Artifacts

by Pete Catalano

  “Where are all the superheroes?” Tank asked, rifling through the posters.

  “They’re not comic books, they’re fairy tales,” Mouth said. “Like the one you’re in.”

  Tank looked confused. “The one I’m in?”

  “Yeah,” Mouth said. “The Wizard of Oz. You’re like the Scarecrow … ”

  “Why not the Lion?” Tank asked. “Just not cowardly.”

  “Because the Lion has a brain,” Mouth said quickly and then ran across the room.

  The five of us split up, walked around the classroom, taking our time, looking at all the stories. I glanced over at Korie and she looked really happy. Helping Crunch on this project seemed to be something she really liked.

  I wonder what fairy tales had to do with Crunch’s mystery extra credit.

  “Good afternoon, lady and gentlemen,” Bartholomew said, sweeping into the classroom and taking his seat behind his desk. “As you can see, there are a number of magically amazing, awe-inspiring stories around you that have captured the hearts of children around the world.”

  I never liked when he talked like that.

  “I have agreed to create a display at a local library,” Bartholomew continued. “It will be filled with ‘faux,’ fun, imagination-soaring artifacts matching many of the individual fairy tale characters you see before you. I am looking for imaginative examples that will allow us to take the various treasures you find and relate them directly to the stories. Fill those display cases for me and Crunch will pass English and run … amuck … with you this summer.”

  It was an awesome idea, but I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.

  “Do you have an example you can show us?” I asked.

  Bartholomew reached down beside his chair, pulled out an old wooden bucket, and dropped it on the top of his desk with a resounding crash. It was old, a little worse for wear, but definitely had something special about it.

  “And that would be?” Korie asked.

  “The Witch-Melting Water Bucket from The Wizard of Oz.” Bartholomew said.

  “Hey.” Mouth laughed. “We were just talking about that!”

  “Frank L. Baum’s wife Maud was washing the floors when he needed a way to kill the witch,” Bartholomew continued, “and she handed him a bucket.”

  “How many do you need?”

  “All of them,” Bartholomew said. “I believe there are twenty-four.”

  “But …”

  “Seven stories are currently completed; therefore, you only have seventeen left to find and with which to astound me.”

  “Only?” I said. “Why don’t you create only seven displays? That way we’d be done with your project and can have fun for the rest of the year.”

  “I believe we should get Clarence to weigh in on the prospects of your completing your assignment,” Bartholomew said.

  “About one-eighty,” Mouth said.

  Bartholomew looked confused. “One-eighty … what?”

  Mouth cracked up. “That’s what you’d get if you had Crunch ‘weigh-in.’”

  “Clarence?” Bartholomew asked. “Is this something you will be able to complete in time or are we going to spend our summer together?”

  Crunch shot a look at Korie and me. We nodded and then Crunch agreed. “Yes,” Crunch said. “Twenty-four—”

  “Seventeen,” I corrected him.

  “Seventeen fairy tale displays to be completed before the end of the school year and I get to go to Camp Runamuck with everybody else.”

  “Then we have, as you say, a deal,” Bartholomew said. “Now run along. Scour the junkyards, garage sales, and trash heaps. The treasures are out there just waiting for you to pick them up with your grubby little hands. Be quick, be accurate, and be creative.”

  “Do you want us to bring these things back as we find them?” I asked. “Or hold on to them until we can bring them all at once?”

  “All at once would be perfect,” Bartholomew said. “And don’t forget your list.”

  He gave us a list of all the fairy tales we needed to find artifacts for. As I read down my list, it seemed to go on and on.

  “I’m not sure …”

  Bartholomew then proceeded to shoo us out of his classroom.

  “I hate getting shooed,” Mouth said.

  Tank laughed. “Good thing he didn’t shoo us like Dad does. I’m still kind of sore from the last time.”

  Chapter Five

  Before we left the school, we ran down to the library and made several copies of the list Bartholomew had given us so each of us had our own.

  “We should split up to save time and cover more ground,” I said. “Korie’ll go with me.”

  Mouth laughed. “Now that’s a surprise.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “It means that you two never go anywhere without each other,” Crunch said.

  “And you’re never more than hand-holding distance apart,” Mouth added.

  I laughed. “What the heck is hand-holding distance?”

  “Hand-holding distance is the amount of space that if you moved your hands toward each other, you’d be holding them.” Crunch laughed. “You two have been like that since the second grade.”

  “That’s so not true.” I laughed, taking a step away from Korie.

  “See,” Crunch said, “you even moved away, but you’re still there. Hold your hands up.”

  Korie and I both held our hands out to our sides. At the last minute, I pulled mine in a little bit so they wouldn’t touch.

  “See,” I said.

  “Shut up,” Mouth said, pushing my arm until the elbow straightened out and my hand almost slipped right into Korie’s.

  I twisted around until I got away from Mouth and out of hand-holding distance from Korie … just to show I could do it.

