by Dawne Knobbe
Nate slapped him on the back. “Like they say, the sliver in my thumb hurts me a lot more than your broken back would hurt me!”
A look of bewilderment crossed Beagle’s face. “You’re weird,” he said.
“By the way, what happened to your parents?” Nate asked as they headed up the road.
“Dunno. Been in the system as long as I can remember. Joey and David are the closest I’ve ever come to having a family. We look out for each other.”
As they reached the clinic, Joey and David were coming down the front stairs.
“Hey, they let you out already?” Beagle asked.
Joey grinned; there was a black felt patch covering his eye, with a small piece of gauze protruding out from under it.
“What’s with the pirate patch?” Nate asked.
“Terrible sword wound, matey,” Joey said.
“Uh-huh, and when are they fitting you with your hook, captain?” Nate asked.
“Hmm, a hook,” Joey said. “Now there’s an idea.”
“Come on you landlubbers, let’s get back to our ship,” David said, taking Joey carefully by the arm. “Doc wants Joey to take it easy and stay out of the trees for a while. I said we’d tie him to the base of one to keep him on the ground.”
Joey’s cheeks dimpled. “Just lash me to the mast and carry on with the plundering.”
David shook his head like a tolerant but worried parent.
They heard a car coming down the road toward them, and without thinking, Nate jumped into the bushes at the side of the road. A red jeep filled with teenagers zipped by honking.
When Nate stood up again, David gave him a quizzical look. “You’re a little jumpy, Nate. I figure we got away with everything, no problem.”
“Let’s just get outta here,” Nate said, brushing himself off.
He could have shot Beagle when he piped in. “Nate’s dad called him on his cell. They had a big fight, then he hurled his phone right into the bay!”
Nate gave Beagle a less-than-playful shove. “You’ve got a big mouth for a little squirt.” The other boys followed, but nobody said another word.
Before long the boys’ boat was moving past the sea lions at the mouth of the bay, retracing the earlier route. It had been hot on shore, but the boat got up enough speed to create a breeze. Nate nodded off, only to jolt awake as his body fell forward. Frustrated, he slid to the bottom of the boat, curled up, and didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until he woke to the sound of David swearing and the boat slowing.
“Shit,” David said under his breath for the third time.
Nate peered up at the large Coast Guard boat barreling toward them.
“Stay down,” David grunted. “Pretend you’re still asleep.”
The Coast Guard boat slowed, and a man on deck spoke into a megaphone.
“How you doing, boys?” he called.
David gave him the thumbs-up signal and smiled.
“Where are your life jackets?”
David whacked his head in a gesture of playful forgetfulness and shrugged.
“You all brothers?” the man asked, shading his eyes and squinting.
David cupped his hands around his mouth. “Cousins,” he hollered back.
“Remember your life jackets next time, or I’ll have to give you a ticket.”
They watched him put the megaphone down and signal the captain. The ship reversed slowly, then turned and darted off.
“Man,” Nate said, sitting up, “that was quick thinking.”
“We’ve had a lot of practice today,” David said, and burst out laughing.
At dinner they celebrated Joey’s recovery and their escape from the Coast Guard with extra large cheeseburgers, then David presented Nate with a stack of pancakes complete with the stub of a red candle protruding from the center.
Joey and Beagle burst into their version of “Happy Birthday” with David trying to accompany them on his prized guitar. “Happy birthday to you, you smell like a zoo . . .”
“You guys sound like you belong in a zoo,” Nate interrupted. This was certainly one birthday he would never forget.
When the younger boys disappeared into the cabin to play cards, David and Nate sat silently staring into the fire. When Nate couldn’t stand it anymore, he stood and yawned. “I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said.
David strummed his guitar softly. “I was wrong about you,” he said without looking up. “You really came through for us today.”
“It was nothing,” Nate said.
“It was something, all right!” He gave Nate a quick glance. “You’re welcome to stay. They’re not likely to find you here.”
