Jackson Jones

by Jenn Kelly

  Oh, dear.

  Jackson stretched himself out on the trunk, trying to reach Meeka. She was too far away. He tried to think of stories where he had seen this kind of thing before. He didn’t have any rope. There weren’t any extra branches for her to grab. He couldn’t reach her. He couldn’t reach the bag. He crept along the trunk. The tree began to bend into the ravine.

  The branch tore. It sounded exactly like the cracking of knucklebones.

  Jackson’s heart sank in desperation. There was nothing he could do. Absolutely nothing. The pounding in his heart matched the pain in his head. I can’t do anything. I can’t save her, raced through his mind.

  Jackson eased backward off the trunk, shuffling along until he could stand up. He searched frantically for a branch or something he could hold out to Meeka. Nothing. He checked his pockets, looking for something, anything that would help; a rope, a trampoline, an idea, something. He pulled out two stones. You have no friends, read one. You are not worth loving, read the other.

  A fiery anger burned within him. Meeka is my friend. Jackson chucked the stones to the ground. He thought of the Author who created him, the Author who gave him his dreams, his life, his hardships, his struggles. Who gave him a friend.

  “NO!” Jackson yelled. His mind spun furiously.

  It came to him. He knew what he had to do.

  He had to save Meeka’s life.

  Even if…even if…

  Jackson didn’t think the rest of the sentence. Instead, he thought about the Author. He thought about the Author writing his story. He thought about being the hero. And he knew what he had to do. Jackson looked at the fallen tree, and then looked at Meeka.

  He ran as fast as he could.

  And jumped.

  Chapter 54

  In Which a Hero Is Born

  Jackson soared through the air, and his hands flayed until he snagged the branch. He swung himself up and hugged Meeka’s sobbing body.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “I know,” she whimpered.

  The branch broke.

  Chapter 55

  In Which We Wait for Death

  The air rushed around their falling bodies. Jackson shut his eyes tightly, holding Meeka closer. He heard the sounds of the churning water beneath them. Jackson turned, holding Meeka on top of him.

  So he would hit the rocks first.

  She will not die, she will not die, she will not die. Jackson’s thoughts repeated. But why isn’t my life flashing before my eyes? I wonder if there’s a heaven. Is my hamster there? What about my grandma? I should have hugged Mom. I hope she’s not too sad that I’m gone.

  There were other thoughts that I will not divulge, because some things are just too personal. And it’s none of your business.

  Meeka squeezed Jackson, her chin on his shoulder, her legs wrapped around his waist. He held her tighter. He waited for the crash.

  Chapter 56

  In Which We Meet Another Hero

  Ahoy!” a voice called out.

  “Jackson, look!”

  Jackson’s eyes popped open. They weren’t falling. They weren’t even moving. He looked around and realized that they were hanging in midair. The satchel strap had snagged a tree. A different tree.

  Am I kidding you?

  No. I am not.

  “Want some help?”

  Jackson turned his head to look behind him.

  Josh!

  Chapter 57

  In Which No One Dies

  Josh stood on a ledge three feet from them. His arms stretched out to Meeka, and Jackson loosened his grip on her. She planted her feet on Jackson’s thighs and jumped to Josh’s arms. He hugged her and put her down. Jackson stretched out a trembling hand and Josh grabbed it tightly.

  Jackson looked at Josh. Josh’s face was calm and he was smiling.

  “Trust me,” he said softly.

  Jackson swallowed.

  One…two…three.

  Josh yanked him, hard.

  Jackson couldn’t stand on his wobbly legs. Josh held him upright.

  “Thank you,” Jackson stammered. His heart beat wildly in his chest.

  “Have you found your stone yet?” Josh asked.

  “Um…maybe? I thought I had, but…” he trailed off.

  Josh nodded.

  “I’ll see you at the finish line,” he said. And he left, climbing effortlessly up the cliff.

