“My mother owns an airplane hangar?”
He smiles and says, “In name only. Bet she forgot about it years ago. The hangar is where I keep, well, things that mean a lot to me. Like books.”
“Like things you don’t want the FBI to get?” It’s out of my mouth before I can think better of it. Okay, I admit it, when he said “landing strip” alls I could see were enemy planes landing on it. And now what’s this about a tax dodge and my own mother owning something she forgot all about?
“Yes, things I don’t want anyone to get. My things,” he says.
“And why do you need to dodge taxes?”
Now he’s looking at me sort of narrow-eyed. “If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you’re beginning to doubt me.”
“Well, it’s just . . .”
“Look, I’m just as American as everyone else and want to pay the least amount of taxes for the most amount of government. It’s something my accountant cooked up.” He hands me the key. “You know where it is?”
“Sure. Kids party up there all the time.”
His eyebrows spring up. “Really? And how would you know?”
“I get around,” I say, sounding just like my mother.
“This key unlocks Hanger 4. It’s the big one with three sections. I stored crates of books way in back of the second section. Better take a flashlight. I haven’t paid the light bill since, well, December. Oh, and here’s a five for gas and get Rex an ice cream. He could use some fattening up.”
• • •
“Come on, Rex, we’re on a mission.”
“I’m getting tired of your missions. First your mission to paint those ugly lions’ eyeballs, then your mission to save Tommy Kaye from the world.”
“Get your nose out of those books,” I say, before he can turn this into a lecture about growing up. “It’s Saturday. Come on. Mr. Kaye gave us money for gas and there’s still some coupons in Mom’s book.”
“Nah. You go. I’m in the middle of something.”
“Homework on a Saturday afternoon?” I say. “Heck, Rex, you could fail every class from here to Doomsday and still graduate at the top of your class. Come on. Mr. Kaye gave me extra money for ice cream.”
“No, I don’t feel like it.”
“But if Sheriff Hillary catches me driving again she’ll throw me in the girls’ clink. And crates of books are heavy and . . .” I don’t play the scaredy little sister act too often. But it always works when I do.
He slams his book shut and tosses his pencil down. “All right. Just up there and back. No ice cream. No nothing.”
• • •
“I didn’t even know there were any airplanes around here,” I say, looking down at the hangar key. “You hardly ever see or hear them anymore.”
“Don’t worry. Now you’ll see plenty of planes. Are you forgetting the Japanese are going to invade us?” he says, giving me a shove.
“Yeah! Tommy Kaye Invasion Air Force!” I joke back, returning his shove.
He yells, folds into the door, and almost drives us off the road. He pulls the car back straight and stops.
“When you going to see a doctor?”
“Doctors cost money.”
“So do funerals.”
“Shut up.”
“I mean it! We got money. Mr. Kaye still has cash.”
Rex’s gotten his breath back and keeps his eyes on the road ahead. He just nods and says, “Okay. I’ll talk to the nurse at school. She comes in on Tuesdays from Tillamook.”
“Okay.”
“Look, Jewels,” he begins in a voice I don’t hear too often from him, “it’s just that I’ve been working so hard on these college entrance tests. If they want to operate or whatever on me, well, it’s going to mess everything up.” He looks at me and adds, “I have to think of a way to get out of this lousy town.”
I hate it when he says things like that, and my nose is going all prickly like I got to sneeze. I don’t want him to see my eyes well up, so I look out the window and just mutter, “Fine. You just go ahead and get out of this lousy town. But what about the Feed and Seed? What about me and Mom?”
“Come on, Jewels. Before long, you’ll be doing all you can to get out of Sea Park, too. Wouldn’t hurt you to start thinking about what you want to be. College and life and all that.”
“Mom says the best way to take life is one day at a time,” I said. “Just float along.”
“I think you misheard her. She says the best way to take life is one drink at a time.”
“Hey, she’s been pretty good lately, don’t you think?”
“Jewels, Mom is a lush, and you and I both know it. Face it.”
