With heavy eyelids, I snuggled into bed and tried to think of something fun and soothing. A waterfall up the mountain a ways from our house...no comfort. My mind’s eye wandered to a mental image of Jimmy and me at the Fall Festival walking in front of the booths decorated with colorful paper leaves.
~*~
The next day I walked into math with a scary thought on my mind. I hadn’t studied enough to know the material. The familiar classroom with its windows on one side and pine desks in neat rows looked foreboding. I chewed on my pencil while the teacher passed out tests, plunking them down one at a time. The room stayed quiet while he finished then took his seat at the front of the room.
“All right, you may begin.” His voice sounded like doom falling on my head.
I knew the answers to the first five problems. The sixth one blurred as an image of Sean in the hospital bed drifted into my mind. Which teacher or coach was talking about him in those woods? Who missed classes at Meriwether? I had to get back to the test. A quadratic condition problem. Good. No worries with that.
Within thirty minutes of writing answers, my fingers ached from squeezing my pencil too hard. I laid it down and wiggled my hand. Then I snatched it up and worked as fast as I could. Oh, no. An unreal solution. I tried again and got a real-world answer.
The bell rang as I finished the last question on algebraic computer input. My muscles relaxed as I stood, gazed across the room, and grinned at Emily, who waited at the door.
“That wasn’t as hard as I thought.” I gave her a high-five as we strolled down the hall.
“I knew you’d do fine. I’ll see you later at The Grill.” She headed downstairs.
My feet couldn’t take me up the steps to chemistry lab fast enough. Andy Wintrep, president of the student council, kept up with the school’s activities, including conferences, and he was in my class.
A guy in a checked shirt with his back to me sat alone at a table with a test tube in front of him. Please let it be Andy. I walked up behind him. “Hi.”
He spun around on his stool. “Hey, how’s it goin’?”
Yes, Andy. “I’m fine. What are you cooking in there?”
He wiggled his thick, brown eyebrows. “A witch’s brew.”
I laughed. “Say, did any of your teachers or coaches attend a conference day before yesterday?”
“I’m not that lucky.” He snickered.
“How about on the student council? Have the members mentioned any conferences?” A sense of urgency snaked up my spine. I let out a chuckle that sounded nervous to me. Then I ran my hand through my hair to appear nonchalant.
“Hmm. Just the sports meeting for the northwestern North Carolina region.”
That was the same one Tammy knew about. “How about a seminar for football coaches?”
Andy placed his hands on his knees. “No, but Coach Rogers misses practice a lot. I don’t pay attention to which ones he skips anymore. His assistant takes over for him.”
How clever of Coach Rogers. It’s no wonder Mike didn’t say anything about him being gone the day before yesterday. “Where does he go?”
Andy shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno’.”
Just the way Coach Rogers wants it.
Andy rubbed his forehead. “I guess he’s doing paperwork, game plans, that sort of thing.”
The bell rang, and the rest of the class squeezed through the doorway, chattering while they pulled up stools and sat at the oversized, tall black tables. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your brew.”
“Yeah. Catch you later.” Andy faced the test tube.
I pulled a stool across the floor to my assigned seat behind him. Coach Rogers, huh? Pouring lemon juice from one vial then the liquid of pressed garlic from another, I shook the container to mix the two. Where was the litmus paper? Ahh. In the jar in the middle of the table. I stretched and snatched a strip. The dampened paper looked pretty much as I thought it would. A light rose color, 4.5 on the ph scale. It was acidic, and I was finished.
My mind and fingers shifted into high gear as I wrote my hypotheses. I shot off my seat so fast the breeze sent my paper sliding across the table. I grabbed it and laid it on the teacher’s desk on my way out. Like a horse chomping on a bit, I headed for The Grill.
Only school and swimming kept me from spending all my time looking for the drug dealers.
I swung open the door to the restaurant and scanned the room. Busy talk filled the air as students milled around, joined groups already seated, or leaned on the counter.
Emily waved at me.
“Hi.”
