Noah Green Saves the World

by Laura Toffler-Corrie

  Nathan doesn’t say anything for a few long moments. Finally, he looks ponderous and is like, “Hmm. That’s a good thought, but it’s a little general. It might be overwhelming to try to save the whole world at one time.”

  “That’s a valid point,” I reply. “But my friend says he has some kind of plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s top secret,” I say, “so I really can’t tell you any more.”

  Nathan kicks a pebble around with his shoe, and it looks like a little smile is tugging at his lips. “Maybe you could start a little smaller, maybe doing charity for some good cause or helping with a food drive. You could make a documentary about the cause and raise money.”

  Josh and Tyler appear at the window again, this time making goofy faces, squishing their noses against the glass, and stuff like that. The air is getting chilly, and I think it’s time to go inside.

  “Um . . . no,” I reply thoughtfully. “I think I’d better just jump in and save the whole world first. Then I can maybe do some kind of other mitzvot. There’s a no-kill animal shelter in town. They need dog walkers.”

  “Well . . .” Nathan looks contemplative. “You seem pretty committed to the idea, but I think we should talk more about it. ’Kay?” And with that, Nathan walks up to the creaky screen door and disappears inside.

  Later that night, lying in my bed, I’m like, Man, do I have a lot to think about!

  First, there’s the mystery with Pops. Is Earth really in danger of being smashed by a giant asteroid, and do we really only have a few weeks to live? Can we stop it? And how exactly can I get this all on film?

  And then there’s Mia. Why was she so upset? Is it possible that she doesn’t know what she sounds like when she sings? And why would her voice make her angry? Because it’s different? Is it that she likes to be different but not too different? Or is it that she’s different in a way she didn’t expect to be? I’m starting to think that no one really knows how they sound or look. And no one really knows how other people see them.

  Quietly I sit up, careful not to wake Tyler and Josh. I grab the little desk mirror and stare into the small black irises of my own eyes. Maybe nobody really sees the me I want them to see either. Being a cinéma vérité filmmaker may help me reveal the truth in other people, but I’m still not sure what the truth is in me.

  Simon slips through the screen door. “Hey, whatcha doing?” he says slowly, seeing me nose-to-nose with my own reflection.

  “Trying to see the truth in my soul.”

  “Right.” He sighs, tossing his phone onto his pillow and plopping down onto his bed. “So what’s this all this rubbish with your pops?”

  “What makes you think it’s rubbish?” I say.

  “Are you joking?” he says, his eyes widening. “You don’t really believe him, do you?”

  “I’m not sure, but wouldn’t it be cool if he was telling the truth? I mean, even though I know it sounds impossible—”

  “Ya think?”

  “But what if it’s real?” I persist.

  “Seriously?” Simon says too loudly. Tyler shifts in his top bunk, bumping the top of my head with his butt.

  “Shh,” I whisper, moving next to Simon. I’m careful not to jostle Josh, who’s sprawled across his bed, tangled in the covers. “It could be true.”

  “Noah,” Simon says in a low voice, “don’t you think that if Earth were in danger of being hit by some monster asteroid, the government would know about it?”

  “Maybe they do,” I say.

  Simon’s phone buzzes loudly. “Oh crap, hang on,” he says. “Hello?” he says into his phone.

  Josh turns over in his bed and slowly sits up, his face slack in a state of half-sleep. “ ’Sup?” he says hoarsely.

  “Killer asteroids,” Simon answers him. Into his phone, he’s like, “Have to call you back. What? Football match? Dunno. Yeah, you’ll figure it out without me,” and he hangs up.

  “Huh?” Josh says, rubbing his face and swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

  “My pops thinks a giant asteroid is hurtling through space and is about to crash into Earth.”

  “Um . . . what?” Josh yawns and turns to Simon. “Translate, please.”

  Simon fills him in on everything that’s happened.

  “And the key to preventing it is buried somewhere on the historic site,” I blurt excitedly.

  “For real?” Josh asks.

  “It’s all nonsense, of course,” Simon says.

  Tyler moans and rolls over. “Shuddup, you guys. I’m trying to sleep.”

  Josh throws a pillow at Tyler.

