The Goatnappers

by Rosa Jordan

  “Hey, if it’s good enough for cats, dogs, and jocks—” Booker started wheeling toward the kitchen. “Show them their room, will you, Melody, while I open a few more cans.”

  The next morning Booker gave Justin and Mom a map of the campus. “You’ll be on your own most of the day,” he said. “I’ve circled a few places for you to check out. But come to the field house around two. It’s here, see?” He pointed it out on the map. “I know you’ll want to get a whiff of the locker room, Justin.”

  Justin had never been on a college campus before. He figured he would feel like a fish out of water. But the funny thing was, he didn’t feel out of place at all. It was a warm spring day, and as they walked, they saw lots of people out taking advantage of the sunshine. Two girls in leotards sat facing each other, doing some sort of exercise, yoga he guessed. A couple of guys in shorts and no shirts were playing Frisbee. A steady stream of students, most of them talking on cell phones or listening to iPods, passed them on the sidewalks.

  As Justin and his mom headed toward the library, the first stop on Booker’s list, he saw a group of guys sprawled out on the grass under a big old shade tree. One of the boys glanced at his watch and said something to the others. They all grabbed their backpacks and made a dash for the building across the way, where, Justin guessed, some class was about to start.

  Justin couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of wearing anything you pleased to school, getting yourself to class at the right time without a bell, and having time between classes to do whatever you felt like doing. But he knew one thing: If he had a chance to drop out of high school tomorrow and attend a school like this, he’d do it in a heartbeat!

  After looking around the library they went to the bookstore, where Mom bought Justin a T-shirt with the name of the school on it. Then they headed to the student union building for lunch. The food court was crowded, but the lines went quickly. When they were finished, they left through a different door.

  On this side of the building was a walkway lined with tables. At first Justin thought they were selling things, but when he got closer, he saw that they were all promoting something. The biggest one had flashy posters inviting students to consider the U.S. Army as a career. Justin shook his head at the brochure the smiling woman in uniform was offering him and mumbled, “No thanks.”

  The sign on the next table read, “Just say NO to the WTO.” Justin knew WTO stood for World Trade Organization—Mr. Simmons had talked about it in social studies—but Justin hadn’t really understood what it was all about, or why a person should be for or against it. He took a flyer, and also one about global warming from the next table. He thought about picking up a pamphlet from a table promoting safe sex, but with Mom close by he didn’t dare, for fear she’d get the wrong idea.

  Then something on the last table in the row attracted his attention: a large-as-life poster of a chimpanzee behind bars. The caption read, “Animal Rights or Animal Welfare—Which Do YOU Support?”

  A serious-eyed girl with silky brown hair that spilled down her back held out a brochure. Justin took it. He did want to know the difference between animal welfare and animal rights, but he also wanted the girl to smile at him.

  She did. “Are you vegetarian?”

  Justin almost said yes, but decided it was best to stick to the truth. “No, but my brother is.”

  “Good for him!” She circled her fingers in an O of approval, as if he personally had been responsible for persuading Chip to quit eating meat.

  He could tell the girl wanted to get in a conversation with him, and he would have been interested to hear what she had to say on the subject of animal rights, but Mom stepped over to him and urged him on. “It’s almost time to meet Booker at the field house,” she said. “Shall we head over that way?”

  Booker showed them through the college’s sports facilities and workout rooms. They spent some time looking around in a lounge where a lot of trophies won by the school’s various teams were on display. Booker loaded Justin down with brochures about the college’s athletic program and the scholarships they offered.

  That night, after they got back from dinner at Melody’s apartment, Justin stuck most of the brochures he had picked up that day in his backpack to look at later. But he read every word of the material Booker had given him. Afterwards he lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of city traffic while his mind ran around in circles, trying to find room in his brain for all the new information. He kept coming back to one question: Was there really any chance of his getting to go to school at a place like this, or was that pure fantasy?

  Justin finally fell asleep, totally convinced that this was the best day of his entire life. But he was wrong. The next day, Saturday, turned out to be even better.

  After breakfast, Booker took them to Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin Luther King Jr. used to preach, because Mom said that was the one place in Atlanta that she wanted to see. On the way Mom dropped off a roll of film for developing, pictures they had taken the day before. Then they returned to the campus for something that Booker had kept as a surprise: a baseball game!

  “Oh, man!” Justin exclaimed. “This will be the first college-level game I’ve ever been to.”

  “No, it’s not.” Mom and Booker spoke at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

  Puzzled, Justin looked from one of them to the other. “What?”

  Mom put her hand on his shoulder. “Remember I told you your dad and I were in Atlanta when Booker was in college and came to see him play?”

  Once reminded, Justin did recall her telling him that, maybe six months ago. It was when he’d first found out that Mom had known Booker back when he’d had legs.

  “You were almost two and you were with us. Right over there.” Mom swept her hand toward the field. “This is where that game was.”

  “No kidding!”

  Booker shook his head, pretending hurt feelings. “I can’t believe you don’t remember your first meeting with the famous Booker Wilson!”

  Justin laughed. “I don’t remember anything from when I was two years old. But I sure wish I could remember that!”