  “Anyway,” I continued, surprised Korie didn’t seem to have a problem with that distance. “We need to split up. Korie and me, Mouth and Tank, and Crunch and …”

  “Crunch and Crunch.” Crunch’s face sank. “Just like always. I only have hand-holding distance with myself.”

  “Oh, come on now.” Korie pushed him. “You’re cute and funny. Now, if you just quit being such a whiner, there may be a Crunch and someone else.”

  Crunch smiled. “We all know that’s hogwash, but it was nice of you to say.”

  Okay,” I said. “Korie, Crunch, and I will go one way and the Wahoo brothers will go … wherever they want to stumble off to. I’m sure that whatever you bring back will be great!”

  “We’ll never get anything done if we go together,” Mouth said. “You could leave us and go out looking for artifacts and come back twelve hours later and we’d still be here arguing about where we should start.”

  “So we’re all going together?” I asked.

  “Just like Camp Runamuck,” Korie said. “If one of us can’t go … none of us are going.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Mouth said.

  Tank bashed him.

  “Okay, speak for me, too,” Mouth said, rubbing his newest bruise.

  I thought he was crazy. “Why are you rubbing a bruise?”

  “So, hopefully, he’ll feel bad and won’t ever do it again,” Mouth said.

  “Has it ever worked?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Mouth said. “He hits me again.”

  “Okay,” Korie said. “Where are we going to start?”

  “Junkyard!” Tank yelled.

  “Flea market!” Mouth followed right behind him.

  “Junkyard flea market!” they shouted together.

  “So, why are we all going as a group if they can come up with junkyard and flea market on their own?” I whispered to Korie.

  “I think they can come up with a lot of places to go,” Korie said. “I think they just like doing it all together. Besides, with Tank around, we don’t have to worry about any junkyard dog.”

  ***<
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  There really was only one junkyard slash flea market in town, so we headed over there as soon as we got out of school. I looked at the list as we rode our bikes and tried to decide what might be the perfect artifact for each fairy tale.

  “For example,” I said, “Cinderella. A glass slipper, a pumpkin …”

  “A big clock,” Korie added, “ashes from the chimney …”

  “Bluebirds to help finish her dress,” Tank gasped, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Korie laughed. “How do you know about the bluebirds making her dress?”

  “Tank’s watched every Disney cartoon ever made, like, a thousand times,” Mouth said.

  “Those aren’t the only fairy tales we know,” Tank said. “Our mom used to read us fairy tales every night before we went to bed. I tried to remember all of them.”

  “This is a very different Tank,” I whispered to Korie.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I kind of like this one better.”

  “Who are you and what did you do with Tank?” Crunch asked, laughing, as he rode his bike round and round.

  Tank’s mood changed quickly and he shot Crunch one of his death looks.

  Crunch laughed. “Oh, there you are.”

  We turned onto the block of the Moose Back Flea Market and Junkyard and slowed our bikes, cruising by and taking a few quick peeks before we went in.

  They were open, and they had a gazillion pieces of everything on tables and in tents throughout the property. Fortunately for us, there was not a junkyard dog in sight.

  The moment we walked in, the feeling was electric.

  “Now I know what real treasure hunters feel like,” I whispered to Korie, stopping at the biggest pile of awesome I’d ever seen.

  “Do you have your list?” Korie asked.

  I took the paper out and shook it in the air as I kept staring straight ahead.

  “How about we find something really interesting and match it up to a fairy tale.” Korie looked at the list. “Let’s split this up. Crunch, it’s your project, so you take one through five. Wahoos take six through ten. Jax and I will take the next five and we’ll go from there.”

  “Yell if you find something good,” Crunch said. “I want to see everything before we try to pass it off to Bartholomew as awe-inspiring.”

  “Hey, I can start,” Tank said, apparently seeing something at the back of one of the stands. “I have the first one crossed off of any list. Wahoos Rule!”

  He disappeared for a minute and then reappeared slowly from behind one of the piles. He had a look of delight on his face and a metal something on his head.

  Mouth roared. “What’re you doing?”

  Tank looked at the list. “Number six, King Arthur. This is one of the helmets from the Knights of the Round Table.”

  Crunch, Korie, and I cracked up while Mouth shook his head.

  “You look great!” Mouth shouted. “Let me get a picture of you like that.”

  The laughter was about to explode out of me, but the price I’d pay wouldn’t be worth it. “You ought to wear that home for your mom and dad to see.”

  Tank stood there, trying to look as much like a knight as he could. He had read a lot about King Arthur and he knew how tough those knights had to be.

  “How does it look?” Tank asked.

  “Perfect,” Mouth said. “I’m tweeting a copy to all of us.”

  “Cool.” Tank smiled.

  “And the rest of the school,” Mouth said.

  “Even better!”

  “Oh, and dude. … That’s a bedpan,” Mouth said. “You know what they use bedpans for?”

  “Cooking something really good while you’re still lying in bed?” Tank asked.

  Mouth roared. “It’s a butt crack holder. It looks like it’s holding a really big one now.”

  Tank flung it off his head as fast as it could. He combed his hands through his hair over and over, like he was trying to shake off anything that might have crawled on.

