“I told him it was the best day of my life. We watched the fireworks before we left, but I kept pulling out my jewels. They looked so sparkly and real by the light of the fireworks. I counted them over and over again. Seventeen. I had seventeen jewels.
“Then we left. I fell asleep in the car and didn’t wake up again till it was almost morning. And we were here. In Nowhere. He pulled a couple of bags I didn’t know were there out of the trunk of the car and walked me up to my grandma’s trailer and knocked on the door. She knew we were coming.”
forsake: to quit or leave entirely; abandon
“And that was the last time I saw my dad. The last time I ever spoke to my dad. He left me here with a woman I had never met before in my life.”
Everyone was quiet. “I still have the jewels. I keep them in the table beside my bed. I take them out sometimes, trying to remember what it felt like that day—the hope I had felt when I picked them. I had thought they were real, but they were as fake as my dad. And now all I feel when I see them is . . . worthless. He bought me those jewels because he felt guilty about not wanting me, not because he loved me. Those jewels don’t remind me of some great memory with him. They remind me that no one in this world wants me.”
Everyone was quiet until Matthew finally said. “Geez, Gus. Couldn’t you come up with something better than that?”
I smiled a little. “Sorry. Bo did give me a wedgie in front of everyone in the cafeteria once. That was really embarrassing.”
“Yeah,” Matthew said quietly. “Yeah, I remember that.” Matthew took several rasping breaths. I looked at Rossi, but she seemed lost in thought still. What were we going to do about Matthew? “Well, we already know Jessie’s worst day. What about you, Rossi?”
She finally put her hands down and looked at us. “We need lubricant.”
Jessie gawked at her. “Now’s a strange time to be thinking about your motorcyle.”
Rossi tied the rubber band back around her hair. “Yes, I wish we had motorcycle oil. We need something to lubricate Matthew so he’ll slide out more easily. Maybe your water, Gus.”
I frowned. “I was kind of hoping to use that water to prevent, uh, you know, death by dehydration.”
Jessie jumped up excitedly and bounced from foot to foot. “Oh, I know! Let’s pee on him!”
Matthew’s head shot back. “No way!”
“Would you rather stay stuck down there?” I said. Matthew looked terrified, and I wasn’t sure which thought scared him more.
Rossi shook her head. “That’s not slippery enough.” She grabbed my backpack and started pulling the Twinkies out one by one. “These will have to do instead.”
“Twinkies?” I said.
She tore open one of the small packages. She broke the cake in half and scooped out the filling with her finger. “We’re going to need all of them.”
The three of us scooped the filling out of each cake. Jessie and Rossi reached down and gave it to Matthew, and he did his best to shove it between his body and the rock walls while I carefully placed the leftover cakes back in the packages. No need to waste them.
“There’s not a whole lot,” Matthew said. “But I guess it’s worth a try.” He wiped the excess off as well as he could on the front of his shirt.
Jessie and Rossi lay back down on their stomachs and gripped Matthew’s hands. They all three strained and grunted and pulled, but Matthew wouldn’t move. Rossi stared at him, breathing heavily. “Listen to me, Matthew. You need to completely relax and let all your air out. Just go limp and let Jessie and me pull you up.”
Matthew nodded at her and closed his eyes. Once his breathing evened out, he let out a long breath. Rossi looked at Jessie and they pulled. “He moved!” Jessie cried.
Matthew’s eyes shot open. “Just stay calm,” Rossi ordered him. He shut his eyes again.
Rossi and Jessie pulled, and Matthew slid up. When he was high enough, he grabbed the edge of the crevice and pulled himself onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” I said.
“I don’t know.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “I kind of slid down in there, so nothing hit me too hard. I think I’m okay.” He swooned a little to one side. “A little dizzy, though.”
I handed Matthew his half of the bologna sandwich. “Here, eat this. It might help.” He scarfed it down in a couple of bites. I pulled out my pocket watch and flipped it open. “We should probably get moving. It’s nearly three o’clock already.” I snapped the pocket watch shut.