  “Jeez!” Tyler moans, sits up, wipes the drool from his mouth, and squints out the window. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Could be true.” Josh shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “So you believe it? That’s awesome!” I exclaim.

  “Whoa, don’t get too excited.” Josh holds up his palms. “I didn’t say I believed it.”

  “Well, I still unequivocally don’t believe it,” Simon says.

  “Oh, cheerio,” Josh says dryly, mimicking the British accent. “Unequivocally? Speak English, dude.”

  “I’m saying it’s all crap,” Simon retorts.

  Tyler puts on his glasses, slides down from his bunk, and perches on the edge of my cot. “I’m sorry, could you all explain this again?” he says.

  “Dude, whew. Gum first. Open your mouth a second,” Josh says, waving his hand in front of his face.

  He mashes a piece of gum into his own mouth, then chucks one over to Tyler.

  Simon shakes his head. “Even if it were true, that still doesn’t mean it has anything to do with buried secrets or your pops.”

  “He was a secret agent,” I say, even though I’m not sure if that part is true either.

  “Yeah, but you can’t prove any of what he’s saying,” Simon insists.

  “That’s because it’s a secret . . . dagnabbit!” I grin.

  Simon rolls his eyes. “If you call me a hippie, I’m leaving.”

  At that moment, we hear voices going past our cabin.

  “Who’s that?” Josh asks.

  “Probably just some kids in the woods.” Tyler stretches.

  “Dunno.” Josh glances at this phone. “It’s pretty late, even for the curfew breakers.”

  We hear muffled guffaws.

  “I know who that is,” I gasp. “It’s Mike and Jake.”

  “Hold up.” Josh pads to the door and opens it a crack, careful not to creak it. We gather around.

  “Looks like they’re heading toward the lake,” Josh whispers.

  The moon is out, but the gray clouds scuttling across it make the Rottweilers’ movements choppy, like a broken strobe light or like one of those animated flip books that gives the illusion that people are moving. They’re pulling something across the grassy clearing, and every so often, there’s a clanking sound like something metal hitting rocks.

  “Shovels!” I say excitedly. “Maybe they’re heading toward the historic site! This must have something to do with Pops and the asteroid. We have to follow them.”

  “Now?” Tyler says. “There are, like, animals out there.”

  “Yeah, man, what for?” Josh falls back onto the bed. “I have Rafting for Dummies at the crack of dawn. Yipsy will lose it if I’m late. And Nurse Leibowitz wants me back for my post-shiner checkup.”

  “This is important,” I say, jumping up and grabbing my camera headpiece. “You’ll see.”

  “Wait, Noah.” Simon blocks my path. “Now you think the Rottweilers are in on this?”

  “Maybe,” I answer. “And if they are, I’m going to capture it all on film.”

  They’re all looking at me the way people are usually looking at me. If I had to read their rooms, I’d guess that they’re thinking I’m nuts.

  “Okay,” Simon says resignedly and steps out of my path.

  “I’m in too.” Tyler throws on his shorts and a tee.

&nb
sp; Josh groans but throws on his clothes anyway.

  This is awesome! If Earth survives and I’ve helped, then I can do good, fulfill my Bar Mitzvah project, and—just maybe—get enough awesome film footage so that I can finally go to the DLFC!

  Chapter 17

  We creep through the woods until we hear the dumb-sounding laughs and barks of the Rottweilers.

  A few weeks ago, I never would’ve thought I’d be on a mission to save the world. With friends! Like, real ones who could’ve picked other friends but chose me.

  We find a grouping of bushes where we’re covered but still have a good view of Mike and Jake. And they’re totally up to something! They’ve got lanterns, shovels, and a bunch of burlap sacks. They’re digging hard—huffing, swigging from water bottles, and spraying dirt everywhere.

  “So you really think they’re after the same thing your pops is after?” Josh whispers.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “There must be a connection,” remarks Tyler. “I gotta believe they’re digging here for a reason.”

  “To collect artifacts?” Josh suggests.

  “Maybe to sell them,” Simon says.

  We all nod like that explanation feels right.

  I’m adjusting my head camera when Mike bends over, and his pants slip way down his behind.

