by Caleb Smith
“Yeah. But I’ve already done that,” She complained.
“I’m here to enforce the law. No arguments, lady. I can get rid of that thing very quickly if need be.”
“OK. OK, already. I’ll keep it on the property.”
“You’d better, because I’ll be watching.”
She sighed. “C’mon, Noah let’s go inside.”
He had no choice but to follow, feeling weird with every following step until he was in the house.
“Why did you have to put me on the spot like that? Your go-kart has nothing to do with me.”
“Yeah. You’re right, but I wanted to show you something,” she said, ignoring the scene that had just taken place.
She started her computer up and quickly found what she was looking for.
“Here, check this out.”
Noah peered over and saw a small, circular motor-looking thing with a pull crank.
“Well, what is it?”
She smiled knowing that he did not know. “It’s a motor for a bike, dummy. It mounts right above the chain below the seat. See? The circular part catches the rear tire and makes it spin. There is a cable that runs up to the front handle to throttle the speed. Your squeeze brakes would work fine with the motor in place. It says here you can top speeds of twenty-five miles per hour. At least you would be able to outrun those jerks.”
He liked this about Wendy. Just when he least expected it, she was there looking out for him. “Well, how much is it?” he asked.
“This one is used, but they are asking $150 for it. I bet I could get it down to at least $125.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of money, Wendy.”
“I know you don’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t earn it. Plus, if you get that for your bike, you will be able to keep up with my go-kart!”
“But, your father doesn’t want you to take it off the property.”
“My father doesn’t know what he wants; that’s the trouble with him. I figure if you put in some afternoons after school and spend some Saturdays over here helping me out like you used to, then you can earn that money in no time.”
Noah kept the book shop in the back of his mind, not ever wanting to lose sight of it, but this motor for his bike was almost as cool, and it definitely sparked his interest. If this was Wendy’s way of softening him up, then he surely didn’t mind. After all, he would be investing in his own transportation.
“So, you want to give me a hand for a couple hours?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah. Sounds great.”
“All right. We have to strip a car down – a 2006 Subaru Outback. It was brought in last week on the wrecker. The owner totaled it out.”
“What do you mean, totaled it out?”
“It was in a car crash. The back end of it is all mangled, but the front of the car is in good condition. My father said it was all mine if I wanted to strip all the salvageable parts.”
“What are you going to do with the parts?”
“I’ll find homes for them. I’m starting to build some good clientele with the new website and weekly deals that I put up.”
“That’s great! How do you advertise your stuff?”
“I usually post the new parts that I’m trying to get rid of, along with photos. I can’t attach pictures to all the posts, but one thing I noticed was that parts usually sell better if people can see what they’re buying. Anyway, we will split the money on each part we can take out and sell.”
“That might take a while to sell,” he said, half-jokingly.
“You would be surprised. A lot of the stuff I put up with pictures usually goes within a week. Plus, it’s not like you have anything else going on, right?” she chuckled, pushing him in the shoulder.
His inner self laughed and urged him to tell her about his latest experiences with the book shop, but just as the words were on his tongue, Mr. Sherman walked into the house, yelling in his deep burly voice for Wendy.
“We’re right here, Dad!”
“What are you guys doing?” he asked, walking into the room.
“I was just showing Noah the website and explaining to him about the Outback that we are going to strip down.”
“What Outback?”
“Ummm…the one that Josh picked up last week and brought in and has been sitting over by the gates.”
“Yeah, but what about that Outback?”
“You said I could take the parts.”
“When did I say that?” Her father seemed bewildered.
“I asked you the other day when you were underneath a car.”
“Haha. If I was underneath a car, that means my mind was elsewhere, and I was not making logical decisions about anything other than my task. You can’t have the Outback, Wendy. We need the spare parts for our auto fixes.”
Wendy threw a fit, putting Noah in the most awkward situation. It was a side of her Noah immediately didn’t care for, as her screams were high-pitched and loud, and her arms and legs became wrecking machines for anyone his size.
“You! You told me I could have it!”
Mr. Sherman became unglued. “You get your butt to your room, missy. You are grounded for a month.”
“I am not, either! I hate YOU!” she stormed off upstairs to her room, Earl was not too far behind her.
Noah gathered his backpack and let himself out. He tried to think the best about any situation, in this case whispering to himself, “At least I’m not the only kid who has fights with his parents.”
He saw both sides of the Wendy argument (it was best to just stay neutral on the subject). He liked the idea of having a motor on his bike, but it was almost too good to be true. Perhaps this plan of Wendy’s would just need some more time to pan out. The positive he would take out of this was one that quickly struck him fancy. A plan for a third trip to the book shop spontaneously developed. He hopped on his bike and began to pedal.
Chapter 13
He arrived at the shop precisely eighteen minutes and thirty-three seconds after he started pedaling. The bike rack was right where it needed to be, and Noah placed his bicycle there with care, locking it to the closest bar.
Stepping inside the shop, he quickly realized that there were no customers. However, there was a fluffy white cat hanging out on the front counter.
“Hello! Anybody here?” he called out.