“What’s that you keep looking at, Gus?” Rossi asked.
“Just my pocket watch.”
“Can I see it?”
“Sure.” I handed it to her, and she studied it for a moment. “W.A.D.,” she whispered.
“No, it’s W.D.A.,” I told her.
She looked up at me. “No, Gus.” Then she looked at Matthew. “What did you say your great-grandfather’s name was?”
Matthew stretched a little from side to side. “William Dufort.”
“Do you know what his full name was, including his middle name?” she asked.
Matthew stopped stretching and stared down at her. “William André Dufort.”
She looked down at the watch. “W.A.D.,” she said again. “William André Dufort.”
“No, no,” I said. “It’s W.D.A.”
“No, Gus,” she said again. “The larger letter in the center stands for the last name. It’s W.A.D.”
“Let me see that pocket watch,” Matthew said and snatched it out of Rossi’s hand.
Then he looked at me, his face furious. “You little thief!” he said.
“What?”
“This is my great-grandfather’s pocket watch!”
“No way.”
“Yes way,” Matthew said. “My dad had a belt buckle that had this same thing on it. And, trust me, I knew my dad’s belt really well. Where did you get this?” He looked at Jessie. “Did you give it to him?”
“No!” Jessie cried. “Gus has always had that.”
I reached for the pocket watch, but Matthew moved it away and held it over my head. “My dad gave it to me,” I said as I jumped, trying to reach the watch. “And my grandma gave it to him. It belonged to her father.”
“Where did he get it from?” Matthew demanded.
I didn’t answer him as I kept jumping, trying to reach the watch. I stumbled on a rock as I came down and twisted my ankle. I winced in pain, causing Matthew to lower his arm. I jumped again and grabbed it. I couldn’t pull it down, so I lifted my feet off the ground, using the full weight of my body to get his arm down. It stayed up.
Then Rossi walked up behind Matthew and snatched the pocket watch out of his hand. He dropped me and turned around. “Hey!”
Rossi ignored him as she studied the watch, running her finger around the outside like she was testing it.
“Be careful, Rossi,” I told her. “The back is loose.”
Rossi continued examining the watch intently. “What if the story is all wrong?” she said.
Matthew and Jessie looked at each other. “What do you mean?” Jessie asked.
“What if . . .” Rossi said. “What if there was a third person who stole the gold?” Then Rossi looked at me. “Gus, did you know your pocket watch—”
“My pocket watch,” Matthew said.
She looked at Matthew a moment then back at me. “Did you know William Dufort’s pocket watch had a secret compartment?” Rossi ran her finger around the edge of the watch and jiggled the loose backing a little. Something clicked and she popped the back open.
“Whoa,” I said, stepping forward. We all gathered around the watch as Rossi lifted out a small, folded piece of paper.
“Whoa,” I said again.
She carefully began to unfold the paper, but then we heard a strange rumbling sound. Rossi paused and listened.
“What was that?” Jessie’s voice trembled. “Please tell me one of you just farted.”
“No.” I didn�
��t think the one from twenty minutes ago counted.
Rossi continued unfolding the paper, but then we heard it again—a low rumbling that grew louder and then quieted slightly. Then it grew louder again.
Jessie raised shaking fists up to his face, his eyes clenched shut. “Oh my gosh. What is that? It sounds like someone’s trying to start up a dirt bike in here.”
Rossi stopped unfolding the paper again, and I noticed her hands shook slightly. Suddenly the soft sound grew into a full growl. I took the flashlight out of my pocket and switched it on with trembling hands.
Matthew whispered, “What is it?”
I slowly lifted the flashlight to shine it behind us, not completely sure where the sound had come from. With the way sounds echoed off the walls in this cave, it was difficult to tell where any of them came from.
I turned in a slow circle until the eyes of a large cat flashed far off in the distance.
Jessie whimpered beside me. “Worst. Day. Ever,” he moaned.
Rossi slowly folded the paper back up with shaking hands, making a loud crinkling sound. She carefully pushed it and the watch into her pocket.
