Bucky picked up the TV remote control and flipped through the channels, setting it down again when a high-def game on ESPN came on. “Anything big down at work?”
His father shook his head. “Pretty quiet. With interest rates sneaking up again, the refinance craze is just about over.”
A bases - loaded triple by one of the Colorado Rockies distracted his attention for just a moment. “Wow, they caught up just like that.”
“Pretty good hit.”
The next batter made the third out, and a Chevy commercial came on. Bucky turned to his dad, a question from the night before still nagging at him. “Dad, when you were in the Army . . .”
His father raised an eyebrow. It was a topic that seldom came up in the Stone household.
“I mean, did you ever, you know, use a gun?”
His father swung his legs down and sat up straighter. “How come you want to know about that?”
“I just do.” Bucky hit the mute button on the remote control and the huge color set fell silent. “Just because.”
“Well, yeah, we all had guns,” Dad told him. ‘Course, I was only in active combat for about four months. Right at the end.”
“Were you in any, like, battles?”
“Just one.” His dad’s eyes seemed to cloud with the memory.
“What was it like?”
“Scary.” Mr. Stone looked directly at his son. “It was real early in the morning, about five miles out from our base camp. A whole bunch of us ran into a nest of soldiers. Just kids, most of them. We shot at them, they shot back at us. We got about three of ‘em, and the rest took cover. Then the helicopters came in and finished them off, and we got out of there.”
“Did you . . .” Bucky wet his lips. “Did you kill any of them yourself?”
For a moment his father didn’t answer. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “My buddy and I – there were two enemy soldiers coming right at us. We both blasted away at them, and one of them went down. I don’t know who hit him.”
The stark words hung in the air. Bucky tried to imagine his father, just an eighteen - year - old teen barely older than himself, flat on his stomach in an alien world, firing a stream of bullets at enemy soldiers.
“Now come on,” Dad prodded. “How come you want to know all about this?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Without fanfare Bucky told his father about the target practice with Jonathan.
His father chewed on his lip. “Nothing wrong with guns, son, as long as they’re used for the right thing.”
“Like tin cans?”
Dad nodded. “Trouble is, a lot of people go crazy. They get themselves a shotgun just to, you know, ‘defend themselves.’ Or for target practice. But then they get into it.” A pause. “Guns can be like that. And then one day . . .”
“What?”
Dad looked at him. “Well, then one day you read in the paper that some kid’s been taken in for questioning. Shooting off his gun in the supermarket parking lot. Like that kid in Arizona. Ten people dead. Columbine. Virginia Tech. Stuff like that.”
Bucky nodded, remembering the eerie sensation that followed the target practice and the little jolt of adrenalin that had come from just holding Jonathan’s automatic in his hands for the first time. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted.
Reaching over, Mr. Stone punched his son lightly on the forearm. “You’re a smart guy, Buck. Just don’t let this Jonathan character talk you into anything dumb. Tin cans, that’s it.”
The following Tuesday afternoon Dan and Bucky powered the Panthers’ varsity team to an easy 8-1 victory over the Spartans. The home team’s pitcher was a tough little competitor, stingy with hits and walks, and the two juniors had three hits apiece.
“I knew you’d get your groove back.” Coach Brayshaw was all smiles as he offered high fives to the two gifted athletes. “And way to flash that leather, Litton.” Dan shrugged with a grin. The left fielder had made two dazzling catches in the field and was glowing in spite of himself.
“Yeah, you had yourself a game,” Bucky admitted, reaching in his pocket for the keys to his car. “Good job, Dan.”
“Yup. You and me, Stone.” Dan grinned, but then suddenly sobered up. “I was thinking about what Pastor said last weekend. How we witness for Jesus in every single thing. Even here in baseball. We play our best for God and give him the glory.”
Bucky felt a glow of pride at his friend’s astute observation. “For sure.” He waved goodbye to his friend and eased himself into the bucket seat of the little white Toyota.
Just as he turned the ignition key, a large form blocked his view. “Hey, Stone, where are you running off to?”
