More Stories Julian Tells

by Ann Cameron

Huey started slowing down again.

  “Wait a minute, I need my lucky shirt,” Huey said. He meant his Superboy T-shirt.

  “No you don’t, Huey,” I said.

  “Well, I can’t go until I tie my shoelaces,” Huey said.

  “Huey, get out if you aren’t going to jump,” I said.

  “No,” Huey said, “it’s my turn.” He was still working on his shoelaces.

  “Huey,” Gloria said, “you had your turn. You just didn’t use it.”

  “I don’t like the way you play,” Huey said.

  “If you don’t like it, go play by yourself,” I said. “You’re a scaredy-cat, anyway,” I added. “Who wants to play with a scaredy-cat?”

  That was the spark.

  A day went by.

  “So, who cares if Huey doesn’t play with us?” I said.

  “Yes,” Gloria said, “who cares?”

  But I did care a little. It was inconvenient to play mining town without Huey. Huey had taken his plow, his dump truck and his steam shovel away from the sandpile. He was keeping them on the shelf by the top bunk bed where he sleeps. He was sleeping with his steam shovel at night as if it was his only friend.

  On the second day he came out on the back porch and watched us swinging.

  “So what are you doing, scaredy-cat?” I said.

  That was the second spark.

  The next day Huey stayed in our bedroom with the door closed. I could hear thumps from the other side of the door. Once I opened the door. Huey was sitting on the floor.

  “What are you doing, Huey?” I said.

  “None of your business!” Huey said.

  I closed the door again.

  When he came to dinner, he didn’t look at me.

  My mother brought out the food.

  “Huey,” my mother said, “you have to have some broccoli. It’s good for you. It will make you strong.”

  “All right,” Huey said.

  He ate three helpings! I couldn’t believe it. Usually Huey only pretends to eat broccoli. Usually he stores it in his pants pockets and gets rid of it later.

  “May I be excused?” Huey said.

  He went upstairs to our room and closed the door again.

  My father looked at Huey’s empty chair.

  “Seems like something strange is going on around here,” my father said. He had those dangerous yellow lights in his eyes. “Seems like I haven’t seen you and Huey talk to each other for three days. Did you two have a fight?”

  “Oh no,” I said.

  “No?” my father repeated.

  “Really,” I said.

  And just then there was a huge crash like a tree falling above us.

  In a second Huey came walking very stiffly down the stairs, like a soldier on parade.

  Blood was coming from his nose.

  His lip was cut.

  One side of his face was swelling.

  “Huey!” my mother said. “Are you all right?” She went running to him.

  “I’m all right,” Huey answered. He kept walking right by us, on his way to the kitchen. “I just need a Kleenex.”

  “You need more than that!” my mother said. “You need an ice pack! You need a bandage!” She followed him into the kitchen.

  “Julian,” my father said. “Something tells me this situation has something to do with you.”

  I couldn’t say yes.

  I couldn’t say no.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “MAYBE?” my father said.

  I wished I was a Smokey the Bear person. I wished I knew trouble before all of a sudden I felt it like a fire in my feet, my hands, my heart, my soul, my brain.

  Superboy and Me

  I could hardly see Huey. Huey could hardly see.

  He had a Kleenex under his nose. He had a washcloth full of ice against his face. Every now and then he moved the washcloth and an ice cube fell to the floor, rattling like a marble.

  We were standing in front of my father and mother.

  “So, what did you do, Huey?” my father asked, sounding like a judge.

  “I—I wanted to be strong,” Huey said. “I—I wanted to be Superboy. So I was getting strong. I did sit-ups. I did push-ups. I ate broccoli. I thought I would get tough if I practiced falling out of bed. First I practiced falling out of the bottom bunk. Then I practiced falling out of the top bunk. Once.”

  “And you’re all banged up and you didn’t even cry,” my mother said.

  “Superboy doesn’t cry,” Huey said. “I am never ever going to cry again.”

  And right then he started crying.

  My mother put her arms around him.

  “Huey,” my mother said, “everybody cries sometimes. Even Superboy.”

  “Superboy cries?” Huey said. He stopped crying.

  “Huey,” my mother said, “why did you want to be Superboy?”

  “Julian called me a scaredy-cat,” Huey said.

  His ice pack slipped. I could see his face turning purple.

  “Huey,” I said. “I really didn’t mean it. I was wrong. You’re brave.”

  And then I cried too.

  Huey went up to bed. My mother got more ice and went with him and read him a story.

  “Julian,” my father said, “you and I are going to have a talk.”

  We went into the living room.

  Pretty soon I had told my side, about the swing and the sandpile and how Huey gets me angry when he acts like a baby.

  “I understand how you feel, Julian,” my father said. “But there are some things you need to think about.”

  I waited to hear how I was careless and how I got Huey in trouble. And I waited to hear what punishment I was going to get.

  But that’s not what my father said.

  He said I was a smart boy. And he said Huey needed a smart older brother like me, not just parents, to take care of him. And he said that sometimes it would be hard, but when I am older I will be proud of myself because I helped Huey to grow up and took good care of him.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Finally I said, “I thought you were going to punish me.”

