Yeah. Earth to Zoomy, as my grandparents sometimes said. Lorrol was right. Why would a Darwin notebook ever be found wrapped in an old blanket in a beat-up box in Michigan? I’d be more likely to see the Beagle sail out of the cornfield behind our house.
Lorrol went on, “Jeez, he had ten kids! He was nuts about them, and a few died — that’s awful. He let his kids come in his study when he was working, and didn’t get mad if they drew on valuable papers by mistake. He cared a lot about his wife. She was his best friend.”
“Keep going,” I said, sitting back in my chair. I was resting my popcorn brain, just for a minute.
“Okay, listen to this: He liked being home, and after going around the world on that voyage, he never left England again. Sometimes he’d walk and walk on a sandy path behind his house. Although he was sick a lot, he still kept working. And this: He tried in a not-selfish way to help other investigators who were also studying nature — he wrote and answered a ton of letters. He fessed up if he didn’t know whether one of his ideas was right, and never wanted to hurt other people. A generous soul, that’s what he was, and a mensch.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“An all-around good kind of guy. A decent human being.”
“And different,” I added.
“It’s all kind of amazing,” Lorrol went on. “I mean, how could someone who was so gentle and shy stand to make such a giant fuss in the world? I’m reading here that his evolution theory got a ton of people all mad and upset, and some hated him. He knew that would happen. He was such an unlikely guy to do what he did, you know?”
I nodded. “Yeah. A mysteriously quiet Firecracker Maker …”
I’m usually very aware of sounds around me, but that afternoon Lorrol and I might have been on the moon. We were in Darwin heaven, and oblivious.
Neither one of us noticed a man who wandered quietly back and forth between the stacks on either side of us. The floors in the library weren’t creaky like those in the store. And he wasn’t speaking.
He was listening.
“GAS! ISN’T THAT the best nickname?” I crowed.
“Awesome,” Lorrol agreed. A second later she slammed the table with her book, making me duck. My head hit the computer screen.
“Ow!”
“I know what to do! Oh, sorry! Whoasie-doesie on high!” Lorrol was on her feet and clapping hands. “It’s going to be the best mystery this town has seen in ages! It may spread around the world!”
“What, what?” My glasses were back on, partly to protect my face. Lorrol was all unidentified body parts, and now jumping.
“We can” — thump! — “put together a series of free newspapers” — thud! — “each maybe a page long, with details about Darwin’s life, things not everyone would know. We won’t use his name or the word evolution. He’ll be an Unknown Person! But we can use his real words, like quotes” — thump — “from all that writing he did.”
“Whoa.” I grinned, and wished that I could blurt the news about the old notebook under my bed. Speaking of quotes! Keeping this secret was like sitting on a bunch of pinecones.
Lorrol had plopped down again but kept talking at top speed, her face about three inches from mine. “He’s an inspiration to kids — to people of all ages! He had plenty of rough moments but didn’t give up, you know?”
I nodded. “Yeah! He makes you feel like you don’t have to know everything. You just have to keep trying.”
“And stay curious,” Lorrol added. “Oooh, we can leave these bulletins anyplace … in the library, like oooo! Stuck in between the pages of books! Or in a newspaper at the pharmacy! Or in between bike maps at the sandwich shop! But what should we call it?”
“How about the Gas Gazette?” I said, thinking of our local paper, the South County Gazette. “Gas is a great name.”
That afternoon I got my first hug from Lorrol. My glasses slipped off and were ground into my chin, but it was worth it.
This was one whoa-rich, ping-crazy afternoon, and a definite life changer.
As our silent witness slipped out the library door, we were still chattering, filled to the brim with hope and ideas.
* * *
The Gas Gazette: Issue Ten
A FREE NEWSPAPER ABOUT A MYSTERIOUS SOUL
~I hiked through the rain forest, carrying my notebooks and gun. I saw wonders in this “gold mine” every day — iridescent insects and birds, giant ant-hills, monkeys. Often I ate only “Salt Beef and musty biscuits.”
