I tell Moonie, “Come on! Let’s go!”
He springs off all four feet. We climb the hill. Through the orchard to the crumbledown. I stop in there. Dog follows me in the door. Shayleen pokes her head out of the room that used to be mine. Says, “Nah-uh, Mason. No dog. Not inside.”
There you go. Shayleen is her old self again.
I hear Grandma call out. She says, “The dog is fine.” Her words go well with the smell of a roast chicken dinner that is about pressing out the walls of the house.
I stay just long enough to grab one thing: a tan-sandy shoe. Then I’m back out the door with Moonie. I take him across Swaggertown. Fingers under his collar. Just gentle. Just careful. When it’s safe I let him go. We head up Jonagold Path to be with Calvin.
chapter 61
VISIT WITH CALVIN
Inside the Chumsky house I am welcome. So is Moonie. Margie is not here. The Chumsky parents are both home from their jobs. Both meet me in the front hall by the door. They say they want to be with Calvin. To make a fuss. And cookies. And all of Calvin’s favorite foods. And to help him get well again too. There are no sad-to-see-you faces. They hug me. Both of them do. Me. I think about what Calvin said. Sometimes the Universe gives you what you need. The Chumsky house feels that way today.
I say, “Can I see him?”
They say, “Of course!” And the feeling, it is like a birthday present.
They lead me in and there is Calvin. He is on their couch kind of laid back. Lots of pillows. And I don’t much like seeing that there is a wheelchair too. But he looks like himself. Whole and skinny and with his white kitten hair standing up on his head. Like it should.
He calls, “Mason! Moonie!”
Glad to see us. He pats the cushion beside him and Moonie stands on hind feet. Wagging. He licks Calvin’s ear. Gentle. Almost like he is being careful of him. Then that dog climbs up next to Calvin. Not bouncy. Just calm. He curls in beside him. Chin on Calvin’s hip.
I hand Calvin his tan-sandy shoe. He grins. He says, “Ha! Nice rescue.” He claps the shoe against his palm.
I say, “I am so glad you’re okay. Well, mostly okay.”
He says, “I’m so glad you saved me!”
I say, “You are a lot cleaner than the last time I saw you.” It is a joke. True and funny. Makes Calvin laugh.
Then I tell him, “I’m sorry I was so dumb. I should have given up the root cellar sooner. Then you wouldn’t have been stuck in there all night long. And your leg wouldn’t have gone so dead asleep. Must have been awful being squeezed inside the tube like that.”
Calvin says, “Well. That was the one advantage to banging my head so hard.”
I say, “That concussion?”
He says, “Yeah. I was out cold—a lot of the time. Or, I think. When I did wake up, well, everything was weird inside that tube. Some of it seemed like I was still dreaming. The rest of the time I told myself not to panic. Mind over matter.” Calvin sighs. He says, “I’m not interested in doing it again. Tell you that much.”
I say, “Holy cow! No! Never.”
He says, “By the way, you weren’t stupid, Mason. We had a pact. And you didn’t break it until you had to.”
I whisper to Calvin. I say, “Still. I feel stupid.”
He says, “Mason, I was stupid.”
I say, “No way!”
He fiddles with the shoe. He says, “You might change your mind about that. See, I was foggy when they first pulled me out. But I’ve been remembering parts of what happened.”
“Really? Was it them? Do you know? Did Matt and Lance shove you into that hole?” I stop. I think that is too many questions.
He shakes his head no. He says, “It was me, Mason. I jumped into that shaft.”
I open up my eyes wide. I think this: Calvin disappeared.
Calvin says, “They were on my tail. And here is another stupid thing. I don’t even think I was scared of them. I just wanted to win at the chase. Somehow. And I wanted to get to the root cellar but still keep it a secret. So I had this idea. Like a flash. I thought the shaft could be the fastest way down to the root cellar. Like the laundry chute at your house. Do you know what I mean?”
I say, “Uh . . . yeah . . . guess so. But tell you what. I think I am too big of a kid to think that up. Because I would never fit in there.”
Calvin laughs. He says, “I had to ditch my backpack.”