  “I don’t think you need punishing,” my father said. “Sometimes maybe I’ve punished you too hard.”

  And then he said the most surprising thing of all.

  “Julian, you’re learning to be a good older brother. I’m still learning how to be a father too.”

  Huey Makes the Leap

  “O.K., Huey!” my father said.

  “You can do it, Huey!” Gloria said.

  Huey had on his lucky T-shirt. He had his shoes tied. He had on his baseball cap. His feet were aimed for the sandpile.

  “Bail out!” I yelled.

  Huey pushed off from the swing. For a second he floated. I saw his face. He had his eyes shut tight.

  In a second he had landed, plunging into the sand, legs straight out in front of him.

  “A record!” Gloria said.

  “Yes!” I said. “Huey, you went out farther than Gloria or me!”

  “Really?” Huey said. “It was fun!”

  “More fun than falling out of bed!” my mother said.

  “How did you do it, Huey?” Gloria asked. “How did you break our record?”

  Huey was in his Superboy pose, with his shoulders back and his thumbs hooked in his belt.

  “Yes,” my mother said, “what’s your secret?”

  Huey scuffed his tennis shoes in the sand. “Broccoli,” he said.

  “Fine,” my father said. “I may have a surprise for you.”

  “Great!” I said.

  My dad left.

  “I wonder what your surprise will be,” Gloria said.

  “Me too,” Huey and I said, both at the same time.

  The three of us stayed in the back yard, taking turns swing-jumping. We didn’t hear my dad coming back. It started getting dark and hard to see.

  “I jumped farther than you,” Huey said.

  “You didn’t,” I
said.

  “Did too,” Huey said.

  “Did not, bean sprout,” I said.

  “Did not, WHAT?” my father said. He had come home. He was on the porch.

  “Just did not was all I said.”

  “He called me ‘bean sprout’!” Huey shouted.

  “BEAN SPROUT!” my father roared. “He called you BEAN SPROUT?”

  “I think I’ll be going home now,” Gloria said, very softly. She was already in the shadows, halfway out of the yard.

  My father stepped out the porch door. He put down a big cardboard box he was carrying.

  “Wait a minute, Gloria,” my father said. “I’d like you to stay. I have something in mind for these boys!”

  I looked at Huey. “We can forget the surprise,” I whispered.

  “A surprise is coming,” Huey whispered back. “But it won’t be nice.”

  We all followed my father into the house.

  “Are you going to send us to our room?” I asked.

  “No,” my father said. He had a scary smile.

  “Are you going to make us wash windows?” Huey asked.

  “No,” my father said. He smiled again, like a tiger.

  “What are you going to do?” Gloria asked.

  “I have an idea about these boys, Gloria,” my father said, just like he and Gloria were best friends. “I think they need to go through a potentially dangerous situation together. Then they may like each other more.”

  “What do you mean, a ‘potentially dangerous situation’?” I said.

  “I mean one that could be dangerous if you don’t handle it right.” My father smiled again, like a cobra.

  “Like what?” Huey said.

  “I know you boys like animals,” my father said. “It wouldn’t be anything much. Something like—live alligators. Maybe—sharks.”

  “Sharks!” Huey said. He reached for my hand.

  “Now you boys make yourselves comfortable,” my father said. “Gloria and I will be back in a minute.”

  The two of them walked outside to the porch. Gloria looked back at us. Her eyes said good-bye forever.

  Huey and I sat on the couch.

  “Is Gloria going to help carry in the sharks?” he asked.

  “I don’t know!” I said. “Huey, I’m sorry I called you ‘bean sprout.’ ”

  “That’s O.K.,” Huey said.

  “It’s taking them a long time,” I said.

  We waited. Huey started rubbing his special laser ring that is supposed to fry your enemies to a crisp, although actually it couldn’t even fry an egg.

  Gloria and my father came back. They had the cardboard box my father had left on the porch.

  “Hold it level, Gloria,” my father said.

  Inside the package something skittered.

  “Not sharks,” Huey whispered to me. “Maybe—live snakes!”

  Gloria and my father set the box down in front of us. It was tied with a strong cord. I moved my feet away from it.

  “Now your job,” my father said to us, “will be to open this box.”

  “O.K.,” Huey said, rubbing his ring.

  “I don’t want to,” I said.

  Gloria looked at me sympathetically. Even my father looked a little bit sorry.

  “I don’t want you to go into this without a fighting chance,” he said. “Wait a minute.”

  He went into the kitchen.

  I looked at the box. I tried to sense what was inside it. All I could sense was darkness. And breathing.

  “Gloria,” I whispered quickly, “do you know what’s inside there? Would you say it’s really dangerous?”

  “I would say”—Gloria began—“that if I were you, I would say my prayers.”

  “Well, here you are,” my father said cheerily.

  He was carrying two kitchen knives.

  I started making a plan. Huey and I could stab the box to shreds. Afterward, we could find out what had been inside. I picked up one of the knives.

  “Sorry,” my father said. “The knives are for later. You have to open the box with your bare hands.”

