My arms ached from holding the pick. Water drenched my face and shoulders. I kept my eyes on the back of Ed’s heels. Step. Step. Step-step. I made a rhythm in my head. Step. Step. Step-Step. I got so focused on the rhythm, I didn’t notice that Ed had stopped. My face crashed into his backpack. He stumbled forward. “Sorry,” I said.
“Watch what you’re doing, now. Don’t want you to get hurt.” Adults were always saying things about being careful and not getting hurt, but I didn’t mind so much hearing it from Ed. Even though I knew what he’d done in the past, it was still nice to have a grandpa to go places with again.
We reached a clearing, a ledge with large rocks sticking out from the reddish brown dirt. The ground had already been dug up in places, including into the mountainside. Tree roots hung down in the cleared-out channels like pieces of used dental floss.
“This is it—where my buddy said there’s a bed of ’em.” Ed shook off his pack. “Been a lot of digging already.” He took the large pick from me, raised it overhead and brought it down hard. I was glad Ed was going first. My arms felt weak after carrying the tool down the mountainside.
He grunted each time the end hit the ground. “You bring those tools I gave you?”
My throat tightened. “Yeah,” I said quickly, my face hot. I waited for him to tell me to get them out, but he didn’t.
After he had loosened the packed soil, he handed me the shovel. “Your turn,” he said.
I could only get a small amount of dirt with each stab at the ground. This was going to take a long time. P.J. plopped onto the ground and looked at me with his head on his paws.
The end of my shovel clanged and P.J. sat up. Had I found one already? Ed bent over and picked up a dirt-covered chunk. Not an egg.
He brushed off the rock. Phht. He spit on it! He rubbed the place where his spit had landed. “Rhyolite,” he said. “That’s a good sign.”
I smiled and dug faster, feeling like Popeye after a can of spinach. Each time my shovel disappeared into the dirt, I willed it to hit something solid. I imagined reaching down and pulling out the Thunder Egg that Ruled the World.
Digging for your own rocks took a lot more work than just being handed them—but it felt a lot more exciting, too. I had wanted to become a rock hound this summer, and here I was, being one. This was the real deal.
I started slowing down again and Ed took over. I popped my root beer open and handed him the other can.
“Thanks.” Ed stepped out of the hole we had created and sat on a rock. Should I ask him about what he’d done? Things were going so well…. I didn’t want to ruin our good time.
He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and chugged down what seemed like half the can before coming up for a breath. “Nectar of the gods.”
Did God drink root beer? To me, God was a giant scientist, and the universe was His biggest experiment. “Do you believe in God?” I asked, leaning against a fallen tree trunk.
Ed blew his nose. “Can’t say I think about that kind of thing all that much. I believe in what can be tested and measured—proven.”
“My fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Hammond, says science can’t prove. Only disprove.”
“And God can’t be proved or disproved.”
I sat next to Ed on the ground. He had talked earlier about dying. “Where do you think we go when we die?” Mr. H. said this question couldn’t be answered by science, but I believed it would be—one day.
“Back to the soil,” Ed said, kicking up some dirt with his toe. A clod landed on my shoe. “In the end, we’re all just dust.” He raised his can to his mouth again.
There it was again. Dust. To dust we shall return. I crumbled the dirt clod between my fingers. Soil was broken-down rocks. Was Ed saying we were all just rocks?
But rocks didn’t die. People did. I pictured Grampa Clem in his casket. “What about heaven?”
“Wishful thinking on the part of people who’re afraid to kick the bucket.”
I didn’t like him saying that. Whenever I thought about Grampa Clem and where he was now, I imagined him on a boat reeling in a giant fish and shouting, “Ooo-ee, would you look at that one, Bren?” And I would think back to him, “Save some for me to catch.” And he would say, “This is heaven, son. They never run out of fish here.”
I looked at Ed. “If there’s not a heaven, that means this is the only life we’ve got and when we die, it’s all over. We’re gone forever.”