I say, “We found that! Behind the mousey chair!”
Calvin says, “I must have stashed it there. I don’t remember. But it had to be right after that when I kicked the cap off the hole. I can kind of remember Shayleen’s salad bowl sailing off to one side.”
I say, “We never got that adhesive.”
“Nope. So there it was. An open hole. I knew if I held myself tight and straight—like, arrow-narrow—I could jump and make it down the shaft. But . . .” He holds the tan-sandy shoe up and waggles it. He says, “My toe must have caught on the rim of the tube. Just that one foot. But all the rest of me was heading downward. So . . .”
I say, “Gravity.”
Calvin says, “Exactly. Freak accident. All the EMTs and the doctor said it: You probably couldn’t make it happen twice. Not if you tried. They aren’t even sure how I knocked my head.” Calvin shrugs. He says, “It doesn’t really matter. Except that I’m curious.”
Then I say, “You could have made it all the way down, Calvin. If your foot had not caught you would have.”
He nods. He says, “I really could have. I’m sure of it.”
I think about it. I say, “But then maybe I would have found you on the cellar floor. Like with two broken feet. From the landing.”
Calvin says, “Maybe. Or I could have landed just fine and had the best story to tell.” He stops to grin. Then he says, “Instead I get this bum leg.” Calvin taps on his thigh.
I say, “Does it hurt a lot?”
He says, “Pretty miserable. The worst thing about a dead leg is when it wakes up again. The doctor told us nerves are slow to repair. So I have the wheelchair and a walker. I have to do physical therapy. I’m going to hate that. But they give me medicine. It helps.”
I say, “I’ll help you too. Anything you want. I could carry you! And Calvin. You know what? There is good glory. Because you did win. You ditched them. Matt and Lance. They think you disappeared.”
He smiles. Tilts his head. He says, “Yeah. I guess I did. And victory always has a cost.”
Then I ask him, “Hey, what did you dream? While you were sleeping in that hole?”
Calvin looks like he is trying to remember. He says, “Mostly, I dreamed about being squished. You know how some dreams blend in pieces of real life? And there was something about the belly of a dog. And I think it was Moonie.”
Funny thing. Moonie hears his name. Lifts his head.
Calvin reaches out to pat him. He says, “I dreamed he sailed over the hole. Over my head. Maybe even over the whole entire root cellar hill.”
I like the dream. I say, “Well, he is a mighty dog.”
Calvin and I pat Moonie’s back. His soft round head. And we are quiet for a minute.
But then I have something to tell Calvin. The thing I don’t want to say. But I do. “You know it’s gone now? I mean, the root cellar.”
He says, “I knew it would be.” He says, “Sorry, Mason.”
I say, “It’s okay. We’ll find something else to do.”
chapter 62
MOONIE HOUDINI
I get back to the crumbledown with Moonie and don’t you know it, Grandma has made two chicken dinners. One for us. One to pack up for the Chumskys. She wants me to turn around and take that up there. Moonie sniffs the air. Likes the smell of chicken dinner.
I say, “Hmm. It’s time for Moonie to eat too.”
Grandma nods. She says, “Okay, do that first. But scoot, because we want to deliver this hot.”
So I call Moonie. We run down to the Drinker house. I get him chasing an apple all the way.
Gets us there fast.
At the house I fill his bowl from the bin. Set it down and get out of the way. Tell you what, that dog eats fast. Always has. I get him out back in the fenced part of the yard. Mrs. Drinker says he will relieve himself. I know he will. He’s usually quick about it. But tonight he takes his time.
I think of that hot chicken dinner for the Chumskys. Then I think, this dog does not need me to watch him relieve himself. Might be he’d like to do that on his own.
So I tell him, “I’ll be right back, Moonie boy.” I give him the stay hand. And run back up the hill. My shirt is wet. I can’t be a gross-out dropping off a chicken dinner. So I run upstairs, pull off my shirt, and grab a fresh one. I pop my head through. Just happen to see out my window. Vantage point. Down into the Drinkers’ yard. It’s empty. Except for Moonie. Funny thing. He is trotting in a circle. Then he starts to gallop. He makes one wide run around the yard. He bounds onto the seat of their outdoor couch. Then he sails over the fence like it’s nothing.
