by Thomas Babak
Lunch didn’t come soon enough, and Sandy made his way to the cafeteria. He seemed to always be hungry lately, and the trail bars he kept in his backpack disappeared quickly throughout the day. He seemed to be growing out of his clothes constantly. Even his dad’s old clothes were getting too small for him. He picked up “new” ones at the thrift store every couple of months now.
Walking down the hallway he noticed Tasha up ahead with Nick and a couple of the other popular girls that were her friends. They stood in a group in the center of the hallway and didn’t seem to notice that they were blocking traffic as other kids had to slow down and make their way around the group and each other. Tasha and her friends were in their own little world and everything and everyone had to revolve around them. Sandy didn’t begrudge Tasha doing this, but he did the others. He couldn’t help it.
As Sandy walked by he said, “Hi Tasha.” Tasha looked over and with a brief smile said “Hi” back. Nick scowled and some of Tasha’s friends noticed and laughed. Sandy didn’t know if they had laughed at Nick, something else or at him. It was probably at me, Sandy thought.
Sandy wasn’t one of the popular guys. The popular guys tended to be the jocks and the rich kids. Sandy was neither. He kept to himself to protect the secret of how he’d been living since the ninth grade. Tasha was neither a jock nor rich. She was very, very pretty though and that’s all that seemed to matter to the group she hung out with. Her light brown almost blonde hair, grey eyes and full generous lips contrasted with her light caramel colored skin. Her features, an amazing mix of her black father and white mother, made her more than pretty. She was absolutely beautiful to Sandy.
Though Sandy was a hair over six feet tall and threatening to grow taller and was very athletic from all the work he did out at the Salvage Yard, Sandy never went out for any of the sports teams. He enjoyed playing them in gym class but he had bills to pay and couldn’t afford the time required for practice and games of organized sports. So he never qualified as a jock.
He wasn’t rich either. Though plenty of girls at school thought he was ‘cute’, he kept to himself. A nickname like “Candy Cane” didn’t help with any popularity either. The secret he kept made him stay as one of those guys that always seemed to be in the background. Always in the crowd and never in the forefront.
At lunch, Sandy sat with a few of the guys from his classes. At a school this small, everyone knew everyone else including their business. It had made keeping the secret in ninth grade really hard at first but over time much easier. Once someone thinks they know you, they tend to keep thinking of you that way despite evidence to the contrary. As far as anyone knew, Sandy was a loner and his dad worked of town a lot. Sandy made sure to keep everyone thinking that was the case.
The other guys talked about getting together over the weekend to do some fishing. Fishing, hunting and hockey were huge pastimes for most of the kids in school. The other boys already knew that Sandy wouldn’t join them. He never had before, even when asked repeatedly, so they didn’t feel guilty or uncomfortable talking about it and not inviting him.
Classes finally over with the last bell had Sandy heading to the parking lot to drive back to the Yard. He’d forgotten all about calculus class and being called Candy Cane again. The excitement he’d felt for a while about doing something to be a hero had also faded and was eventually forgotten. Sandy would go back to the Yard and spend a few hours tweaking the open source drone software he had modified for controlling the Bubble Van while driving and flying.
He started his truck and was warming it up a little. Mr. Bullock said you should always warm engines up. The truck had been, sort of, a gift from Mr. Bullock.
While waiting, Sandy reminisced about Mr. Bullock and the Salvage Yard. When Sandy had showed up at the Yard asking for a job over a couple of years ago, Mr. Bullock had said "I… there’s no business here… there’s no job!"
Maybe it was the way that Sandy had looked after being turned down. Maybe Mr. Bullock reached down somewhere inside of years of pain and sadness and found something still warm, but either way he had softened a little and then taken Sandy on a tour of the place. He'd shown him the Yard and all the different types of cars and trucks, even pointing out ones that he had anecdotes about from past experiences.
The tour continued with the empty bay area. Mr. Bullock eventually lead Sandy back to the counter where he explained how there just wasn't a need for parts anymore and that he was just waiting around to retire or something. He didn’t explain what the “something” was.
"No one fixes anything anymore. If something breaks, they just take it in and get it replaced. There aren't any Fixers any more. Just Replacers. Andy said… they say that we should just recycle…people just don’t fix anything anymore.”
Sandy had no idea what he was talking about or who Andy was.
"Can’t really hire you but come back tomorrow. I'll pay you $2.50 an hour to man the counter." Sandy was confused about the contradiction but excited about the prospect of paying work.
He’d biked home on his 10 speed that night, happier than he’d been in weeks.
Early on, Sandy figured out that Mr. Bullock had a tendency to say one thing and then do another. Sandy figured out the best path with him was to do what he thought was right. Mr. Bullock might grumble about it but would eventually agree or at least not complain too much. This tendency to say one thing and do another eventually disappeared over time. Sandy didn’t really notice. He’d gotten to know Mr. Bullock and learned so much from him. It was enough.
Soon after starting work, Sandy had come up with a plan for the Salvage Yard business. With Mr. Bullock's grudging acceptance, Sandy set up a website and inventoried enough parts that were now listed on the site for people to begin ordering from them.