“Shhhhhhhh,” I said to her through clenched teeth. My jaw twitched. “Quiet.”
“No!” Rossi shouted at me. “Don’t be quiet!” Then she started screaming and waving her arms all around. I thought for a moment she’d lost her mind, and then I remembered from a lesson at school—make noise, make yourself look big.
I grabbed her hand so it appeared we were connected and started shouting with her. I waved the flashlight around. I saw that Jessie and Matthew were moving back slowly.
“Climb those rocks right there,” Rossi said to Jessie, angling her head at a massive pile of boulders next to us. “Go as high as you can.”
Jessie attempted to climb the first large boulder as the cat started making its way toward us, gliding gracefully over the rocky surface. I dropped the flashlight and the three of us pushed Jessie up. He screamed and stepped on Matthew’s face in his panic to get on top of the rock. Jessie reached down for Matthew. Rossi and I pushed as Jessie pulled and Matthew made it up.
I looked at Rossi. I knew she would try to argue, to make me go first. “There’s no time!” I yelled at her and put my hands out linked together. She stepped quickly into them and jumped. Jessie caught one of her hands and Matthew the other.
The mountain lion made it to us just as they were pulling her up. It jumped at her legs. I swung my backpack at it, screaming as loud as I could. The lion seemed startled for a moment and backed off. I turned and jumped, the backpack slung around my arm.
I clutched Rossi’s hands. Matthew and Jessie were holding her by the waist so she could lower down and reach me. They pulled her back, and I came up with her. The mountain lion jumped and bit my shoe, then fell back down again, taking my good Family Dollar generic sneaker with her.
We climbed another boulder, and then another, trying to get as high as we could. As far away from the mountain lion as we could.
When we couldn’t get any higher, a low slanted rock ceiling right above our heads, I crouched on top of the boulder we were all huddled on and watched the mountain lion, visible from the lantern and flashlight still shining on the cave floor. She paced for a moment before jumping up on the first boulder with far more grace than we had. Then she jumped onto the next.
Jessie shook next me. “It’s coming,” he moaned.
When she made the final jump at us, I once more swung my backpack at her, connecting with her nose. She fell back down, clawing at the sides of the boulders and eventually landed on the rocky ground. She swiped at her face and shook her head, clearly not liking that.
“Yeah, you don’t want to mess with us!” Jessie screamed. He sounded like he was hyperventilating. I worried he might fall off the rock if he passed out. With the way my heart was beating, I worried I might fall off the rock.
I grabbed him. “Let’s sit down. Be quiet. Maybe she’ll lose interest and leave.”
The lion sniffed Rossi’s helmet, which was still sitting near the crack Matthew had fallen into. “Please don’t eat it,” Rossi begged the cat.
We all sat down close together in a tight circle. “That was pretty awesome, Gus,” said Matthew.
“It was daring,” said Rossi.
“Yeah, Gus,” said Jessie. “I think you might really be part Viking.”
“You think?” I said. “Arrrrrrr.”
“That’s a pirate,” said Jessie. “Not a Viking.”
Oh yeah. Duh.
“What does a Viking say anyway?” said Matthew.
The four of us sat quietly, thinking. Finally Rossi said, “Hi, I’m a Viking.”
The four of us giggled as quietly as possible, our hands over our mouths, listening to the sounds of the large cat at the base of the boulders.
We huddled closely together on the rock. We could barely see one another in the dim light from below. The mountain lion seemed to tire of pacing after a while and lay down, licking her paws and sighing loudly. “I guess we’ll have to wait until she goes away,” I said.
“Man,” Jessie complained. “You guys should have turned off the lights. Now the batteries will get wasted.
“Gee,” I said. “Sorry I didn’t think of that while the lion was biting my foot off.”
“Just your shoe,” Jessie mumbled. He was cranky. He always got that way when he hadn’t had enough to eat.
Despite the half of a bologna sandwich I’d eaten, I was still really hungry, too. I opened my backpack and pulled out the empty Twinkies.
