“Thanks for choosing us over juvie, Mike!” Tim broke in. What a jokester.
I found myself smiling, even with everyone staring at me.
“I’ve never seen you grin like that before, Longridge!” Lisa laughed and swatted me on the shoulder. She was still teary.
Longridge was back.
chapter ten
My lungs were about to pop. I could barely see with all the sweat in my eyes. The roads were icy, but I kept running. I was somewhere on the back roads of town and didn’t know where I was going. I was just running. The past twelve hours had been the worst in my life. And I’ve had a lot of bad hours.
Most of it was a blur. I’d gotten home the night before, totally elated after the ski trip. I walked in the house and saw boxes everywhere. My dad said, like he had a hundred times before, “Time for a fresh start, Mikey.” I kicked over a bunch of boxes. My dad grunted that like it or not, we were moving. To Nelson, no less. “We’ll sort out school later.”
I threw a beer bottle and broke the kitchen window.
“I’ve finally found somewhere that I belong,” I’d yelled. Then I slammed the door to my room and stayed there all night too angry to change out of my clothes or sleep.
This wasn’t like all the other times we moved. For once I had a reason to stay.
But now, once again, I was out running because my life was a steaming pile of crap.
I felt like breaking something other than the kitchen window. I used to love it when my buddies and I would smash car windows. Or maybe I’d go steal something. I hadn’t done that in months.
An awful acid taste crept into my mouth. I ran to the nearest shrub and chucked all over it. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and chucked again.
Okay, maybe I didn’t really want to steal anything. The owner of the shrub was glaring out her living-room window at me. I took off up a gravel road. It looked peaceful up there.
“Howdy, partner, what’re you doin’ in these parts?” The voice surprised me. I spun around.
On no. Not Lisa. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even her.
Lisa did a sideways jump so that she was standing right in front of me.
“How did you know it was me?” I wiped the last bit of barf from the side of my mouth.
“I was out for a walk,” she said. “Recognized the hoodie.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Lisa studied my face. “What’s up, Longridge? Are you okay?”
“Um, no, I’m fine.” Well actually, my dad is a jerk and I just puked all over that shrub over there.
“You don’t look fine. I live near here. Wanna come over for a minute?”
This was all so weird. All of a sudden Lisa was back in my life, calling me her little nicknames. I’d been thinking about that. Was I only in her exclusive club again because I saved her friend?
I shook my head. “No. Not right now.” I started running again. Lisa ran along beside me. Darn, she had me trapped.
“Seriously, dude, what’s up? Are you just not in the mood to talk?”
“Yeah. I just want to go for a run.”
“Okay, Longridge. See you around.” She hung back and let me run ahead.
After a couple minutes I heard footsteps on gravel.
“Please?” Lisa skidded in front of me again. “We just went to Timmy’s.”
Call me a cheap sell, but the thought of donuts perked me up, especially after all that running.
I sunk my teeth into a Boston cream, fresh from the Tim Hortons box, so sweet and chewy and good.
“Wasn’t the big snowball fight fun?” Lisa said through her jelly donut. “That was wicked when you and Tim snuck up on Brian.”
“Yeah. That was awesome.”
“It’ll be different when we’re in regular classes in January. But at least we’ll all be together.”
I looked down and picked some of the icing off my donut. A coconut chocolate one this time. “I might not be there.”
“What?” Boy, could she ever shriek when she wanted to. “What are you talking about?”
“My dad wants to move.”
“Now? In the middle of the school year?” Lisa stood up and slammed her hands on the table. “Well, tell him you can’t! You just can’t! Explore needs you! Does he know that you just saved someone’s life?” She put her hand to her forehead and started pacing around the kitchen.
I put down the rest of my donut. Since when did Explore need me? I was only there as a pity case.
“Actually, never mind. I gotta go. Thanks for the donuts.” I got up to go, pulling my hood up over my eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay, and we’ll figure this out.”