Sandy made sure to begin with car parts that were attractive to people. Researching online, he found that there were so many sites where people talked about, worked on or showed their cars off. The parts he started removing from the junked cars were those that were of interest to car collectors looking to restore their “Babies.”
Mr. Bullock had even walked the Yard with Sandy during this time with his researched car list, pointing out the cars that Sandy found online as being popular or rare. He also showed Sandy how to use all the tools necessary to remove the parts as well as the gas and electric welders, all of which had sat unused for quite a while in the bay until Sandy had come along.
Mr. Bullock grumbled lots, but he always slowly and carefully walked Sandy through everything. When Sandy would do something wrong, he would simply ask “What did you do wrong?” When Sandy would respond, correctly or incorrectly, he would then ask “What if…?” followed by more questions. He always made Sandy find his answers by guiding him there with questions rather than just giving him the answers.
He remembered the day last year Mr. Bullock woke up from sleeping on the couch. He must have passed out from drinking the night before and never made it home. Sandy had cleared all the beer cans away earlier that morning without waking him. Mr. Bullock had slowly trod to the front counter and poured a cup of coffee that Sandy usually made for him every day first thing when he’d show up for work.
Sandy had learned not to say anything until Mr. Bullock was ready to talk, even if Mr. Bullock already had his coffee. That day, Mr. Bullock went to the restroom after getting up and when he came back out, toilet still running, said "Let me see the books."
It was the first time Mr. Bullock had asked to see anything related to the parts business that Sandy had created. It was almost surprising.
Sandy brought up the web-based admin console of the inventory ecommerce program he had cobbled together from several open source software packages, and showed him the parts in inventory, sales, costs for shipping and balances for the last several months.
"Where is all this money?" he asked noticing the tens of thousands of dollars in sales.
Sandy opened a spreadsheet and showed net sales minus expenses and th
e pay Sandy was receiving each week.
"There's nearly $46,000 there and you've got over $12,000 next to your name! How is that? Where is all this money?"
Silently Sandy brought up A-1 Salvage Yard's online bank account and showed him the account entries and explained how he'd set up everything so all sales were deposited into this account and used to pay for shipping, supplies, utilities and his own pay.
"But I don't have a Yard business account" Mr. Bullock said.
"You didn't, but you do now. I had to set one up so that everything works. Don't you remember the checkbook and credit card I gave you?"
"I, uh, threw them away I think. I thought it was more junk mail" Mr. Bullock responded.
Sandy had wondered before about what money Mr. Bullock lived on. He hadn’t withdrawn or used any of the money Sandy had been depositing into the account. He’d never asked either. He knew nothing about the military pension Mr. Bullock had.
Mr. Bullock gave Sandy a confused look and walked back to his office and closed the door. Sandy went back to work processing orders. After an hour or so Mr. Bullock came back out and said abruptly to Sandy, "Take $10,000 out of the account and pay it to yourself. I figure with what's been sold, it’s your commission." He walked back into his office closing his door. There would be no argument about accepting or refusing it.
Sandy had been shocked, but happy. The money would ease most if not all of his money concerns. Property taxes were coming due for Grandma’s house, and he wouldn’t have to worry about saving and scrimping for it now.
So ever since that first year, Sandy had worked hard at the salvage business. The Yard made money. He had bills to pay and a way to pay them.
His truck had been a “sort of” gift in that when Sandy turned sixteen. Mr. Bullock hadn't said "Happy Birthday" or anything like that. He said instead, "Find something in the Yard, get it to run and its yours.”
A not too old or too beat up Ford Ranger with a blown engine replaced with rebuilt one along with a salvage title in his own name got Sandy on the road in his own car. He did all the work himself with advice and a little help from Mr. Bullock. It was the best birthday present he could remember ever getting.
The truck was warmed up enough now bringing him back to the present. Sandy put the truck in reverse and turned back, looking through his rear window. Tasha! She was standing in the parking lot looking a little lost as she looked around. She usually rides with Nick, he thought. There were several times in the past where Nick had left Tasha waiting in the parking lot. Sandy, when he noticed, had waited around to maybe offer a ride. He never had actually worked up the courage to do so though. One or another of Tasha's friends would eventually show up and give her a ride or Nick would finally show up.
Hero the thought fleeting but leading to an idea. Maybe offer her a ride he thought. We can talk maybe a vision of Tasha sitting in his truck and both of them laughing at something. Like we used to. A feeling of subtle resolution grew within him. He put the truck back into Park and got out. After a moment’s hesitation he walked over to her.
Tasha saw him coming and gave Sandy a quick smile.
“Hi, Tasha,” he said nervously.
“Hi Sandy,” she said, flashing a dazzling smile.
“Can I give you a ride?” he asked, stammering out the question and looking past her shoulder. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, afraid if he looked into them he’d get even more nervous and tongue-tied. It had been so long since he’d actually talked to her other than to exchange hello’s.
Tasha and her mom lived across the street from Sandy. They had been fast friends since the fifth grade when she her mom and dad had moved in. They’d spent almost every moment with each other playing games, watching TV and sitting by each other at school.
