by Geof Johnson
They retrieved their bikes and rode wordlessly to Zach’s house, and when they got inside, his mother was full of questions.
“We didn’t do much,” Zach told her when they entered the kitchen, where they found her on the way to the laundry room with a basket full of dirty clothes. “Just kinda explored and stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“You know…stuff. Do we have any lemonade?”
“I can make you some.”
Zach eyed the clock on the wall and saw that it was still a couple of hours until dinner. “What do you want to do?” he asked his friends.
Jason angled his head toward the back door. “Let’s play cards on the terrace.”
Zach took the deck from the cabinet drawer and led them outside, where they sat at the wrought iron table while he shuffled and Beepee lay down in the shade. “What do you want to play?”
“Don’t matter,” Justin said. “Anything. It’s just for show ’cause we’re gonna talk.” His eyes shifted to the kitchen window on the wall behind them. “Think your mama can hear us?”
“Not if we keep our voices down.” Zach dealt each of them five cards and they pretended to play while they discussed their visit with the white giant. They had to stop when Zach’s mother came out with a pitcher of lemonade and cups full of ice, then she poured some for each of them and stood at the head of the table.
“What are you playing?” she asked.
Jason and Justin answered simultaneously, one said, “Spades,” the other, “Hearts.” Then their faces stiffened and their eyes flared.
“Spades and hearts? Is that a new one?”
“Uh, yeah,” Zach said. “We made it up.”
“What are the rules?”
“Mom?” Zach said. “Do you mind?”
“Sorry. I’ll let you get back to your game.” She turned toward the door. “Holler if you need anything. Would you like some cookies to go with your lemonade?” Zach answered with a quick glare and she went back inside.
Zach snorted when the back door closed and he picked up his cards again. He checked the kitchen window to make sure she wasn’t watching and lowered is voice. “She can’t find out about Bo.”
“Nobody can.” Jason sat forward and looked sternly at each of them. “Y’all gotta swear not to tell anybody. This is even more secret than the clubhouse.”
“Nobody cares about your dumb old clubhouse,” Zach said. “And we’re not going to tell anybody.”
“We gotta keep the clubhouse a secret, too. What if somebody finds it and sees how Bo made the wood join up like that? It ain’t normal, so we can’t let nobody know about it, or they might find out about Bo somehow.”
“How about the bridge?” Shelby said. “I bet he made that, and we can’t keep that a secret from everybody.”
“You have to get on your hands and knees and look underneath it real close to figure out that it’s made different. The clubhouse, though, it’s pretty obvious. I think Bo did something really weird to it.”
Justin slouched in his chair and lowered his cards to his lap. “He sure is an interesting guy, though, isn’t he? Seems pretty nice, considering how big he is and all.”
Shelby nodded. “I think he’s lonely.”
“He acted like he was glad to finally talk to us. Wonder why he waited so long, if he’s been watching us for a while.”
Jason scratched the corner of his jaw with a fingertip. “Maybe he was waiting ’till Zach was with us. He seemed especially glad to see him.”
“I think he’s lonely,” Shelby said.
“You said that already. But you’d be lonely, too, if you had to live all alone in a cabin in the woods, with no TV or nothin’. Just books.”
“He can’t exactly hang out around town,” Justin said. “He’s too different-lookin’, with those big ol’ eyes, and tall as anything. Wish we didn’t have to wait five days to talk to him again.”
“Don’t matter too much,” Jason said. “On Sunday we gotta go to Asheville to see Daddy.”
Shelby frowned. “I’m not going.”
“Yeah you are,” Justin said. “We all gotta go.”
“I don’t. Mama said I can stay here at Zach’s house with Mrs. Webster.”
“What?” Zach sat up in his chair. “No!”
“Yes. Both our moms said it was okay. I’m gonna stay here all day and help out.”
I’m going to hide in my room, then.
Justin frowned, too. “Well, if Shelby ain’t goin’, I ain’t either.”
“You’re not getting’ out of it,” Jason said. “You and me still gotta go.”
“You hate it there as much as I do.”
“We gotta go anyway. Daddy needs to see us. Keeps him from goin’ crazy.”
The two boys scowled at each other for a long time, and Zach was afraid they were going to come to blows. Justin finally looked away. “All right, I’ll go, but it ain’t fair.”
“Yeah?” Jason lifted his chin. “Life ain’t fair. Get used to it.” He picked up his cards, which lay face down in front of him on the wrought iron table. “That’s enough talk. Let’s play a real game now.”
* * *
Dinner that night with his mother and grandfather was difficult for Zach. Twice, they caught him staring at his plate, and the second time, his grandfather quizzed him about it.
“What’s on your mind, son? Must be something important, because you haven’t moved a muscle in the last two or three minutes.”
Zach looked up at him and realized that he’d been spacing out, thinking about Bo. He fumbled to think of some excuse. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing, really. Just thinking about stuff we saw in the forest today.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Oh, just…the normal nature things. You know.”
“Have you been playing in the creek?”
