Breaker Boy

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  “Well, I try to hide it from the neighbors, so don’t tell anyone. People wonder how we can enlarge our family when money is so tight. Now you can see why we’re worried about money, and why we’re counting on you to help out.” Mom’s eyes filled up with tears. “I’m sorry to put any burden on you, Corey.”

  Corey couldn’t stand to see his mother cry. At least now he understood why Dad was so insistent that he get a job at the mine.

  “Everything will be all right, Mom,” he assured her. “I’ll get a job and you won’t have to work so hard around here.”

  “Thank you, Corey.”

  Later, as he started down the street, Mrs. Sullivan called to him from her porch. “Corey! Are you going near the company store?”

  “Yes, I am,” he answered as he came closer.

  “Good!” She waved an envelope at him. “Would you drop this off at the store, please? My kids are sick and the visiting doctor from Scranton will be in our area today.”

  Corey took the envelope. “I’ll put it in the doctor’s box at the store,” Corey said. “I hope everyone feels better.”

  “Maybe he’ll leave a prescription for me. Or if he feels it’s necessary, he’ll come to our house. But we can’t afford a doctor’s visit.” She shook her head. “Always something, when you have kids.”

  As he trudged down the road, Corey mimicked Mrs. Sullivan’s words. “ ‘Always something, when you have kids.’ ”

  Almost every month, before Dad’s pay envelope is ready, we go hungry and just eat beans and oatmeal. Too bad we don’t have a cow or chickens, like the Sullivans. At least they have milk every day, and real butter. Mrs. Sullivan sells eggs to the neighbors too.

  That’s what we need to do. Maybe Mrs. Sullivan would sell us some chickens. Maybe . . .

  He stopped walking and his shoulders slumped. That’s stupid. How could we get a cow or chickens? We have no money to buy them or to feed them.

  The bell on the door tinkled as Corey stepped into the company store. He dropped Mrs. Sullivan’s envelope into the doctor’s box, which sat on the top of a counter.

  The shopkeeper came out from a back room and stood with his arms on his chest. “So, what are you lookin’ to buy?”

  “Nothing,” Corey answered. “I’m here to pay up.” Corey pulled out his coin purse and handed the salesman the bill, plus the five dollars Mrs. Chudzik had given him. “You owe me change. U.S. Treasury money, please.”

  The shopkeeper looked at the bill, went to the cash register, then counted out the change into Corey’s hands.

  “Don’t forget my receipt,” Corey said.

  “Another week and I’d be adding interest,” the man said as he scribbled on a slip of paper and handed it to Corey. “Look around and see if there’s anything you need.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not buying anything today.” He turned on his heel and left the store. If he stayed longer, he was sure to find something he wanted but didn’t need.

  Outside, he saw Anthony walking home from school with Abby. “Hi, Corey,” Anthony called when he saw him. “Are you still lookin’ for work? I heard last night that there are openings for breaker boys now.”

  “For breaker boys?” Corey ran to catch up with Anthony. “Now?”

  “Yep, now. Mr. McBride has already signed me up. I start in two weeks, once I finish my tests at school. Then I’m done with school. Yippee. See if you can get the job, Corey. We won’t get paid as much as the kids that work underground, but still, that would work for you, wouldn’t it? I mean . . .” Anthony stopped and looked over at Abby as if realizing she might not know about Corey’s sickness. “It would be great if you worked there too. We could join the baseball team. . . .”

  “I thought you wanted to be a mule driver,” Corey said.

  “I can’t wait until the new mules arrive. I need work now.”

  “I’ll talk to Dad tonight about working in the breaker,” Corey said. Then, turning to Abby, he asked, “What’s up, Abby? Are the boys still pestering you?”

  “No. I gave Billy a bloody nose when I swung my pocketbook and hit him in the face,” she answered. “He ran home crying.”

  Corey and Anthony burst out laughing.

  “You must have hit him pretty hard,” Anthony said.

  “I did. Maybe he’ll stop bothering me now.”