I say, “Holy cow!”
I watch that dog. He hits the ground running and he does not stop. He comes at a gallop straight up through the orchard. Smiling jaw. Pink tongue. I run downstairs. Open our door. There he is standing on the plywood. Waiting for me. Marching steps. Wagging tail. And the thin color of raspberry pink all around him. I hug him up. I make a guess: He has escaped like that about a hundred times before.
Now I can tell Matt and his mom how Moonie gets out. It is not me stealing him. He gets out on his own. Pretty much whenever he wants to.
Now I know.
chapter 63
CHICKEN DINNER
When we sit down to our own chicken dinner I ask it straight out. I say, “Can we please call the lieutenant.” I say it right there. To everyone. Even Shayleen.
Uncle Drum says, “Why? You think he won’t come by soon enough?”
Shayleen says, “He will. You know he will.” Then she turns to me. She says, “Are you using those bandanas, Mason? Did you bring one to the table? Got a favorite color? Because I can get you some more. And remember the other items we talked about?” She flicks her fingers under her chin.
But I do not want to talk about bandanas. Or getting new pants. Or the fuzz on my chin.
I say, “I got that writing for him. Something I printed out at school. I want the lieutenant to read that. I don’t want to wait. I know we have his number. He gave that to us way back, right?”
Grandma says, “We have it.”
She does not say more. Then I think maybe I have put a cramp in our chicken dinner. So I tell Grandma how good it is. Juicy. Salty. Perfect. Makes her smile.
Well, it gets quiet. The way it is around our table. I eat my chicken. I think about all the questions I would like to be talking over. Like, can we get down to Bishell’s Hardware and pick up some boards for the porch? Like, are we going to get a dumpster? Or can we haul that mess out of the old root cellar in the back of the truck? I look at Uncle Drum. Picking up a lump of mashed potato with a piece of chicken. He tucks that in his cheek. Looks up and stares off. I think all my questions are not the things Uncle Drum wants to talk about right now. I just have that feeling.
I say, “So hey. Do you all want to know about Calvin?”
Grandma says, “Oh yes!”
Shayleen says, “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Tell.”
Uncle Drum turns to look at me.
I say, “He’s got a leg nerve all waking up. Says it hurts like fire and nettles. But he is tough.” Then I tell about the wheelchair. How I gave his shoe back. And how Calvin got into that hole in the first place. I say, “He wanted to win that chase. And he did. He really did.” I say the part about the cost of victory.
Then I say, “You want to know something amazing about all those Chumskys up there?” I point my fork up toward Jonagold Path.
Shayleen says, “Mason! Watch it!”
I say, “Sorry.” I set down the fork.
Grandma says, “Tell us. What about the Chumskys?”
I say, “After all the bad that happened, they want to come and see.”
Shayleen huffs. She says, “See what?”
I say, “Oh. The root cellar. I mean, what’s left of it. They don’t think bad about us for it. You know what I mean?”
Uncle Drum says, “That’s good of them.”
Grandma says, “It’s nice to know that someone chooses to think the best of you. When they could do just the opposite.”
She makes me think of the lieutenant. Can’t help it.
She sighs. “That whole incident, though, it was a bit of a wake-up call.” She shakes her head. “We need to do better.” I look over at Uncle Drum. I see him nodding a big slow nod. Grandma says, “We need to take a few steps.”
After we clear, after Grandma is done in the kitchen, I ask again. I say, “Can we call him. The lieutenant?”
She reaches into a little basket. Place she keeps loose stuff together. She holds up a card. Number on it. She says, “Do you want to speak to him? Or shall I?”
I bump my thumb on my chest. I pick up the phone. She reads me the number.
I dial. And I do get him. He picks up.
He says, “Mason!” Like he is glad it’s me.
Might be he feels like I do. I like the faraway of his voice. I like this phone between us. Still have to steady up to talk. But I do it.