I was already heading for the door to put my shoes on. But where was I going to go from here? Home? No. The 7-Eleven? No. Officer Lardface’s office?
“Earth to Longridge!”
I realized that I had been standing by the front door, holding my right shoe and staring off into space.
She tugged off my hood and laughed. “I’m afraid I can’t unleash the Hooded Fang on the world when he’s this upset.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well, I guess I could stay for one more donut.”
We were back at the kitchen table. I took a big bite of an apple fritter. I chewed it for a good long time. Lisa asked what was up again.
It all came out. I told Lisa about my messed-up life, my messed-up father and how I’m a lying, stealing juvenile delinquent. I told her I couldn’t remember the names of all the towns my dad and I had lived in and how I didn’t want to move again. I even threw in the part about my mom being only seventeen when she had me and that she died in a car accident when I was four. I don’t think I’ve ever talked so long in my life. Lisa nodded the entire time.
When I finished, Lisa was staring at me. “You’re not really a troublemaker though, are you? I mean, you haven’t done anything to prove it so far in Explore. Maybe you’re just easily influenced.”
Who was she, Officer Lardface? It would be way better to be a born troublemaker rather than a by-default troublemaker. I shrugged.
But then Lisa smiled. “So I guess us Granolas finally touched your cold, hard heart, eh, Mike?”
“It took a while,” I said. “But yeah.”
Then I remembered about the Granolas only liking me because I saved Kayla. I asked Lisa about that.
“No! I can’t believe you thought that!” I think Lisa genuinely felt bad. She paused. “Although that was pretty amazing. You pulled her right out of that tree well. You, Mike Longridge!” She poked her finger into my chest as she said it.
Lisa and I talked about lots that afternoon. We talked about the future. Lisa had some pretty interesting plans for after high school. She wanted to become a doctor and volunteer in orphanages in Guatemala. I always thought I’d just work in a gas station or something after graduation. Maybe I could do something cool too.
After a while Lisa stood up. “Okay, enough talking. We have to do something about this moving-away problem. I have an idea. Be right back.”
Lisa jogged downstairs to the basement.
I looked around the kitchen. I’d been too wound up earlier to notice what Lisa’s house looked like. It was a regular, run-of-the-mill house, with lived-in furniture and family photos. It was tidy and there were lots of books. I wondered what Lisa’s bedroom looked like. I had always imagined her living in a mansion.
Lisa returned with a pad of paper and a pen.
“Okay, Longridge. You’re going to do it the old-fashioned way. You’re going to write your dad a letter and tell him how you feel.”
“A letter?” What was this, a self-help seminar?
Lisa nodded. “And you’re going to add this photo. I just printed it.” She handed the photo to me. It was all of us Explorers up on the mountain. I was standing beside Lisa and Tim with the biggest grin on my face.
“Lisa,” I said, studying the photo, “have I become a Granola? Have I totally sold out?”
&
nbsp; Lisa laughed. “No way, José. Tie-dye and hemp jewelry will never touch your lily-white body. Besides, sold out from what? Would all the criminal losers you used to hang out with be so disappointed in you?”
I pretended to be offended. We laughed. Then Lisa got all businesslike again.
“Okay, you gotta write that letter to your dad.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Lisa passed the pen to me. “I’ll help. You write.”
If Lisa was surprised at my kindergarten writing skills, she didn’t show it. It took about three hours that afternoon, but we did it. The letter had scratched-out parts all over it, and probably had tons of words spelled wrong, but it said what I wanted it to say.
“Now sign and seal. Let’s go drop it off.”
We went to the house that night when I knew my Dad would be out with Big Lips. I taped the letter to the TV screen. That way he wouldn’t miss it.
“Mission accomplished?” Lisa asked when I got back outside.
“Mission accomplished. Do you think it’ll work?”
“Well, if it doesn’t, we gave it our best shot.”