  While they talked, Booker rolled along beside them in his wheelchair. When they entered the stadium, he handed Mom the stubs of their complimentary tickets and pointed to a pair of reserved seats on the front row. “There’s where you’ll be sitting,” he told them. “Me, I got other fish to fry.”

  Justin knew it was time for Booker to be with his team, to give them a last-minute pep talk. At that moment he would have given just about anything to be on that team. Waiting four more years would seem like a lifetime.

  They’d been in their seats for about half an hour when the little jazz band one section over finally started up. Everyone stood for “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Then the band marched out of the stands and down onto the field, playing the school fight song. Cheerleaders dressed in red and gold danced onto the field, followed by the home team. The crowd cheered as the players jogged around the field. Everyone except Justin, that is. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open, astonished into silence.

  His eyes were not on the ball players but on the cheerleaders—on one cheerleader in particular. Behind her pranced a small white goat that had been scrubbed and brushed within an inch of his life. His coat was silky white, and the sharp tips of his newly sprouted horns gleamed.

  “Oh my word!” Mom exclaimed. “Look at the team mascot, Justin! Doesn’t he look just like Little Billy?”

  “Y-yeah,” Justin stammered. “Looks ju-just like him!”

  Little Billy didn’t seem to mind the noise. He followed close behind the lead cheerleader, and Justin knew exactly why. The alert way the little goat pranced at her heels, she had to be slipping him corn chips.

  Justin tore his gaze away from Little Billy and looked for Booker. There he was, in his wheelchair, watching the team and its new mascot jog by. Booker looked up at Justin, grinned, and gave him a thumbs-up si
gn.

  32

  JUSTIN’S DECISION

  They left Atlanta early Sunday morning. Justin navigated, telling Mom where to turn to catch the interstate. Once they were out of the city and on I-75 headed south, he folded the map and fell silent. His head was full of things he had seen, things he had done, and things he might do someday if—well, if about a million other things worked out.

  Mom was quiet, too. He glanced her way once or twice and saw that she looked worried. She was probably fretting about work, or money, or wondering whether Kate and Chip were okay. Justin didn’t ask what was bothering her, because he didn’t really want to know. He had enough on his mind already.

  Each time a sports car zoomed past, Justin thought about his dad. He tried to picture himself at a racetrack. Maybe he could be on a pit crew before long … or even drive one of the cars! He imagined himself after a race, surrounded by his crew and a bunch of good-looking girls.

  But what kept getting in the way was Justin’s memory of the garage where his dad had been working the night he arrived. True, Charlie traveled to some exciting places, but those garages would be pretty much the same everywhere, wouldn’t they? And that was where they’d probably end up spending most of their time. Plus, he wouldn’t even be working on race car engines. Considering that he had zero experience in auto mechanics, he’d be in Jimmy’s place, cleaning up after the real mechanics.

  Justin also thought, briefly, about how in three years, or even two years from now, he could be a soldier if he wanted to. He knew of lots of guys from his town who had enlisted right out of high school. But Justin had just about had it with other people telling him what to do, when, where, and how. He couldn’t think of one good reason to put himself in a situation where he was getting bossed around and shot at.

  The picture that kept replaying in his head, crowding out the other thoughts, was of himself running onto the field with his teammates, the crowd cheering. And afterwards, Booker pounding him on the back for driving in the winning run. Justin knew it was pure fantasy. But the thing was, it was a fantasy he might be able to make real.

  They stopped for gas near the Florida-Georgia line. Justin pumped, and then went to wash his hands to get rid of the gasoline smell. On his way to the restroom he passed the station’s garage. He wondered how long you’d have to work in a place like that before you stopped noticing the smell. Justin smiled to himself, thinking about how his dad, who didn’t seem at all bothered by petroleum fumes, couldn’t stand the smell of the goats.

  Around noon they stopped for lunch at a small park. “It was so sweet of Melody to pack a picnic for us,” Mom said as they walked across the grass. “How about over there?” She pointed to a table near a pond.

  “Sure.” Justin set the basket on the table and took out a sandwich. By the time he had it unwrapped, a flock of ducks was paddling toward them.

  Mom said, “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  Justin broke a crust off his sandwich, walked over to the water, and pitched it to the ducks. They weren’t like Chip’s big white ducks. These were small and dark-colored, with bright green heads. Mallards? Justin wasn’t sure, but they were pretty—not to mention aggressive. They quacked and dived in front of each other for the bits of bread the way he had often seen Chip, Luther, and Lily scuffle over a soccer ball. Justin shoved the last of the sandwich into his mouth and went back to the picnic table. Mom poured him a cup of lemonade, which he downed in two swallows.

  “I sure did like that campus,” he said, pouring himself a second cup.

  “It’s one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen,” Mom said. “Although to tell the truth, I haven’t seen all that many.”

  “It’s fun getting to see new places. I was thinking about Dad, how he travels all over.”

  Justin picked up another sandwich and walked back to the edge of the pond. “I’d like to spend some time with him.” He tossed the ducks another crust. “Not right now, though,” he added. “I’ve got too much going on, with school and all. And Mr. Hashimoto’s offered me a summer job—did he tell you?”

