Joey and the Magic Map

by Tory Anderson

  “It’s too heavy for us to lift,” Story said.

  “They don’t make them like this anymore,” Beezer said. “Joey, you get on that side and I’ll take this side.”

  Together, with a lot of grunting, they lifted the box out of the hole and set it on the ground.

  “I have to ask myself why I didn’t use a lighter box?” Beezer said, kneeling by the box and breathing hard.

  “What does yourself answer?” asked Joey.

  “Because I’m a darn fool for authenticity.”

  “Open it. Open it!” Story said, knocking on the lid.

  “Let’s put it in the shade first,” Beezer said.

  Together they pushed and pulled the treasure chest into the shade of the lilacs. After catching his breath Beezer pulled on the lid.

  “It’s locked,” he said. He seemed surprised.

  Joey and Story looked at him desperately. If Beezer couldn’t open it, who could?

  “You don’t have a key?” Joey asked.

  “There’s an idea,” Beezer said. He felt his shirt pocket, then his pants pockets. He found no key. He thought for a moment before raising his eyebrows. He plopped down on his behind and unlaced his boot. He pulled his boot off, turned it upside down, and shook it. A big, old-fashioned key fell into the dirt. It looked like the keys Joey had seen in pirate movies. It had a ring on one end and flat metal on the other end that looked like the piece of a jigsaw puzzle. It was far too big to be in Beezer’s boot with Beezer’s foot. Joey knew better than to ask about that.

  Story gasped at the sight of the key. Beezer handed the key to Joey.

  “I get to open it?” Joey asked.

  “You dug it up,” Beezer answered matter-of-factly.

  Joey’s hand was shaking as he put the key into the keyhole. It wouldn’t go in all the way. He thought it was his shaking hand, but after several attempts he realized it didn’t fit.

  “It’s not the right key,” Joey said. He was annoyed. How could Beezer pull the wrong key out of his boot?

  “Awwww.” The anticipation was too much. Story moaned and fell onto his back. A moment later he sat up, an expression of hope back on his face. “What about your other boot?”

  Beezer looked at Story and Joey while considering the idea. He shrugged his shoulders and unlaced his other boot. He shook it upside-down like before. Another key fell out.

  “Well, wuddayaknow,” he said.

  “Can I try it?” asked Story.

  Beezer looked at Joey. Joey nodded.

  “Thanks!” said Story. Using both hands Story carefully put the key in the hole. It fit perfectly. He looked at Joey, then at Beezer. He turned the key. There was a satisfying “click.” The lid popped up a little. With visible effort Story lifted the lid to reveal what was inside.

  “We’re rich,” he whispered.

  The chest was filled with gold coins. The coins sparkled and danced before Joey’s eyes. The chest wasn’t very big, but Joey knew that there was enough gold in there to solve his mother’s money worries. It was such a beautiful sight that Joey was afraid to touch it. Story wasn’t afraid. He pushed both hands in, lifted handfuls of gold and let it drop between his fingers. He giggled hysterically.

  Something was wrong. The gold coins landed with a light, tinny sound. Joey slowly reached in and picked up a coin. It was too light to be gold. He looked closer at the design imprinted in the coin. He squeezed the coin between his thumb and forefinger. Chocolate oozed out the edges. Disappointment nearly suffocated him.

  When Story saw the chocolate he grabbed a coin, peeled back the foil, and popped the melting chocolate into his mouth.

  “Mmmmm,” he said, wiping his fingers on his shorts. “There are so many!” He ate another one. “You can have half and I will share the rest with Glory,” he said. Story shoved his hands into the coins again and stirred. He clearly enjoyed the feel.

  Story’s generosity was not lost on Joey. Glory would have claimed them all to divvy them out as she wished. Joey would have demanded they divide it into thirds. Story was satisfied with half of half. What’s more he was satisfied with chocolate instead of gold.