“Thanks, but I’m on the run now. If my mother has anything to do with it, the cops will be combing the island. I told them I was at the campground in Montague, so hopefully they won’t come over here, and you guys will be fine.”
“They’ll be looking for a bright yellow kayak,” David said. “As long as they don’t find it, we should be okay.”
Nate rubbed his hands over his face. He was tired, and he didn’t want to think about anything. “I’m gonna head for Salt Spring. Hopefully, I’ll be able to blend in there for a while.”
“Well, if you get back this way, there’ll always be plenty of fish to fry,” David said. He pulled a rusted paint can from behind the log and held it on his lap. “I’ve been thinking about my little forest crop. I was desperate, trying to find a way to take care of Joey and Beagle, but you were right. If I start selling drugs, I will be a drug dealer. Not to be corny, but that wouldn’t exactly be a good example.
“My father fooled himself into thinking what he did was okay, but it was wrong. The last thing I want is to be like him. I’ll find another way,” David said.
He tossed the contents of the bucket into the flames, and the green stems turned brown and shriveled.
Nate sniffed at the smoke. “Stuff doesn’t smell too bad.”
David slugged him like he did the boys. “You’re all right, Nate,” he said.
“My cell’s kinda out of order, but I’ll give you my number in Vancouver.” Nate said. “My dad’s actually an okay guy; maybe he could help you get a job or work the system so you guys could stay together or something.” Nate felt helpless to solve someone else’s problems when he couldn’t even fix his own.
“Thanks, but the last place we’re going is back into foster care, so don’t say anything to your dad or anyone else, okay?” David yawned. “Let’s call it a night; you can crash inside with us tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” Nate said, stumbling after David. “I forgot I collapsed my tent this morning. Seems like forever ago.” Nate found a corner and a blanket to curl up in. He refused to think about another thing till morning.
14
David steadied Solace as Nate tucked in the last of his belongings. Gray clouds stretched across the morning sky, and the sea beyond the bay frothed with choppy waves.
David glanced toward the open water. “How long you think it’ll take to cross?” He was frowning.
“Don’t worry, there’re lots of tiny islands along the way. If the weather gets nasty, I’ll hole up.”
Joey and Beagle stood shoulder to shoulder, looking abandoned. Nate hoped they wouldn’t get all watery-eyed. He gently wiped a streak of dirt off Joey’s cheek near his pirate patch. Then he smiled at Beagle. “If your eyes droop any lower, they’re gonna fall out,” Nate said. He gave Beagle’s shoulder a quick squeeze.
Beagle nodded and tried to curve his mouth into a smile.
“If I don’t get caught, maybe I’ll drop in on my way back. Stay out of trouble for a while if you can,” Nate said. He checked the clips on his life jacket once more and then slipped expertly into the kayak.
David released the kayak. “Don’t worry,” he said. He grabbed each boy by the back of the neck. “I’ll make sure they don’t get out of line.”
“All right. See ya.”
He positioned his paddle in both hands, swung
the kayak toward the open sea, and paddled forward. He glanced back only once, waving with the paddle held high, before gliding behind the islet that formed the mouth of the bay.
Nate concentrated on finding a rhythm as he dipped his paddle from side to side, refusing to think about the boys or the police. He rounded the tip of the island and squinted in the direction of Salt Spring Island. He’d studied his map and knew he could either paddle down the side of Galiano then cross Trincomali Channel, where it would be a straight shot across to Salt Spring, or he could paddle out to the islets and weave his way through them, then cut the rest of the way across. He opted for the latter.
The islets were only about a quarter of a mile away, and if anyone was looking for him on Galiano, they might spot him as he followed the shore. As he swung away from Galiano, the sun broke through the clouds, and for a moment, everything looked brighter.
It took Nate less than an hour to reach the islets. The sky remained overcast, but the sea had calmed. It was perfect paddling weather. At least he wouldn’t end up with a scalded nose. Nate took a long swig from his water bottle before paddling again. He slipped around one islet, then the next.