  “No,” Mom murmured. “He didn’t mention it.”

  “So I won’t have time this year. Maybe next summer, after I’ve got my driver’s license. Or the one after that.” Justin paused, wondering if his mother would understand why he wanted to spend more time with Charlie. “Dad’s a fun person to be with, you know?”

  He glanced over. His mother’s eyes looked damp and shiny, like she was about to cry.

  “I know,” she said softly. “I remember that about him.”

  She wasn’t crying, Justin decided. Actually, she looked pleased. Maybe her eyes were just tired from so much driving.

  “Want me to drive awhile?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Mom started picking up their picnic things.

  “I can’t wait to tell him about the sports program they’ve got there. Oh, man! It is so cool!” Justin swung an imaginary bat at an imaginary ball.

  Mom threw a bright red apple at him. “Let’s see you hit this!”

  Justin caught the apple in one hand. Both of them ran, laughing, back to the truck.

  They arrived home late that afternoon. The pickup had barely rolled to a stop before it was surrounded by jabbering kids. Kate’s big news was that Ruby and Mr. Jackson had made up. She tried to make it sound as romantic as possible, but Chip, Luther, and Lily drowned her out with shrieks of laughter and comic imitations of two people kissing.

  Justin carried the bags into the house and looked at the clock, wondering if he’d have time to raid the refrigerator before his dad arrived. Just then Charlie’s convertible turned in the driveway, so that answered that question. Justin hurried outside, hoping his dad would want to go to dinner before the movie.

  Mom was still in the yard, encircled by kids. Chip was hanging onto her like he thought she was going to leave again any minute.

  “Hi, Charlie,” she said cheerfully. “Justin will be right out.”

  Charlie answered in a tone that wasn’t nearly as friendly as Mom’s. “Have a good time in Atlanta, Betty? With the great Booker Wilson?”

  Mom’s face turned red. “As a matter of fact, we had a fantastic time.”

  “I guess you think this kind of ‘vacation’ is in the best interest of our son?” Charlie snarled.

  Justin stopped in his tracks.

  Mom put her hands on her hips. “Oh? And just what do you think is in Justin’s best interest, Charlie Martin? Should he be an itinerant car mechanic like you? Or a minimum-wage nursery worker like me? Or should he be the best at whatever he wants to be?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie snapped back at her.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Why don’t we let Justin make up his own mind, without any pressure from either of us?”

  “Well, sure. I don’t have a problem with that.” Charlie seemed to be backing off a little. “But this thing with Booker Wilson—”

  “Is none of your business!” For a second, Justin thought his dad was in danger of being slapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, Charlie, walking out on your family changes things. Maybe you gained something by it, but you definitely lost something.”

  Mom turned on her heel and took a step toward the house, but Chip clung to her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. Then Kate showed her something partially wrapped. Justin realized that it was a present for their dad, and felt a little embarrassed. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to get Charlie a going-away present. Oh well, he thought. Too late now. Then Justin remembered the pictures they’d taken in Atlanta, and went back in the house to get them.

  When he came out, Chip was holding a basket of duck eggs that he had obviously decorated for Easter. “Go ahead, Dad,” Chip said. “Choose one. Any one you like.”

  “Uh, this one,” Charlie said.

  Chip beamed. “I painted that one. With magic markers that sparkle.”

  Kate held out the package sh
e’d shown Mom. “Here, Dad. For you. I made it myself.”

  Charlie pulled away the paper and held up a denim vest.

  “Remember how I told you that Ruby and I sell things?” Kate reminded him. “The candy is sort of seasonal, so we started Denim Designs to have something between holidays, you know? It’s all one-of-a-kind stuff, like this.” Kate stopped babbling and smiled shyly. “This is the first vest I’ve made. Do you like it?”

  “Like it? It’s great!” Charlie slipped on the vest and stood there looking down at it. “I didn’t realize you kids were so … you know … talented.”

  Justin slid the photos out of the packet. “Want to see some pictures we took in Atlanta?”

  “Sure.”

  “Here’s one of the field house at Booker’s college. And here’s one I took of Mom and Booker, in front of his apartment.”

  Charlie barely glanced at the first photo, but he jerked the second one out of Justin’s hand and held it up close to his face. “What’s he in a wheelchair for?”

  Justin stared at Charlie. It never occurred to him that his dad didn’t know Booker’s feet had been blown off. But then, how could he have known? He probably hadn’t seen Booker since the time he and Mom went to watch him play ball a dozen or more years ago. Actually, Justin remembered, Charlie had seen Booker recently. But with Booker sitting in his van, Charlie couldn’t have seen that he was crippled.

  “Booker was in the army,” Kate said. “He lost his legs.”

  “His feet,” Luther corrected. “And part of his legs.”

  Charlie frowned, studying the picture. Justin couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but he guessed it was best to get his show-and-tell over as quickly as possible. He handed his dad another photo. “Here’s one of Mom and Booker and me at a restaurant where we went for breakfast.”

  “Who took the picture?”