“Don’t!” Matthew whispered. “It will smell the food. That’s probably what attracted it in the first place.”
“I don’t think mountain lions are into Twinkies,” I said. “It was probably the bologna.”
“I bet it’d like to eat Matthew’s Twinkie,” Jessie said, totally cracking himself up.
“I bet it’d like to eat you, Jesus,” Matthew said. “I mean your whole body. Because your whole body is like a Twinkie.”
We all stared at Matthew. “That took way too long to explain,” I said.
I took a swig of my warm pickle water, which had miraculously survived the cave-in, bats, and mountain lion. I passed it around so the others could have a drink. Then I handed out the empty, smashed Twinkies, and the cave filled with the sounds of crinkling as we all reopened the packages and hungrily scarfed the leftovers down.
“These sure would have been a lot better with some filling in them.” Jessie glowered at Matthew. “If only someone hadn’t stupidly fallen into a big crack.”
“You better hope I don’t stupidly put a big crack in your head.” Matthew shook his fist at Jessie.
I let out a sigh. “Please don’t get in a fight up on this rock.” They quieted down.
When we had finished our Twinkies, Rossi pulled the paper out of her pocket and opened it. “What do you think it is?” Jessie asked.
Rossi shook her head. “I have no idea.” She held the paper in front of her face from different angles. “I can’t tell. I can barely see.”
“How did your dad get that pocket watch, Gus?” Matthew said.
“My grandma gave it to him.”
“And how did she get it?”
“I told you—it was her dad’s.”
“How did he get it?” Matthew asked.
“I don’t know. She said it had been her daddy’s. She said he was a drunken idiot who got bitten by a rattlesnake and died in the desert when she was just a little girl on the night . . .”
“On what night?” Matthew asked.
happenstance: coincidence
Probably not.
I swallowed. “On the night that William Dufort went into the mine and died.”
Matthew and Jessie gave each other excited looks. “But that watch was the only thing he had on him when he died,” I told them. “And the only darn thing he left my grandma, or so she said. She said he probably found it while he was drinking out in the desert.
”
“Maybe he stole it,” Matthew said. “Maybe he stole it and everything else.”
“Or maybe he found it, just like my grandma said,” I answered.
“Maybe that paper is a treasure map,” Jessie said excitedly.
“Yeah, and maybe it’s a grocery shopping list,” Matthew said.
Jessie frowned. “Why would someone put a grocery shopping list in a pocket watch?”
I looked at Rossi. “What do you think it is?”
She shrugged. “Could be anything.” Then she turned her head. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” I asked.
She stood up, hunched over, and held out a hand. “I feel air movement.”
“So?” Matthew said.
“So that means there could be an opening nearby.” Rossi jumped down to a lower boulder, and then to one next to it near a wall of the cave. She pulled herself up onto a ledge. I could barely see her as she walked along the ledge and disappeared into the darkness.
“Rossi,” I called out.
“I see light,” she said. “Come here.”
I looked down at the lights on the ground. I didn’t want to get too far away from them. The mountain lion was still down there, looking bored.
I jumped from one boulder to the next as Rossi had, then climbed up onto the ledge with her. There was a small hole in the wall, and when I stuck my head in it, I could see a dim light. “You’re right. We can get out!” I called to the boys. They followed us until they were standing underneath the ledge.
“Actually,” Rossi squeezed into the hole and then back out, “we can get out. It’s not big enough for them. It’s barely big enough for us.”
Matthew and Jessie groaned on the boulder. “Are you serious?” Jessie said. “We have to stay here?”
“We’ll go get help,” I told them. “Just stay on that rock and wait. We’ll get help and come back for you.”
Rossi was already tying her T-shirt into a knot, getting ready to enter the hole. “It’s difficult to tell, but I think it’s maybe only fifteen feet to get out. We can make it.”
My stomach cramped. The idea of squeezing through that hole and somehow inching my way fifteen feet was about as appealing as Grandma telling everyone in town, in the entire state of Arizona, that I was home with “the trots.”
24 Hours in Nowhere Page 8
