24 Hours in Nowhere

by Dusti Bowling

  Rossi walked ahead of us with the lantern. “Hey, Rossi.” Matthew stepped up beside her, nearly going down as he stumbled over a loose rock. I narrowed my eyes at him, but they didn’t notice.

  “Hey, Rossi,” Matthew said again as he regained his balance. “How do you ride like that?”

  “Oh, now you want riding tips,” I said.

  Matthew turned and shot me an evil look. “Be quiet, Gus.” He turned back to Rossi.

  “Like what?” she said.

  “Like, you know, how you ride. Like almost as good as Bo.”

  “Almost as good?” Rossi said. “Oh yeah, you’re usually too far behind to see us.” Matthew let out an exasperated sound, but Rossi smiled at him. “I don’t know, Matthew. I just ride. I don’t really think about it. Riding is like breathing. If you think too much, you crash.”

  “No one would ever accuse Matthew of thinking too much,” Jessie said, walking beside me. We ducked under a few particularly long stalactites.

  Matthew ignored him. “Well, how’d you learn?”

  “My dad taught me.”

  “Oh. Do you think he would be willing to teach me?”

  “No.”

  Jessie and I grinned at each other as Matthew dropped his head. “Don’t even take time to think about it or anything,” he mumbled.

  “He doesn’t have time for stuff like that,” she said.

  Matthew walked quietly, his head still hung.

  “The silt,” Rossi finally said.

  “Huh?” Matthew raised his head back up. “What about it?”

  “You always eat it in the silt,” Jessie said, grunting as we climbed over a boulder. “My favorite part of every race.”

  “You slow down when you hit it,” she said. “If you hit it, you need to ride through as fast as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s like water. If you wanted to glide over water, you wouldn’t slow down. You’d sink.”

  “Huh.” Matthew seemed to think this over. “But you never ride in the silt.”

  “Not if I don’t have to.”

  “I’ve never seen Rossi eat it in the silt,” Jessie said. “Maybe she knows what she’s talking about.”

  “But how can you be sure there aren’t any ruts or rocks under the powder?” Matthew asked.

  “You can’t be.”

  “Oh.”

  “And the whoops,” Rossi said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Again, go fast so you glide over the tops as much as possible. Going slow slows you down.”

  “I guess I’m just being careful,” Matthew said.

  “Being careful doesn’t win races.”

  “Isn’t that a little scary?”

  “What’s there to be scared of?”

  Matthew shrugged. “Having a bad crash.”

  “I don’t crash,” she said. “And there’s no time for scared. Save scared for afterward.”

  Matthew was quiet for a moment. “Anything else? Like any other tips?”

  I rolled my eyes as their conversation continued. “Rossi shouldn’t be giving that jerk tips,” Jessie whispered to me. “I like watching him lose.”

  I nodded. “I don’t know why she’s being so nice to him. He’s never been nice to her. He was there laughing when Bo took her bike.”

  “Yeah, she’s too nice,” Jessie complained. “She should be giving him fake tips to make him crash.” We quietly snickered together. “Maybe that’s what she’s doing,” he said. “Don’t think, don’t be careful, go as fast as possible. Sounds like terrible advice.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not. That’s exactly how she rides.”

  “Whoa.” Jessie threw an arm out across my chest—there was a large rock right in front of my feet. I had gotten complacent and hadn’t been watching my steps well enough.

  “Thanks, brother,” I said before I realized it. I hadn’t called Jessie brother since he started sitting at Ramiro’s table. I felt embarrassed about it, too, like I didn’t have the right to call him that anymore.

  “You’re welcome, brother.” Jessie patted me on the back, and we stepped over the rock, careful not to get too far behind Rossi and lose the light. “So how come you ditched me last year?”

  He had made it sound like a casual question, but I could tell from his expression he didn’t feel casual about it at all. “Are you serious? You totally ditched me.”

  Jessie shook his head. “Nuh-uh. One day you just decided to sit with Louis instead of us. And then every day after that.”

