looked behind him. It looked like church was just getting out. People were everywhere, talking to each other, laughing.
“Yeah, I do it every year. Never see this place so packed until this weekend, and then it’s quiet once more when Monday rolls around.”
“That’s always the best time,” Marshall said with a smile.
Luke grinned at him. “Course it is. That’s ‘cause you’re the smartest kid around these parts.”
Marshall looked for Iris and wondered where she was. Why wasn’t she out watching everyone get their treasure? That was half the fun.
“Iris in the back?” Marshall finally asked. He peeked into the glass cabinet and saw the fishing pole staring back at him like it was pirate’s treasure.
“She’s waiting for you.” Luke put down his newspaper and watched Marshall through his reading glasses. “Don’t see how you’re gonna get that pole if you never start it though.”
“Oh, you’ll see. I just got to get her warmed up and everything. We’re probably going to start that puzzle Monday.”
Luke just grunted and took a drag off his cigarette. Another customer bought a bag full of doorknobs, and it was them two once again, staring at the crowd.
“So Iris was sick?” Marshall didn’t want to look at Luke. He didn’t know if Iris even wanted Luke to know that he knew. The comment sort of slipped out.
“Oh, she told you? She hasn’t told anyone other than me, here in town.” He finished his cigarette, and a little girl bought a set of old coloring books. Marshall wanted to get back to Iris, to tell her he was here, but he had to know something else.
“Guess she trusts you,” Luke finished.
“I was just wondering,” Marshall said slowly, “Is she … um … is she really over it?” His heart was pounding hard, as if it was going to burst from his chest. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know the answer to that. He just wanted reassurance—to know that his friend was better.
His voice was raspy, and he could feel his chest restricting. Probably just the smoke affecting him, even though it hadn’t done that before. But he felt his pocket anyway, fingering the device through his shorts.
“She’s fine as much as I can tell.” Luke ran a hand through his brownish-gray, shaggy hair and crossed his arms. “Her aunt is in a nursing home, and can’t talk so well, so I’ve been communicating some with her doctor. Iris seems to be cancer-free, but she goes in for a checkup next week.”
Marshall put a hand in his pocket. The cool plastic and metal felt good in the palm of his hand. It felt comfortable. He could breathe. Everything was going to be fine. “The doctor’s visit, is that a bad thing?”
“No, just routine. She had her last bone marrow treatment six months ago. They just want to make sure the cancer is still gone.” Someone bought another set of two bikes.
Marshall suddenly had to get back to the room. Iris would wonder where he was. They had to get the puzzle done. Marshall watched more people walk through the door and thought again about the bikes that people were buying left and right. Marshall began walking away and said, “I’ll be in the back.”
Iris was on the floor on her elbows, putting together the perimeter of the thousand-piece puzzle.
“Hey,” he said with a smile. “What are you doing? And without me?”
She looked up at him. Her hair bobbed around, framing her face like a picture; a picture of perfection. “This is all for practice right?”
Marshall nodded and sat down next to her. The puzzle was the picture of two black stallions galloping along a green pasture. Their manes were flying from the speed, and the black on black made for one heck of a puzzle to put together. “You already got almost the whole perimeter,” Marshall observed.
“Uh huh, and look,” Iris pointed to behind them at a different corner of the wall. “I did the other five hundred piece one.”
Marshall opened his eyes wide. “You did?” He got up and looked at it. It was a scene of four kittens sitting in a basket, grey, white black and orange, all looking furry and sweet. Not his type of picture, but definitely Iris’ type.
“You were supposed to wait for me, you know,” he said, even though he wasn’t in the least bit angry. “We were supposed to do them together.”
“Well, I was here early with the sale and needed something to do.”
“So you started this one today?” he asked, turning toward her with one eye squinted.
“This morning, actually.”
“That’s fast for a beginner.”
She smiled. “I learn from the best.”
They spent the next two hours filling in almost half of the stallion picture. But after a while, all the colors looked the same, and they couldn’t tell which ones went which way, or were upside down, or were right side up. They decided to take a break.
Iris took two orange sodas out of the mini fridge. She popped them open and peeked out into the room. The store was closing, but a few stragglers were still there looking in bins, overturning boxes, asking questions.
“Think your uncle wishes they would just go home?” Marshall asked after gulping down most of his drink. He’d forgotten all about his thirst during the puzzle.
“Nah, he loves people in here. I think he has the sale just to get this place full. Although, I’m sure he could use the money.”
“Is there a problem with his money?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think so. But, since I’m living with him now, and I don’t think there’s any chance of my aunt taking me back, I sort of worry about him.”
Marshall watched her face. Her eyes were moist again.
“You okay?”
She shrugged again. “I’m just worried about him,” she whispered. “You see how he is with his cigarettes. He smokes like three packs a day. That right there is a small fortune. And …” she didn’t finish her sentence, but Marshall knew exactly what she was going to say next.
“If he’s not around, what will you do?”
She nodded and bit her lip. She was worried about it. Marshall could sense this, and he put his arm around her shoulder.
“Hey, don’t worry. You just can’t. Look,” and he brought out his inhaler. “You aren’t going to believe what happened this morning.” Marshall went on to explain the whole race down Devil’s Hill and how he finally tied Brewster this time. He talked about his asthma, explaining what he felt as he went up the hill.
“But, after what you said about my breathing, and trying to control it,” he looked at her with a grin, “I tried it Iris, and it worked!”
Iris’ teary eyes welled down and became wide with a happy glow.
“You totally made it work for me. I can live with my asthma, and no one re
ally has to know about it … not anymore.”
“Wow, and without even the hydrochloric acid either,” she smirked.
Marshall defended himself. “I’m not saying I won’t need that, but I know what to do if my inhaler runs out.”
The store finally emptied and Luke was at his register with his feet up on the counter and a new cigarette hanging from between his lips. Iris and Marshall finished the stallion puzzle. He brought out the glue and began shaking it.
“Okay, so here,” and he flung her sweater at her. “Cover your mouth and nose.” He didn’t wonder why she needed a sweater in the summer. She was thin and weak and still recovering. She had to be cold with as much as Luke ran the air conditioning.
“What about you?” she muffled out, her eyes peering over the sweater. Marshall looked around the room and spotted a towel sitting on the counter next to the sink. He put it up to his mouth and they backed up.
They sprayed all three puzzles and the room filled with an odor that even the cloth around their faces couldn’t keep from them.
They left the room coughing, only to come into contact with Luke’s hazy screen of smoke hitting their noses. The entire store was hazardous to their health now.
“Back here.” Iris pointed to a door that led to the alley and they fell out of it, leaving Luke to wonder what just happened.
“Ugh, I think I’m going to barf,” said Marshall.
“I thought you’d done this before,” Iris demanded breathing deep the tepid air. A new pile of items sat next to them, mounds of clothes and shoes, and baby toys.
“I have done this before, only it was one picture and I did it outside.”
“Now you tell me. What, were we just supposed to survive on the oxygen in my sweater?”
Marshall rolled his eyes, and refocused them on the pile of junk. He thought about the bikes again.
“Are you going home?” he asked his back still toward her.
“Yeah, we’ll probably pick up some fast food or something. Uncle’s a real smarty when it comes to health.”
The Puzzle Master Page 7