The summer before ninth grade had been the last time he’d really talked to Tasha about anything. It was the summer the situation with his Dad had happened. It had been awkward at first seeing her then, since she lived just across the street and they had been best of friends. Over time, the awkwardness had softened and evolved into a just the occasional greetings exchanged now and then as the passed each other on the street or in the halls of school.
Tasha looked down at her phone checking one last time if there had been any response to her texts to Nick and said “Umm...sure, thanks!” giving Sandy another smile.
Sandy stood there for a few seconds, not making a move. It had been the first, almost conversation he'd had with Tasha since the summer before ninth grade. Plus, she had said “Yes” and he hadn't expected that.
“Should we go?” she asked, the laughter in her voice not quite breaking out fully.
“Uh...yes” Sandy answered and then turned, still feeling awkward and turning slightly back to her not knowing if he should precede her or wait for her to pass.
“HEY!” a male voice yelled from across the lot.
Both Sandy and Tasha turned to look.
Nick was quickly walking towards them. He strode up and put his arm possessively around Tasha, pulling her tightly to his side. Sandy stood frozen feeling, for some reason, like he had done something wrong.
“What's going on babe?” he asked Tasha but was looking at Sandy, a not quite angry expression on his face.
“Sandy offered to give me a ride. You weren’t answering my texts,” she said. “Be nice,” she quietly added after a pause.
“Well I'm here now. Let's go” Nick said, still staring at Sandy.
Nick steered Tasha away, his arm still around her. He stopped and gave her a hard kiss, Tasha's hands up against his chest as if to push him away. He released his grip on her and looked over at Sandy and said, “What are you looking at, Candy Cane? Perv!” He smiled an ugly arrogant smile and led Tasha away.
Sandy still hadn't said anything. He stood there, his hands clenched into fists. The anger had risen in him but remained unvented and unvoiced.
Hero, he thought to himself again. Contemptuously this time. He'd do something to show everyone. A new resolution beginning and then burning firm within himself. Show everyone but mostly show Tasha.
The anger had quickly faded and so had the resolution. He would do something. What, exactly? Well, he didn’t know but he’d figure out what. He always did.
Six
The radio playing classic rock in the barn had been replaced with a police scanner. The scanner was usually quiet. Most of the traffic coming from it was from patrolmen checking in or out from dispatch as they came on or off shift. There wasn’t much crime in Maple Lake, and the only emergencies typically involved snow and auto accidents.
A TV brought from Grandma’s room at the house sat next to the radio on mute. Sandy had it on a local station from the Cities. He periodically glanced over at it to see if anything was happening from a news perspective that maybe he could help with by using Bubble Tech. He had visions in his head of doing something heroic, he just didn’t know what.
Sandy was puttering around in the Bubble Van. There were always little things that he could do with the van itself or the software he’d hacked together that ran all the Bubble Tech. Right now he was using more cable ties to bundle together all the wires running throughout the interior of the van that connected the Stators.
It had been several days since he’d had the run in with Nick in the parking lot. He’d seen Tasha in school several times and they’d said “Hi” to each other in the hallways but that had been all. She was always with Nick or her friends. There hadn’t been an opportunity to talk with her. He’d tried to catch her alone but had felt like he was almost stalking her so had backed off. One day he’d get his chance, he thought.
Sandy had waited in the parking lot each day after school to see if he could repeat the opportunity to give her a ride home. Each day, though, Nick would come out with her and they’d leave together. Waiting in the parking lot was the one thing he hadn’t backed off from. Hoping that Tasha would be left waiting again. No opportunity arising, Sandy would then head to the Yard and
work the parts business or work on the Bubble Van.
The Bubble Van was essentially done. He could always continue to tweak the software t0 make it fly more smoothly. From a technical standpoint, everything worked almost flawlessly. Tying the cables together just made it look better inside.
The van did need to be spruced up a bit. The outside needed paint to cover up some of the work he’d done.
In converting the van to Bubble Tech he’d welded nine-inch, half-moon hubcaps or “Stator Domes” as he called them now to the body of the van. He’d had to reinforce from the inside, framing out almost every one since the sheet metal of the van was so thin.
The van now had ugly splotches from his welding and grinding on all sides of it. Sandy decided he’d prime and paint these domes and splotches. He couldn’t just take the van to an auto body shop for a new coat of paint. It was too dangerous to have them discover what the van was now.
The Stators were mounted inside each dome. From some testing, he found that even if the Stators were covered, the Bubble field would form outside of them. This was a very good thing since it all ran on electricity and rain and snow and electricity don’t mix well. Since the Bubble field formed a few inches outside, the domes could protect the Stators from the elements.
Sandy used mechanical mounts and more robust, hard wired servos to control the Stators. The Bubble Drone used RC servos and they were just too delicate and not strong enough for the Bubble Van Stators. He’d built the servo’s from scratch from stuff laying around the Salvage Yard.
He covered all the Stator components that protruded in about six inches inside the van by using stove parts he had bought at the Menards in Buffalo. The stove parts had tabs on the ring mounts and he could slip on pre-made pipe cover’s and twist them to lock everything in place. The Stators were protected both inside and out now.