by Cary Fagan
Danny,
Who Fell
in a Hole
Cary Fagan
Illustrations by Milan Pavlovic
GROUNDWOOD BOOKS
HOUSE OF ANANSI PRESS
TORONTO / BERKELEY
Text copyright © 2013 by Cary Fagan
Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Milan Pavlovic
Published in Canada and the USA in 2013 by Groundwood Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Groundwood Books/House of Anansi Press
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Toronto, Ontario M5V 2K4
or c/o Publishers Group West
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Fagan, Cary
Danny, who fell in a hole / written by Cary Fagan ; illustrated by Milan Pavlovic.
ISBN 978-1-55498-313-1
I. Pavlovic, Milan II. Title.
PS8561.A375D36 2013 jC813’.54 C2012-905160-8
Cover illustration by Milan Pavlovic
Design by Michael Solomon
We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program the Canada Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF) and the Ontario Arts Council.
For Paul Lowry —
childhood friend, rival, inspiration
1
Big News
“IT’S REALLY NOTHING to worry about,” Danny’s mother said.
“Think of it as an adventure,” Danny’s father said. “That’s what life really is, right? Full of surprises.”
Danny and his older brother, Doug, sat in the two matching armchairs in the living room. All around them were cardboard boxes. The boxes were full of their stuff: books, framed pictures, shoes and baseball mitts.
The boxes hadn’t been there that morning.
Doug was slumped in his chair plucking his ukulele. But Danny was sitting bolt upright. His hands were holding onto the armrests as if the chair might start to buck like a wild horse.
His parents were sitting on the sofa holding hands and looking at Danny and his brother with the exact same faces. Danny knew those expressions well. Usually they meant that his parents had volunteered them all to paint an outdoor mural, or perform in an amateur theater festival, or “engage” in some other artistic “happening.”
But nothing had prepared him for this.
Doug began to strum his ukulele and mumble some lyrics he was working on. His brother was almost finished high school and was already taking driving lessons. He and Danny used to be best buddies. They used to go to movies and build forts. Doug even used to call him Dannio.
Then his brother didn’t want to hang around together anymore. He stayed in his room listening to weird music and drawing pictures. All his pictures were of cars crashing, or buses crashing, or trains or planes or spaceships crashing. There was always lots of flames and blood.
Danny’s parents said the pictures were “brilliant, expressive and honest,” and they stuck them up on the walls.
When he wasn’t drawing, Doug was making up songs on his ukulele. They were mostly about cars and planes crashing, too, and how even while crashing he could only think about some girl or other. When Doug’s friends came over, they did pointless stuff like stare at the covers of old vinyl record albums. Or they would lie on their backs on the floor and look up at the ceiling.
Danny remembered all this now because he wondered what Doug was thinking.
What his parents had just said made absolutely no sense. They might as well have been talking in Serbian or some other language he didn’t have a clue about.
“So let me get this straight,” Doug said, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and folding it into his mouth. “You’re getting a divorce.”
“No, no, absolutely not,” Danny’s father said quickly. “That’s not it at all. We are not getting a divorce. We’re not even separating. Your mom and I love each other. Did you hear me? We’re just going to live apart. For a year. Or maybe two.”
“You know how much we’ve always valued our creativity,” Danny’s mother said. “Your father and I have dreams. Artistic dreams. We want to pursue them before it’s too late. Before we’re too old. Those dreams are taking us to different places for a while. You understand the need to fulfill yourself. After all, you both have dreams, too. Doug, you want to be a songwriter.”
Doug rolled his eyes.
“And, Danny, you want to be an actuary.”
“I never said that. My teacher did, because I’m good at math. I don’t even know what an actuary is.”
“The point is,” his father said, “we want to be good role models for our two great sons. We want you to know that you can be whatever you want. And the best way to show that is to do it ourselves. Right, Sheila?”
“That’s right.”
“Tell us again what you’re going to do,” said Doug, snapping his gum.
“Your father wants to be an opera singer in New York City.”
“And your mother wants to move to Banff, Alberta, and bake cheesecakes.”
“I don’t even know where Banff is,” Danny complained, his voice rising.
“It’s out west, in the Rocky Mountains,” his mother said. “It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world. You can see bears! You can slide on a glacier.”
“So we get to live in New York and also in Banff?” Doug said. “I guess that’s cool.”
“That’s right,” said Danny’s father. “You’re going to live with Mom during the school year. And you’ll spend the summer and holidays with me. In Banff you can go skiing every day.”
“I don’t know how to ski,” Danny said.
