The Journey Back

by Priscilla Cummings

  “Well, he’s alive all right.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  Lying there, pretending to be asleep underneath those napkins on my face, I felt Buddy beside me lift his head. I recognized Luke’s voice right off. The other voice belonged to a girl.

  “I think he’s in trouble because he didn’t want me to say anything to my dad about finding him, or making him those sandwiches,” Luke said. “What do you think he did?”

  “Who knows?” The girl sounded older than Luke.

  “Do you think he robbed a store? Or maybe he killed somebody!”

  “Nah.” The girl was doubtful. “He doesn’t look like a killer.”

  A sudden heaviness sank into my chest. If she only knew.

  “But it’s none of our business, right?” The girl’s voice.

  “Right,” Luke agreed.

  “So we ought to help him.”

  “Yeah. He seemed kind of nice—I mean he was good to his dog.”

  “You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat their animals. Go ahead, Luke, wake him up.”

  Their slow, careful footsteps crunched through the leaves.

  Buddy’s tail started going back and forth, whacking me on one leg.

  “This dog is named Buddy,” Luke whispered to the girl.

  “How original,” she said.

  “Hey, Buddy, it’s okay. It’s me, Luke. Remember? I fed you a sandwich yesterday.” Buddy stood up. “Good boy. How are ya?”

  Suddenly, Luke’s voice was close to my ear: “Hey, mister, are you okay? We worried you died or something.”

  I snorted, and I couldn’t help but grin.

  “See, I told you he was alive!” the girl exclaimed.

  I pushed myself up, peeled the napkins off my face, and leaned back on my elbows. “Yeah, I’m alive, but I can’t see. The poison ivy made my eyes swell shut.” As I said this, however, I discovered that I could actually get a glimpse of the world through two tiny slits.

  The girl stood behind Luke. She looked like a teenager, someone my age. She smelled nice, too. I got a big whiff of her perfume, or whatever it was.

  “Ewww!” she said as she came closer.

  “Nora! Don’t touch him ’cause then you’ll get it, too!” Luke warned.

  “No, I won’t,” the girl declared. “You can’t catch poison ivy from someone else. It’s not contagious like that.”

  “I got it from my dad once,” Luke claimed.

  “Was it the first time you ever had poison ivy?” she asked. “If it was, that’s why. It takes longer for your body to react the very first time you get it. You and your dad probably picked it up at the same time.”

  “All I know is that it’s all over these woods,” Luke said.

  “It’s so much worse now, too, because of global warming. There’s more carbon dioxide in the air and poison ivy thrives on it—”

  “Hey, I hate to interrupt the lecture on poison ivy,” I said, “but can you guys help me?”

  “We can try,” the girl said. “What you need is a shower. Then give me your clothes and I’ll throw them away.”

  I sat all the way up. “What are you talking about? I can’t throw away my clothes! They’re all I got!”

  “But the oil from the poison ivy is all over them by now. It’ll keep reinfecting you. That oil can last up to a year.”

  “Can’t I just wash it out?”

  “Probably not,” the girl said.

  I moaned. Throwing away my clothes seemed extreme. Plus I didn’t have anything else to wear.

  “I’m telling you, that’s what you need to do,” she said. She was starting to sound like a Miss Know-It-All. “You should’ve been careful: Leaves of three, leave me be.”

  “Hey, I know what poison ivy looks like!” I snapped back.

  “So as soon as you touched it you should have found some jewelweed and rubbed it all over. It’s the natural antidote to poison ivy, you know.”

  Jewelweed? I didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “I slept in the woods one night,” I declared. “It was dark. I couldn’t see. That’s probably when I got it!”

  She chuckled. “Looks like you’ve spent more than one night in the woods!”

  Guess that meant I looked pretty bad. And maybe smelled ripe, too. This girl was beginning to irritate me. “Yeah, well, someone stole all my stuff.”

  She grunted. “I don’t know if you’re stupid, or just plain pathetic.”

  I didn’t answer ’cause I guess I didn’t know either. I lay back down.