“That’s what I believe.”
My arms prickled. “If that’s what you believe, why’d you let so many years go by without talking to us? That was a big waste of time.” I hadn’t planned it. It just popped out.
He squinted and his lips looked like that fissure again, but he didn’t say anything, just stared into the air. Then he got back in the hole and swung his pick as if the dirt had done him wrong.
I looked at his wrinkled face, leathery from the sun, red and sweaty from the hard work. Ed was old. He might not have that much time left. And if heaven didn’t exist, I didn’t have that much time left with him.
Finally, he stopped. He leaned on the pick handle, then stooped over and peered into a hole in the hillside. “Let’s try in there. Hopefully whoever dug it left a few behind.”
I stepped forward with the shovel, but Ed put out his arm. “I’ll start.” He took a smaller shovel from his backpack, then crawled into the shallow tunnel on his forearms. Only half his body would fit, though. His rear end and feet stuck out from the hill. I didn’t know why he wouldn’t let me do it. I would have fit a lot better in there. I heard the shovel stabbing the dirt at the back of the hole.
Stab, stab, clank, stab. “Did you find one?” I called.
“More rhyolite,” Ed yelled back. He dug some more.
When it happened, there was no sound. The dirt above Ed’s head fell in one big piece, like a giant rug covering him up. Poof.
“Ed!” I yelled, lunging for his feet. I could still see the bottom half of his body. P.J. barked wildly. I tugged on Ed’s leg, but he kicked as if he wanted me to let go. He struggled to free himself, but it wasn’t working. My eyes bounced around the landslide looking for a solution. How would I ever move all this dirt? Ed would run out of air first.
I heard his voice, muffled, but there. “Get help!” he called. Somehow he had room enough to yell. Maybe he’d be all right if I left.
But where would I get help? Not a single car had passed us on the road up the mountain. Only the elk. We were probably the only ones out here for miles. What should I do?
“Get help!” he cried again. P.J. barked and growled. He dug at the ground with his front paws.
I ran to Ed’s pack and searched every pocket until I found his keys. If only he’d had a cell phone. But of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t even own an answering machine.
“I’m going!” I yelled. Then I sprinted up the hill, pushing tree branches out of my way and tripping over fallen logs. Limbs snapped under my feet. Twigs grabbed at my pant legs and poked at my eyes, but I kept moving, looking up and ahead for the orange plastic ribbons, flickering like flames against the Ellensburg Blue sky.
CHAPTER 19
It felt like forever until I found the truck. In nae, in nae, I said to myself over and over. Tenet number three. I would need perseverance to reach help in time.
Finally I saw the ridge where we’d parked. I ran as fast as I could the rest of the way. I put the key in the ignition and turned. The engine whined, then stopped. I wheezed, trying to catch my breath after racing up the obstacle-covered hill.
I tried the key again. Nothing. What was I supposed to do now?
Baekjul boolgool, I recited. Indomitable spirit. Courage in the face of adversity. I imagined Ed starting the truck. What did he do? Sometimes he put his foot on the gas as he turned the key. I tried it. The engine roared and the truck shook to life.
Keep your foot on the brake. Move the lever to D for drive. I needed to turn around. It would be a sharp turn, across the road
, but this was an old logging road. No cars would be coming. I pressed down on the gas, turning the wheel hard to the left. The engine roared, but the truck stood still.
Emergency brake. My hand shook as I reached for the release. I pulled it and the truck started to move. I cranked the steering wheel left. I couldn’t make it all the way around—at least not without going over the edge. I braked. I would have to back up and turn the wheel again.
Ed and I hadn’t practiced going backward, but I knew that was what the R on the dashboard was for. I moved the lever and pushed the gas again. The truck zoomed back faster than I’d expected. I stomped on the brake and bit my tongue. “Ow.” My mouth watered. My heart pummeled my ribs.
“Baekjul boolgool,” I said out loud.