  “Butt crack!” Tyler whispers loudly.

  “Ugh. Unsee! Unsee!” Josh exclaims, turning away in disgust. He thrusts a stick at me. “Gouge out my eyes!”

  Jake’s head snaps around like he’s an animal who hears prey. He narrows his eyes into the darkness.

  “Shh,” Simon warns us.

  Mike extracts an object from one of the holes.

  “What is it?” Simon asks.

  I zoom in the lens of my camera.

  It’s so exciting! The set-up, the lights from the flashlights, and Mike and Jake in action. It’s like I’m filming a real movie. Wait till the DLFC people see this!

  Mike holds up what looks like a shard of clay. He spits on it and rubs the saliva off with the front of his T-shirt.

  “Is it a piece of asteroid?” Simon gently pushes aside some branches for a better view.

  “Don’t think so.” Tyler shakes his head. “Asteroids are metallic and black. Besides, there really isn’t anything astonishing about them. Pieces of asteroid fall to Earth all the time.”

  We all shoot him a curious look.

  “Museum of Natural History,” Tyler says. “Field trip.”

  Mike hands the shard to Jake.

  “Whoa, nice,” Mike says, turning it over and placing in a satchel by his feet.

  “Hey, look.” Mike crouches in the dirt, picks up another piece of clay, and brushes the dirt from the front. “This one has some writing on it.”

  “That’ll bring some cash!” Jake grins.

  “It’s not just about cash, Jake,” Mike says, rolling his eyes and his whole head along with them.

  “Yeah, yeah,” says Jake.

  “It’s about—”

  “Starting our own business,” Mike and Jake say at the same time, Mike in an instructive way and Jake like he’s sick of hearing it.

  “We need money for college, dude,” Mike says, slamming his shovel back down into the dirt. “So we can take business classes. Learn marketing and graphs and stuff like that. You can’t run a business without knowing that junk.”

  “For real?” Josh softly barks a laugh. “Businessmen. Are they kidding?”

  “Well, they are selling stuff,” Tyler whispers.

  “Yeah—try stealing, then selling,” Josh says.

  Mike’s phone rings. “Yeah,” he answers. “We got more. What? Yeah, well, we are.”

  Jake stops digging and gestures for Mike to put the phone on speaker. A muffled voice scolds them.

  “Who’s he talking to?” Josh asks.

  “Shh,” I rasp, straining to make it out.

  Jake and Mike take turns being defensive—talking about how they’re doing their best, how they’ve already found lots of stuff, and how they’re sore from this afternoon’s activity, Rock Climbing for Klutzes.

  They sound nervous and strained, the way other people sound when they’re being bullied by them.

  “Sure, sure.” They talk over each other into the phone. “No prob, yeah, sorry, okay, we get it . . .”

  “That must be their boss,” Simon whispers to Josh.

  “We got more,” Mike says, looking to Jake for support.

  “Tell him, tell him,” Jake prompts in a whisper.

  “Um, and the piece has writing.”

  The voice explodes into happy-sounding chatter, causing Jake and Mike to relax.

  “Cool, yeah,” Jake says.

  “We’ll have it cleaned off and ready for you to sell,” Mike says.

  “Yeah, don’t worry. No one knows,” Jake adds. “We’re careful. Yeah.”

  The voice cuts off, and Mike shoves the phone into his pocket.

  “What a jerk,” Jake snaps.

  “Yeah, well, bosses are jerks.” Mike shrugs. “That’s why I want to be my own boss.”

  “Let’s go.” Mike starts packing up his stuff. “We’ve got enough for now.”

  “But what about the thing?”

  “What thing?” Josh mouths to us.

  “There’s no thing,” Mike says, swigging his water and packing up his bag. “He’s full of it.”

  “It’s pretty big,” Jake says. “He’ll be pissed if we don’t find it.”

  “So what? Let him find it himself,” Mike growls.

  “Hey, you ever wondered who he is and what he looks like?” Jake says.

  “No,” Mike answers. “Don’t care. Come on, let’s go.”

  At that moment, there’s a loud flapping of bird wings. We all turn our faces to the sky.

  “What’s that?” Tyler whispers.