Joe Garrett sat at a table near the football players. How many hours had he spent in here? How many cheeseburgers had he eaten? He glanced over at me, and our gazes met. Quickly, he turned to face the pictures of Meriwether’s star football players hanging on the wall in front of him. Dad had told Sean he probably would have his photo up there one day. Anger coursed through me, making me nauseated, so I turned away.
Emily looked over her shoulder then back at me. “I wonder if Joe’s heard about the temple. Should we tell him what we know?”
Clearly, Emily didn’t understand why I wanted to be the one to finger the drug dealers. She didn’t seem to buy a Meriwether connection to the drugs either. Only I lived with a burning need nagging me every minute of every day to find that temple. “No Emily, he doesn’t want us to look at him. It would blow his cover, remember?” Harshness I hadn’t intended scraped through my voice.
“I know that. I thought we could call him at work.” Fear danced in Emily’s eyes. Small wonder after Wednesday night. Trying to smooth over my rudeness, I spoke with as much thanks as I could put in my tone. “You’ve done so much for me. You don’t need to go tomorrow.”
“I’m absolutely going. I’m your friend.” Emily’s finely shaped lips parted in a grin. “The moss you picked up for me on Wednesday is pre-historic. As of Thursday I have an A in botany.” She wiggled around in her seat. “Could you skip swim practice? I’d feel a little safer if we left at eight in the morning.”
What about Coach Lohrens’s strict attendance policy? Forget it. I’d tell him I needed to do something for Sean. If he didn’t excuse me, I’d do extra push ups, sit out a meet, or carry out whatever penalty he gave me. Finding those drug dealers was the most important thing in my life. “All right.” What about Jimmy?
Ray headed toward us looking frazzled as he made his way through groups of students crowded at tables in the middle of the floor. He brushed strands of red hair off his forehead. “Hi, Margaret, Emily. What can I get you?”
“Two sodas.” I smiled at him.
“Coming up.” He turned and left.
Emily craned her neck. “Jimmy’s coming in.”
My heart danced as he strolled through the doorway and sat down next to me.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Pretty well.”
“Are we still on for Saturday?” Eagerness rang in his voice as he put his arm around my shoulder.
His touch sent my mind into orbit.
Emily cleared her throat, the noise alerting me to his question.
“Yes, we are, but Emily wants to investigate in the morning. Can you meet at eight in the school parking lot?”
“Sure. That’s good.”
Ray brought our sodas, and Jimmy asked for one.
“You bet.” Ray left then returned in minutes with Jimmy’s drink.
“Thanks, Ray,” Jimmy said then he sipped his soda. “Say, is that undercover cop in here?”
Emily sat up in her seat and gazed about. “Yeah, he’s—”
Even with students talking all around us, I worried about Jimmy and Emily speaking in their normal tones of voices. “Shhh.”
Emily raised up in her seat and whispered. “That’s him over there near the football posters and the pictures of Meriwether’s star football players.”
Jimmy nodded. “Umm. I’ve seen him before, but I’ve never paid much attention to him.”
“R
ight, that’s exactly the way he wants it.” Emily sat back.
They were going to blow his cover. Hmm. I’d give them a code name for Joe. Come to think of it, while we were in the woods, if we ran into two men and thought they were Wretch and Loathsome, we couldn’t say that. We should use code names for them too. What if we met someone at the temple and suspected him? We could talk about all of them if we made-up names only the three of us knew.
I leaned across the table and spoke softly. “Hey guys, let’s think of code names for Joe, the people we think are selling steroids, and the drugs.”
“Good idea, but we can’t let anyone else hear them.” Emily whispered.
“Right. The noise in here will muffle our voices if we keep them low.” I tilted my head toward the end of our booth. “We don’t want anyone coming by or standing near to listen to us.”
“Got ya,” Jimmy said.
I inched across the table farther. Emily and Jimmy did too. We looked like we were having a pow-wow over something.
“I’ll go first,” I said. “Mole would be great for Joe, but I’ve never seen one in the woods. We’d look silly talking about a mole if there aren’t any. How about Squirrel?” I asked.
Jimmy quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll buy that.”
“OK, what should we call the drug?” Emily puckered her mouth.