  You’d think there would be more conversation here. That Josh would stay and answer the many questions that Jackson might have. But when you face death, death that you know is coming whether you like it or not, and then it doesn’t happen, you don’t talk much. So Jackson really had nothing to say. His mind was void of questions. All he could think was…

  Meeka didn’t die.

  Chapter 58

  In Which There Is a Great Deal of Dancing

  Jackson staggered down the path alongside the cliff and climbed to the bottom when…

  “Gaagh! Ger off!” he gagged.

  Meeka loosened her grip a little from his neck.

  “Oh, Jackson! Thank you! You saved my life!” she squeaked as she danced around.

  Jackson shook her off, trying to regain his balance. “Meeka…MEEKA! What were you doing up on that cliff?”

  Meeka stopped dancing, her hair wild in her face. “Well, you dropped your satchel, and I thought you might miss it, so I went after it.”

  “You were following me?” Jackson asked incredulously.

  Meeka shrugged, casually pushing the hair off her face.

  “I almost died! You almost died! Are you crazy?” he yelled.

  “But I didn’t! And you didn’t! So it’s okay!” And she danced again.

  Jackson looked at her in disbelief. “But you could have!”

  “But I didn’t!” Meeka twirled even faster.

  She spun right into a tree. She fell down, laughing. Jackson looked back at the waterfall, blinking in amazement and confusion. Its menacing churning splashes waved at him. Not literally, of course. Water can’t wave at you; it just has waves. Oh, never mind.

  Meeka grabbed Jackson’s hands and twirled him.

  “Meeka, STOP it!” Jackson shouted and he yanked his hands from hers. Meeka looked at Jackson, surprised, and then she twirled off.

  Jackson picked up his soggy bag from the ground. It was ruined. The strap was ripped. It was very, very heavy. He opened it and turned it upside down to empty it. The contents fell to the ground with a big splash.

  There was the Book.

  Jackson paused for a moment and then picked up the Book. The pages were thick with water. He peeled open the first page. The writing was smudged.

  It was ruined.

  He carefully peeled back another page.

  Smudged.

  Next page?

  Smudged as well.

  Next page?

  You guessed it.

  Jackson sighed bitterly. He dropped to the ground, leaning uncomfortably against a dead spruce. He looked around dispassionately. (Dispassion is when you have no passion. Like when your mom tells you you’re having leftovers…again. What’s your emotion? Dispassion.)

  Meeka twirled about, kicking up bits of dust in the air as she spun. And then she fell over from dizziness. She giggled a little and then just lay there quietly, looking up into the sky. She hummed something indistinct. Jackson turned another sticky-wet page in his book. He couldn’t make out any of the words.

  What had they said before? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anymore. If the words were important, he would have remembered, wouldn’t he? His heart felt…empty.

  He felt empty.

  Jackson lay down and stared at the sky. His body was so tired. His head hurt, his chest hurt, and he was getting hot again. Jackson placed the Book over his face covering his eyes from the glare. And within a moment, he was asleep.

  Chapter 59

  In Which Meeka Is Bossy

  Jackson! Jackson!”

  Jackson opened his
eyes to darkness. He pulled the Book off his face and squinted in the bright sun. He was groggy. And tired. He felt strangely sad. And still empty.

  “Jackson, we have to finish the Tour,” Meeka said worriedly.

  Jackson looked at his watch. It was five in the morning. Five in the morning. He didn’t care. He put the Book back over his eyes. Quiet, darkness…ah, much better.

  Wait a minute! Five a.m.! Oh no! He had to get back home! He wasn’t allowed to be out this late! Technically he hadn’t left his room, but still! His parents would definitely notice he wasn’t in bed.

  Jackson sat up quickly, grunting as his shoulder blades burned with pain. “But I lost my stones.”

  Meeka gave him a hard look. She put her little hands on her hips and her face screwed up in anger. “Well, you’d better find them, buster! You might be my friend, but you will NOT be the one to keep me from being promoted! I’ve got dreams too you know, and they do not involve remaining a TOUR GUIDE!”