We went back to Lisa’s house for milk and cookies. Yup, we really had milk and cookies for a bedtime snack. Her mom and dad, Abby and Henry, were home from a day of hiking. Henry was a head shorter than Abby, who was this tall, beautiful blond lady. They were super nice.
After that I went to bed on the old couch in the Park’s rec room and had the best night’s sleep I’d had in years.
chapter eleven
The next day was Sunday. Lisa’s dad made blueberry pancakes and bacon for breakfast. I didn’t usually eat food that good. Then it was time for me to head home. Lisa kept asking if I had butterflies. It felt more like two heavyweight boxers duking it out in my gut.
I expected a fight when I walked in the door. My dad’s never been much of a fighter though. I remembered the fights that some of my buddies had with their fathers. Cam’s dad used to scream and swear at him, and Cam would scream and swear back.
Sometimes I wished my dad would yell at me. Then it might mean that he cared.
The window I broke two days before was all patched up. The house had been tidied. There was a note for me on the kitchen table: Home at 5. Let’s talk.
Dad walked in right on the dot of five. Already I was surprised. Usually he was held up for one reason or another.
“Hi, Mike.” He gave my back a firm pat. That was new too.
Dad shuffled through his CDs. He put one into our old, battered boom box. Then he sat down in his easy chair.
Kenny Rogers. “The Gambler.” I loved his smoky old cowboy voice.
“Your mom and I used to sing this to you when you were a baby. When you couldn’t get to sleep.” He told me that every time he played the song, which wasn’t often.
“I don’t remember her,” I said. “Mom.” I told him that every time too.
My dad nodded. “You were only four when she died. Your grandma took care of you for a while, but then she died too.”
“I remember Grandma. But not Mom.” I’d seen photos of my mother. I knew that she had long blond hair and was pretty. I guess I got my looks from my dad.
We sat there listening. Then Dad started singing along. He had a smoky old cowboy voice too. “You gotta know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em. Know when to walk away, know when to run.”
Dad was crying. His eyes were all crumpled up, and his moustache was catching his tears. As soon as I saw that, I started crying too.
There we were, two guys crying over Kenny Rogers.
We didn’t say anything for a while, just sat there snorting and snotting all over the place. I grabbed a stack of Dairy Queen napkins from the top of the TV.
“Have you seen Kenny lately?” I said after a few minutes, my nose all plugged up. “Way too much Botox.”
“Maybe a facelift too. His skin is tight as a hospital sheet,” Dad said. He coughed out a chuckle.
“Yeah. Scary.”
We sat there for another little while. Now Kenny was singing about Ruby not taking her love to town.
Dad cleared his throat. He pulled the letter out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it. It looked like he’d already read it a few times. “Seems you’ve been having a good time with all those save-the-world kids.”
“Yup.”
“Did you write this letter yourself?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I felt my shoulders tense up.
“Fine letter there, Mike. Made me think.” My shoulders relaxed a little. “You know, I really didn’t think you could do it.”
Dad paused, looking at the letter.
“And you saved a girl’s life, you say.” He looked up at me. He wanted the story.
So I told him—in great detail. I changed a few parts, but it was pretty much true.
“Sounds like you really stepped up to the plate there, Mikey.”
“I guess I did.”
Dad pulled the photo out of his pocket. He carefully placed it on the living-room table. “Look at all those happy little faces.”
I pointed at Tim and Lisa. “That’s Tim and that’s Lisa. They’re my two best friends at school.”
“That girl’s a real looker,” Dad said, pointing at Lisa. “You got anything going with her?” He elbowed me in the ribs and wiggled his eyebrows up and down.
“No. Lisa’s the best. She’s going to be a doctor after high school. And she’s a volleyball star and good at pretty much everything.”
Dad just looked at me, not sure whether to nod or to shake his head. He was probably surprised to see me talking so much.