He nodded quickly. “We were hunting crawfish and turtles and stuff.” Zach clamped a tooth on one corner of his lip. Please don’t ask any more about it.
His mother smiled and said, “He and his friends are building a treehouse.”
“Mom!” He stared at her with what he hoped was believable outrage. “You weren’t supposed to tell.”
“Sorry. I don’t see the harm in it. Maybe your grandfather can give you some pointers.”
“We want to do it ourselves.”
Grandpa chuckled. “Do any of you guys know what you’re doing?”
“We looked at some treehouses on the Internet to get some ideas. I think we can do it.”
“That’s the best way, I suppose, doing it yourself. There’s no teacher like experience. Just don’t get hurt.”
“We won’t. We’re careful.”
“Right. I’ve seen Justin’s scar.”
“They’re not fighting while we’re working.”
“Are you letting Shelby help?” his mother said. “You’re not excluding her, are you?”
“No ma’am, she’s part of it.”
“Did she tell you that she’s staying with us this Sunday while the rest of her family goes to visit her dad?”
“Does she have to?”
“I told her mother it was okay. Shelby will probably be with us through dinner.”
“What am I going to do while she’s here?”
“You could do some things together, like play cards or board games.”
Zach grunted and ground his teeth, then said, “Are you going to make me?”
“No, but it would be nice if you would entertain her while she’s here. That would be the polite thing to do, since she’ll be our guest.”
“Pest, more like it.” Zach turned his gaze back to his plate, barely noticing the half-eaten chicken, steamed broccoli, and yellow rice. That’s going to be a long day. A thought occurred to him and he looked up. “Hey, uh, is it against the law to live in the national forest?”
“Why?” Grandpa said. “Are you planning on moving into your treehouse?”
“Me and my friends had an arg
ument about it.”
“My friends and I,” his mother said.
“Yeah, whatever. So, is it illegal?”
Grandpa twisted up one side of his mouth. “I think you can camp for a while, but that’s it. You can’t have a permanent residence there.”
“How about a garden or something?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed. Look what happened to your friends’ father.”
“But he was growing marijuana. What if you wanted to grow like,” —he glanced at his plate— “broccoli or rice or other vegetables?”
“Rice is not a vegetable,” his mother said. “But I don’t think you’re allowed to grow much of anything. I think it’s okay to collect mushrooms and blackberries, but that’s about all.”
“Zach,” Grandpa said, “are you thinking about becoming a survivalist?”
“What’s that?”
“They’re crazy people, mostly, who stockpile food and water, and guns, too, sometimes, in a homemade shelter where they can survive a catastrophe.”
“What catastrophe?”
“You got me. That’s why I think they’re crazy. They’re mostly conspiracy nuts, and they think a war is coming any day now.”
“A war? Between who?”
“Between the U.S. government and somebody or other. Militias or hate groups or whatever.”
“Is Shelby’s uncle in a militia or a hate group?”
“Marty? I don’t think so. He’s just a useless lowlife, far as I can tell.”
“But he wears camo and has guns.”
“Lots of folks around here do, and some of them are my friends.”
Zach fingered his lip and wondered about Bo, whether he fit the description of a survivalist, but decided that he didn’t. He’s something else. He’s unique.
* * *
Zach’s preoccupation with Bo extended through the rest of the evening and on into bedtime. Zach lay sleepless between his sheets, staring at his curtains, faintly illuminated by the moonlight. He was thinking about the afternoon’s conversation with the giant, trying to remember every word, looking for extra meaning in what was said and what was not.
What’s he holding back? It was obvious that it had something to do with magic, or his impossible talents, because whenever a question arose about them, Bo usually denied everything or clammed up completely.
There’s no such thing as magic, is there? Bo could do amazing things, though. Zach had seen them with his own eyes. The wood carvings could be explained, but the undergrowth parting as they ran through it? The path drying right before them after the heavy rain? That’s impossible. And the forest talks to him. What’s that like? Must be awesome.
Zach regretted that he hadn’t asked Bo a few questions when he had the chance. Why were you so glad to meet me in particular? It seemed like he was. Zach didn’t think he was imagining it. And the question he’d been longing to ask the most: What did you mean when you said our gift to you is yet to come?
Zach felt bad that he hadn’t had the courage to ask Bo those things, and he wondered briefly how his father would’ve handled it. He would’ve asked him straight out. He would’ve said, “So, what’s the story here? Let’s quit beating around the bush.”
When his father wanted something, he got it, one way or the other. There was a roomful of trophies to prove it, just across the hall from Zach’s room, always there to remind him.
Chapter 18
Liz was concerned. Zach seemed distant and distracted over the next few days, often standing at the windows in the living room and staring out with a pensive look. Whenever she asked him if something was wrong, he said, “I’m fine. Just bored.”
“Why aren’t you and your friends going to the woods?”
“Don’t feel like it. We might go to the river instead, or just hang out.”
On Saturday morning she found him in the library, examining the titles on the shelves. “Are you hunting for something in particular?” she asked.
“Um….” He straightened and gestured at the volumes before him. “Do we have any science books?”