  Jackson was taken aback. But he stood up resolutely and brushed the spruce needles and dust off his butt. (Of course I had to use the word butt, it’s a funny word.) He picked up his ripped satchel and tucked it under his arm. He picked up the Book, and Meeka’s little hand grabbed his. And they walked down the forest path that led away from the cliff.

  Chapter 60

  In Which Jackson Hurries

  Sometimes in stories time goes by in the adventure, but not at home. Like in that fabulous book about wardrobes and Turkish delight. This was not the case for Jackson. The actual minutes passing in this adventure were the exact minutes at home, in Jackson’s room, in Jackson’s bed. Jackson’s dad would be snoring away down the hall, and his mom would occasionally yell out “Stop snoring!” And he’d hear his dad mutter something and then start snoring again. His little sister would have her thumb in her mouth and her little stuffed puppy dog under her arm. His little brother would have thrown off all the sheets and be sleeping with his mouth wide open and his arms spread out. Great-Aunt Harriett would be snoring. In two hours, the newspaper would hit the door with a thud, the dog would bark at the door, Dad would sit up and yell at the dog, and Mom would get out of bed and go downstairs to make coffee and breakfast. His little sister would climb out of her crib and come into Jackson’s room to wake him up. But he wouldn’t be there. Not unless he hurried. So we’d better yell at Jackson to hurry up.

  HURRY UP, JACKSON!!!!!

  Jackson lifted his head. He thought he heard voices yelling at him to hurry up. But it was quiet except for the sound of the river. He shrugged his shoulders and kept walking, holding Meeka’s warm little hand.

  Jackson clambered into the river, in an eddy where it was safe. The water was stagnant and brown in this area. (Stagnant means not moving, in case you didn’t have a dictionary handy and really, you should always have a dictionary handy to look up words you read but don’t understand and not rely on people like me to explain everything.) Jackson imagined creatures lurking in the water, waiting to grab his ankles. Kind of like his mom’s cabbage-brussels-sprout-beet stew. Not that anything in the stew has grabbed his ankles, but one never knows.

  Meeka climbed into the river to follow him.

  “No, wait,” said Jackson. “I have to do this on my own.”

  Meeka paused a moment and then nodded. She climbed back out and stood on the riverbank.

  Jackson gave her a small smile and, with a wave, walked downstream.

  Chapter 61

  In Which No Questions Are Answered

  Will this story ever end? Will Jackson find his stones? Will he give up? What is the cosine of 7.88? What is Spanish for “couch?”

  Yes. Keep reading. Keep reading. Get a calculator. Get a Spanish-English dictionary.

  On we go.

  Chapter 62

  In Which a Heart Hurts

  Jackson tripped.

  He fell into the water, face first. Oh, it was disgusting. The water went up his nose and into his mouth because as he fell, he opened his mouth to say “Oh, I’m falling.” But all that came out was “Oh” and then his mouth filled with disgusting, brown, stagnant water. He quickly sat up, choking and coughing. The water tasted awful. Imagine a lovely glass of fresh water. Then mix in some mud, some little tiny rocks, some desiccated crawfish shells, some fish poop, and some algae. That’s what it tasted like. Blech.

  But just as he was thinking how awful it was, Jackson felt something underneath his hand. His fingers closed around the something, and he pulled two stones up out of the water. They were engraved.

  Your dreams are not real, read one.

  You are not special, read the other.

  Jackson didn’t bother getting up. He just sat there looking at the stones, turning them over and over in his hands.

  “These are my stones,” he thought dully. And then he began to cry. Not like the little tears that slip out when you’ve hit your thumb with a hammer, and not like the selfish tears that leak out when your brother got the last piece of wedding cake with blue roses. No,

  these were the huge tears that pop out of your eyes and plunge to the ground, your body shaking as your nose gets completely stuffed up, and your lips are quivering, and all you want is to be held by your mom and have her whisper to you, “This too shall pass.”