  Joey wasn’t satisfied. He was angry. The chest was so old and authentic looking. While he sat next to the chest waiting for Story and Beezer hope had sprung up that there really might be treasure inside. The idea of treasure seemed so possible that when Story opened the lid he hadn’t been surprised to see gold coins. To find out that they were just chocolate coins in gold-colored tin foil, well—he was disappointed and embarrassed. He was disappointed because he wasn’t rich. He was embarrassed because he had expected more than chocolate coins in the first place. Why would it be anything more than chocolate coins? Beezer was just entertaining two boys for the afternoon. Why would he give a chest full of gold to two boys?

  “Because Beezer is magic, that’s why!” Joey thought.

  Joey was certain this chest hadn’t been there until Beezer drew the map on Story’s cheek. If he could make a chest full of chocolate coins appear why couldn’t he make a chest full of gold coins appear?

  “Because he’s making fun of me,” Joey thought.

  Joey looked at the coins with disgust. “You take them all,” Joey said. “I don’t want any. Split them halfway with Glory when she gets back.”

  Story stared at Joey. “Really?” he asked. “I can’t wait ‘til she gets back to show her the treasure! I’ll get a sack,” he said. He got up and scampered off.

  Joey and Beezer sat in silence on a patch of grass in the shade of the lilacs. Joey picked blades of grass and carelessly threw them in front of him. Beezer found a longer stem and put it between his lips.

  Finally Beezer said, “You don’t like chocolate treasure?”

  Joey’s embarrassment fought with what he knew was his silly anger. He didn’t know what to say. Finally he blurted out, “I thought it was real gold.” He blushed deep red and turned his head to try to hide it from Beezer.

  Beezer considered this revelation. He showed no amusement or judgment. “A chest full of real gold would be exciting, now, wouldn’t it,” he said.

  “I thought it was for Mom. She needs money,” Joey explained. “And it’s just chocolate.” He no longer tried to hide his disappointment.

  “It’s okay, Joey,” Beezer said. “Everyone wants to find a chest full of gold.” Beezer changed the stem of grass from one side of his mouth to the other. “Your mother has needs, but a chest full of gold ain’t one of them.”

  Beezer thought a moment, then went on. “Your mother got a greater gift than gold, today.”

  “You mean Glory,” Joey said, unhappily. He wanted gold, not an object lesson, even if he knew the lesson was true.

  “No,” said Beezer. “It was you.”

  Me, thought Joey. What did Beezer mean by that? An uneasy feeling came over him as he remembered the look in his mom’s eye—she had forgotten him, left him in the pond. What did Beezer mean?

  Story returned with a plastic grocery sack. Joey held the sack while Story scooped the golden, chocolate coins out of the chest. He giggled like a greedy old man.

  “You better put those in the refrigerator,” said Beezer. “They’re pretty squishy right now.”

  Story bounced once in excitement. “Okay,” he said. He turned to go, then stopped. Turning back he threw his arms around Joey’s neck in an awkward hug. “Thanks for the chocolates,” he said. He ran off without waiting for a response.

  Joey and Beezer sat in silence until they heard the screen door slam.

  “If Mom doesn’t need a chest of gold then nobody does,” Joey said, still hurt.

  “You got that right,” Beezer said. He was leaning back on his arms, staring out across the woods to where, far away, high antenna towers reached up into the sky. “If people could foresee what a chest of gold would do to them a chest of gold would be as welcome as a chest of vipers.”

  Beezer wasn’t making any sense to Joey. He wasn’t in the mood for puzzles.


  “I gotta go,” Joey said.

  As he got up he saw a bottle in the chest. It was small enough that it could have been hidden under the chocolate coins. Still, he was surprised he had missed it. Something in the bottle sparkled in an enchanting way.

  “What’s that?” Joey asked.

  “Huh?” said Beezer. He had been looking at Joey, but then followed Joey’s eyes to the bottle in the chest. “Oh. I forgot I put that there,” he said. “That’s stardust.”

  “Stardust?” Joey echoed. Whatever it was it was beautiful. It was more than beautiful; it was mesmerizing. Colors brightened and blended before his eyes. Joey relaxed as the world around him dimmed. All awareness of his problems dissolved.

  Joey’s trance was broken when Beezer picked up the bottle and hid the contents with his hand.

  “Stardust is dangerous,” Beezer said.