~Things were great and “sublime” but they were also hard. I couldn’t stay clean. We won’t go into the details.
~When I got back to the sea near Rio de Janeiro, I was rowing myself to shore one day in order to do some collecting in a bay. A huge wave crashed over the boat. I went “head over heels,” and so did all my belongings.
~You can imagine the bad words that no one heard but me. My “books, instruments & gun cases” were all floating and had to be rescued.
~I spent a whole day drying and mending things.
~Every few weeks I got some mail. Friends my age were getting married and sounded so comfortable. Sometimes I was sad I didn’t have a wife — only giant fossil bones and many jars of dead creatures and plants.
~I was constantly curious and pondered all my discoveries. A lot of the time I wasn’t sure what I had found.
~Sometimes I was soaring, and sometimes plodding. Often I was lonely, and lonely aches.
Who am I?
NEXT ISSUE TO COME.
FREE!
* * *
PLAYER FOUR WAS in a quiet rage.
He was in the right place. He’d seen the box with his own eyes. That no-good idiot of a car thief had unloaded it at the family junk store. But how on earth would he, the rightful owner — at least the rightful thief — now figure out what had been in it?
The old man and the part-blind kid weren’t acting like they’d just discovered diamonds. They didn’t seem too interested in the box, aside from wanting to keep it.
What was going on?
The young kid had gone to the library that afternoon. The player followed, just to see if he could overhear anything. The boy and a friend were looking up facts about Charles Darwin. Losers — as a kid, he’d never gotten along with those bookworm types.
He needed to get back into the store and look carefully at that old bedcover. Maybe something was sewn into the lining. It’d been done before.
Old Man Chamberlain had been watching him, noticed him looking at the box, and wouldn’t sell. He’d have to do it when the geezer wasn’t around.
There was only one way to do that.
BEFORE GOING OUR separate ways that afternoon, Lorrol and I had agreed not to tell anyone, not even family, about the Gas Gazette. Not yet. It would be a surprise.
But talking about Darwin: That was okay. After all, Lorrol still had to get her mom off the camp idea and convince her that her daughter had worthwhile things to investigate, work that could only be done in the library.
As soon as I walked in the door, I shot up to my room, knelt down, and pulled out the Danger Box. There were chores to do before dinner, but I needed to be sure the notebook was still there, and the Beagle part real.
I turned the pages, imagining it on board a ship, maybe with light coming in a porthole … imagining the person who wrote it … yes, here it was: The Beagle called in on the 23rd of April. I ran my finger lightly across the words, stopping on each one. There was a reason this notebook was a treasure, if only I could figure it out. That sticky-voiced man in the store must know something I didn’t. Well, I was determined: I’d find the answer tonight. “I will,” I whispered to myself. If Gas could puzzle through a bunch of hard stuff even when he felt jittery, so could I!
“How was your afternoon, Zoomy?” Gam asked at dinner. She’d made grilled hot dogs, just like Gumps said, with homemade baked beans; this usually vanished in a split second, but tonight we boys weren’t eating. My grandpa was quiet. I rolled my dog
from one side of the plate to the other, too excited to eat.
“Great,” I said. “Lorrol and I were reading about Charles Darwin’s life. He was an awesome guy.”
I heard Gumps look up quickly.
“Anything to do with that old notebook?” he boomed.
“I wish,” I said truthfully. “But seriously, have you ever heard people in Three Oaks talk about evolution?”
There was a moment of silence. Gam said slowly, “Hmm. Not really.”
“But didn’t you study Darwin in school?” I asked.
Another moment of silence. “No, now I think back. It was kind of a not-polite topic,” she said.
“Why? What’s rude?” I asked.
