To Curious Heights

by Sean McGowan

Chapter 9:

  Sleepover

  Harold and his crew entered Doug’s condo and flipped the lights on.

  “So do you have any video games here or what?” asked Winston.

  Doug pointed to the second floor. “There’s a Nantendu 96 in the den.”

  Winston wiggled his fingers. “Ooh, old school!” He immediately sprinted up the stairs to the den and turned the game console on.

  “That was fun,” said Samson, “but those guys were really scary.”

  “They’re not scary, Samson,” said Harold. “They’re just dumb kids like us.”

  “I was talking about the spacemen,” said Samson.

  Harold smiled. “Oh. They didn’t scare you, did they, Wayne?”

  Wayne shook his head. “No, they were amazing. Zallicastar said I could turn stars into honey.”

  Harold sat down at the kitchen table and began to sort through his backpack. “Think that’s true?”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t even know why I would want to,” said Wayne. “But it was nice of him to say.”

  Harold pulled out a pair of swim trunks and thought for a moment. “Hey, anyone want to go swimming tomorrow afternoon?”

  “That sounds like fun,” said Wayne.

  “I might be up for that,” said Doug, sitting down at the table. “Oh wait, I still need to mail my letter home!” He started feverishly sorting through his backpack. “Do you guys remember what I did with the envelope?”

  “Don’t you remember?” Winston called from upstairs. “I emailed it for you.”

  Doug froze and his eyes shot wide. “You piece of crap!!!”

  “What?” yelled Winston. “I didn’t know it was gonna get magicked out of your bag!”

  Doug flew up the steps and stared Winston down. “You’re gonna come with me and get it back!”

  “Why do you even want to be a junior counselor? Lorne’s a junior counselor,” said Winston.

  “Which is exactly why they need more people like me.”

  “Well, thanks for offering to bring me along, but I think I’d rather go swimming. Maybe Samson would like to help you.”

  “I’ll do it!” yelled Samson from below.

  “I’m going to make you come with me as a matter of principle!” said Doug.

  “And just how do you plan on making me do that?” asked Winston.

  Doug unplugged the Nantendu 96 and hoisted it in the air. “This is going out the window if you don’t agree to come.”

  Winston shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your system.”

  “Okay then. Fair is fair.” Doug opened the window.

  “Alright I’ll go!” Winston glared at Doug. “You’re sick...”

  Doug returned the console to its place. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stomach that.”

  “You do realize,” said Winston, “that getting back to the laptop, let alone finding out where it is, won’t be easy.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Alright, well I heard Lorne mention that he’s staying at the Stinkerton, so we can start there.”

  “Okay.” Doug collapsed into a chair. “I need some time to cool down. We’ll leave at the crack of dawn.”

  “No, no, no. We’ll go after lunch. I’m not a morning person,” said Winston.

  “Dude, I’m not waiting that long.”

  “If you want to get the most out of me, we will leave after lunch. Besides, we’ll have a better chance of getting to it in the afternoon when all the bulls are probably out screwing around.”

  Doug shrugged. “Fine, whatever.”

  Samson popped up the stairs. “Sounds like an exciting adventure!”

  Winston looked at Doug. “Do you really want to bring him?”

  “I don’t care. He can come if he wants.”

  Harold and Wayne walked up the stairs. “Everything all right, girls?” asked Harold.

  “Just peachy,” said Doug. “You gonna help us get my letter back?”

  “I would, but I’m going swimming,” said Harold.

  Doug looked to Wayne. “How about you?”

  “I would, but I’m going swimming.”

  “Suit yourselves,” said Doug.

  “Swimsuit yourselves,” said Samson.

  Doug looked at Winston. “What do we do about the laptop if we find it?”

  “Let’s not take any more stupid risks,” said Harold.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Winston.

  “Okay.” Doug leaned against the wall and rubbed his eyes. “Man, this has been a long day.” He pointed at the couch Winston was sitting on. “That couch folds out into a bed.”

  “Cool,” said Winston.

  “I’m going to sleep on it.”

  Winston nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I mean now.”

  “That will be kind of hard with me sitting on it.”

  Doug grabbed Winston’s feet and flipped him over the back of the couch, then proceeded to unfold it.

  “Where are we going to sleep?” asked Winston as he pulled himself off the floor.

  Doug pointed to the stairs that led to the third floor. “There’s two bedrooms up there. One has a king-sized bed. The other has two normal beds.”