“It’s a great opportunity to learn. And New York has theater and music and anything else you could want. You are two very lucky boys. Your friends are going to envy you. Won’t they, Sheila?”
“I’ll say. We figured that you would understand, Doug. You’re the creative one, like your dad and me. Danny, we knew it would be a little harder for you. You’re the level-headed one in the family. It’s not your fault that you’re not creative like the rest of us.”
“But you have my painting up on the fridge,” Danny said. “The sunset that I did at school.”
“Sunsets are cliché,” Doug muttered, strumming his ukulele again.
“To a common-sense person like you,” his mother went on, “this might seem very impractical. But dreams are not practical, Danny. Vincent van Gogh wasn’t practical. Bob Dylan wasn’t practical.”
His parents leaned forward, as if that would help him understand.
Danny said nothing. He was trying to take in what he had heard. He and Doug wouldn’t live with both his parents at the same time? They were going to move away to Banff? And also New York?
Danny looked around the room again. For the first time he understood why all the moving boxes were there.
“What about our house?” he said. “What about my room?”
“The h
ouse is going up for sale tomorrow,” his father said. “We’ve got your room packed up already. But you’ll have a new room. You’ll have two new rooms.”
“But I like my room. I don’t want to live in two places. And what about Thwack?”
Thwack was their dog. Danny had named him when he was little because Thwack would get so excited that he would run straight into a wall. Thwack!
“Come to think of it,” he said. “Where is Thwack?”
Danny’s mother looked at Danny’s father.
“He’s at his wonderful new home. On a farm.”
Danny stood up. “You gave away my dog?”
“Now, he wasn’t just your dog,” his father said.
“At least I don’t have to walk him anymore,” Doug sniffed.
“How can you say that?” Danny cried. “Thwack was part of our family!” He turned to his parents. “Would you give me away?”
“Now you’re being a little ridiculous,” his father said.
“But it’s understandable,” his mother smiled. “In Banff we can get a new pet. Something small and easy to take care of. Maybe a hamster.”
“I don’t want a hamster!” Danny shouted. “I want Thwack. I want my room and my park and my school! I want my two parents sitting at the dinner table, not just one of them! You didn’t ask me! You didn’t consult with me! Well, thanks very much but I say no.”
“What?” said his father.
“No, no, no!”
“Hey, Dannio,” said his brother. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Danny sprang from the chair. He had never felt so angry in his life.
Who did they think they were? What about parental responsibility? What about kids coming first?
He wanted to run around and smash all the lamps in the house. He wanted to throw his mother’s cake dishes across the kitchen and toss his father’s opera CDs out the window as if they were Frisbees.
But what he did was run.
2
Falling
AND RUN HE DID. Across the room, down the front hall. Then he grabbed his backpack and ran out the front door.
He ran across the lawn, up the sidewalk, around the corner.
Without stopping, he struggled to put on his backpack.
He ran past Essex Street, Winkler Avenue, Nordheim Boulevard.
He ran past Gornick’s Pharmacy, the Strong Brew Coffee Shop, Frida’s Clothing Exchange and the Blue Skies Credit Union.
When he reached Harlow Street he paused to catch his breath, leaning his hands on his knees. His heart beat fast. His breath came quick and shallow.
What right did they have to wreck his life? Did a kid have to put up with any sort of behavior from his parents?
No, he did not. But what could he do about it?
Danny didn’t know. All he knew was that he had a terrible energy inside him. If he didn’t let it out, he would explode.
So he started running again.
He ran up Harlow and across the park where some little kids were being pushed on the swings by their parents.
Sure, you’re happy now, Danny wanted to cry out. But look out! They’re going to turn on you. They’re going to go off to “fulfill” themselves!
He passed a plaza of small shops — shoe repair, bagel bakery, discount eyewear. Then a row of low apartment buildings that he didn’t recognize. His chest hurt and his legs were starting to ache, but he kept going.
He passed an unfamiliar school and then an office building. Next to the building was a construction site.
NEW DELUXE CONDOMINIUMS!
LUXURY LIVING!
There was a fence around the site, but the gate was open and Danny stepped through. He saw some bulldozers and other construction equipment on the chewed-up ground.
No people were around, probably because it was late Friday afternoon.
Danny ran across the site. He had to jump over wooden boards and dodge piles of bricks. He picked up speed, lengthening his stride. He saw a broken pipe in front of him, jumped and felt…
Air?
Instead of landing, Danny began to fall. And he kept falling downward, his arms and legs flailing in the air.
Fear overwhelmed him.
