The Five Pearls

by Barry James Hickey

  Amber closed the door and ran for her life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  It was late in the afternoon at Shooks Run. The three boys sipped from the liquor bottles, pretending to watch a program on the stolen dead television.

  Matt sifted through his bag. “Got me some jewelry!” He held up a ring and read an inscription on the inside of the band. “For my one and only.” He pulled out an old pocket watch and read the inscription on the back. “As we pass through life...”

  Nearby, Marie sipped from a wine bottle and danced around, wearing one of her new hats and scarves.

  Amber leaned against the old tree. She pried open the shoebox. She picked up one of the diaries and was about to open it

  “What you got there?” Julio asked.

  She quickly closed the box and hurried away from them up the hill towards the bridge.

  “What did you steal?” Julio called out.

  “A pair of shoes,” she said.

  “A pair of shoes? What’s with chicks anyway?” Matt laughed. “Hats and scarves for Marie and a pair of shoes for Amber. Chicks are so stupid. Ha!”

  “Don’t leave now, Amber!” said Toby. “Scooby Doo's about to start on Nickelodeon!”

  Amber stared down at them. They were all drunk. Drunk and stupid. The Tadpoles were back to their usual juvenile antics. She shook her head.

  “You children make me sick!” she scolded.

  “What did I do?” Matt asked with a stupid grin.

  “That bag of stuff you stole? That's somebody else’s life!”

  “Mine now.”

  “You didn’t just steal rings and watches. You stole someone else's memories!”

  Matt put the jewelry back in the bag and tucked it between his legs. He felt like a jerk.

  “Have you no shame?” she asked them all. “Does anyone here feel shame for what we've done? We loved him and he loved us and this is how we pay him back? This is how we relive his memory? We rob his house?”

  “Dude’s dead,” Julio pointed out.

  “Just like your mother, Julio! Would you do this to her? How would you feel if a bunch of teenage trash broke into your home and robbed it?”

  “My old man would shoot them.”

  “My old man would shoot them,” she mimicked with a silly voice. “You’re all weak. You’ll all be losers until the day you die. Mr. Battle was wrong about you. You’re nothing but garbage. Garbage in, garbage out.”

  Julio took an angry step towards her, slipped in the muddy snow and fell on his face.

  “And you’re the worst of us, Julio. You have no heart, no soul.”

  “Get lost before I make you disappear,” he said from his knees, a fist raised.

  “Go ahead, fat boy. Talk your big man talk, but inside? You’re just a lost little kid.”

  “Get out of here, zero,” Julio shouted.

  “With pleasure.”

  After Amber left, the rest of the little gang sat around Julio’s box of liquor. Matt pulled out a bottle of champagne.

  “Dom perig nom camp ane!” He popped open the bottle and sprayed his friends with foam.

  “Not on the television!” Toby cried.

  Julio kicked at the television screen and smashed it in. “We got nothin’ but junk,” he complained. “Who taught you people how to steal?”

  The remaining Tadpoles dropped on the log in a buzzed bliss.

  Toby raised a bottle of brandy.

  “A toast… to Mr. B… Wherever he is.”

  No one else committed to the toast. Everyone just sat there in silence, thinking of what they had done that day, secretly regretting their misguided transgressions and the pillaging of the home of a man they considered a friend.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  When Amber arrived home, she hurried towards her bedroom past Miss Feely, the shoebox tucked firmly under her arm.

  “How’s the baby?” Miss Feely followed her down the hallway.

  “How should I know?” Amber snapped as she flung open the bedroom door. “I can't see inside myself!”

  “I almost forgot. Your school called.”

  “Of course they called!” Amber sounded snotty. “They want to congratulate me on having a dead teacher!” She broke into tears and tossed herself on the bed.

  “What are you talking about?’ Miss Feely asked.

  “Don’t you read the newspaper?” Amber cried. “Mr. Battle died. The paper says it was a hiking accident.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t bring him back!”