Before long he could see Salt Spring loom out of the sea on his right. He paddled halfway down the third islet then cut toward the bigger island. A piece of cake, Nate thought, as the island grew before him.
He knew that Salt Spring was the largest of the Gulf Islands and had a real town on it. Nate planned to find an isolated spot where he could camp undiscovered but close enough to the main road so that he could hitchhike into that town.
A couple of hundred yards from shore, Nate turned Solace to follow the coastline. A few cabins dotted the sandy shore, but large areas still appeared to be uninhabited. He spotted some picnic tables and figured he must be paddling by a small park. If he could find a place close by, he could use its access lane to get to the main road.
As he headed toward the shore, the water grew shallow quickly, and Nate could make out large rocks that would be dangerous to the kayak when the tide was low. He found a sandy spot beside a small creek bed, hopped out, and pulled Solace a little way up the sand.
The undergrowth was thick. There were few large cedars to block the sunlight. Nate came to a small clearing under a single cedar. It would be the perfect place to camp, but before he settled in, he wanted to check out the picnic site.
Down at the beach, Nate took off his shoes and threw them into the kayak, then made his way along the wet sand, trying to avoid clam holes. He stepped too close to one and it shot water into the air like a miniature geyser. It would be good to have the clams as a food source nearby, but first he wanted to head to town. He reasoned that he’d better stock up before his mother canceled the credit card.
The picnic area was exactly what he had hoped for: three tables near the beach and an access lane toward the main road. He heard a car drive by not far off in the distance, but there were no signs of anyone else about. Perfect, he thought, and headed back to his kayak.
Nate pulled Solace up under the cover of the trees, slipped on his shoes, and dug out his wallet. He stared at the credit card with twinges of guilt and anger. He didn’t want to use it, but realistically he had no choice.
He jogged through the park to the main road. According to the map, the town wasn’t more than a couple of miles away. He heard a car and stuck out his thumb, but it passed without slowing. He could make it to town on foot, he thought, but then a pickup truck slowed in front of him and pulled onto the gravel shoulder. A man waved out the driver’s side and a boy about Nate’s age leaned out of the passenger window.
“You going to Ganges?” the boy asked.
“Yeah,” Nate said. He walked toward the truck, wary of the large black dog sitting in the bed.
“We got too much garbage up here, but you can hop in the back,” the boy said, pointing to the bed of the pickup. “That’s Charlie. He won’t hurt you.”
“Right,” Nate said. “Thanks.”
Nate hauled himself up and into the bed of the truck. The dog wagged his tail and lay down beside Nate, sniffing at his jeans.
“Hey, Charlie,” Nate said, patting him on the head as the pickup swung onto the road. “You’re happy to have company, I bet.” The big dog stuck out his soggy tongue and licked Nate’s hand. “Me too,” Nate said.
They passed field after field of rolling hills dotted with sheep, a very different landscape from Galiano. He held on as the truck bumped along the pitted road then slowed to turn left by a signpost that said Robinson Road. Two minutes later they pulled into town.
Houses lined the street, and Nate was surprised to see condos along the waterfront. Ancient buildings with raised wooden sidewalks stood beside more modern, two-story structures, like a movie set for two film eras blended together. The truck slipped into a parking spot, and Nate hopped out.
“Thanks for the lift,” Nate said to the boy and his father.
“Where you headed?” the man asked as he slammed the truck door shut.
“I need groceries.”
“Store’s just down the street on the left, can’t miss it. If you want a lift back, we’ll be leaving in about an hour,” the man added.
“Thanks,” Nate said. “I might take you up on that.”
He wandered down the street to the store, which, to his surprise, was a regular supermarket like ones back home and ten times the size of the Galiano store. Prices should be better too, he figured.