  “Oh, crud, is that a bat?” Josh ducks.

  The wings flap and circle around our heads.

  “It’s not a bat,” I say quietly.

  I’d know those flapping bird wings anywhere.

  “Shoo, shoo. Not now,” I hiss, waving my hands around.

  “Is that . . . ? Don’t tell me,” Simon moans in exasperation.

  “Okay,” I say, flailing my arms around harder. “I won’t.”

  Mike stiffens, and his head jerks around. “Wait,” he says.

  “Whatsamatter?” Jake asks, hoisting the duffel over his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go. I need some sleep. I got ceramics tomorrow. Then origami. I’m making a swan ornament for my mom’s birthday.”

  A blur of white and gray swoops lower.

  “Is that . . . Sal?” Josh whispers.

  “Coo, coo,” Sal cries.

  “Something’s out there,” Mike says.

  “It’s just a bird,” Jake says, sloping back toward the trail.

  Mike shakes his head. “Birds don’t fly at night.”

  “Yeah, well, that one does,” Jake snaps.

  “Coo, coo,” Sal warbles and then lands right on my camera headpiece. He lifts his wings, and a gooey mucous-y mess slides down the side of my head.

  “Ugh. That is nasty, dude,” Josh says.

  “Shh,” Simon hisses.

  “Something’s up,” Mike repeats. He drops his bag and stomps toward us, his snarling face coming in and out of focus by the swinging light of his lantern.

  “Coo, coo, coo!” Sal continues to call.

  Rotating in small circles, I try to grab for him, but he just keeps hopping around my scalp, his tiny claws sticking into me like needles.

  “Come on, Sal,” I say. To the others, I add, “He must be nervous.”

  “Yeah, well, me too! Let’s go,” Josh urges.

  We crouch-run back toward the trail, scrambling and tripping as we go, with Sal bouncing along, clinging fiercely to my camera strap.

  “It’s dark. I can’t see,” Tyler whispers urgently.

  “This way, I think,” Josh says.

  “C
oo, coo, coo!” Sal burbles some more.

  “Can’t you shut him up?” Simon growls. He makes a grab for Sal, and Sal bites his finger. “Oww!” Simon snaps his hand back. “That stupid bird bit me.”

  “You scared him,” I say.

  “I scared him?” Simon says.

  “Hey!” Mike bellows.

  “He’s seen us!” Simon exclaims.

  “Coo! Coo!”

  “Jake! Come on! Spies!” Mike yells, and I hear the heavy stomping of boots as the Rotties gallop in our direction.

  “Hey! Get back here so we can kill you!” Jake shouts.

  “Coo! Coo!” Sal is super upset now.

  “Ditch the bird!” Josh pants breathlessly as we run and trip and stumble.

  “I can’t!” I try desperately to grab at Sal. “It’s the note! Get the note. He won’t leave without delivering it!”

  “Well then, you ruddy well better hold still!” Simon dances and darts around me, trying to grab for Sal again.

  “I’ll try,” Tyler says, and he manages to grab hold of Sal.

  “The note!” I urge.

  “They’re over there!” Mike shouts.

  “Quick! They’re catching up!” I say. “And don’t hurt Sal.”

  Tyler gently cradles Sal, cooing back at him in what sounds like bird language.

  And Sal, looking like a dog getting its belly rubbed, vibrates happily in his hands.

  “I didn’t know you spoke bird,” Josh says, fumbling to untie the note.

  Tyler shrugs. “At home, every summer, a bunch of them nest in my air conditioner. I talk to them sometimes.”

  “That’s cool,” I say.

  “That’s weird.” Josh fumbles finally unties the note from Sal’s foot. Sal wiggles free from Tyler and flies up toward the moon.

  “That way!” Mike gestures to Jake.

  “I can’t see!” Jake bellows.

  “Quick! What does the note say?” Simon asks, sounding panicky.

  With shaky hands, I manage to unfold it.

  “It says, Run toward the road.”

  The light from Mike’s lantern sprays our way, and I can make out the blacktop of the road through the trees. A small flash of light bounces on and off, like some kind of Morse code. We rush toward it and see a small man frantically waving his arms.