  Next thing, the girl’s voice softened up. “All right, okay. If you want our help, we can guide you up to the showers.” She must’ve turned to Luke. “Run back to your tent and get him some clothes. Like a pair of your dad’s sweatpants or some shorts, and a T-shirt, something like that.”

  “His dad’s clothes?” I didn’t think that was such a great idea.

  “Yeah, I think his stuff would fit you,” she said.

  I didn’t want to argue with her. I was miserable and let’s face it, I needed the help.

  Nora and Luke guided me to the campground bathhouse. There was some leftover soap in one of the shower stalls so Luke led me into that one. I pulled the plastic curtain shut, undressed, and dropped my clothes outside the shower stall. I soaped up good and took a long hot and cold shower (hot and cold because the water kept changing). It was the first shower I’d had in several days and I have to say, it felt good.

  Meanwhile, Luke got me some clothes: a pair of what Nora described as “ugly plaid shorts,” some boxers, and a white T-shirt. Everything was a little big, but I wasn’t complaining. Luke also brought me a towel and a pair of his dad’s flip-flops ’cause Nora had put my boots in a plastic bag and said she was going to wipe them down with alcohol, which, according to her, was about the only way to get rid of the poison ivy oil.

  This was weird: after I dried off, Luke gave me a paper cup full of a paste Nora made with baking soda and water and told me to spread it all over the poison ivy. It was goopy, but you know what? It stopped me from itching so bad.

  I could hear Buddy barking outside the bathhouse while I finished up. Then I heard a man’s voice. I should’ve known the kids would go get an adult. I hesitated in the doorway, struggling to see, and wondered if I’d done myself in.

  “Name’s Sherwood Hawkins, but everybody calls me Woody,” this guy said. He touched me on the shoulder and kind of squeezed it. “My son, Luke, here, says you could use some help.”

  I couldn’t see the guy so there was no way to size him up other than his voice, which sounded normal. I dropped my head. “Yeah. I could use some help.”

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Gerald,” I told him, using the same fake name I’d used earlier.

  “Do they call you Gerry?” Woody asked.

  “Yeah. Gerry. They call me Gerry,” I lied.

  “Is there someone you need to call?” he asked. “Like your—”

  “No!” I cut him off. “Nobody. I’m on my own now.”

  He didn’t press the issue.

  Woody had me sit down on a stump and felt around my ankle like he knew what he was doing, then he wrapped it up in an Ace bandage. “I wouldn’t put any weight on that foot for a while,” he advised.

  I nodded. The tight wrap felt good. “Thanks.”

  “Luke said you had your backpack stolen, so why don’t you come over to our site? I’ve got a pup tent. Luke and I can pitch it for you and you can stay there for a couple days. I’ve got an air mattress and I’m sure we can find an extra blanket. You’re welcome to join us for dinner, too. Nothing fancy, mind you. Hot dogs and beans tonight.”

  A warm meal sounded great. So did an air m
attress and a blanket.

  “I’d be grateful,” I said. “Maybe just until I get my eyesight back.”

  “And until that ankle heals up,” Woody suggested.

  —

  At their campsite, Woody and Luke pitched the tent, pumped up that air mattress, and gave me a set of sheets, a couple blankets, and a pillow. There was room for only one person in the tent, but enough space for Buddy to curl up beside me. Woody gave me a couple Advil with a glass of water, then I stretched out before I even made up my bed and fell dead asleep until they called me for dinner. Hot dogs and beans, a piece of bread, iced tea, and a big chunk of watermelon for dessert. A feast, if you ask me. It tasted great, all of it. Even Buddy had hot dogs for dinner.