  “Ask first, wear later,” Mouth said. “Wait until I tell everybody!”

  “You tell anybody besides the five of us here what happened today and I’ll twist you up so tight you’ll fit in that bedpan,” Tank said.

  Mouth freaked out. “Delete! Delete! Delete!”

  Tank stormed off toward the junkyard part of the property.

  “Dude, wait,” Mouth said, chasing after him. “Come on. I was just kidding.”

  “How come we’ve never been here before?” I asked. “They have lots of great stuff.”

  “My mom loves this place,” Korie said. “That’s why my house is filled with this great stuff and she has a secret storage unit that’s jam-packed. It’s for the special things she doesn’t want anything to happen to.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s hard to imagine.”

  “What?” Korie asked. “That she has a secret storage unit?”

  I laughed. “No, that it’s full of her special things and she hasn’t stuffed you in there yet.”

  “Dope.” Korie laughed, shoving me out of her way.

  We walked up and down the aisles, picking things up, seeing if we could match it to anything from a fairy tale, and discarding anything that didn’t fit.

  After about an hour I realized this might not be the best idea. People were here to get the most money for their junk, and at the moment, we didn’t have either. Junk or money.

  “You know, we may have to find somewhere else to get great ‘free’ stuff,” I said. “Maybe stay away from the flea market side and concentrate on the junkyard side.”

  Korie laughed. “I thought this was the junkyard side.”

  “We also need a plan before we go running out to find things for the display. Bartholomew had it all wrong about finding the cool items and backing them into a story. We need to figure out what free artifact would work the best and then go get it.”

  “What do you mean?” Korie asked.

  “Well,” I thought for a minute, “it’s like his idea for The Wizard of Oz. He got a bucket and he’s going to make it work.”

  Korie was quiet for a minute. “So, then, if we’re looking to find something for The Three Little Pigs, we can get a brick and that should work for the story.”

  “Perfect! And if that brick is yellow, you have another option for The Wizard of Oz.”

  “Oh, that’s so easy.” Korie squealed and then hugged me. She jumped back quickly the moment she realized what she was doing. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I said.

  “So, it was okay?” Korie asked.

  “No, don’t be sorry. Be embarrassed.” I laughed. “My best friend just squealed. I didn’t think you had that kind of a sound in you.”

  “It happens every once in a while when I’m really excited.” Korie laughed. She held up her paper. “And I think I remember where I saw a brick so I can cross off number eleven.”

  “Good job,” I said.

  “You have to step it up a little here, Jax,” she said. “I know I have big shoulders, but I’m getting a little bit tired of carrying this team.”

  I grinned. “I’ll try to do better,” I apologized. “Go get your brick and cross it off.”

  Korie started to run off down the aisle.

  “Hey, Korie?” I called after her.

  “Yeah?” she turned around, still smiling.

  “Remember, your idea, your brick,” I said. “You have to carry it for the rest of the day.”

  She went tearing down the aisle just as Crunch came running up, juggling a set of three wooden bowls in the air.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Mrs. Tripiani has a stand here,” Crunch said, keeping his eye on the bowls as they flipped, flopped, and flew through the air. “I told her what we were doing and what we were looking for. I just crossed off number three.”

  “What’s number three?” I asked.
>
  “The Three Bears,” Crunch said.

  “What the heck is that?” The Wahoos brothers laughed as they walked up to us.

  “Hats,” I said. “But a lot better than the one Tank was wearing when we first got here.”

  “They’re the porridge bowls from The Three Bears,” Crunch defended his find.

  Korie ran up with a smile on her face and a brick in her hand.

  “Hit Crunch with that brick,” Mouth said. “He’s killing me.”

  I was frustrated. “There are tons of great things here, but we need the money to pay for it. The best thing we found was the bedpan and that won’t keep Crunch out of summer school.

  “They’re giving it away because it’s too gross to keep in their stand,” Korie said.

  Mouth cracked up. “Too gross for their stand, but not too gross for Tank’s head.”

  “We have to find things that somebody knows exactly what story they’re from and are happy to see them,” I said. “Would any of you be happy to see three bowls sitting on a table?”

  Tank laughed. “Depends on what they’re filled with.”

  “See, that’s the point,” I said. “Meet at my house after dinner and we’ll make a list of what we think we need.”

  “Sounds good,” the Wahoo brothers said, jumping on their bikes and doing wheelies down the block.

  “Me, too,” Crunch said, jumping on his bike and almost crashing to the ground every time he tried to pull the front wheel off the ground.

  Korie was about to toss her brick to the ground before hopping on her bike.

  “No, wait. Keep the brick,” I said. “People will know what story that’s from and be thrilled to see it.”

  Korie’s face lit up again. “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. I loved seeing that look on her face, but I’d never tell her that. “Bring it with you later and we’ll start piling up the stuff we get for Bartholomew’s display. Besides, we’ll be able to keep everybody in line with that brick.”

  Chapter Six

  “I’m home!” I yelled as I slammed the back door behind me.

  “How was school?” Mom asked.