I say, “Just so you know . . . I put a page into the notebook.”
He says, “Did you now?”
What he tells me is this: He will come. But he is away from Merrimack. A few days of vacation this Columbus Day weekend.
He says, “I will see you, though, Mason. You bet. Be there Tuesday. After school.” Then he says, “And Mason. Thanks so much for the call.”
chapter 64
COLUMBUS DAY WEEKEND
All the rest of Columbus Day weekend I go from the Drinkers’ house to the crumbledown to the Chumskys’ house. I am pretty busy. Caring for Moonie. Doing double checks for laundry. Getting that all up off the bedroom floor and down the chute. I run the vac over the carpet in the living room. Tell you what. Makes paths where I suck up the dirt. We are too now and then about it, is why. Moonie tips his head. Listens to dirt bits going up the hose. And even Shayleen pops out to watch him. Smile on her face. And tell you what. That carpet looks not so bad when I am done.
We go up and see Calvin. He is practicing standing. Putting weight on the fire leg. Drawing circles with his foot. Point and flex. Moonie walks on elbows next to Calvin. He wags when I cheer.
It is all funnier and better with Moonie Drinker to join in. Helps me get my brain off what the lieutenant thinks about me. Off the sad-to-see-you faces. The troubles. And when all of that does come crashing at me, well, it doesn’t seem to crash as hard.
Monday evening comes. Bittersweet, is what it is. I give Moonie his supper. Still a few scoops left in that bin. He gets all relieved outside. Comes right back in when I call him.
I lie down on the family room floor at the Drinkers’ house. The dog comes to me. He bows down on his dog elbows by my side. Puts his head on my chest. He noses up and licks me. Takes care of my sweaty neck. Chin to earlobes. He puts out a warm wet breath. That goes right from his two nose holes straight into my ear. Tickles like crazy! Like being poured full of sunshine and soda bubbles. Makes it clear to my middle.
I think, what else is like this? This good? What in the whole wide world? Nothing!
I hug him up. Pat him over and over again. Stroke, stroke, stroke, Moonie Drinker. My hand fits his smooth head bone. I hold his ear in my fingers. Give it some squishes. Feels nice as a sock just come out of the dryer. I tuck my thumb on the underside and scratch. Moonie tilts his whole head. Goes just about upside down for more. Then he rests his chin. I feel him take swallows against my shoulder.
I say, “You’re a good boy. Best boy.”
I hate to leave him. But his family is coming home. My job is done.
I think this: I had great luck to crash
my sled through the Drinkers’ cellar window. Well, at first it was pretty bad. But it turned pretty good.
I tell Moonie good night before I go back home. I put on National Public Radio for him. Just low. Hope Moonie won’t be lonesome in the empty Drinker house.
chapter 65
SMARTER
I have one of those mixed-up days at school. I mean I guess it goes okay. If you are looking at me from the outside. But what I know is that I miss Calvin. I miss Moonie. And I kind of miss the clean carpeting at the crumbledown all because I made it look better.
But I get a chance to tell Ms. Blinny about Calvin. His recovery. She is glad to hear that he’s doing well. She notices my bandana. Light-blue one today. I tell her it is a gift from Shayleen. Sort of. Then she asks after Shayleen. I think it might be the first time I say it: “She is pretty okay.”
Ms. Blinny says, “Anything else to tell me, Mason?”
I know it means she has an idea about what.
She leans forward. She says, “Did you get to share your Dragon notes? With the lieutenant?” Makes a smile like she cannot wait to know.
I say, “Not yet. Turned out he wasn’t around this weekend. But he’s coming today. I am pins and needles about it. But I want to cooperate. I hope you will be right about him seeing all the truths.”
End of the school day, I get on the bus. Soon as he sees me Matt Drinker calls out from the back. He says, “Nice work, Butt-head. My dog smells. Like your sweat. Like he is coated in it.” I open up my eyes wide. Feel my face go red. I try to cover that with a swipe from the blue bandana.
He says, “My mom has to take him for a bath today. Because of you.”
The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle Page 17