The cat meowed.
“Not you, silly. Anyone else?” Noah inched onward in search of burly, bearded men. The cat meowed again. Noah gazed over and, as the feline jumped off the counter, he spotted a purple book that grabbed his attention and drew him near – much like hypnosis. He picked up the canvas-covered gift, which looked just like the past two books he had read, absent of a title. Beneath the book was a note that read: “Please leave Book II.”
Noah retrieved the second book from his sack and placed it on the counter, note on top. He then looked around to see if anyone was coming before stuffing the new book into his bag. The whole situation was queer. Why was no one here to watch the store? But the thought of a new adventure quickly washed away his worry about the empty bookshop (technically there was a cat, but that didn’t count). They must have known he was coming because they had left a note. Maybe he was better off not bringing anyone he knew to the shop. What would they think of such a situation?
His pondering soon landed him on his own doorstep. He was glad to see that his mother was not yet home. He could only handle so much of her being disgruntled in one day. He let himself in, laying his bike near the front door before heading to his room where he shut himself in. He pulled the manual out like an adrenaline junkie, then sat on the edge of his bed grasping the purple cover with both hands, eager to begin his next lesson. He didn’t want to be interrupted. He looked over to his door and wished there was a lock on it, but it was old-fashioned and didn’t sport one. Instead, Noah took his desk chair and wedged it underneath the door knob to prevent an intruder (his mother) from barging in. He wasn’t q
uite sure what had happened to his physical body when he had been inside the first two books, and he didn’t want to leave himself vulnerable.
He jumped onto his soft, double bed and bounced a bit with the book in his hands before settling into his preferred book traveling position. Lying on his belly with two pillows tucked up underneath his arms, the open book plain and easy for his eyes to see. He then delicately opened the cover. A cold, mountainous breeze ripped out of the pages, blowing his hair back while sending whipsawing tails of wind to bounce off his walls, tossing paper goods in its path. The small, ten-foot-by-twelve-foot room became a cave to catch wind, and the temperature seemingly dropping to arctic levels. He looked at the first page of the book, and the title read: Book III: The Boy Who Could Ski.
His eyes lit up with delight as he scanned the illustrations glistening with magic on the inside pages. He looked down and the ground was moving below him. His breath dotted the cold, crisp air with a faint fog. He was dressed for the part and completely comfortable in warm gear. His skis were bright orange and, although he had never been downhill skiing before, he took to the sport quickly and gracefully. In this book, his body appeared to weigh nothing, so there was no strain, fatigue, or struggle. Amazing feats seemed to be accomplished by the power of his mind. Truly, he felt as if there were nothing he couldn’t do. Once his mind figured out a task, his body (and orange skis) followed.
The trail started meagerly and narrowly through the woods. But suddenly the trees divided, and the little path opened to reveal a mountainside cliff that led to a great, white wall below consisting of fifty feet of bare, jagged rocks. Noah put the brakes on to slow himself to a cruising speed. He pulled up ten feet before the drop, planting his poles on the ledge and leaning forward on them.
Off beyond the jump was a whole world of mountains and valleys giving birth to streams and rivers that veined their surfaces. Flocks of deciduous trees converged below at lower altitudes, while strong-hearted soft woods showed their green, but snow-covered, faces. This place was in a constant freeze. There were many cliffs like the one he stood on, all leading to different walls and steep slope structures. Evergreens littered the mountain walls, breaking into trails leading to lower elevations for what seemed like miles below. He was at the top, and the only thing behind him was a tunnel of spruce trees that led back to his starting point.
He gave the vista one last look before he threw himself off the mini cliff high up on the mountain top. Before reaching the soft powder below, he twisted his body to the left. The jump was thrilling, and he landed with grace, spattering snow particles in the cold air. He propelled forward, carving twice, and then he straightened himself while gripping his ski poles tightly. He carefully made his way down a nose cliff that led to a hundred-foot-drop below. Before he could react, Noah was floating in the air in slow motion. Likewise, he slowed his mind. After all, this was the first cliff that he had jumped from, and he was certainly glad that it was not in the physical world!
Getting a feel for where he was going aimlessly in the air, he accelerated and screamed like a wounded animal until taking land. Both legs acting as spring coils, he bounced his unweighted body up out of the powder to rip forward. He began to enjoy his ride, cutting past trees and openings and happily making his way down the trail. The sun was exceptionally bright, matching the vibrancy of the blue skies above.
With the snow so white, it was harder for Noah to see in large, open areas. He used the goggles that were wrapped around the top of his head. They worked almost instantaneously, cutting the bright glare from his adjusting eyes. The trail was powdery, twisting, and gradual, allowing Noah to take his time and check out the wonderful views below. Nearly before the boy could process his surroundings, though, he found himself looking down a mountainside wall. The powder had blown away, and now there was nothing but packed, icy snow. He eased up on a ski, trying to reposition himself, but then slid twenty feet before catching his edges again. He took a breath, and a thought came to mind; Don’t be scared. You control this fear and outcome. His confidence grew, and he pushed off the mountain yelling, “Yahoo!”