“How’s it going, Jonathan?” Bucky grinned at the sight of his chemistry partner.
“Not bad. You guys win today?”
“Yup. Eight-zip. Oh, I guess they got one run in that last inning. But we creamed ‘em pretty good.”
“You been keepin’ an eye on our Oakland A’s?”
“What, six in a row now?”
“That’s right.” Jonathan pumped both fists in the air. “They keep goin’ like this, we’re going to go 162 and oh this season.”
“Oh, right.” Bucky laughed as he turned off his engine.
“Listen, Stone, I got me a bright idea.”
“If it involves beating Tracy in the next chem test, count me in,” Bucky grinned.
“Are you kidding? How are you going to do better than a hundred?”
“Yeah, I guess we’re never going to catch her.”
“Anyway, this is better.” The stocky student paused for effect. “A’s and Seattle. Three straight games.”
“When?”
“This weekend, man. Friday, Saturday, Sunday.”
“Man, that’s a lot of running down to Oakland.”
A big grin spread across the other boy’s face. “Who said anything about Oakland? I’m talking about Washington State and Safeco Field, my friend. You and me in Seattle, smack dab in the middle of enemy territory, cheering for the A’s in front of those poor Mariner fans as we stuff ‘em three in a row.”
The news took Bucky by surprise. “Huh?”
Jonathan pulled out an already worn baseball schedule. “We leave after school on Thursday, get about two - thirds of the way. Friday there ain’t no school here anyway because of state inspection. We roll into town by noon for a nothing - but - baseball weekend.”
“Can we get tickets?”
Jonathan emitted his usual hoarse chuckle. “At Safeco? Are you kidding? The M’s can’t hardly draw enough of a crowd to do a decent wave.”
Bucky laughed. “I guess I’d have to check with my folks, but it sounds pretty good to me. What time are the games?”
Jonathan inspected the fine print on the schedule. It’s perfect. Friday’s a day game, Saturday night at 7:00 p.m., Sunday at 1:00.” He grinned. “See, Stone, you won’t even miss church.”
The taller boy nodded, accepting the bit of teasing jocularity. “Wow. I guess you thought of everything.”
“So what about it, boy?” Jonathan wasn’t about to be deterred. “Baseball marathon weekend and a ten-game streak of W’s?”
“Where are we going to stay?”
Jonathan folded up his A’s schedule and reverently put it in his wallet. “My uncle lives just north of Seattle. ‘Bout eight miles from the ballpark. We can stay with him.”
Bucky started up the engine again. “OK. I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow, but go ahead and put me down. I got to change my shift at the bank, but that should be easy.”
“All right, Stone!” Jonathan reached through the open window and gave his chemistry partner a high five. “A’s rule. And Panthers, too,” he added.
“Right.”
Jonathan began to walk away, then suddenly turned back. “I may get a couple of other kids to go too,” he added. “So we can split gas up four ways and stuff. We’ll go in my van.”
“OK.” Bucky watched, bemused, as Jonath
an lifted his considerable bulk into a faded maroon van with a huge green A’s logo pasted on the side. Although Bucky was more of a Giants fan, the idea of a blockbuster weekend of baseball sounded fun. And rooting for the A’s in Seattle territory would be a hoot.
Suddenly a light bulb went on in his brain. Lisa’s in Seattle!
Chapter Four: Off to a Hot Start
Tingling with renewed excitement, Bucky decided to stop by Sam’s house on the way home to share the news. He pulled to a stop in front of the condominium complex where the Minh family lived. Ringing the doorbell, he listened for the soft padding of footsteps inside.
Sam’s mother, a short woman, recognized Bucky from earlier visits. “Yes, Sam, he is here,” she intoned in her careful English. “Wait, please.” She turned and went to the stairway and called out in Vietnamese.
A moment later Sam appeared. “Hey, Bucky, how’s it goin’?” He came over to the front door and slipped on a pair of sneakers. On each of Bucky’s earlier visits he had detected just a hint of tension that indicated Sam’s parents were still uncomfortable with visitors.