  I huffed. “Yeah, well, would you want to sit at a table where you can’t understand a word anyone is saying and they’re always making fun of you?”

  Jessie frowned. “Who was making fun of you?”

  “All of you,” I snapped. I was mortified to realize I was on the verge of tears. I tried to regain my composure. “Always pointing at me and laughing and saying my name.” My lower lip quivered. Just a little. I bit it.

  “Dude! That’s because I was always telling them funny stories about stuff you’ve pulled. Like when you smeared peanut butter on Bo’s bike seat and he looked like he pooped his pants all day. They hate that guy. They thought it was hilarious. And when you put one of your grandma’s diapers on Matthew’s handlebars and everyone called him Diaper Dude for like a year after that.” Jessie cracked up in his funny, heaving way. It made me smile. Then I shushed him and glanced nervously at Matthew ahead of us, but he was focused on the riding tips Rossi was giving him.

  “Anyway,” Jessie said, “no one has ever made fun of you. Those guys think you’re funny. They even asked me once why you weren’t sitting with us anymore.”

  “Well, maybe because I can’t understand anything you guys say. You totally abandoned me for them.”

  Jessie winced like I had physically hurt him. “I didn’t abandon you, Gus. I’m not like him.”

  “I know you’re not like him,” I said. “I just thought things were good the way they were.”

  “Good?” Jessie said, his mouth agape. “I didn’t think it was so good watching you get tortured every day. You know, strength in numbers, Gus. It can’t always be just the two of us. Plus, I like those guys. They’re nice and they don’t let Bo bully them or me. Or you, when you were still hanging out with us.”

  I swallowed, blinking back my tears. “I’m glad you’ve made new friends,” I managed to say without my voice cracking.

  “I still have room for old friends. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

  I sniffled and rubbed my nose. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

  Jessie threw his head back and groaned. “Isn’t this just the worst day of your life?”

  Matthew stopped and turned around. “Are you serious?”

  Jessie faced him. “Yeah. I am.”

  Matthew shook his head. “Well, lucky you.”

  “Oh, you’ve had worse days than this?” Jessie said. “Worse than getting buried in a collapsed mine? Worse than getting trapped in a cave with no hope for escape? Worse than getting viciously attacked by millions of rabid vampire bats?”

  hyperbole: extravagant exaggeration

  “Just about a thousand times worse,” Matthew said. “Not like you care, though.”

  “You’re right.” Jessie crossed his arms. “I don’t.”

  Matthew shook his head and turned around. After a few steps, he was gone.

  Disappeared.

  Like magic.

  The three of us ran to where Matthew had vanished.

  crevice: a narrow opening made by splitting, particularly in rock or earth

  I would have fallen into the large crack in the ground myself if Jessie hadn’t pulled me back.

  Rossi held the lantern over the opening. Matthew was wedged between two rock walls just a few feet below us. All I could see below him was blackness. “Are you okay, Matthew?” Rossi asked.

  Matthew looked up at us through the narrow crevice, his face strained. “I can’t move.” I turned the flashlight on and
shined it into the blackness—there was another ground, covered in jagged rocks, below him. Far below him. Rossi and I looked at each other. She barely shook her head. I flipped off the flashlight and didn’t tell Matthew what we’d seen.

  “Can you try to pull yourself up?” Rossi asked.

  “With what? There’s nothing to grip.”

  “Can you reach your arms up?” she said.

  Matthew slowly raised his arms over his head. “It’s just my stomach that’s stuck.”

  Rossi looked at Jessie. “Maybe you can lie down and reach him.”

  Jessie lay on the ground and reached into the crevice. He and Matthew gripped hands. Jessie grunted and huffed as he tried to pull him up. Matthew’s face contorted in pain. “I can’t move him,” Jessie said.

  Rossi looked at me. “Gus, you lie down and grab his other hand.”

  I lay down on the ground and . . . really?

  mortification: great embarrassment or shame

  “Gus can’t reach me.” Matthew strained to grab my hands, which were about an inch from his. “His arms are too short.”