I don’t want to die! Danny screamed, although it didn’t come out as words. All he could see was the dark earth wall flashing by. He reached out, trying to grab something, but there was nothing to grab.
He felt as if he were falling for a long, long time, although in fact it couldn’t have been more than seconds. He thought of his mother and his father and his big brother. He saw their faces looking mournful but resigned, as if they knew they couldn’t save him.
They were mouthing words he couldn’t hear. It looked as though they were saying “Goodbye, Danny...”
He hit the ground. Thud. The soft earth and the backpack broke his fall. But still it hurt, and he yelped.
Dirt flew up into his eyes and mouth. But he didn’t brush it away. He just curled up on his side and lay there without moving.
3
Inventory
DANNY WASN’T ASLEEP and he wasn’t unconscious, but for a long time he lay curled up on the soft earth. The blow from the impact of landing had left him feeling stunned. Only slowly did he begin to move his fingers, and then his toes. The back of his head, his shoulder and his hip hurt. He moaned a little.
He brushed the earth from his face, sat up and blinked several times.
He was at the bottom of a very deep hole. A hole that must have been dug by one of those enormous digging machines. It was deep and long and almost oval shaped. It was about four times longer than his bedroom at home — or what used to be his home.
The hole ought to have a fence around it, Danny thought. Like a swimming pool. It was dangerous. He bet he could sue the condominium company for a lot of money — maybe even enough to buy a house and live by himself.
Would that be legal, a kid living on his own? Probably not.
Danny looked up. Far above him he could see the opening and the oval of blue sky.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.
“Hey!”
And then again.
“Hey, hey, HEYYY!”
The sound of his voice was absorbed by the surrounding wall of earth, so that it was no louder than a whisper. Nobody would hear him unless the person was actually looking down into the hole, and maybe not even then.
Danny looked down and saw a stone by his foot. He picked it up and then reached way back, flinging the stone as hard as he could.
The stone went up about five feet before it thumped against the wall and fell down again.
Throwing straight up was a lot harder than it looked.
Danny picked up the stone again, but this time he walked to the middle of the hole. He reached back and waited longer before opening his hand and sending the stone as straight up as he could.
The stone soared up. It was well below the opening of the hole before it seemed to hover a moment. Then it started to fall again.
The stone was falling straight toward Danny.
He put his hands over his head and bent down just in time for the stone to smack against his arm.
“Ow!”
The spot where the stone hit turned red and began to throb. He’d have a bruise for sure. That wasn’t too brilliant.
Wait a minute, Danny thought. My cellphone!
How could he have forgotten? One quick call and he was out of here.
He took off his backpack, brushed off the dirt and found his phone in the side pocket. He was worried that the impact from the fall had broken it. But, no, it was still working.
He was about to hit his home number when he stopped.
Did he really want to phone home? After what they were trying to do to him? After giving away his dog?<
br />
No, he did not. Instead, he found his grandfather’s number in the directory and pressed the green Talk button. At least his grandfather actually loved and cared about him.
NO SERVICE flashed on the screen.
“Oh, come on!” Danny cried. “Come on, come on, come on!” He shook the phone and tried again, walking all around the bottom of the hole.
Nothing.
Danny put the phone back into his backpack. In a sudden rush of panic he tried to climb the wall. He ran forward and began to claw at the earth with his fingers while he tried to get a foothold with his sneakers.
But the wall was packed hard earth. Too hard for him to push into for a handhold. The bottoms of his shoes slid down without getting any traction.
He saw a root sticking out just above his head. He jumped up and managed to grab it with one hand. With a tremendous effort he held on, his feet dangling a few inches from the ground.
But there wasn’t anything higher to grab onto. He had to let go.
Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. His fingers hurt from grasping the root so tightly.
All right, all right, he told himself. It was time to calm down and take stock of the situation. After all, he might not be creative, but he was smart. Even his no-good parents said so. He could use his brain to figure out what to do.
Number one. Where was he?
At the bottom of a hole.
Number two. Was there a way to get himself out?
Not that he was able to see.
Number three. Was there a way to get help?
Also negative.
Which meant that until somebody found him, he was going to be stuck down here.
His parents would realize he was missing, but probably not for a while. No doubt they would phone the neighbors and some of the parents of other kids at school. It might take them a few hours to find him. Which meant that he was going to be down here for a while.
He couldn’t be stupid. He had to take it easy. He had to keep his head on straight.
But even as Danny gave himself this lecture, his heart continued to pound. He needed something to keep him focused and calm. His parents always said he was practical, as if it were some kind of defect.