  “With our bare hands?” Huey repeated. He didn’t look so brave anymore.

  “Right!” my father said. “And be gentle. That’s a good box. I may want to use it again.”

  “Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?” I said. Sometimes my father gets over his strange ideas in a day or so.

  My father smiled his tiger-cobra smile. He raised his eyebrows.

  “No,” he said. “But I’ll help you a little.”

  He took one of the knives and cut the cord on the box. That left only a little piece of tape on the top between whatever it was and us.

  “Can’t you tell us anything about what’s in there?” I said.

  “Just this,” my father said. “They’re hungry!”

  Whatever it was, there was more than one!

  “Come on, Julian,” Huey said. He was rubbing his laser ring.

  “Ready,” I said.

  We each took hold of one top flap of the box. We pulled in opposite directions so hard we fell on the floor. Nothing came out of the box at us.

  We got up. We moved closer to the box.

  “It’s the surprise!” Huey said.

  In one corner of the box were two baby rabbits. They blinked in the light. Their long ears trembled. One was brown. One was white.

  Huey put his hand into the box. The white one smelled it.

  “They’re brothers,” my father said, “and they’re hungry.”

  Huey picked up the white one and held it in his hands.

  I picked up the brown one.

  “You said they were dangerous,” I said.

  “Could be,” my father said. “If you boys don’t take those knives and cut them some lettuce and carrots, they might start nibbling your shirts.”

  So we cut up lettuce and carrots while Gloria held the rabbits.

  “Well, what about names?” my father said.

  I thought of the toughest name for a rabbit I could. “Mine is Jake,” I said.

  “And what about you, Huey?” my father asked.

  “Wait a minute. I have to think,” Huey answered. He shut his eyes.

  In a minute he opened them. He didn’t say anything.

  My father said, “Come on, Huey. What is it? Tell us.”

  Huey got a big grin on his face. “Bean Sprout,” he said.

  isn’t what you’re like outside, but usually you’d never know.

  Also, the whole earth is mostly water—three-quarters ocean. The continents are just little stopping places. And using water—streams and rivers and oceans—anybody could put a message in a bottle and send it all the way around the world.

  That was my secret project.

  I had a bottle with a cork. I had paper and a ballpoint pen. I wrote a message: Whoever finds this bottle, please write or call me and tell me where you found it.

  I put down my address and phone number. Then I corked the bottle and carried it down to the river.

  I threw the bottle as far out as I could. It splashed, bobbed up and floated. I watched it go out of sight.

  I kept thinking about my secret project.

  Maybe my bottle was on the way to Hawaii.

  Maybe it was on the way to France.

  Maybe it was on the way to China.

  Maybe I would write letters to the person who found it, and we would become friends. I would go visit the person where he or she lived.

  I could see myself in Rio de Janeiro, dancing in the streets.

  I could see myself in India, riding on an elephant.

  I could see myself in Africa, taming wild lions.

  A week went by.

  I wondered how long I’d have to wait before I heard from the person who got my bottle. It might be months.

  Maybe my bottle would go to the North Pole and be found stuck in the ice by Eskimo hunters. Then I realized it might lie in the ice for years before it was found. Somebody might phone or wr
ite me, and I would even have forgotten about my bottle.

  I decided I should write a note to myself and hide it in my desk, where I would find it when I grew up, so I could remind myself about the bottle then.

  Dear Old Julian, I wrote. Remember the bottle you threw in the river? And then I put down the day and the year that I threw it in.

  I had just finished hiding this message in the back of my desk when the phone rang.

  It was Gloria.

  “Julian, I have some news!” she said.

  “Oh, really?” I said. Nothing could be important news that wasn’t about my bottle.

  “Julian,” Gloria said, “it’s about your bottle with the message—I found it!”

  She sounded happy. I wasn’t. My bottle was supposed to travel around the world.

  “Julian?” Gloria said.

  I didn’t answer.

  All that water to travel! All those countries to see! The whole world full of strangers! And where did my stupid bottle go? To Gloria’s house!

  “Julian?” Gloria said. “Are you still there?”

  I couldn’t talk. I was too disgusted. I hung up.

  Gloria came looking for me.

  “Tell her I’m not here,” I said to Huey.

  Huey went to the door. “Julian says he’s not here,” Huey said.

  “Oh,” Gloria said. She went away.

  In a couple of days my father started noticing.

  “I haven’t seen Gloria lately,” he said.

  “I don’t want to see her,” I said.

  “Why?” my father said

  “Because.”

  Then I decided to tell my father about the bottle and how Gloria found it. It didn’t matter anymore to keep it a secret. The secret was over.

  “That’s too bad,” my father said. “But it’s not Gloria’s fault.”

  “She found the bottle,” I said. “She must be laughing at me for trying such a stupid idea.”

  “It’s not a stupid idea,” my father said. “You just had bad luck. You know what your problem is? It’s the curve in the river. Your bottle got stuck on that curve, and it didn’t have a chance.”

  I felt a little better. I went to see Gloria.

  “I wanted to give you your bottle back,” Gloria said. Then she added, “I thought it was a great idea, sending a message in a bottle.”