by Betsy Byars
Junior poked his head into the living room. “He got it, Mom!”
His mom gave him an absentminded smile. Then she said into the phone, “But my father-in-law is in his seventies, he is not in good health, and something is always happening to him. What I’m afraid of is that he’s gone off the road in his truck and—”
She listened to the policeman.
“I know, well, officer, will you call me if you hear anything? It’s not like him not to come home. It’s not like him at all. You have my number?”
Junior had been waiting because his mom’s absentminded smile had not been enough recognition for the arrival of helium. She put the phone down with a worried look, so Junior thought she had not heard him the first time.
“It’s here, Mom. The helium! The helium’s here.” He flung his arms wide.
Every time Junior said the word helium, he imagined it floating upward the way a bubble floats to the surface of water. He imagined the bubble popping somewhere in the stratosphere, and the word echoing throughout the universe. Helium … helium … helium …
“That’s nice,” his mother said.
The phone rang, and she snatched it from the receiver. “Hello … Who? Michael?”
Vern heard the name and said quickly, “That’s probably for me, Mom.”
She ignored his outstretched hand.
“Michael, this is not the time for social calls. I am expecting a call from the police.”
There was a pause in which Vern again extended his hand for the phone.
“Well, I’m sorry you can’t come without a personal invitation. Good-bye.”
“Mom!” It was a long cry of anguish from Vern.
His mother stopped it by drawing her finger across her throat. This was what their father always used to do to make them shut up, and it worked.
Vern turned. He walked stiffly out of the room, out of the house, across the yard, and kicked the first tree he came to.
Pap watched the sun go down from inside the Dumpster. It was a big red sun that hung over the purple ridges of mountains for a long time. Then it dropped with amazing speed behind the peaks and out of sight.
Pap felt a chill touch his bones.
“Boys,” he said, but he was speaking more to himself than to the dogs, “I wonder if we’ll still be here in the morning when the sun comes up.”
Then he sat down on the garbage bag to wait out the night.
CHAPTER 13
Up, Up, and Away
“Now, you’ve got everything?”
“Yes.” Junior felt he had now answered that question at least a hundred times.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Maggie, does he have everything?”
“Yes, Mom, Ralphie checked.”
Vicki Blossom looked at the wagon where the Green Phantom was folded. The canister of helium was tied on top. “I just wish I could go with you to make sure—”
“Mom, we’ll be fine.”
“I wish you’d wait till tomorrow night, Junior.”
“Yeah, Junior,” Vern said quickly, “because don’t you want Michael to see it? Maybe Michael can come tomorrow night.”
Junior shook his head the way he did every time delay was mentioned. Vicki Blossom knelt beside him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Junior, you do understand why I can’t come, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Junior said. He pulled away from her impatiently. The sun was setting. In a half hour it would be dark enough to launch.
His mother did not let him go. Junior sighed. “You can’t come,” he repeated, as if it were something he had learned by heart, “because Pap’s missing and you need to wait by the phone.”
“Yes,” she said.
“But you’re going to watch from the porch, and you know you’ll get to see it. And if you do see it, you’ll tell me all about it when I get home.”
Vicki Blossom smiled. “Well, you better get going.”
That was what Junior had been trying to do. He picked up the handle of the wagon and began to pull it toward the woods. They had all agreed that the only place for the launch was Owl’s Cliff, the highest point of land in the county. From Owl’s Cliff the Green Phantom would float directly toward the city of Alderson.
Junior squared his shoulders for the journey. Owl’s Cliff was a long way, and Junior was determined to pull the wagon by himself.
Vicki Blossom watched Junior and company disappear into the woods. She put her hands in her pockets and, shoulders sagging, sat down on the steps. She had a double feeling of doom—about her father-in-law and her son, and there was nothing she could do for either one of them. She wrapped her arms around her knees, as if for protection.
Junior pulled the wagon down the hill, through the chill waters of Snake Creek, under the broken rail fence. When he started up Furnace Hill, he said graciously, “Someone else can have a turn.”
It was cold in the Dumpster. After the sun set, the warmth began to leave the metal sides, and Pap felt chilled. His lumber jacket was in the truck, but of course that didn’t help him.
With the sun’s warmth had gone the color. There was still enough light to see by, but everything Pap saw was a dull gray. Pap felt increasingly tired, cold, and depressed. He wiped his face on his sleeve. He didn’t even have the energy to pull out his handkerchief anymore.
On his lap the puppy began to shiver. “Gets cold quick, don’t it,” Pap said, “and you know who the cold bothers most, don’t you?”
The puppy curled himself into a tighter ball.
Pap sighed. “It bothers the very young like you, and the very old like me.”
The Phantom had been unfolded, spread out on the grass, and filled with helium. Junior had even generously allowed Ralphie to help put in the helium. Well, maybe not generously. At first he had said to Ralphie, “Get out of the way! Why is everybody getting in my way? Why is everybody trying to do everything? I will put in the helium all by myself!”
Ralphie had said, “Fine,” and stepped back quickly. He held up both hands to show he was out of it. He folded his hands over his chest. “Go right ahead and put in the helium all by yourself.”