He carved tenaciously, twisting his body around after every cut like an Olympian skiing the moguls, twisting and tearing his way to the bottom of this cold oblivion with intent and grace coloring his picturesque performance.
He first heard a rumble, then felt the shake as he found a spot to rest at the bottom half of the gigantic snow wall he had just scaled. He came to a sharp, slicing stop and kicked ice particles below him that rolled downward, leaving trails. Then, looking up, he saw a massive cloud consuming everything in its path.
“Avalanche!”
He first looked for a place to take shelter, but there were no options. The only thing he could do was try to run the monster out. He pushed off with his poles, kicking his skis forward as he took flight, once again, down the mountain. He kept his skis together and straight, crouching forward and letting his knees and thighs take charge. He quickly built up speed.
Leaving a whipping tail of snow behind, he plowed ahead, but the storm was catching up with him and began to nip at his heels. There was no need to look back; he could feel its presence reaching out to engulf him. The only thing that could stop the ensuing onslaught of snow was flat ground, and, at first, there seemed to be no hope of it. But then, Noah saw it ahead, less than a quarter-of-a-mile away.
Would he be able to make it there?
He hit a bump and was lifted into the air, but he soon regained composure as the rolling wall of snow and ice reached out and kissed his heels.
“Shoot!” he cried out when the ground below started to flatten and the monster closed in, swallowing him. The view in front of him turned into a thick cloud. Noah was on the verge of defeat, the mountain of snow now burying him, and he squeezed his eyes closed in horror, counting: “one, two, three.”
All at once, he appeared on his bed screaming, his clothes frosted over. There also was a constant pounding of fists on his bedroom door from his agitated mother who had heard him hollering when she’d come home from work.
“Let me in there, Noah. What’s going on?”
It took him a few seconds to realize he wasn’t trying to outrun an avalanche anymore and that he was now lying on his dry bed with defrosting clothes.
“What is it?” he yelled back.
The door knob jiggled back and forth, but the wedged chair held fast.
“Unlock this door, now!” Her scream was a bit muffled.
He walked over and removed the chair. His mother all but fell into the bedroom.
“What are you doing in here? Your clothes are all damp!” She rubbed his arms. “You feel cold. What have you been doing?” Her eyes darted around the room for answers – an open window or bucket of ice cubes? – anything to shed light on the situation.
Noah didn’t know how to reply; it wasn’t as if he could tell her. She would think he was insane, and life as he knew it would surely change. That’s the last thing he wanted to happen, so he kept his head down and remained silent.
“I heard you screaming, Noah, less than three minutes ago. Do you want to tell me what that was all about, or maybe why your clothes are all cold and damp?”
He took a minute to reply, He certainly wasn’t ready to be battered by questions. He had no choice but to play dumb.
“Wait. Are you sure you heard me screaming, Mom? I was just lying down reading a book like I always do in the afternoon unless I’m hanging out with Wendy.” He smiled and moved to the side to show his mother the book on his bed.
“Well, why is the door locked? These doors don’t even lock. Did you wedge this chair against the door?”
“I don’t recall.” He was fishing for a new excuse.
“Why did you do it?” she persisted.
He finally blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Because I’m in middle school now and I like my privacy. I don’t want you barging in here any time you want.”
She was struck si
lent. It’s hard for a mother to watch her baby grow up, and this thought led her to the reality that her only son would eventually leave the nest. Thus, instead of lashing out, she replied humbly with a sense of grief.
“Well, I guess I didn’t know that’s the way you felt, Noah. I’m just trying to do my best here. You are the only thing I have left, and I would do anything to protect you.”
“I know you would, Mom.” His tone matched hers.
“All I know is that when I came in, I heard you yelling. What am I supposed to think, Noah?”
He tried to put himself in her position but stumbled in his attempt to answer.
“I don’t know what you’re supposed to think, Mom. I mean, you know me and trust me to do right. Isn’t that enough?”
“My fear was that someone had broken in and tied you up or locked you in your room or something.”
“No. No one was in here tying me up, silly.” He chuckled at the thought.
“Well I didn’t know! How about from now on we leave the door unlocked? I promise to give you privacy and always knock before coming in.”
He didn’t really like this idea, especially with future adventures to come, but he wanted the whole ordeal to be over, so he politely agreed not to put a chair up against the door anymore.
Dinner was his favorite: baked macaroni and cheese and meat loaf. He finished his plate and even had seconds. Evelyn was pleased that Noah was happy with her dinner making efforts; this brought her joy. After supper, Noah cleared the table and offered to do the dishes. His mom helped in order to get the dishes done more quickly – or, at least that’s what Noah figured. In reality, though, his mother merely enjoyed spending time with her son any way she could get it.
In fifteen minutes, the kitchen was clean and the dishes were done. Noah was a free boy for the rest of the night, so he did what any creative mind would do in his position: he grabbed an ice cream sandwich from the freezer and took it to his room to enjoy while contemplating his next adventure. The young teen noticed he was becoming more in tune with his thoughts and creative imagination since the discovery of the book shop.