The two boys walked out to the street where Bucky had parked the Toyota. With a grin he told Sam about the proposed trip to Seattle.
“So you’re going to get together with Lisa again?” Sam got the point immediately.
Bucky reddened. “Yeah, I figured I’d try.”
Sam laughed. “Man, with the luck you’ve been having, she’ll probably be off at some flower show for the whole weekend.”
“I know,” Bucky confessed. “I haven’t had a chance to even call her yet.”
“Well, I hope you guys get together.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. “You want some?”
Bucky shook his head. “How’re your folks doing?” he asked.
The older boy shrugged. “Good, I guess. I mean, they still pretty much like to keep to themselves. Guess you can tell.”
“Hey, that’s OK.” For a moment a picture of Vasana and her Asian reserve popped into his mind.
“You and that what’s - his - name doing OK in chemistry?”
Bucky laughed. “Jonathan? That guy’s too much. Yeah, we’re getting by. ‘Course, we’ll never catch up to Tracy.”
“Tracy . . . Tracy . . .” Sam’s forehead knit in thought. “Hey, wait a minute! I know who that is. Real short girl, red hair, right?”
“Yup.”
Sam shook his head. “Man, that chick’s got brain power like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Tell me about it.” Bucky rubbed his baseball pants against a mud spot on the car’s fender. “Half the time she tells the teacher how to do the homework.”
“Yeah, I had her last semester in Science Fair competition,” the older boy observed. “She put together some crazy thing on computer language translations, had it all tracked out on a laser printer and everything. Seems like somebody told me she even got it printed up in a magazine or something.” He laughed. “That lady’s dangerous, Stone.”
Bucky grinned. “Yeah, I’m never going to come in any better than second as long as she’s at Hampton High.”
Suddenly Sam’s face lit up. “Hey, guess what I heard yesterday.” He pointed a finger at his friend. “I saw Pastor Jensen at Albertson’s, and he told me that Miss Cochran signed up for Discipleship 101 with him.”
The news left the younger student stunned. “Are you kidding? Really?”
“I guess they just got started. She and about five other people. Pretty awesome, huh?”
“Wow.” Bucky felt his pulse jump a beat. “I mean, she came to church a few times, but then for about a month I didn’t see her there. I didn’t really want to, you know, bug her or anything. Her being a teacher and everything.”
“Well, she and Jensen are going to go right through it. Once a week, he told me. I guess that funeral business really got to her and she realizes she needs the Lord in her life.”
“That’s terrific. Here I’ve been praying for her, and now . . .”
That evening at supper he told his parents about it. “Oh, honey, that’s really good news.” Mom came around the table and gave Bucky a hug. Even Dad gave his son a little nod of approval.
But the Seattle trip met with considerably less enthusiasm. ‘‘How long a drive is it up there?” Mom wanted to know.
Bucky tried to remember. “I guess maybe ten or eleven hours.”
“And this Jonathan guy is the one you were telling me about the other night?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.” Bucky gulped, remembering that his mother hadn’t heard about the target shooting. Quickly he gave her the bare details.
She frowned. “Oh, Bucky, I don’t know about this, then. You know what I think about guns.”
As an awkward silence set in, Rachel Marie glanced from her parents to her brother with a third - grader’s curiosity. “Where are you going anyway, Bucky?”
“To Seattle,” he responded, a little edge creeping into his voice. “Look, it’ll be fine. We’ll be with his uncle the whole time. There’ll be two other guys along and everything. I mean, he’s basically a nice kid. He and his folks just have different, you know, hobbies and stuff.”
His father took a sip of coffee before answering. “Well, you know what I told you before. People want to keep a gun in their home, there’s nothing wrong with that, just as long as it’s only used for what it’s supposed to be used for. I just get real tired of seeing on CNN News about some dummy who lost his head with some gun his daddy had up in the attic.” He set down his coffee cup and gave Bucky a meaningful glance, then added, “What’s this going to cost?”