  Rossi set the lantern down and lay on her stomach. She reached Matthew’s other hand. She and Jessie pulled and pulled, but Matthew wouldn’t budge. They finally let go and sat at the edge of the crevice. “What do you have in your backpack?” Rossi asked me.

  I shrugged. “Just my jar of water, Twinkies, and a couple of bologna sandwiches.”

  Rossi looked down at Matthew. “Take out the bologna sandwiches.”

  “What are you going to do with them?” I asked her.

  She raised her eyebrows. “We’re going to eat them. We all need strength.”

  I took them out and gave everyone a half. “I don’t think I can eat that,” Matthew said. “I can barely breathe, much less eat.” I saved his half to give him later. I hoped there was a later.

  When we were done eating, Rossi pulled her knees up to her chest and folded her hands in front of her face. I took out my pocket watch and checked the time—already after two. I slammed it shut. “Maybe we should shut the lantern off if we’re just going to sit here,” I said. “Save the batteries.”

  Rossi turned the lantern off, and then we were in complete darkness like I had never known. None of us spoke. That buzzing started in my ears until our breathing got heavy enough to drown it out. Rossi flipped the lantern back on.

  “That was a fun experiment,” said Jessie.

  “You guys should just move on,” said Matthew.

  “No,” Rossi said. “We’re not leaving you here in the dark like this. Just . . . give me a moment.” She pulled her hair out of its frazzled ponytail, slipped the rubber band around her wrist, and pushed her long dark hair back from her face.

  Jessie let out a big dramatic sigh. As much as he disliked Matthew, I knew he agreed with Rossi. “This winning for worst day yet?” he said.

  Matthew shook his head. “Nope.”

  Jessie scoffed. “What could be so much worse than getting stuck in a big crack in the ground in a cave with no hope of getting out? Not to mention not finding any gold. No race for either you or Rossi. Bo is totally going to win. No one here is getting a new dirt bike, and no one is going to Breaker Bradley’s. All of this was for nothing!” Jessie’s voice had raised to a near screech, and the word nothing echoed off the cave walls all around us.

  Matthew took a labored breath. The rock must have been pushing into his diaphragm. “Valentine’s Day. Second grade.”

  “Really?” I said. “I remember you got made fun of for giving out those cards, but really?”

  “I stole those cards,” Matthew said. “I stole them from the Nowhere Market and Ostrich Farm. We couldn’t afford them, and I wanted to have cards to give out, since I’d never gotten to before. Not like it mattered anyway. I just got made fun of.”

  “There are worse things than getting made fun of for giving out stupid Valentine’s cards,” Jessie said.

  I could only see the top of Matthew’s dirty hair as he said, “My mom found out I had stolen the cards, and when I got home that day . . . When I got home, she beat me so badly with a belt I could barely walk for two days. She screamed at me that it was bad enough she was burdened with me when my dad skipped out on her. It was the worst she had ever beaten me.”

  I stared down at him. “The worst?”

  Matthew shrugged. “I’m used to it now.”

  We were all quiet as Matthew took a deep breath and wiped at his cheeks.

  Finally, I said, “Why do you hang out with Bo?”

  Matthew took another loud breath like the air simply wouldn’t fill his lungs. “I couldn’t take it at home and at school.” He wiped at his cheek again. “I just couldn’t.” I looked at Jessie, but he turned away from me. “There are worse things than being stuck in this cave. And there are definitely worse things than not going to Breaker Bradley’s. That sort of thing is just a pipe dream for people like us anyway.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “Rossi could’ve gone. She would have won if it hadn’t been for me.” I looked at her, but she didn’t even seem to hear me.

  “You mean if it hadn’t been for Bo,” Jessie said. “Stop blaming yourself for what that jerk did.”

  “You know, Bo’s not that bad,” Matthew said. “Maybe he wouldn’t be like he is if his dad hadn’t been so terrible. That was the nastiest man I’ve ever known in my life.”