  The next couple days, I stayed in the old, orange pup tent beside Luke and his dad in the bigger green tent. I was on edge about it, ’cause I didn’t know those people from Adam. But I guess I was more tired than I was worried ’cause I slept most of the time. Other times though, I just lay there with my eyes closed, listening to the campground sounds. They had a rhythm. Like in the morning, I’d hear voices and coughs, twigs snapping and wood-chopping noises as people got their fires going. I’d hear the slap of that screen door down to the bathhouse and the sound of cars and trucks starting up and driving off. Then it would grow quiet for a while. Several times a day a train rumbled by not far away and once, a garbage truck came through. Guess I knew that sound pretty well. Late in the afternoon, I’d hear people coming back, more voices—more kids’ voices, and the creak of a metal chain, like on a swing.

  After Luke and his dad got home, I’d listen in on their conversations. Like I heard Luke call his dad once to get a spider and another time to say he had the checkerboard ready. I heard Woody ask if Luke got his homework done and then a while later Luke singsong “King me! King me!” I heard Woody say “Don’t forget your toothbrush” when they headed off to the bathhouse. And both nights, I listened as Woody read Luke parts of a story called Burt Dow, Deep-Water Man. Seems ole Burt had a leaky boat called the Tidely-Idley and every time Woody come to that name he must’ve tickled Luke ’cause the giggling started all over again.

  Buddy came and went, although he never went far. Every once in a while I took off the Ace bandage. Luke filled little bags of ice for my ankle and Woody gave me a bottle of pink calamine lotion to put on the poison ivy with cotton balls. In the mornings, they brought me breakfast—usually a bowl of cereal and a cup of bitter, black coffee. Then Luke left me with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before he went to catch the bus for school. Woody said I was welcome to Coke and water from their cooler. Evenings, I had whatever dinner they had.

  By the third day, my eyes were much better, but my ankle was still tender so I hopped over and sat at the picnic table to have a look around. I could see it was a big campground with all kinds of RVs and tents. Each campsite had a picnic table and a stone fireplace with a built-in grill. A spigot for water was just down the road, but no electric hookups. I saw a playground down the road and noticed it had a basketball court, but Luke didn’t have a ball.

  With my eyesight back, I also saw Woody had blond hair like Luke, a beard, and small, kind of slanted brown eyes that reminded me of a fox. His neck, face, and hands were red from the sun on account of the construction work he did. When he got home he was always sweaty and really beat so as soon as I was up and moving around I pitched in making dinner. Luke and me, we started cooking as soon as Woody eased his pickup into the campsite and popped open his first can of beer.

  Our dinners were pretty simple: hot dogs and macaroni from the box, bologna sandwiches, hamburgers. One time, Woody brought home some tomatoes and we made BLTs. Another time, we didn’t find much of anything in the two plastic food bins so we made up some pancakes and eggs.

  Just when I thought we plumb run out of food, Woody showed up with six bags of groceries—and a brand-new basketball.

  I don’t know. I was grateful and I was rolling with it, but I kept remembering that saying: If something is too good to be true, then it probably is.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  THIS GIRL, NORA

  After my eyesight cleared up, I also had a good look at this girl, Nora. First thing I noticed is that she was pretty. Plus she had a nice figure, which I was very aware of because her jeans were skintight and her tank top clinged to every nice curve she had. Her hair was long and shiny black—except for a single stripe of blue. She liked to twist and drape her long hair over one shoulder. Her bangs were long, too, and hid the tops of her eyes, making her seem kind of mysterious.

  Different. That’s a word you would definitely use to describe Nora. Besides being pretty, she had a tiny silver stud on one side of her nose, a rose tattoo on her upper right arm, and she wore blue eyeliner that matched the stripe in her hair. She looked sort of punk, but she didn’t act weird like some of the punk girls I knew back in middle school.

  True, she did still have an annoying, I’m-better-than-you attitude but maybe ’cause she was so smart. She took all college prep classes at the local high school where she was a freshman (which is what I’d be if I hadn’t been sent off to Cliffside). And the second day she ever talked to me she told me she was going to be a doctor. I couldn’t understand then why she’d want to waste her time coming to see me every afternoon after school, but I’m glad she did. One day, she brought over my boots, which she had cleaned so thoroughly they looked like new. Another day she brought me a pair of crutches ’cause I was still hobbling around.