His son shrugged. “I dunno. Three game tickets, plus I’ve got to help with gas and stuff like that. Maybe one motel split four ways.” He looked at Dad. “$125, maybe.”
“Well, you’re on your own, sport,” Mr. Stone said with a small grin. “I guess I don’t care if you go, but you’ve got that big - time job down at the bank. You can pay for your own spring break trips.”
The last remark about spring break didn’t make Mom any happier, Bucky could tell. But finally, after several more questions were discussed and answered, she gave a reluctant nod. “I know we can trust you, honey. That’s the main thing.”
After supper he went into the living room and flipped out his cell phone. The familiar female voice came on the line after just the first ring.
“This is your friend Mr. Stone from California,” he announced.
Lisa laughed. “Well, Mr. Stone, what a happy moment this is. How are you?”
“OK.” He gulped. “I’ve decided I need to come and see how you are.”
A long pause. “I hope this time you really mean it.”
“Hey,” he retorted. “It was you who flew off to Florida last time, leaving me with tearstains on my pillow.”
“Oh, yeah.” She laughed. “Well, when are you coming?”
“How about this weekend?” He held his breath, waiting for her response.
“Oh, no,” she muttered. “Yikes. I don’t think . . .”
His heart sank. “What?”
“I don’t think I have anything at all planned this weekend,” she laughed. “So how am I going to get rid of you?”
In the growing April twilight he silently pumped his fist in the air. All right!
“What time do you think you’ll get up here?” she wanted to know, her voice revealing her own excitement.
“It’s all kind of sudden,” he admitted. “I’m riding up with a friend of mine from chemistry class and a couple of other guys. And we’ll be getting there just in time for the Friday afternoon game. So you better just let me call you when I can get free. For sure we’ll go to church together, so you pick where. I don’t know about maybe the Saturday night and Sunday games. If Jonathan has tickets already or what. Maybe you can come to those with me.” He laughed. “Give me a chance to show you off in front of the guys.”
“OK.” She gave her characteristic little laugh. “I’ll just sit
here with my hand poised over the receiver. So don’t break my heart again.”
“I promise.” They visited for a few more minutes before he hung up.
The next day in chemistry lab the little redhead was absent. “Where’s Miss High IQ?” Bucky wondered.
“Sick, I guess,” Jonathan shrugged. “You and me got to do all the work ourselves for a change.” Scowling, he peered into the chemistry manual. “Just hope we don’t stink up the place with the wrong formula or something.” He tied his white apron strings, muttering as one of them knotted up on him. “I’ll pour in all the goop, you write down the numbers.” As he turned on a burner he hissed softly to himself. “Or just make something up. We’d probably come out better that way.”
Bucky pulled out his pen and wrote the date on the top of the sheet. “You ready for all that baseball?”
“Sure am.” Jonathan squinted as he measured out the grainy black powder. “Got the tickets all ordered at ‘Will Call’ and everything.”
Bucky was going to ask about an extra ticket for Lisa when a sudden pouff! of unexpected smoke startled both boys. “What was that?” he exclaimed.
Jonathan began to wave a towel in the air. “Rats! Too much sodium nitrate.” He glared at several other students who held their noses in mock protest at the rancid smell coming from the two boys’ table.
“Great! I always wanted to be popular,” Bucky grunted, ignoring the glares of the others. “It wasn’t me!” he hollered out, and the class erupted.
“Well, quick, write down something. ‘Doubling recipe leads to immediate barnyard atmosphere.’” Jonathan laughed.
“What time do we head out tomorrow?” Bucky tried to change the subject.
The stocky boy shrugged. “I figure the sooner we can leave after lunch the better. I only got one English class, and I don’t mind skipping it.”
Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I think I can make that.”
“Bring some bucks for gas and stuff,” Jonathan advised. “And motel. Tickets were $15 each.”
“We need motel money both ways?”
The other boy shook his head as he measured out three cc’s of the catalyst compound. “I figure after Sunday’s game we’ll just bomb right home. Get here 2:00 in the morning or so, but that way we won’t miss Monday’s classes.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 65