  After a few good minutes of crying, Jackson wiped his eyes. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. (Yes, of course it was gross, but what else was he going to do?)

  He calmed down. He didn’t feel any better. But now he could go home. He had found his stones.

  Jackson thought he’d be happier than this.

  He looked around for Meeka. But she was nowhere to be seen. Why would she be? He had told her he wanted to be alone, but, at that moment, he missed her.

  The stones fit perfectly into the palms of Jackson’s hands. They were smooth and not too heavy and had little twinkling sparkles in them. They looked like Josh’s braces.

  Jackson lifted his head and watched the Book float away. And at that moment, Jackson made a very serious, life-altering, life-changing decision. He grasped the two gray stones in his hand and, with a swift arc, threw them far down the river. Good throw, he thought to himself, pleased.

  Jackson turned and splashed down the river, chasing after the Book. Just as it was within his reach he tripped again, but he reached out his hands and caught it before the current could take it away. He opened the cover gently, but one glance told him that the pages were more waterlogged than before. He definitely wouldn’t be able to read it now.

  Jackson felt very tired. He lay back in the river. The muddy water felt cool on his hot head. It trickled down the sides of his face, into his ears, and inside his pajama shirt. “Remember who you are. Who am I? The Author made me for a purpose…yeah, right.”

  “Jackson.”

  Jackson sat up carefully.

  It was quiet.

  Very quiet. Not a sound to be heard at all. Not even a bird calling out.

  He should get going. It was time to go back, to go back home, to go back to…But it felt good to lie down, to do nothing. Jackson lay down again, the water tickling his face. The clouds were far away in the hot blue sky. If only he could have some shade. If only he could eat something. If only…

  “Jackson.”

  Jackson lay very still. He held his breath. The water was still trickling, making little rushing noises, but the voices were louder.

  “Jackson.”

  He sat up very slowly. He looked into the water, but it was so dirty, he couldn’t see anything. He ran his fingers along the bottom of the river. His fingers trailed over stones. He grabbed a handful. He opened his hand to look at them. Plain, smooth, white stones.

  “Jackson.”

  Jackson stared at the rocks in his hand. Then he brought his hand to his ear.

  “Jackson.”

  He picked up a single one and held it to his ear.

  “Jackson,” it whispered softly. He brought the handful to his ear. “Jackson,” they calle
d out.

  Jackson picked up his ripped bag and his waterlogged Book and began walking up the river, back to Meeka and back to where Josh the Page was waiting for him.

  Chapter 63

  In Which Things Are Not as They Seem

  There is no point in telling you about the walk back because nothing interesting happened. Well, if you don’t count Meeka climbing a tree and falling into thorn bushes. And if you don’t count Meeka prying off one of Jackson’s shoes and throwing it at a bird who was squawking loudly at them. And if you don’t count how they got the shoe back. Those are different stories for different times, and they really don’t have anything to do with this book’s climax. So we’ll just skip those parts and continue. If you wish to know what happened, then just send me a letter, and I’ll forward you those few paragraphs. But I’ll tell you right now, they are just fillers.

  Jackson climbed up the riverbank. Josh the Page sat under a golden weeping willow, the branches shading him. He looked up at them and smiled.

  Josh stood up and Meeka ran over, giving him a big hug. “Well?” he asked.

  Jackson swallowed nervously. What if he had failed? He reached into his pockets and held out the stones for Josh to see. Josh looked down into Jackson’s hand, and then laughed.

  “So how was the adventure?”

  “Well, if you hadn’t shown up and saved us, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

  “I came to save you?”

  “Yeah, if you hadn’t been there to get us out of that tree, we would have fallen.”

  “We almost died!” Meeka shouted.

  Josh’s smile faltered. “I never left this bank, Jackson.”

  “But that’s impossible!” spluttered Jackson. “Meeka fell of a cliff and was holding onto my bag, which was hanging off a branch in a tree, and the branch was breaking, and I jumped out to save her and then we fell, and then we were stuck in another tree, and you came along and saved us.”