It had taken Junior three minutes to realize that he did not know how to put in the helium. That was when he said generously, he thought, “It’s too dark. Somebody can help me with the helium.”
No one came forward, so Junior had glanced around as if deciding whom to bestow the favor on. “Ralphie.”
Ralphie had pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, you.”
Now that the helium was in the Phantom, Junior was determined to do the most important thing himself—the painting. “Now don’t help me even if I ask!” he said.
He took the paint can and began to shake it. The bead rattled inside. The shaking went on and on.
Finally, Ralphie said, “If you’ll allow me to make one suggestion, don’t shake too long.”
Junior stopped. “Why?”
“Well, it’s your canister, of course, but I read in Consumer Reports that some cans were being recalled because little balls of dynamite had been accidentally put in the paint cans.”
“That’s not true,” Junior said.
“Like I said, it’s your can.”
Junior gave one final shake, a small one, and began to spray. He walked around the air mattresses, making wavy lines, filling them in. Around and around he went, pausing every now and then to give a small shake.
“Junior, if you’re not careful, you’re going to give out before you get to the garbage bags,” Maggie said.
Junior gave a trial shake. He realized the paint was almost gone. It was then that a blaze of inventiveness took over his mind, an unmistakable Junior touch—polka dots. He spaced the polka dots carefully around the garbage bags, and now he was through. The bottom of the Phantom was solid Day-Glo, a curved circle of eerie green, and the top was black with green polka dots. It took Junior’s breath away.
�
�I’ll carry it to the cliff myself.”
“Let it dry, Junior.”
Junior waited impatiently. He kept touching it until no green paint came off.
“Now really don’t help me,” Junior said.
“Well, Junior, just let us help you get it over your head, all right? Just let us steady it.”
“All right, all right, all—”
Then the Phantom was above his head, and it was so awesome, Junior couldn’t get out his last “right.” Having the Green Phantom actually over him was the most wonderful experience of Junior’s life. It was a huge, beautiful green blob that seemed to actually pull him skyward. Maybe helium did have a magnetic effect. Or maybe the Green Phantom actually wanted to take him along. Anyway, being pulled skyward by something as beautiful as the Phantom was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Junior felt lighter than air. He took a little springing step, and he and the Phantom bobbed upward. Junior leapt forward and it was one of the longest, lightest leaps of Junior’s life.
Because the Phantom was so light and Junior’s steps so long, Junior got to the edge of the cliff quicker than he would have liked. He wasn’t prepared to let the beautiful green blob go yet.
He glanced over his shoulder. Maggie, Vern, and Ralphie were doing exactly what he wanted them to do—stand back in an admiring group. He got a wonderfully clear picture of the way he must look to them, standing here with the Green Phantom glowing over his head, giving him—“What are you waiting for?” Ralphie asked in a voice that sounded, but couldn’t possibly be, bored.
“A breeze, of course,” Junior answered.
The breeze seemed to be waiting just for Junior’s words. Junior thought it was like a play they gave one time at school. A girl onstage said something about a breeze and instantly Jo-Jo Barwell had come floating on holding a sign that said BREEZE. Junior himself had been waiting to stamp on with a sign that said THUNDER.
Junior knew the breeze was coming because he heard it from far, far away. It started down at the bottom of the hill, where Snake Creek ran coldest, and it made leaves rustle the whole way up. Junior decided that when he felt the breeze on the back of his neck, he would let go. A breeze this perfect might only come along once a week, maybe once a month. He couldn’t take a chance on missing it. Everything about this breeze told Junior this was the one.
He swallowed. A chill touched the back of his neck. Junior’s heart moved up into his throat. He swallowed again. Then he opened his hands and let the Phantom go.
CHAPTER 14
The Phantom Returns
The Green Phantom pulled gently away from Junior’s fingers and lifted with the breeze. Junior kept his hands in the air because if the Phantom came back, he wanted to be sure to catch it.
The Phantom was just beyond his grasp now. It was trembling in the air. To Junior it was like a creature struggling to draw its first breath. Then, before his gleaming eyes, the Phantom steadied and began floating away from the bluff.
It gave Junior a strange, scientific feeling. He knew the Phantom wasn’t real. He knew it was only air mattresses and garbage bags and Day-Glo paint, and yet seeing something that strange and beautiful made him feel—well, maybe it wasn’t a scientific feeling where everything happened according to law, this was more of a science fiction feeling where things happened the way you wanted them to happen.
The Phantom floated steadily away, a luminous, unearthly blob. And the polka dots—now Junior could hardly see the garbage bags, all he could see were the dots, floating over what looked like a flying saucer. The dots looked like satellites. Junior thanked his mind for giving him the idea of dots.
The Phantom rose higher. Now there were no garbage bags, no air mattresses. It was just a shape in the moonlight, a shape that man’s eyes had never seen before. And over the shape hovered its satellites.
Abruptly the breeze shifted. Junior felt it, and his hands dropped to his cheeks. Maybe this had not been the perfect breeze after all, he thought with dismay. Maybe he had picked an imperfect breeze.