  “We all make our own choices,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Jessie said. “None of us have had rainbows and unicorns for our lives.”

  Jessie’s life was the closest to rainbows and unicorns of anyone I knew. But I guess that was saying a lot, too. There was no money left for any extras in Jessie’s life, including a new dirt bike. And yet, I was somehow jealous of what he had.

  “Anyway, I’m just saying,” Matthew said, “Bo’s had it bad. Real bad. The worst I’ve ever seen. I mean, his dad’s in prison for killing his mom. Don’t forget that. And Jack’s pretty good with his fists, too.”

  I didn’t want to feel sorry for Bo, and it made me annoyed with Matthew for making it happen.

  “It’s your turn now,” Matthew said to me.

  “My turn what?”

  “Your worst day. I need something to distract me,” Matthew took a deep breath, “from the pain.”

  I looked at Rossi, but she seemed lost in her own head. I thumbed through my mind’s catalogue of bad days: today (or yesterday, I guess) when Bo stuck my face in a cactus, last week when Bo threw a scorpion on my head, last year when Grandma called me in sick at school and told them I had “the trots.” And about a thousand more days just like those.

  Or should I tell them the real worst day? I’d tried for years to never think about it. To never think about him. I had nearly succeeded in completely blocking those memories out. But now it was all I could think about.

  “My mom took off when I was a toddler,” I said. “I don’t remember the day she left.”

  “Doesn’t count,” Matthew said.

  “I know. It was just me and my dad until I was six. We lived in Reno. It was tough, you know, trying to work and take care of a kid on your own. He wasn’t a bad dad or anything. I think he did the best he could. He didn’t make a lot of money as a glazier.”

  “What’s that?” Matthew asked.

  “They work with glass—like glass windows and doors. Anyway, we ate a lot of canned food and I slept on the couch in the living room. He usually wasn’t there when I got home from school, so I would watch TV until dinnertime. He’d get home and open a can of chili or something and we’d watch more TV together until he told me to go to sleep. That was pretty much my life. I thought it was a good life actually.”

  “Doesn’t sound too bad,” Matthew said from below us. “You could watch as much TV as you wanted.”

  “One morning he woke me up early when it was still dark and told me he had a surprise. We drove for several hours. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the sign for Disneyland. I thou
ght I was dreaming.”

  Rossi was still sitting in that same exact position, legs crossed, hands clasped in front of her face. She stared at nothing.

  “What was it like?” Matthew asked, as he had when we first entered the cave.

  “It was everything you think. I can barely even describe it.”

  “Try,” Matthew said.

  “Well, when we first walked in there was a big train station and a street that was like . . . the opposite of Nowhere.” I didn’t need to explain further—they understood. “And there are different lands with all different rides.” I tried to remember the names. “Space Mountain, Splash Mountain, Thunder Mountain.”

  “What kind of food do they have?” Matthew asked.

  “My dad bought us the best corn dogs ever. And cotton candy, too. I always remember the cotton candy cost so much money, but he said it was my special day. I guess I was too young to think about the cost of the day too much, but I know it was a lot.”

  “Did you go on Pirates of the Caribbean?” Matthew asked.

  My stomach lurched. “Yeah. Yeah, I went on it. Really, the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

  Matthew grunted, and we all looked down at him as he tried to move. “I really want to go,” he said.

  “When we got off Pirates of the Caribbean, we stopped in this gift shop. My dad said I could pick anything I wanted. Anything at all. I knew I must be dreaming. I spent probably a whole hour searching the store, trying to pick the perfect thing. And then I found this giant barrel of sparkling treasure—jewels. You could fill a bag of them for like five dollars. I thought they were real and I would take them and sell them when we left, and then my dad and I could live in a nice place and eat nice food and he would be so much happier.

  “So that’s what I got. After my dad paid for them, he knelt down and told me, ‘Every time you look at those jewels, you’ll think of me and this day. You’ve had a great day, haven’t you?’