  “H . . . how?” asked Joey as he came back to himself. “It’s beautiful. It makes me feel good.”

  Even as he spoke Joey could feel the dust calling him. It invited him to look again and be happy. Joey had an impulse to grab it from Beezer’s hand.

  Beezer held the bottle behind his back. With his free hand he took Joey’s face by the chin and made him meet his eyes.

  “Stardust is so beautiful because it’s the dreams of all the good things in the world. It’s so dangerous because the dreams overcome reality. It will draw you into the dreams so deeply you will never return to make any of the dreams a reality. Dreams that cannot become reality are the food of despair.”

  “If it’s so dangerous why do you have it,” asked Joey, a little bitterly. He was suffering the aftereffect of looking freely at Stardust. It was like an addictive drug.

  As Joey woke up a little more he was frightened of how quickly the star dust had drawn him. He realized he would have stood there staring until he died. A shiver went up his spine.

  “If used correctly Stardust can help a person realize their dreams,” Beezer said. He brought the bottle from behind his back, but kept it hidden in his hands. Joey could see pulsing, glittering lights escaping from between Beezer’s fingers. They tugged at his mind and will.

  A low chime sounded, like a warning. Beezer jerked.

  “Maps,” he said, clearing his throat. “Maps are how I use stardust. It’s reasonably safe that way.”

  He reached to the bottom of the chest and pulled out a folded piece of paper. This was not ordinary paper. It was old and thick with a canvas-like texture.

  Beezer put the bottle of stardust down on the other side of him. Joey saw the top of the tall, ornate stopper on top sticking up above Beezer’s leg. Beezer unfolded the paper on the ground in front of him. It was quite large, maybe two-feet square.

  Joey’s disappointment of finding nothing but candy in the chest was gone now. Before him were items worthy of an old pirate chest. The blank piece of paper and the bottle of Stardust, whatever that was, excited him much more than his hopes for gold.

  “Come closer,” Beezer said. He patted the ground beside him. Joey got to his knees and scooted over next to the paper. “I am going to put the bottle of Stardust in your hand. When I do you cover it up so you can’t look at it. You already know what it can do.”

  Joey swallowed hard and nodded. Excitement and fear whirled in his stomach. Beezer transferred the bottle from his own closed hand to Joey’s. Joey’s hand did not fit around the entire bottle.

  “Quick, hold the uncovered part against you,” Beezer said.

  Joey pressed the bottle against his chest hiding the colors that were escaping. Joey’s anxious excitement grew when he realized he could feel the colors touching him. They felt like drops of warm water without the wetness.

  “Now, I am going to pull the stopper off and I want you to sprinkle stardust all over the paper. Do it right away, okay?” said Beezer. “Use both hands to hold the bottle. Don’t sit staring at what comes out of the bottle, because until they touch the paper they are really the opposite of what they seem to be. Do you understand?” Beezer looked into Joey’s eyes for a signal of comprehension.

  Joey realized something big was happening. His heart beat faster as Beezer pulled on the stopper. It came out with a “Pop.” Immediately bubbles of color came floating out, slowly ascending. The colors shimmered and vibrated with a hypnotizing effect. Joey’s will weakened. He just wanted to sit and gaze into the bubbles.

  “Pour it! Pour it!” Beezer called from far away. Beezer grabbed Joey’s hands to help him turn the bottle over. As the dust reached the paper Joey came back to himself. Joey wasn’t so sure the dust was pouring onto the paper as much as the paper was pulling the dust to it. The colors still shimmered and vibrated, but their magical properties were restrained by the paper.

  “Now sprinkle it all over the parchment,” Beezer commanded gently.

  He slowly let go of Joey’s hand, ready to grab it again should Joey turn the bottle up.

  Using a little shaking motion Joey poured Stardust all over the paper. There was no telling how much stardust would come out of the bottle or how much the paper would absorb. Joey noticed that the stardust wouldn’t spill off the paper no matter how close to the edge he got. He poured and poured watching more colors than he knew existed be swallowed by the paper.

  The dust sank into the paper like it was absorbed by a sponge. The colors faded, then disappeared completely leaving the paper bare except for a warm glow. Then the glowing slowly diminished until it was gone.