  Amber tore open the shoebox and spilled the letters and diaries on the bed.

  “What are those?”

  “I don’t know, but I want to know. Help me, Miss Feely. Please help me make the sorrow and anger go away!”

  Miss Feely sat on the bed and held Amber in her arms. “Calm down, child. Slow it down.”

  Amber picked up a letter. “I can’t read these alone. Will you help me, Miss Feely?”

  “Sure,” said the counselor. “Where did you get these letters?”

  “I stole them. I wish I didn’t but I did. So there.”

  Miss Feely rose and shut the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

  It seemed like hours had passed. Miss Feely sat on the floor at the foot of the bed with Amber, sharing a box of tissues as they finished reading the last letter from the box.

  “You liked him, didn't you?”

  “More than anyone can ever know.” Amber blew her nose for the hundredth time.

  “Sometimes, strangers enter our lives for no apparent reason only to change us here…” She touched Amber’s heart with her hand. “Change us forever, maybe.”

  Amber grasped at a handful of opened letters. “He was a good man, Miss Feely. With a terrible secret that he kept inside. And like a fool, I said ‘wait until the New Year’. I feel so sorry for him. He tried telling me so many times. He came here to fix things before he died but there was no time! Why would God do this to him? Now he’s gone.”

  “Don't let him leave,” Feely said. She piled wet tissues together from the floor. “You should find a way in your heart to keep his spirit alive.”

  Amber gathered the letters and wrapped them together with the rubber band. “Mind if I read these again? On my own this time?”

  “Sure,” said Miss Feely. She rose from the bed and put the tissues in a trashcan. “I’ll keep a plate of spaghetti on the stove for you.”

  “Thanks, Miss Feely.”

  The woman bent over and kissed her on the head. “You’ll get through this, Baby B. You’ll see.”

  “Thank you, Miss Feely.”

  Miss Feely opened the door, about to leave.

  “Miss Feely?”

  “Yes?”

  “For what it's worth? I’m ready to grow up now.”

  “You’re already grown, Baby Beulah. You just don’t see it yet. As for those letters and diaries? Think of them as new pearls. They’ve revealed your past, and I hope, offer you a new hope for the future. What do you think?”

  “For the first time in my life, I think I’m blessed,” Amber smiled, pressing the private papers to her breast.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The next day, Amber woke up early in the morning and hurried to Shooks Run. She angrily shook her head when she saw the stolen, broken television dumped in the creek ice. The picture tube had a small boulder through it. It took her nearly an hour to find the bag that Matt had stolen and hid. She found it tucked behind one of the bracings under the bridge. It was still heavy with heirlooms. She grabbed it up and ran away from the place.

  Thirty minutes later, Amber stood on the front porch of Loomis House and rang the doorbell.

  When Mrs. Powell answered, the old woman’s jaw dropped with surprise. “Yes?”

  “I stole these from you,” Amber said.

  The old woman took the bag and looked inside it, then she studied the girl’s face. “You must be Amber.”

  “How did
you know my name?”

  “Your teacher. He spoke very highly of you.”

  “He did?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “After what we did yesterday, he’d be disgusted with me.”

  “But you’re here now,” the old woman spoke patiently.

  Amber pulled out the stolen photographs of Mr. Battle and offered them to the old woman. “I took these off your refrigerator.”

  Mrs. Powell touched the photos but didn’t take them. “Keep them,” she said. “They belong to you, anyway.”

  “What do we do now? Call the police?”

  “Over broken glass and an ancient television?” Mrs. Powell smiled. “I don't think so.” She rattled the bag of heirlooms. “I'm glad to have these back. They did mean so much once. Please, come in.” She held the door open for the little girl. “We have many things to discuss.”

  She led Amber into the warm bright kitchen and prepared a pot of tea.

  “You knew his secret?’ Amber asked, standing at the counter.