  “I call the king-sized!” shouted Winston.

  “Then you need to share it with someone,” said Harold.

  “Alright...” Winston grabbed Samson by the shoulders. “I’ll take the little guy.” He looked at Samson. “You don’t punch or kick when you sleep, do you?”

  “Only when I dream about spacemen and walking potatoes,” said Samson.

  Winston nodded. “I’ll take those chances. G’night, Dougie!” He ran up the stairs with Samson under his arm.

  “Have wonderful dreams!” yelled Samson.

  “Yeah, see ya,” said Doug. He turned to the Harold and Wayne. “Goodnight, guys.”

  Harold waved. “Goodnight, Doug. There’s a bathroom up there, right?”

  “Yup,” said Doug.

  Harold nodded and walked up the stairs. Wayne waved goodnight and followed.

  Several minutes later, after he had unpacked and taken care of his hygienic needs, Harold climbed into bed, wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. Wayne was already lying in his bed. Harold turned off the lamp on the nightstand between the beds.

  “Are you still worried about getting home?” asked Wayne.

  “I am,” said Harold, “but it’ll happen in God’s time, I guess.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it.”

  Harold stared at the ceiling. “What do you think it is that makes Lorne tick?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I mean, he doesn’t seem evil, but what he’s doing is extremely dangerous.” Harold shrugged. “Maybe life is just hard for him and this is his way of dealing with it.”

  “Lot’s of people have hard lives,” said Wayne,” but they don’t all turn out to be criminals.”

  “Yeah, I know. I still don’t get it... But I don’t know how it would affect me if my brother died in a motorcycle accident.”

  Wayne turned his head. “Harold, Byron didn’t die in a motorcycle accident.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “At least, that’s a funny way to describe it.”

  “Then how did he die?”

  “The way I understand it, after The Order of the Bull collapsed, Byron fell in with a notorious motorcycle gang. But as far as I know, he didn’t get in any wrecks.”

  “Did your cousin tell you about this?”

  “Yeah. As I heard it, this one day the whole gang was holed up in a bar, when they got raided by the state police. A short firefight broke out and that was that.” Wayne paused.

  Harold looked over at Wayne, eager for elaboration, but afraid to ask for it.

  “Byron got gunned down by a state trooper... He was only seventeen.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “Yep.”

  Harold looked back at the ceiling. “Man,
the things some people have to go through. I can’t even begin to understand.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t always seem fair.”

  “That’s one of the things that makes it tough for me with Sally.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I always feel inferior to her. In a few days, she’ll be on the other side of the world, in tough conditions, helping her family spread the gospel. And what will I be doing? Just screwing around, doing decent at school, decent at sports. She’s a straight A student.”

  “Harold, you’re selling yourself short.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t help that her dad doesn’t like me.”

  “Why do you think her dad doesn’t like you?”

  Harold sighed. “Oh, it’s a long story.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Alright... Mr. Livingston used to be a missionary in Peru, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well a couple years ago, he went back for a week or two to visit. When he came back to the States, he ended up sick with a parasite. It got so bad that he had to be hospitalized. So I had an idea. Maybe I just wanted to impress Sally, but I thought it would be nice to get him a get well gift, so I took all the money I had saved up and bought him a Spanish Bible.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “Yeah, and he was all smiles when I gave it to him. So about a month after he got out of the hospital, I was over at their house and asked him how the Spanish Bible was treating him. He said it was great. But a little later, Sally pulled me aside and told me the truth.”

  “The truth? That sounds sinister.”

  “Well, it sort of felt that way. She told me her dad didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to feel bad, but when he was in the hospital, he gave the Bible to another patient. ‘It changed the guy’s life!’ she said.”

  “Well that’s great!”

  “Great? Her dad gave away a present I got him, and then he lied about it!”

  “You think he was a missionary in Peru for a few years and didn’t already own a Spanish Bible?”

  Harold sighed. “Thanks, Wayne. That makes me feel so much better.”

  “I’m just sayin’...”

  “Maybe it was my fault...” Harold thought in silence for a moment. “How about you, Wayne. Any girls on your mind right now?”

  The question was met with silence.

  “Wayne?”

  “Huh?” said Wayne, groggily.

  “You fell asleep on me.”

  “Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I was asking if you like anyone right now.”

  Silence again.

  “Wayne?” Harold looked over at Wayne, then looked back at the ceiling. “Goodnight, buddy.”