He gasped with real, physical pain. The Phantom was coming back, not going out over the world where Junior wanted it to go. It was coming back over Junior’s head toward—Junior’s hands covered his eyes. He couldn’t look. The Green Phantom was going toward old man Benson’s farm.
Junior was deathly afraid of old man Benson. He had been ever since he was four years old.
The day of his meeting with old man Benson had been the scariest day of Junior’s life. It had started out to be a nice summer day. Junior had been passing old man Benson’s farm, and he had noticed some tiny baby watermelons on some vines.
Junior had never seen baby watermelons before, and he had been so excited that he had ducked under the fence and walked into the garden. He went down the rows, admiring one baby watermelon after another, and then he had bent and touched one. He had not picked it or harmed it in any way—Junior would never have done such a thing. He just wanted to see if they were soft or hard.
As he touched, however, a long shadow fell over him. Junior glanced up. He was looking directly into the end of a double-barreled shotgun.
Junior gasped with fright. He fell back, sitting directly on two baby watermelons and crushing them.
Old man Benson said one word. “Git.”
Junior said two. “Yes, sir.”
Junior ran for home as fast as he could, and he had never laid eyes on old man Benson since. He never wanted to either.
“Maybe old man Benson will see it,” Ralphie said. Old man Benson was known countywide for his meanness. “If he does, good-bye, Phantom.” Ralphie lifted a make-believe shotgun. “Pow! PowPowPow! Pow.”
Junior spun around, his face twisted with horror. He began to run toward old man Benson’s farm. Ralphie’s pows had gone straight to Junior’s heart.
“Junior, wait,” Maggie yelled. Junior kept running. “Come on, you guys,” Maggie said. “We got to go with him.”
The three of them ran down the hill after Junior. “Wait!” Ralphie said. Ralphie’s voice had the sound of an army command, and even Junior paused. Ralphie pointed up to show them that they were outrunning the Phantom.
They looked skyward. The Phantom was directly over their heads, and it was beginning to sink. Junior raised his arms and coaxed it toward him with little pulling motions of his hands. The Phantom continued on course toward the Benson farm.
“I bet it’s going to land in the garden,” Vern said.
That thought made tears come to Junior’s eyes. He knew what old man Benson did to things that landed in his garden. “I can’t look,” he said. He covered his eyes. “Tell me what happens.”
“Junior, open your eyes,” Maggie said. “You’re acting silly. The Phantom is not real. It’s something you made. It’s a thing.”
“It is not!”
“It is!”
“Not to me,” Junior said.
“Your sister’s right,” Ralphie said. “There are other air mattresses, other garbage bags, more”—he swallowed hard—“helium.” He hated to think he might have to use more of his mom’s helium, but he had had enough running around the countryside for one night. His leg hurt and he wanted to be in his bedroll.
Junior’s eyes were wide with astonishment. “There’s only one Green Phantom,” he said, “can’t you understand that? That is the only Green Phantom in the whole world!”
To Junior, this was true. Junior knew he could never do it again. He could never get the mattresses to bend the same way, never get those polka dots back in the exact same place. And even if he did, he wouldn’t love the second Green Phantom as much as he loved this one.
The Green Phantom had now moved past the garden. It swept gently over the barn. It brushed the weather vane. The tip of the vane punctured one of the garbage bags, and this had a toppling effect.
The Phantom began to go out of control.
Junior gasped with pain and fright.
Then everything happened at once. The helium we
nt out of the garbage bag in a rush, and the Phantom began a downward spiral. There was a rustling sound, a gush of air, a moan. Every sound tore Junior’s heart because these were the exact sounds, he knew, that a dying creature would make.
Then with one final, silken sigh, the Green Phantom came to its resting place—the roof of old man Benson’s chicken house.
CHAPTER 15
The Phantom on the Chicken House
In silence the four of them took in this new development—the Green Phantom on the chicken house.
The only one of them who knew what to do about it was Ralphie, but he had decided not to be the one to say, “Well, that’s it, folks, one Green Phantom down the tube. Let’s go home.” Ralphie knew that would be the signal for Junior to start crying again, and while Junior would most likely end up in tears anyway, Ralphie did not want to be the one to cause them. Maggie had been giving him glances of admiration all day—first when he said he could get the helium, then when he got the helium, then when he put it in.
So Ralphie stood with his hands behind his back, waiting for someone else to break Junior’s heart. He glanced sideways at Junior to see how he was taking it.
Junior was looking up at the chicken house roof with his hands clasped beneath his chin. Probably praying, Ralphie thought.
Junior was praying, and he had been staring at the Phantom for so long that every now and then he thought his prayers had been answered. The Phantom actually seemed to slide off the chicken house, the way words slid off the page when he stared at them too long in school.
“It’s coming,” he cried in one of those optimistic moments.
Dream on, Ralphie said silently.
“Well, maybe it’s not coming right now,” he said as his vision cleared, “but I really think it’s nearer the edge, don’t you, Maggie?” Junior wisely asked the only person in the group who might spare him.