  “Not all of it,” Mrs. Powell said. “But most.” She pulled some letters from a drawer, the ones she promised to attend to. “Your father left some unfinished business for me and you. Are you up to the challenge?”

  “Is it about my baby?”

  “It’s about your baby, you, today and tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Powell excused herself and returned a short time later with a briefcase. She set it on the table in front of the girl. “I found it under John’s bed after you and your friends left,” she said. “It belongs to you.”

  Amber stared at the briefcase. “What’s in it?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  “Is it good or bad?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  A lost, empty week drifted by. The three Tadpole boys stood under the footbridge working a dying lighter on half a cigarette that wouldn’t light. Even with a bright sun above, the bitter cold of a January wind had set in.

  No one had seen or heard from Amber.

  “Must be fifty below with the wind chill,” Matt said. Julio bounced up and down, his hands stuffed in his pants.

  “I gotta get me some long johns.” Toby took the cigarette between his fingers and was about to flick it across the creek when something caught his eye. “What’s that?” he asked.

  The others looked where he pointed.

  “Something shiny sticking out of the ground,” Matt said. Matt and Toby stepped across the frozen creek ice and

  worked their way through the thick brush. A silver-handled spade was sticking in the ground with a note attached. DIG HERE

  The boys look around the woods cautiously.

  “Somebody playing a joke on us?” Matt wondered.

  “Probably that creepy kid that rides the bicycle.”

  They looked at the shovel again.

  “Okay,” said Toby. “I'll bite.”

  He set his foot on the spade and dug into the hard ground, pulling up several chunks of earth before the shovel clanged against something metallic. After a few more turns of earth, Matt dropped down to his knees and scooped out an old ammunition box.

  “We hit something!” he called across the creek to Julio.

  “Bring it over,” Julio ordered.

  Matt and Toby traversed the creek with the box and set it on the old log.

  “You guys gonna open it or just pet it?” Julio asked.

  “Hell, man,” said Toby. “What if it's from somebody who don't like us? Might be a bomb in there.”

  “Nobody hates us that much to go to the trouble,” Matt told him.

  “I got lots of enemies I don't talk about.” Julio tried to sound important.

  “Yeah, Julio? Well, I don't have any.”

  Matt opened the box. Inside was a single letter. He read the writing on the envelope.

  “Confidential - Five Pearls.”

  “Open it,” Julio said.

  “The letter says ‘five’.”

  Julio tried to snatch the letter away, but Matt slipped it down his pants. “Let’s get the girls,” Matt said.

  “We haven’t seen Amber all week.”

  “She’ll come if I call,” Toby said.

  Julio shook his head and picked up the spade. “Can I keep this?”

  “What for?”

  “I forgot to buy my old man a Christmas present.”

  The boys walked a mile to a local teen hangout called the Boulder Street Café and called the girls from there with money they begged off a few passers-by on the street. When Toby told Amber and Marie about the mysterious letter, both girls agreed to meet them.

  “I thought you quit on us,” Julio barked at Amber when she arrived.

  “Maybe I did,” she said.

  They all sat at a booth in the corner of the coffee cafe, the sealed envelope between them.

  “It’s Mr. Battle's handwriting,” Amber declared. “Think so?” Marie said.

  “Who wants to open it?” Amber asked.

  “I guess I will,” said Matt. “Since I’m the only one who knows how to read.”

  Julio socked him in the arm. “Just read it, fool.”

  Matt opened the envelope. “It’s a letter from a bank with all of our names on it.”

  “Read it,” everyone complained with excited humor.

  Matt cleared his throat. “’This is to inform you that five trust accounts have been established in each of your names at our downtown branch. Five thousand dollars has been placed in each account separately for each individual with the stipulation that said five thousand dollars shall be paid any individual who can provide proof of passing a legitimate and certified General Education Diploma test no later than April fifth.’” Matt kept reading aloud. “’For verification of funds, please contact Mr. Petrie, branch manager.’”