You know, I’ve heard plenty of people call our mother lots of things over the years. But hearing it from my own brother, well it hurts. We’ve pulled up to the landing strip and he stops the car and looks over at me. “Jewels, Mom’s mom. I don’t know what makes her that way. I just know that if I stay in Sea Park, I’m going to end up the same. And you will, too. I don’t care how I get out. I’m just getting out by fall.”
“You going to enlist?” I ask, joking, because I know all about him being against the war.
But when he says “maybe,” I look him right straight on, surprise and worry on my face. “No, don’t,” I whisper to him. “Don’t go to war.”
“Hey. We have plenty of time to worry about that. Come on. Let’s get those books and get out of here. I’m feeling like a chocolate cone after all.”
CHAPTER 33
“Jeez, they’ve really let this place go,” Rex says, pointing to the runway, which is pretty much just sand-covered tarmac and weeds growing up between the cracks in the old pavement. Mounds of blackberry bushes have taken over just about everything on the hillside, including some old shacks.
The big hangar is made out of that wavy kind of metal with rust bleeding along every seam. “Wow. I hope little Janie Johnson doesn’t see this place. She says she’s going to win the Lions scrap drive, and it would be just like her to sneak up here and take this place apart piece by piece,” I say.
A misty rain begins to fall and Rex zips his jacket up, saying, “Come on. Let’s just get this done and get out.”
The lock on the door doesn’t work until we jiggle the key back and forth. “No one’s been here for a while,” Rex says.
We enter and we’re struck smack dab with the smell of mold and mildew and maybe even something dead. “See if the lights even work.”
I hand him the flashlight from my coat pocket. “They don’t.”
There’re rows of windows way up high, so once our eyes adjust, we can see enough not to crash into anything.
“He said the crates are stacked in the back of that middle section,” I said, pointing with my flashlight.
The three hangar sections are separated with high chain link fencing and gates. The first hangar has pieces of old cars and boxes and a lot of old tools stacked all around and inside them. Chains, ropes, and crab pots hang from the high rafters and with the shadows and smells, well, I’m just as glad I talked Rex into coming.
“Does all this stuff belong to Mr. Kaye?” he asks.
“I guess.” I duck through some cobwebs and follow Rex through the second door. This one is heavy metal and it takes both of us to push it aside.
“All right, let’s start digging our way to the back,” Rex says, setting the flashlight on a ledge to light the way. But I grab it and continue through the third door, which is wood and easy to creak aside. “Jewels, leave that alone!”
Unlike the other two sections, this one is cleaner and clear of stuff. Except this one has a big huge something under a tarp held down on four corners with ropes and stakes. It’s big as a whale.
“What do you suppose that is?” I get on my hands and knees and peer up under the tarp like a kid sneaking into a circus tent. I come back out. “It’s an airplane.”
“Gee, and here in an airplane hangar, no less. Who’da thunk?” Rex says. “Come o
n, Jewels. Can we just . . . leave that alone!”
I unhook one of the ropes from the stake and lift back the tarp. “I’ve never seen an airplane up close. Relax, let’s just look. You used to be nutty about airplanes, remember?”
“That was before I saw what they did to Pearl Harbor,” he mutters.
We flip back the tarp so we can see half the airplane. It has a big propeller on each wing. “There. See? It’s an airplane. Twin Beech. Mint condition. Satisfied? Come on!” Rex says. “I’m hungry.”
I use the foot step and the handle to pull myself up. I peer into the cockpit. “Hey, this is cool! I’m going inside.” I pull open the door and climb into what looks like maybe a cargo area because there aren’t any seats like you see on airplanes in the movies. I use the flashlight to zero in on the cockpit.
Rex pokes his head inside. “You shouldn’t be in there. Come on out!”
Heck with that, I think. This is my first and maybe last chance to be in a cockpit. I sit down in one of the seats and make like a pilot, playing with handles and pedals. “Get me! The Amazing Interplanetary Adventures of Jewels Gordon!” I call back to Rex and show him my big goofy grin.
“Get out of there!”