  They had come to the corner where the road turned off to Corey’s house, but Corey decided to bring Mrs. Chudzik her change. “I’m looking for work, so I thought I’d head over your way.”

  “There are only private homes on my street,” Abby said. “But maybe someone needs yard work done.”

  “It’s kind of early in the year for working outside,” Anthony said as they approached the mining village where he lived.

  “See you soon, Anthony,” Corey said as his friend turned away.

  “See ya soon at the breaker, Corey,” Anthony said.

  “Bye, Anthony,” Abby called.

  Shortly, Abby and Corey reached the boulder that marked Abby’s path. They stomped over old patches of snow, where early weeds were beginning to thrust themselves up between the rocks, until they reached the trail. After that, the path was better—and the trees looked newer—as if they had been chopped down at an earlier time, and the seedlings had become new trees. Funny Corey hadn’t noticed this before.

  He stopped to look at the huge cliff face near the top of the hill. Corey could see a massive black hole almost hidden by the dense vegetation and trees.

  Where did that come from?” Corey asked, pointing to the cliff. “Is that an old mine? I never noticed it before.”

  Abby followed his gaze. “Yes, it was a mine, but it never amounted to much. Papa says the ground around here is full of hidden tunnels and old shafts. I’ve often wondered how blasting for new veins of coal doesn’t open up some of the abandoned mines.” Abby paused and motioned Corey to follow her. “Come up the hill with me. I’ll show you the beautiful view at the peak of the hill, where Papa and I took a walk last week.”

  Corey followed her up the steep path to the top of the hill. Then they both stood, looking down at the Susquehanna River, flowing rapidly like quicksilver through the valley.

  “The river is very high,” Corey noticed.

  “From all the snow on the mountains this year,” Abby said. She pointed to the south. “See how close the Mountain Crest mine is?”

  Corey could see the breaker with its black arm reaching down greedily, as if to snatch the black diamonds—as the anthracite coal was called—still inside the earth.

  “It seems about a mile away from up here, yet we walked at least three miles to get here.” Corey crossed his arms. “Everything sure looks different up here on top of the mountain.”

  “I suppose someone in a flying machine would see things differently. It must be amazing to fly through the clouds—far above the earth—and see what the world looks like from up there,” Abby said dreamily. She trotted over the rocks, pretending to be a bird. “I would love to fly more than anything.” She stretched out her arms and turned around and around. “Let’s go over there,” she said, pointing to a level, grassy place below.

  She leaped across the rocks like a butterfly, but then, with a swish and a scream—Abby disappeared!

  12

  Hanging On

  Abby,” Corey yelled as he ran toward the level spot where Abby had last stood. “Where are you?” A gaping black hole in the ground must have been covered by grass and soil on the surface.

  “Help me, Corey, help me!” Abby’s frantic calls came from inside the hole.

  As Corey crept closer, he realized Abby had fallen into an old pipe.

  Corey lay on the ground and inched his way to the edge of the opening. Looking down into the darkness, he called, “Are you hurt, Abby?” He could see her looking up, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror. Her hands were stretched up over her head, and her bloody fingers clutched the sharp edges of the pipe.

  “No! My legs are spread out
and my feet and my jacket are holding me. If I move, I’ll fall. Help me, please, Corey.”

  If she could grasp his hand, he’d pull her up. But what if her hands slipped—or he didn’t have the strength? She’d fall! He’d heard some of these holes could be a thousand feet deep.

  He looked away. Something about the black hole and the darkness and . . . His breathing was coming in gulps. “Breathe deeply,” Mrs. Chudzik had told him. “Pay attention to how safe you are.”

  I’m not in danger. But Abby is! I have to help her.

  “Abby, what can I do?” he asked, looking down at his friend again. The smell of rust and decay wafted up the pipe. Abby was drowning . . . no . . . Abby was trapped, like he had been when he had fallen into the pond.

  “Get something for me to hang on to—something that won’t let me fall,” she called. “Hurry.”