“I think I might want to go to college after high school too. And maybe I’ll try out for the track team next year.”
“Really? You never—” My dad stopped himself and cleared his throat. “So you’re going to be a regular productive member of society. Not like your old man.”
“Yeah.” What was I going to do, disagree with him?
“You know, Mikey, I always thought we were a team. You and me. Like father, like son.”
“Dad, if I don’t stay in Explore, I’m headed straight for juvie, remember?”
“I told you we’d work that out. We have our ways, us Longridge boys.”
I shook my head and stared right into his eyes. “I’m staying.”
We sat there staring at each other for a minute. Dad broke the stare first.
“Want some dinner?” he asked as he jumped up out of his chair. “I, uh, bought some stuff today. Spaghetti and meatballs.”
He had bought ground beef, onions and everything to make meatballs from scratch. Dad used to make meatballs when I was little. I remember helping him, squishing the meat through my fingers. I loved that feeling.
Later we settled down again, plates on our laps. We chewed in silence for a few minutes.
“So, what are we going to do, Dad?”
“I don’t know, Mike. I don’t know. But I can’t very well stay here.”
We talked for a while, trying to sort things out. We sat there, me on the couch and him in his easy chair, twirling and slurping our spaghetti until the sun set and we were sitting in darkness.
chapter twelve
So that’s it. I’m staying.
My dad’s leaving though. He’s off to Nelson to work in a pub at a bowling alley. He leaves next week, before Christmas.
After some meetings with Officer Lando and a social worker named Barb, we got it all figured out. They decided that I should stay here and stick out the school year, since Explore is going well for me. Then we’d figure it out from there.
Lisa’s parents said I could stay with them. I’m going to be in Lisa’s older brother’s room while he’s at university. I’m so stoked.
Today was the last day of outdoor Explore, before we start regular classes in January. Five months of intense classes. I’m pretty freaked.
Rick and Maggie hosted a little awards ceremony in the afternoon. I got “Most Impro
ved.” That’s got to be the worst award ever invented. It means that I really, really sucked to begin with, but hey, at least I got better. “Best Telemark Skier” or “Most Heroic” would have been better. At least part of the award was a $200 gift certificate for the local outdoor equipment store. That was pretty sweet. I think I’ll put it toward some ski gear.
Next winter I’m going to learn first aid and volunteer for Ski Patrol up on the hill. Weird as it sounds, I really got a rush out of helping Kayla.
Speaking of Kayla, I think she thanked me in her own Kayla-ish way the other day.
“Was I mumbling incoherently when you found me?” she asked the Monday after we got back from the ski trip. Her arm was in a sling.
“A little,” I said. Kayla narrowed her eyes. “I mean no, not really.”
“Awesome, pal.” She grinned and punched me in the chest with her good arm. “You’re coming to the party on Friday, right?”
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
We had a big bush party up in the hills, despite the fact that it must have been minus-twenty outside. That didn’t stop the Explorers though. Tim and I lit a fire in a barrel and set off some Roman candles. Jen broke out the marshmallows, and we roasted a bunch over the barrel fire.
“You know, Mike,” Tim said, “I think that without you, Explore wouldn’t have been as much fun. Seriously.”
“Hey, guys.” It was Lisa.
“Hey,” Tim and Jen said. They ran off with their burned marshmallows.
“Aren’t the stars so clear out here?” Lisa asked. I looked up. They were almost as bright as that night up on the mountain.
We stood there for a while. “You worried about classes next month?” she asked.
“Totally.”
“There’s a class called Reading, Writing and Running.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s like a modified version of English. Apparently we act out Hamlet some days and run five miles other days.”
I smiled. Lisa smiled back. She knew what I was thinking.
Everything was going to be just fine.
Maybe.
Acknowledgments
A special thank-you to Janis McKenzie, Pat Maher, Maryn Brown and Laura Dodwell-Groves, my dear friends in writing and in life.
Explore Page 5