“What, you afraid I’m going to start this thing and fly off?”
“Come on!”
“Hey, you said you wanted to get out of town! Come on! I’ll fly you!”
“You’re going to break something!”
Rex climbs inside and sits down in the other cockpit seat, and I love seeing the little-boy grin on his face as he looks at the dials and controls.
“Wouldn’t you love to be able to fly?” I say, pumping the paddles on the floor. “I sure would!” I look over at him. He’s holding an old photo. “What’s that?”
“I’m not sure. It was tucked into this panel here,” he says. “Shine the light on it.”
“And you think I’m a snoop. Hey, doesn’t that look like Mr. Kaye?” I point to the man standing in the shade of the wings.
Rex takes a closer look. “Hmm. Maybe. Hard to tell for sure.”
“My eyes are better. Let me see,” I say, snatching the photo. “Look at that old-timey airplane.”
“It’s called a biplane. Bi, as in two wings.”
“I know that.”
He snaps his fingers to get the photo back and he looks closer at it. “I think that’s a Curtiss JN-4. They called them Jennys. Surplus from the Great War.”
“Everyone keeps talking about the Great War. What was so great about it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe inventions like this biplane made it great,” he says, tucking the photo back into the side pocket he’d found it in. “Come on. Let’s get those books.”
I start to get up and Rex pulls me by the arm. “Now, don’t you go asking Mr. Kaye about this.”
“Why not?”
“Look, he’s kept this plane up here hidden away for a reason.”
“What?”
“I don’t know the reason! But it’s none of our business, and besides, it only shows that you’ve been where you aren’t supposed to be, doing what you aren’t supposed to be doing.”
He climbs out of the cockpit and while his back is turned, I take the old photo and tuck it into my shirt. I climb out of the plane and we put the tarp back just like we found it.
From there, we find and load four wooden crates of books. The only thing that has me worried is the writing on the sides of the crates is in those funny Japanese characters. We crack open one crate and sure enough, it’s filled with books. Japanese books. I pull a heavy one out. I point to what I think is the title of the book and mutter, “I sure hope this doesn’t say How To Invade Oregon In Five Easy Steps.”
Rex takes the book and looks at me. I wonder if he’s thinking what I’ve been trying not to be thinking about all day now. He gets this odd smile on his face looking at the front of the book. “Huh,” he says. “More likely A Farewell To Arms or The Sun Also Rises.” He shows me a signature. “Hemingway.”
I hate to admit it, but I’m still trying to put two and two together and coming up with five. The bulldozer, the bunkers, the landing strip, this airplane. And now these crates of books in Japanese, one of them signed by Ernest Hemingway who even I know of.
Who the heck really is our Tommy Kaye?
CHAPTER 34
“Oh great,” Rex growls, spotting Eldon and Bully as we come out of Salty’s Sweets. They’re leaning against our car, probably waiting for us. The back door next to the curb is ajar. This isn’t good.
They must have given up on the old band uniforms, because now they’re just wearing navy blue shirts, red belts, and tan pants. They got themselves badges for their yellow bandanas that read SPORTS. They make me sick.
“What’d you think those jerks want?” I mumble through my Neapolitan cone.
“You kiddies enjoying your widdle tweats?” Eldon says, coming toward us on the sidewalk. “You’re out of uniform, Ethel.”
“I told you, I’m not interested in joining your little vigilante group,” Rex says, looking over their heads to the gray of the ocean.
“Just you and that little cripple Dickie Knowlton are the only two jellyfish who haven’t taken the oath,” Bully says. “And since Dickie’s planted in a wheelchair, well, he gets a pass. But you? What’s your excuse?”
“Buzz off, jerk,” Rex says.
“Oh yeah?” Eldon says, smacking Rex’s hand, knocking the scoop of chocolate right off the cone. “Oops,” he says. “Now don’t cry, Rexy. Mommy’ll buy you a new ice kweeem cone!”