  The kids stared at each other in amazement.

  Suddenly, Julio broke into a crazy laugh. “Mr. Battle's trying to bribe us from the grave!”

  “Five thousand bucks!” Toby swooned.

  “We get paid to learn?” Matt tried grasping the situation.

  “With a deadline,” reminded Marie.

  “Five thousand bucks!” said Amber. “Think of it!”

  “I could buy a car,” said Matt.

  “I can move to California,” said Marie.

  “I can buy me a liquor store,” said Julio.

  Amber snatched the letter from Matt and rose from the table. “I’m going to the bank. Anybody else?”

  “Hell, yes!” said Matt, Marie and Toby.

  Julio sat in the booth, his arms folded reluctantly. “You know what this means? It means we gotta study.”

  “So what?” said Amber. “Get off your fat ass and let’s go.”

  He forced himself out of the booth, shoved his hands in his pockets and followed them to the bank just down the street.

  “Who wants to go in?” Toby asked.

  “I’ll go,” Amber said.

  “Why you?” asked Julio.

  “Because I know how to conduct myself in the presence of

  an adult. Besides, it’s just a bank.” The other Tadpoles stood by the plate glass window and watched Amber as she made her way to a reception desk and asked for the bank manager. The receptionist led her across the lobby to a bald man wearing glasses. He sat right by the window where Amber’s friends waited.

  “That’s him. Mr. Petrie,” Matt said.

  “How do you know?” Julio asked.

  “I can see his nameplate on his desk.”

  Amber showed Mr. Petrie the letter. He looked at it and

  smiled and offered her a seat. She pulled up a chair and they talked for a couple of minutes. She pointed to her friends outside. He waved at them and gestured to the letter followed by two thumbs up.

  Amber took the letter and returned outside. “It’s legit,” she told her friends.

  “Yahoo!” Matt cried, jumping up and down with joy. “I’m rich! I’m
rich!”

  “What are you so happy about?” Julio shook his head. “You still have to pass the test.”

  “Oh yeah,” Matt said. “I forgot about the test!”

  The Tadpoles marched back to Shooks Run and sat on the log.

  “We need a game plan,” Amber said. “Any ideas?”

  “Let’s talk to other guys who passed the GED. You know, see how they did it.”

  “I can tell you how they did it. They studied,” Julio said bluntly. “They actually studied.”

  “We can try,” said Marie.

  “With your IQ? Ha!”

  Marie kicked Julio in the leg. “I’m brighter than you!”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  “Come on, you two. Knock it off and think!” Toby said.

  “What’s to think about?”

  Julio picked up a rock and tossed it at the frozen stream. The rock chattered along, hit a tree, slid across the creek and stopped.

  “We go see Wirtzy,” Matt demanded. “See what needs to be done.”

  “He’ll probably have us all arrested,” Julio said.

  “Arrested for what?” Amber asked. “You are so paranoid.”

  Two days later, the Tadpoles met up in front of the high school and marched into the office of their nemesis – Mr. Wirtz.

  “Terrible business, this Mr. Battle thing. Terrible,” he said grimly. “But life goes on for the living. I have to ask - did any of you learn anything from him you can use towards earning credits for graduation?”

  “The truth is, we don’t have the time, the credits or the discipline to graduate,” Amber admitted.

  “At last! The light bulb comes on in your little brains!”

  “We’ve decided to study for the GED instead,” Toby said.

  “The General Education Diploma? You five? Ha! You're kidding me, right?”

  “Do we look like we’re kidding?” Julio stood up and towered over the man.

  “Look, I don't want to sound facetious or cruel, but let’s be realistic. None of you will pass!”

  “How do you know that, Mr. Wirtz?” Matt asked. “You don’t know what we can or can’t do.”

  “Is that a fact, Mr. Golden?”

  “Look, Wirtzy,” Julio said. “Are you going to help us or not?”