“It’s kinda complicated,” my grandpa said. “Especially for some religious folks who don’t believe Darwin and God belong in the same sentence. I guess it’s easier not to mention his ideas. Somehow, everyone hears about what evolution means — you know, survival of the fittest and plants and animals changing over time, that stuff — but we never studied any details. Odd when you think that we’re an old farming community, but there it is. We got along fine without it, and we’re still doing okay.” He shrugged and added, “I guess.”
We were all quiet for a moment. Gam cleared her throat.
“Actually, I just read a fascinating article at the dentist’s office about teaching evolution in schools. There’s quite a fight going on all over the U.S. now.”
“What kind of fight?” I asked.
“Well, scientists and lots of others believe evolution must be taught. It shouldn’t be skipped over — not only because it’s one of the biggest ideas ever to come along, but also because it’s about how we see our world. I guess there’s worry that if students can ignore evolution, they might feel free to ignore other kinds of science, which could be a dangerous thing. We need our kids to become smart scientists and keep working on a whole bunch of problems, you know?”
Gam paused and looked at Gumps, who didn’t seem to be listening.
“Yup,” I said. “Like Pathological Myopia, crops that can stop world hunger, how to save the environment, all that kind of stuff.”
My grandma put down her fork. “Exactly. And this article said that we’re one of the few big, powerful countries with a whole mess of people who believe you can’t respect Darwin’s scientific thinking and the Bible: Can’t love ’em both, that’s their message. And if it’s one or the other, then suddenly we have a war between science and religion. It turns into a battle with our kids caught bang-smack in the middle. I say, why can’t a person believe in both evolution and God? It’s salt and pepper. Why do they have to choose? Hey, eat some of that dog, will you?”
“Wow,” I said, my mouth full. “That’s intense. I like the salt-and-pepper idea.”
“So you can teach us more about Darwin as you learn, Zoomy!” Grandma Al said lightly as she cleared the table. “Gumps and I would love to hear.”
“I think people would like him if they knew him,” I said.
“I’m sure,” Gam said, scraping plates.
“Back to the notebook,” Gumps growled, and sighed. It was one of those extreme blasts that practically blew the silverware off the table. “This is serious. We need to tell the police we have that box, and turn over everything that was in it. Your grandma and I have decided.”
“But what if that gets Buckeye in trouble for taking something he didn’t know he was taking?” I asked quickly.
“Well, I’ve thought of that, too, but we can’t go breaking the law by withholding suspicious goods. We probably should’ve told Officer Nab about that box when he was at the house. Whoever that man in the store was today, he didn’t come to Three Oaks on vacation. He came for a reason. That’s enough for me.”
“Okay,” I said, my mind racing. “But can I still look at the notebook tonight?”
Gumps paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “It’s only the difference of a few hours. I’ll call the cops first thing in the morning, and I’m gonna describe that spooky fella. I’ve been around long enough to know when someone’s up to no good.”
What we didn’t know was that a person was walking softly through the trees and bushes at the edge of our property. Circling the outside of the house. Watching the top of my head in front of the kitchen sink. Seeing my grandparents crisscrossing the kitchen and putting things away. Noticing the kitchen light go out an hour later. Seeing my bedroom light go on upstairs.
“Dang!” he muttered when he stepped heavily into our garden. One of the low stakes stabbed him in the knee. He pulled it out angrily and snapped it in two.
I COULDN’T WAIT to open the Danger Box that night.
In one short day, I’d found out an amazing amount. I knew that ~Darwin kept lots of notebooks, ~exploring nature was a big deal in those days, ~Darwin had been on the Beagle when the notebook I was holding was written. I also knew that evolution was in the news, which might make this notebook even more valuable to someone….
The Beagle called in on the 23rd of April. This afternoon, I’d asked Lorrol what she thought that meant, pretending I’d just read the “called in” while I was doing research. Lorrol didn’t know the phrase, either. We decided it might mean the boat came to shore.
I went back to that page, then flipped forward and backward. Wait — I had to get organized. Digging under my bed for my P notebook — that’s the one for private secrets — I opened to a fresh section. I’d write down every word I could read. I would turn myself into a sponge and try to soak up as much as I could possibly hold.