After a couple more tries, I got the truck pointed in the right direction. I gave it more gas. Too fast. Brake. Gas. Brake. The truck lurched down the mountain. Baekjul boolgool. Baekjul boolgool.
I got to the curvy part in the road. My knuckles ached from squeezing the steering wheel. My insides felt like they would fall out. I turned too far to the right and came dangerously close to the edge of the drop-off. I jerked the wheel left and the truck swerved toward the mountain.
“It’s okay,” I said, panting. It would be okay. Everything had to be okay. The road felt bumpier than before. Where was I going? How would I get help in time?
Ed would die. I knew it. After not knowing him my whole life, I had finally found him, and now he was gone, just like that. Just like Grampa Clem.
Hot tears burned the rims of my eyes. If I had stayed home like I was supposed to, this wouldn’t be happening. Was this my punishment for not behaving like an honorable Tae Kwon Do warrior—for disrespecting my parents and being dishonest?
I worked to stay in the center of the road as I rounded the next curve, but my watery eyes made it hard to see. I blinked a few times.
A van!
I jerked the wheel to the left. Something hard jammed into my chest as the front of the truck crumpled against the side of the mountain.
The truck was silent. Pain. Around my heart. I couldn’t breathe without it hurting. I’d forgotten to put on my seat belt.
“You okay?” someone yelled from outside.
“Huh,” I said, because it was the only thing I could get out. I looked out my window, slowly, as if I were underwater.
A white man with a blue bandana on his head pulled open my door.
“Is he all right?” A woman with brown hair down to her elbows peered around his arm.
“I can’t tell. Nearly killed us all, though. What are you doing driving, kid?”
“Who cares, Brian? Help him into our van.” The woman stepped in front and took my arm. “Can you walk?”
“My grandpa,” I said. My throat hurt from being so dry.
I told them what had happened; then we climbed into their van and started up the mountain. I sat on the shaggy carpet in the back, smelling gasoline and praying that God would help Ed stay alive, even if Ed didn’t believe in Him.
Back at the digging site, P.J. clawed at the dirt. Ed’s rear end was still up in the air—but he wasn’t moving. Was he all right?
I ran to Ed. “Good dog,” I said, pulling P.J. away.
Brian wrapped his arms around Ed’s thighs. The woman, Tammy, grabbed one of his legs and I took the other. “Pull!” Brian said. I yanked as hard as I could. I fell backward as the hillside gave way and Ed popped out, red as a beet. He sat on the ground, gulping for air. His hair was full of dirt.
I was so relieved to see Ed alive that my chest stopped hurting. I thought about hugging him, but I was too embarrassed and he was all bent over, trying to catch his breath.
He coughed a few times. “I owe you one,” he said to Brian and Tammy.
“Are you okay?” I asked, stuffing my hands into my pockets. It felt as if we were still in danger, standing there on that shifting mountain. The ground no longer seemed solid. The tunnel where Ed had been digging was gone.
Ed nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” He held up a chunk of rock. “And I got this.” He wiped it off and handed it to me. The rock was mostly black, rippled with blue. A thunder egg! “I think that’s as good as we’re going to do today,” he said. He ruffled his hair and slapped at his shirt. Dirt flew everywhere.
“I can’t believe you came out of that alive,” Brian said. “How did you breathe under there?”
“A big tree root created an air pocket right where I needed it. Got lucky, I guess.”
Was it just luck? I thought about my prayer in the back of the van.
“Like I said, I owe you.” Ed looked at the place where he’d been buried.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Tammy said. My head bounced in agreement.
Ed gulped down some water, then offered me the bottle. The water trickled cold all the way to my stomach. Then we climbed the hill and Brian drove us to Ed’s truck. After making sure the engine would start, we thanked them again and said goodbye.
I leaned my head against the back window. The bone over my heart was hurting again, but I didn’t care. We’d made it out alive.
“Sorry about your truck,” I said. The fender had been pretty banged up and the left headlight was shattered.
“You saved my life.”