“I don’t think so. There were some here when we first moved in, but they were old and musty and out of date. I didn’t think they were worth the trouble to clean up, so I gave them to charity.”
“How about nature or history?”
“There are a several history books on the top of the far shelf. You’ll need to roll the step ladder over there to reach them. Why do you ask? Are you suddenly interested in those topics?”
“Uh…kinda. I thought it might help me get back into the swing of studying, with school getting ready to start and everything.”
“That’s only three weeks away, so that’s probably a good idea. You’ve never been interested in those things before, though. Is Shelby having a good influence on you?”
“Shelby?” He frowned momentarily, but then gave a curt nod and said, “Yeah. Shelby. She likes to read a lot. Almost as much as you.”
“Good.” She smiled. “I like her. I’m glad she’s spending tomorrow with us. Aren’t you?”
“Do you think we can take Jason and Justin to get library cards sometime?”
“They want to read? I wouldn’t have expected that from those two.”
“They want to do better in school this year and stuff, and they get bored when they’re home ’cause they don’t have the Internet and their TV’s not very good. So they want to try reading a little more.”
“Shelby is a good influence on all of you.” Her smile broadened. “Okay. I’ll take them. We have to get their mother to fill out the forms for their cards, but that’s no big deal. When do they want to go?”
“Soon, I guess.”
She smiled again, pleased with this unexpected change in him. Her smile faded when she remembered something that she’d read in a magazine once about sudden shifts in a child’s behavior, that it could be the result of doing drugs. But that’s if they start getting lazy and disrespectful and other things, isn’t it? But it still made her wonder. Has he been smoking pot?
She stepped closer to him and inhaled deeply through her nose to see if she could detect any trace of the illegal herb, but all she smelled was body odor. She frowned at him, and he frowned back. “What are you doing, Mom?”
“Did you take a bath last night?”
“Of course I did. Right after dinner.”
“I think it’s time you started using deodorant, honey. You’re starting to smell a little strong, and I don’t mean because you have more muscles.”
His mouth stretched into a crooked grin. “You mean I have B.O.?”
“It’s nothing to be proud of.” Though she could see that he thought it was. “I’ll get you some deodorant when I go to the store today.”
“Can you get me the kind that Dad used?”
“I’ll get whatever you want. Anything else?”
“I’m good.” He turned back to the bookshelf and she went to the kitchen to retrieve her purse and her car keys.
* * *
By Sunday, Zach was bored out of his skull. To make matters worse, Shelby’s mother dropped her off at midmorning, and Zach tried to ignore her, but quickly grew tired of his room and was forced to go downstairs where he couldn’t avoid her. His mother kept trying to come up with things for them to do together, digging board games out of closets and offering craft ideas.
“Beading?” Zach rolled his eyes dramatically, standing with her and Shelby in the kitchen. “Do I look like I want to make jewelry?”
“I do,” Shelby said, her eyes shining. “I’ve never done it before.”
“It’s lots of fun.” Zach’s mother set a toolbox-sized plastic bin on the table and popped off the top. “I’ll show you how.” She turned to Zach. “Are you sure you don’t want to?”
He rolled his eyes again and let out an exasperated breath. “I’m gonna watch TV or something.”
He flopped onto the couch and flicked on the television with the remote. Through the open d
oor behind him, he could hear his mother and Shelby’s excited oohs and aahs as they assembled their bracelets or necklaces or whatever they were making. It was annoying. Zach cranked up the volume and scanned the channels, restlessly hunting for something entertaining. He had little luck.
After about 30 minutes of fruitless searching, he gave up and moved to the computer, and clicked through endless selections of time-wasting videos. He found the choices to be unsatisfying, worse than the reruns on television.
He leaned an elbow on the armrest of the chair and stared flat-eyed at the screen as he rolled the mouse over more unappealing links. He finally abandoned that, too, and loaded Facebook.
A few minutes later he heard a girl’s voice behind him. “You smell nice.”
“Hunh?” He turned to see Shelby standing near his shoulder. “Oh, uh, my mom got me some deodorant. She said I was getting stinky.”
Shelby let out a small giggle. “I don’t need it yet. Mama said I will soon, when I start puber…uh, when I get a little older.”
Zach turned back to face the computer and examined his Facebook page, disappointed that none of his old friends from Raleigh had messaged him or mentioned him in any posts. It’s like they forgot about me already. He felt a cloud growing overhead, a dark one. Nothing from Cousin Emily, either. “Am I invisible?” he growled under his breath.
“What?” Shelby said.
Zach cleared his throat. “Nothin’. Just talking to myself.”
She pointed at the monitor. “Two hundred and ninety-five friends. That’s a lot, isn’t it?”
Not if they’ve forgotten me. “I know some people with lots more than that.”
“How did you get so many?”
“I sent people requests, or other people sent them to me. It’s mostly kids from back home.”
“But this is your home.”
“I meant Raleigh. My old home.”
“You seem mad about something.”
“I’m not.” He poked silently through more posts, a scowl growing on his face the further he went. “Nothin’! There’s just nothin’.”