Just thinking of that steroid made me want to throw up. “What about Green Vomit?”
Jimmy put his hand over his mouth as we hunched over the table with our heads only inches apart. Had I grossed him out?
“Yeah, it’s a little disgusting, but it fits. Actually, it’s perfect,” Jimmy said.
“What about Wretch and Loathsome? They nearly scared me out of my wits, poking around in the bushes with that limb.” Emily’s soft voice still had a ring of fear in it.
Jimmy peered down then looked up with bright eyes as though he’d had a revelation. “Stick Men.”
Emily nodded. “OK. That old dude Eight-ball could be Mad Dog because we met him at the house with the dog tied in the basement.”
“Great. I feel better about going now. No one will suspect we’re looking for criminals.” The sound of the word criminal sent shivers up my spine.
We sat back, and Jimmy sipped the last of his soda. “I better go. Mom will be worried.” He left as Emily rotated her shoulders.
“I need to go too. I’ll drop you by your house.”
I sprang out of my seat. “You won’t have to offer twice.”
All the talk about thugs had sent set my nerves tingling. Would I see them Saturday?
~*~
An aroma of oregano tickled my nose as I opened our front door without unlocking it. Home. I strolled to the kitchen door and paused. “Are we having lasagna?”
Mom thumped a wooden spoon on the side of the big stainless steel pot then turned and smiled. “No spaghetti. It’s ready now.”
How sweet of her to cook my favorite Italian dish. Sean loved the lasagna best, but Mom probably couldn’t bring herself to fix it.
I dropped my books in the den then returned to the kitchen with a smile in my heart as I took my seat at the table. A home-cooked meal with Mom and Dad. My plan for finding the drug dealers was laid out. Did I dare hope Sean would get well too?
The three of us bowed our heads.
“Our Heavenly Father, we thank You for all of Your gifts and for this food. Bless it to the nourishment of our bodies.” Dad paused. “And Lord, please heal Sean. We ask in Christ’s name. Amen.”
Mr. Stonebridge at the Apostles Church had aggravated Dad, but apparently Dad remained steadfast in his faith.
Mom picked up the bread basket. “Look at that. I made enough garlic toast for Sean too.” Tears filled her eyes. “Just habit, I guess.”
“It’s OK, Mom. I think about him a lot. Most of the time, I’m angry because he’s sick. I can’t help it.”
She reached out and touched my hand. “I know, honey.”
Dad pushed away his plate, propped his elbows on the table, and put his head in his hands. “My son may never be the same. I can’t talk about it.”
“Bullet, have you made any more interesting calls like the one last Thursday?” Mom asked.
I hadn’t meant to upset Dad. The bite of salad I swallowed nearly choked me. “What happened Thursday?”
Dad directed his devastated gaze at me. “I hooked up a high-speed internet connection for a couple who have an office in their house. The woman talked to her cat the whole time I was there, a little white fur ball with black on its paws.”
A twinge of agony pierced my heart. I missed laughing and talking with Mom and Dad. “Did kitty talk back? Now that would’ve been a problem.”
Dad grinned. “No, but the woman sure spoke to that animal as though she expected it to say something any second. She leaned down in its face and said, ‘I’m going to fix roast beef for dinner, but first I have to wash clothes and iron.’” Dad raised his thick eyebrows. “The little thing sat right there and listened as though it understood every word.”
Mom smiled sweetly. “That’s why people love their pets.”
Dad pulled back his dish.
How thoughtless of me not to let Mom’s comment about the bread drop. How much I missed Sean only added more pain to Mom and Dad’s lives.
“Margaret, are you going out this evening?” Mom didn’t wait for my answer. “I’ve lost touch with your schedule, but I’m so proud of you. I know I can depend on you to make wise decisions and choices.”
Guilt fell on me like a mountain rockslide. I lowered my head as I took a big bite of spaghetti. If I wasn’t in class, Mom probably thought I was at swim practice or with Emily, but she was right. Emily, Jimmy, and I were careful and responsible. I tilted my chin up. “I’m a little tired. I’m going to bed early.”