A sign in the window displayed various credit card logos, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed a shopping cart and headed down the first aisle. He threw a bag of potato chips into the cart, along with a jar of peanut butter. At the meat counter he picked up a tasty-looking steak. Why not splurge, he thought, but he knew he had to choose carefully. He could carry only so much, and it would be a long walk back if he missed his ride.
Nate cruised the aisles, choosing reliable macaroni and cheese, a container of powdered orange drink, and some sliced turkey. He was going to eat like a king, at least for a couple of days. He didn’t sweat until he stepped into the checkout line.
When it was his turn, Nate tried to hold his hands steady. If he looked nervous the guy might think something was wrong. The cashier was a man of about fifty, and Nate could tell by his broken English that he was from another country. He was arguing with the woman in front of Nate about an item that she insisted was on sale.
“Cheese on sale last week, not this week,” he said.
“The sign said it was on sale.”
“Sorry, old sign, no sale this week. You want cheese or no?” he asked her.
“All right,” she said, obviously still annoyed.
She turned to Nate. “It’s not like you can go down the street and find another grocery store,” she said.
Nate shrugged and unpacked his stuff onto the counter. He didn’t want to piss the guy off, even though he had picked up a block of the same cheese.
The lady left and the man began scanning Nate’s groceries. “Total, fifty seventy-five.”
Nate handed him his credit card, and he slipped it through the slot on the side of the register. Nate had hoped the store would still run carbon copies, not be fully computerized.
The man stared at the screen silently, then ran the card through again. “Sometimes, very slow,” he said apologetically.
By the third try Nate knew the card was not going to go through. “Card no good,” the man said, turning sharp eyes on him. “You pay cash?”
“I don’t have enough cash,” Nate said, staring at the nineteen dollars in his wallet.
The man glanced back at the screen on his register. “Card canceled,” he said. “No good.”
“There must be some mistake,” Nate mumbled, rolling his hands up and down in the bottom of his T-shirt. The guy had to know something was wrong. “I’ll, I’ll go to the bank and come back,” Nate stuttered, slipping around the end of the counter and darting for the door.
Once
outside, he felt like everyone on the street was staring at him. A car door slammed loudly, and he bolted into a run. He dodged a mother pushing a stroller and dashed across the road, ignoring the sound of a car horn and the squeal of brakes. He saw a restroom sign pointing down a narrow alleyway beside a row of shops and veered toward it, not stopping until he was in the men’s room leaning against the door.
The small room was lit by one naked bulb and stank of urine. Feeling faint, Nate stumbled to the sink, turned on the rusty faucet, and splashed water onto his face. It ran down his cheeks and into his open mouth. He splashed more water into his mouth, lapping it up like a thirsty dog, then filled his hands and dumped more over his head. Was it just him, sweating with fear, or had the air turned thick and humid? Either way, his clothes were drenched and sticking to him.
He slicked his hair back and stared into the broken mirror. What was happening? He didn’t know who he was anymore; didn’t know what he should do. He watched as drops of water spiraled down the wet curls at the back of his neck, pulling a sharp image of his mother into mind. This was all her fault. She had canceled the credit card, leaving him helpless.
He reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulled out his Swiss army knife, and twisted open the tiny scissors. They weren’t designed to cut hair, but he hacked away at each baby curl at the nape of his neck until it gave way, falling into a pile at his feet that looked like a bunch of drowned worms.
Nate heard footsteps outside the door and snapped the knife shut. Shouldering the door open, he grunted an apology at the man he nearly knocked over, then headed down the alley away from the main street.
The air was stifling outside, and Nate glanced upward at the graying sky. He knew he needed to get back to his kayak. The police were clever; they’d trace his credit card and know where he was. How could he have been so stupid? He should have stayed with David and the boys. He would have been safer with them.
Nate ran up a side street and managed to find Robinson Road. Hitching was out of the question, of course. In fact, every time he heard a car approach, Nate ducked off the side of the road.