Both the jerks laugh. And I’m standing here, frozen to the ground, thinking oh no, not again! In a way, I want Rex to fly into a rage. In a way, I want to be as big as Agent Boothby and take them apart myself. In a way, I want to just evaporate into the atmosphere and come back down as rain somewhere a million miles from Sea Park.
Rex just looks at his empty cone, then back at me. “Here, hold this.”
“Ree-xxxx,” I whisper, now holding a cone in each hand.
And then Rex hauls off and belts Eldon so hard in the cheek that he reels back against our car, slamming the door shut. I hear a snap and I sure hope it’s Eldon’s face bone and not Rex’s hand. Rex picks up the ball of ice cream as Bully jerks him around and smash! The ice cream goes right into Bully’s face! He falls over backward under Rex’s shove.
Well, as much as I love ice cream, I take my scoop of Neapolitan and smash it into Eldon’s face while he’s down, stunned and red and hurting, and now there’s two surprised SPORTS sporting ice cream beards on the ground!
Rex says, “Come on, Jewels. Get in the car. You drive.”
We climb in and pull away. I look at them in the rearview mirror. “I can’t believe you clobbered Eldon!”
“I can’t believe you sacrificed your ice cream,” he says.
“For real, Rex. You clobbered him!” I repeat, prouder than ever.
“I lost control. I just saw red,” he says. “Enough is enough.”
His tone makes me glance at him. He’s not looking he-mannish or cocky or full of himself. He’s leaning into the door and looking outside the window.
“Hey, he needed hitting, Rex! And the ice cream to the face was the cherry on top!” I say, grinning ear to ear. “Wait till that gets around town!”
But Rex isn’t sharing my excitement. He’s holding his side again. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Something let go when Eldon grabbed me. Must have pulled a muscle.” He reads my face and says, “I told you. The nurse comes on Tuesday.” I glare at him and he adds, “I promise! Keep your stupid eyes on the road before you get us both killed.”
I give him a glance and he says after twisting around in his seat, “There. Better all ready. Besides. It was worth it.” There’s his small grin.
“Well, I hope you broke Eldon’s face when you hit him,” I say, pulling into our parking lot. “And I hope you gave him a good ugly scar! I hope every time I see that je
rk . . .”
“Look, Eldon’s already enlisted,” Rex says, cutting me off. “He reports the day after we graduate. Along with the other eleven boys old enough including that Neanderthal Leroy Parker who can barely sign his name on the dotted line. So you won’t have to look at Eldon’s ugly face for a long, long time. If ever again.”
Rex gets out of the car, slams the door, and walks away. I take off after him and catch him heading toward our old cabins. “Wait up! What’s with you?” He keeps going like he hasn’t heard me. I pull him around. “We don’t live here anymore, remember?”
He opens the door to his old cabin and hollers, “Look, I helped you get those books! I got you your ice cream cone and I clobbered Eldon Johnson! What else do you want from me?” Then he slams the door in my face.
What the heck just happened? Fine. I’ll leave him alone. Anyway, I got to smuggle those books down to Mr. Kaye before the Ladies of St. Bart’s start arriving for their Saturday Supper Social. Still, I can’t get it out of my mind. How strange things have become. How this war’s making all of us, now even Rex, into people we aren’t, and I hate it.
Everything, everyone is changing. Even me.
CHAPTER 35
The rain’s really coming down now and I hotfoot from Father Donlevy’s toward home, but stop short when I see Sheriff Hillary’s squad car in the Stay and Play parking lot.
I peek into the café and see the sheriff sitting in a booth with Mom acrost from her. I catch Mom’s eyes and she glares at me. She gets up, refills Sheriff Hillary’s coffee cup, and over her head she mouths the words, “Go away.” I know to turntail.
I hide in the covered stairwell that leads up to the Look-Sea Lounge. When I finally peek around and see the sheriff’s squad car leave, I slip back into the café.
Mom’s cleaning the booth. She tosses down the rag—whap!—when she sees me. “Sit down,” she orders. I do, noticing the booth seat is still warm from Sheriff Hillary.
Mom looks down at me with her arms folded over her greasy apron. “I need to ask you some questions.”
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