I went back to the beginning and noted the words I’d read last night and the night before. I also tried to remember the look of each page. I told myself that each page might hold a secret, and every word mattered. Whoa, this was slow going — if only the handwriting was neater.
Soon I was beyond the part I’d read before. There was the word Lima. Two lines later, Foxes & Mice & Rats. Down at the bottom of the page, I picked up Chart.
Next page, river course and sand & shingle. Later on, Difficulty of understanding, although I couldn’t figure out the words that followed it.
Cliffs … above sea … cannot understand … and the single word Islands with a circle around it.
I turned the page. Now white powder, followed by some columns of numbers. Farther down, Natural History.
Reached Lima, Wednesday … Next page, I picked out like mermaids, could not keep eyes away from them. The pages right after were written in staggery letters, with lots crossed off. I saw the word Islands again.
Salt and Sandstone turned up a few times. And Lima. Later, carriages or carts, mules & water, donkeys.
This notebook keeper was definitely traveling in the same way Darwin had: by sea and by land. And this was a person studying nature. And mermaids!
I turned more pages, doing my best but still only deciphering an occasional word. All the scribbled-over places didn’t make it easier.
Then I read Galapagos. Ping!
A couple of pages later, Banana!! Just like that, with the exclamation marks. I picked out single words and made them into a list: sweet, sugar, supper, fish, catch, horse, cascades, steaming hot, wonderful view, valley, angular, dogs, granite, Icebergs.
Then, Saturday 17th Ship came. This traveler was on and off a ship, just as Darwin had been.
My list went on: cactus, excavate, Iguana, craters, and a bunch of what looked like temperatures. Then, Out of wind 108. Unbearably hot!
And some phrases: Eats very deliberately, without chewing … Iguana shakes head vertically … hind legs stretched out walks very slowly …
Whoa, I’d read about iguanas and huge tortoises on the Galápagos today. The notebook keeper and Darwin were almost certainly in the same neighborhood. For the second time today, a giant hope bubbled up inside me. Could it be? Could this notebook possibly have belonged to the great Charles Darwin himself? Could I, Zoomy Chamberlain, be holding one of the most important notebooks of all
time? No, it was too impossible! Plus, wouldn’t Lorrol or I have read something about it today, if one of his notebooks had been stolen and never found?
Next I puzzled out Whaler gave us water — a whale ship! Everyone must have been wicked thirsty with those temperatures. Then Islands again, and Iguana and eggs. A few pages later, Slept there Eating tortoise … By the way delicious in Soup. And then, suddenly, Galapagos Lava.
For a moment I squeezed my eyes shut and wished, wished, wished for the notebook to let me in, for it to let me see what the writer was seeing.
I pretended to open my eyes and find I was on the Galápagos Islands, sitting on a boulder writing. A tortoise lumbered by and an iguana paused to see what I was doing.
“Tell me who I am,” I whispered to the notebook.
WHEN GAM KNOCKED on my bedroom door and said, “It’s very late, Zoomy. Lights out,” I practically jumped out of my skin.
“Just a few more minutes,” I called back.
Working as quickly as I could, I added: pumice, the phrase I now understand, curious, escape, deep, circular, surface, low trees, ocean, and the phrase Eating a Prickly Pear.
Or was that a tricky pear?
My eyes were now burning with tiredness, but I wanted to look at every page. The last few had Eel and Saturday: Left our anchorage & stood out to outside of Island.
Then a hard-to-read list: it included Books, Barometer, Medicin, Sweet smelling oil, Black ribbon.
I knew medicine had an e at the end. Darwin had been a bad speller. My heart did a quick thumpa-bump.
I thought of the man cruising around the store this morning, and how worried Gumps had been. That man was looking for something that was stored inside the box. And he wanted it. Badly. Why was this notebook so valuable to him?
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