Warm waves rippled over me. Ed saw what I’d done as saving his life?
“The truck can be fixed.” He sniffed. “That was a close one, though. A little too close.” He smiled at me with one side of his mouth. “Better buckle up.”
By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, my insides felt like a tumbler full of rocks getting polished. The maple donut and root beer swirled together in the beaker of my stomach. They were having a bad chemical reaction—with potentially dangerous gases.
We stopped at a gas station and I went to the bathroom. Then I figured I’d better call Gladys and let her know I was all right.
I dropped in two quarters and dialed my number. “Please deposit thirty more cents,” a voice said. I put in a quarter and a nickel and waited for the ring.
It rang three times and the message came on. I listened for the beep. “Gladys? Are you there? I’m calling to let you know—”
“Have you lost your mind?” Gladys was breathing hard, as if she’d been doing chair-obics before coming to the phone. “You better be on your way home. Your folks will have my head on a platter if you’re not here when they get back.”
I told her it would be a few hours but I’d be there in time.
Before I got home, I had a question to ask Ed. A Big Question.
Inside the truck, Ed held out a bag of sunflower seeds, already shelled. I poured some into my hand and crunched them between my teeth. Ed drove onto the road.
I looked out the window at the forest around us. My stomach was still tumbling. I licked the salt from the sunflower seeds off my palm. I looked out the window again.
“My birthday’s August twelfth,” I said.
“That right?”
“Maybe you could come to my party.”
“Doubt your mom would be too happy about that.”
I saw Mom hitting the hood of Ed’s truck with her fist. “Why didn’t you want them to get married?” I kept my arms by my sides and waited.
Ed’s eyes searched the dashboard as if he had X-ray vision and could see the engine through the gauges. He rubbed his nose. Then he pulled on his ear—one of the ears that stuck out like mine. “I guess I didn’t much like the idea.”
“Why not?”
He tugged on his ear some more. “Well, I guess it just didn’t seem right…at the time. Races mixing like that.” He glanced in the rearview mirror.
He had confirmed the truth.
“You mean you didn’t want my mom to marry my dad because he’s black.” I looked at his pinkish face. My skin tingled, as if I were a big peach getting peeled. My heart sat at the center of me, turning hard as a pit. “But you play chess with Mr. Henderson every week.”
&
nbsp; “That’s different than getting married.” The truck sped along the straight road.
“Why is getting married different than being friends?”
His face turned even pinker. He sat as straight as the trees outside the window.
“You’re too young…for all the details. I just think families should look alike. White people belong with other white people and black belong with black.”
I thought about quartz. Purple, pink, brown, clear—it came in many colors, but all the colors belonged to the same family. “You still believe that?”
He glanced toward me, then looked back at the road.
“Is that the real reason you told your rock club I was just a boy from the mall?”
His eyes narrowed. “I tried to tell Kate, the children are the ones who suffer.”
I leaned against the door with my chin in my hand. I thought of kids I’d seen suffering on TV—ads that showed children with dirty faces and their bones poking through their skin, kids who always had their fingers in their mouths and flies around their eyes. That wasn’t me.
“I’m not suffering,” I said.
We were silent the rest of the way home.
CHAPTER 20
Back at the end of my street, Ed pulled over to the curb. P.J. barked and scratched on the window.
Ed picked up the thunder egg from the floorboard and held it out. I took it in my hand, but all I could think about was that Ed didn’t think we belonged together. I got out of the truck. I didn’t care if thunder eggs were like Christmas presents. It sure didn’t feel like Christmas.
I had hoped Ed would tell me something that showed he’d changed his mind—that he didn’t think the same way anymore. I’d hoped he’d say how sorry he was and what a big mistake he’d made. But he’d given me nothing.
I gripped the rock. I wanted to hurl it at him. I felt like a big, angry thunder spirit.
I raised the thunder egg, ready to smash it to the ground. P.J. barked.
Brendan Buckley's Universe and Everything in It Page 11