  “So how do you like Woody?” she asked one afternoon. She and I were sitting at the picnic table waiting for Luke to finish his homework in the tent. When he was done we were going to walk down to the river to go fishing.

  “Woody?” I looked across the table at her, but hesitated saying anything because I still wasn’t sure what to think about him—or about Nora.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure,” I said. “He’s a good dad. Every night, he and Luke have a game of checkers, then they read a book together.” I kind of shook my head like in disbelief. “My father never once read me a book.”

  Nora kind of snorted. “Yeah. I don’t even have a dad!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I know I have a dad,” Nora went on, “but I’ve never met him. He lives down South somewhere. Mom said he already had a family when he met her. He paid my mom a bunch of money to go away. He’d probably have a heart attack if I showed up on his doorstep one day. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. . . .

  “Anyway, you’re right that Woody really does love Luke,” she continued, “but there’s something else about Woody I haven’t figured out yet. I babysat for Luke this summer and, I don’t know, sometimes I had these weird vibes. If I were you, I’d be careful about getting too involved.”

  She looked at me like she wanted me to agree with her. But so far, Woody had been nothing but kind to me. Plus I didn’t plan on sticking around so I wasn’t worried about getting too involved. I just shrugged. “Okay,” I told her. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

  A pause.

  “So you live with your mom then?” I asked her.

  “Yeah. We’ve lived here a few months ’cause it’s inexpensive. I mean, some people are here on a vacation, sure, but a lot of people live here because it’s cheaper than renting an apartment and paying utilities.”

  “Utilities?”

  “You know, like gas and electric?”

  “Ah.” I didn’t volunteer the information that we’d had the electric cut off at my house a bunch of times when my parents didn’t pay the bill.

  “A lot of people here have seasonal jobs,” Nora explained. “Picking vegetables or doing construction. My mom works at a horse farm.”

  Nora pushed a pen and a napkin toward me across the picnic table and I saw that she had drawn a tic-tac-toe grid on it.


  “A horse farm?”

  “She’s a trainer. I work there on the weekends with her. You could get a part-time job there, too, if you wanted. They always need people to muck stalls.”

  I put an o in the tic-tac-toe grid. “Muck stalls?”

  “You know, shoveling manure, pitching hay. It pays minimum wage.”

  “How much is that?”

  Nora added an x. “I think minimum wage is seven twenty-five right now.”

  My head sprang up in surprise. “An hour?”

  When Nora nodded I thought, wow. If I worked an eight-hour day that would be like fifty-eight dollars a day. Quickly, I placed an o.

  “Would I have to give somebody an ID?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “The woman who runs the farm is super nice. Now that her summer volunteers are gone, she really needs the help.”

  Nora made her next move and I made mine.

  “Got ya!” Nora exclaimed as she added a third x and drew a diagonal line through the grid.

  While she drew up a new game, my mind was spinning. It would be nice to make a little bit of money. I could work there while Luke was in school, or on weekends. And working at a farm would be safe. I could pretty much keep out of sight. But this was the other thing: farms had all kinds of stuff lying around. At my grandfather’s farm, my friends and I once discovered a rusted sword in the upper hayloft. It was on a windowsill, up high where the pigeons flew in. Grampa didn’t have a clue where it come from. Not only that, but we ran across rat poison, old containers of kerosene, cattle prods, shotgun shells, all kinds of dangerous stuff. I would need some kind of weapon if I was gonna protect my mom and the kids when I got home. Maybe I’d find it at this farm.

  “All done!” Luke exclaimed as he came from the tent with his tackle box in hand. I put the horse farm job in the back of my mind, and we three set off for the river. Luke ran ahead with Buddy, while Nora carried the fishing rod and walked slowly beside me as I hobbled on the crutches.

  Another hot day. When we got down to the river I was sweating. “You and Luke ought to jump in and take a swim,” I suggested to Nora. “If I didn’t have this sprained ankle, that’s what I’d do.”