Wrinkles creased Mom’s and Dad’s brows. They glanced at each other. Now they probably thought something was wrong with me. They sure didn’t need that. “Getting a best time in swimming takes a lot of work. I’ve been practicing too hard.” I made a muscle with my arm. “I’m an athlete in training.”
Dad took a sip of tea. “We’re glad you’re taking care of yourself, but as I told you, don’t worry about your time.”
A grunting sound muffled the laugh trying to escape from me. No matter what he said, I knew deep down he wanted a winner. With Sean ill I felt like a runner who’d just received the baton in a race, but I smiled at him. “I’ll remember that, Dad.” I ate the last bite. “Mom, that was delicious. I’ll wash the dishes.”
“Not tonight.” Dad winked at me. “I’ve already been awarded that job.”
Tears welled up inside as I went up the steps thinking of how tired Mom and Dad must be. Yet they treated me with dinner. I sat at my desk and opened my literature book. “Dying,” a poem by Emily Dickenson. It was written in first person about life coming to an end with a fly buzzing. I was to tell why I thought Miss Dickenson chose to make the fly an important part of the poem. I rubbed my forehead. Strange someone would even notice a fly, but then the room would have been still.
“Honey, finish your homework and go to bed early.” Dad’s voice carried upstairs.
I walked to the top of the rail and waved. “All right. Good night.”
The door shut, and the house grew as quiet as a tomb. I couldn’t write about Emily Dickenson and her fly tonight. I changed into my nightgown and slipped into bed, but Sean’s miserable condition roared in my head like a lion in a cage. Fear the hospital would declare they couldn’t help him and send him to a rest home made me nauseous. Finally, my eyelids grew heavy then a restless sleep overtook me. Throughout the night, waking moments filled with thoughts of how much I wanted to find the drug dealers plagued me. Then another doze fell upon me, and the pattern repeated itself. How could I sleep when I had no answers?
They were out there, but where?
12
The trees towered above Jimmy, Emily, and me. Up close they looked so different
from the way they did across the mountain dotting the hillsides in bright, colorful splotches. I studied the naked gray bark of one then let my gaze follow the oak to the top. It looked huge and strong, but lonely with its bare trunk and sparse offering of leaves. It appeared even trees needed each other to be their best, especially when some of their leaves fell.
We walked deeper into the woods, and Emily stopped. “We should say code names now. Then we won’t stutter and look dumb or suspicious if we need to use one.”
Jimmy snapped his fingers. “Good idea.”
Twigs crunched underneath our shoes as we meandered farther away from the edge of the forest. Soon the landscape of trees, underbrush, fallen logs, and twigs in front of us looked identical to the spot behind us.
Then we walked into tall weeds lining a clearing. My heart pounded. There sat the old house where we saw Eight-ball, eh, rather, code name—Mad Dog. The black mutt lay on the dilapidated front porch. I halted in my tracks.
Jimmy touched my arm. “No worries. The dog’s asleep.”
“You go first.” Emily stumbled as she pushed him in front of her and me.
He traipsed through the wild plants along the edge of the yard with Emily and me behind him.
The mutt picked up his ears and made a low, guttural growl.
“He heard us.” I started to run, but Emily pulled the back of my shirt.
“Wait for me. I think he smells us.”
Jimmy stopped and stared over his shoulder at Emily and me. “We’re too far away for him to care.”
“I hope that’s true,” I answered as I surveyed the area. “Let’s see, Eight-Ball—I mean Mad Dog—told us to go to the right from here, didn’t he?”
Jimmy nodded. “Yep. Remember the lines I made with my magic marker?”
“Yes.” Emily and I fell into step beside him.
“We’ll see one soon.”
Jimmy was so smart to leave marks to direct us if we came back. Fortunately, it hadn’t rained and washed them away.
He lingered in front of a pine tree. “Here’s one.”
Following Jimmy’s black streak, we veered to the right.
Could I locate a temple in these mountains and find my way out? What if something happened to us? It would be my fault. The woods closed in on me. I wondered if we should’ve come, but the fire to find the drug dealers still burned bright inside me.
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