  Finally Beezer caught his hand and popped the stopper back into the bottle with a quick move. He took the bottle from Joey’s hand, placed it into the chest, shut the lid, and turned the key. “There,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It’s done.”

  What had been done Joey wasn’t sure. The hand that had held the bottle was tingling like it had gone to sleep. The parchment sat in front of him as blank as ever.

  “What . . .?” Joey began, but didn’t know how to finish.

  “It’s a map,” Beezer said, leaning back on his arms. He was breathing a little hard as if he had just climbed a hill. “It’s your map,” he corrected himself.

  “There’s nothing there,” Joey said.

  “It’s still working,” Beezer answered. “It has to develop like the film we used to use in cameras. “Stardust and parchment haven’t gone digital.” He made this last statement with a fully satisfied air.

  “What’s the—” Joey looked dubiously at the blank piece of paper in front of him “—map for?”

  Beezer looked at Joey as if he were trying to figure out what to say. “Well, it’s for you,” he said, placing another stem of grass between his lips. “The map’s for you,” he repeated. Beezer turned his gaze back to the distant antenna towers.

  He got up. With a mighty groan he lifted the chest. “I’m going to put this away and go check on your brother. He’s probably vomiting from eating too much chocolate.” He lumbered off around the corner of the garage.

  Joey stared at the “map.” He was a little bit afraid to touch it. He reached out a hand and took it by the edge. It felt just like thick paper should feel. He picked up the parchment and held it close to his face. He didn’t see anything. He held it toward the bright sky. There were no hidden lines or words. He did notice a tingling sensation in his fingertips. It may look blank, but there was something special about this piece of paper.

  The creases where it had been folded were still there making it easy to fold again. Even folded it was far too big for his pockets.

  “I need to keep this in a safe place in my room,” he said.

  As he walked under the weeping willow on the way to the screen door he heard the chimes. He looked up into the branches for the source. All he saw was the rocket, still dangling there, waiting for him.

  Chapter 9

  Joey took the map to his room and put it on his desk. On his way downstairs he stopped to look in Glory’s room. His eyes rested on the dolls that lined her pillow. Every day she had one or two of these dolls
in her arms. This made Joey wonder. On TV little girls gave their dolls tea parties and dressed them up. Glory didn’t do this. She just carried them around pressed to her chest. She wasn’t a shy, quiet little girl in need of comfort. Glory was bossy, manipulative, and clever. So why the dolls?

  He stared, thinking. It occurred to him that a doll was missing—the skinny, little, Barbie-like doll with bad hair. The doll’s hair was done up in dreadlocks. The dreadlocks stuck out in all directions and were tied off with colorful rubber bands. This doll wasn’t soft or cuddly, but Glory seemed to favor it. Looking again Joey made sure the doll was missing. She must have had it with her at the pond. It probably fell in with her. What if it hadn’t? It could be lying in the grass out there all alone. This possibility bothered Joey.

  Downstairs he found Beezer and Story at the kitchen table stacking golden coins.

  “I’m rich, I tell you. Rich!” Story said in pirate brogue.

  “I’m going out for a few minutes,” Joey said.

  “Eh? Where you going?” asked Beezer.

  Joey wondered what to say. Beezer might not let him go. His Mom wouldn’t. Joey wasn’t a very good liar. He didn’t want to lie, anyway.

  “I think Glory dropped her doll. I’m going to go find it for her.”

  “By the pond?” asked Beezer. He concentrated on his stack of coins as he spoke. It was starting to wobble.

  “Yes,” said Joey.

  “You’ll stay out of the pond?” said Beezer. A smile flickered on his lips for an instant as if he were making a joke.

  “Yes,” said Joey, feeling annoyed.

  “Okay. Don’t make me come looking for you. I don’t like the way that pond smells.”

  Joey was surprised to be given permission. He wondered how good a baby sitter Beezer was.

  Joey climbed over the fence using the fence-steps and made his way toward the pond. He didn’t look hard for the doll until he got to the pond. He was sure that if she had dropped the doll it wouldn’t have been until she was falling in.