  He looked around the top of the cliff and found a branch that must have fallen in a snowstorm. It was big and heavy, and little twigs were breaking through like spikes. Abby couldn’t hold on to this with her small hands. He tossed it aside.

  “Corey, I need you to help me,” Abby called again, her voice echoing from inside the pipe. “If I fall, I could die. Find something—do something!”

  Corey recognized the cold darkness coiling around him like a serpent—the fear closing in—the need to breathe, to break his way out, to fight for his life. But wait. That was the panic that overcame him in a dream or in the tunnels of the mine. Not here. Why now? He didn’t understand, but he couldn’t stop the panic.

  He moved to the pipe again, his eyes glued to the black hole. “I . . . can’t find anything that would work. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s wrong? You sound far away.”

  “I’m here . . . near the hole.”

  “Corey! What’s wrong?” Abby called. Her voice broke. “I need you to help me.”

  Corey moved away from the hole and the pipe that sank far into the mountain, where the knockers dwelled. He knew the horrors in the mines—the hard stone walls and roofs, the cave-ins with no way out. Thousands of miners had died in those tunnels, and their bodies were never recovered. Sweat poured from his forehead and mixed with the tears that now flowed down his cheeks.

  “Corey! Are you there?”

  “I . . . I’m here, but something is happening . . . to me.”

  “Corey! Nothing is happening to you. I’m the one who needs help.”

  Corey looked up at the blue sky above. He wasn’t in the hole, but fear had imprisoned him as if he were the one trapped in the pipe.

  What were the words Mrs. Chudzik had told him to recite? He couldn’t remember.

  “Corey, Corey, where are you?” Abby was sobbing.

  He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t help Abby. He couldn’t climb into the pipe to save her—he couldn’t even look down into that pipe.

  As the world swirled around him, Corey backed away from the hole to a nearby tree. He wrapped his trembling arms around it, closed his eyes, and held on for dear life.

  13

  Amazing Abby

  Time seemed endless while Corey clung to the tree and blocked out the world. When he finally opened his eyes, the sun was low and the shadows were deep.

  Was Abby still in the pipe, or had she fallen to the bottom? Could she have held on all this time? “Abby!” Where was she now? He let go of the comforting tree, got onto his knees, and crawled toward the gaping hole.

  “Abby, are . . . are you there?”

  “I’m over here.”

  Corey spun around to see Abby hunched up on a rock.

  “Are you all right? How did you get out?”

  “I was able to push myself up little by little until I got to the top and climbed onto the grass again.”

  “I wanted to help you. . . .” He stopped. There was nothing he could say. He was a coward and Abby knew it.

  “It took a long time, and I slipped back a few times, but I made it by myself.” Abby stretched out her hands for him to see. Her fingers were raw with scrapes and cuts, and her nails were broken.

  “Oh, Abby, your poor hands.” He could hardly speak. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything, but when I looked down into the pipe and saw you hanging in there, I froze.”

  Abby didn’t speak for a while. When she got to her feet, she winced as she brushed off her clothes. “Once I got out, I wanted to run and leave you here by yourself.” She shook her head and sighed. “But I also remembered all the times you stuck up for me when the boys were mean. I knew that you would have helped me if you could. I realized you are sick, Corey. I never saw anyone as sick as you. And the way you hugged that tree . . . well, I don’t understand what was happening to you, but I couldn’t leave until I knew you were all right.”

  Corey thought of Abby down there alone and frightened and how he had failed her, yet here she was telling him that she understood that he couldn’t help her or himself.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “But first I’ll roll this boulder over the hole so no one else can fall in.”

  Corey and Abby walked silently until they came to the trail. Then she said, “Papa should be home from work, and I think he’ll want to talk with you when he hears what happened up there.”

  Corey dreaded facing Mr. Russell. There was nothing he could say in his own defense. The pain he was feeling, at his failure to help her, was even worse than the terror.

  He walked with her to the hill behind Mrs. Chudzik’s and the Russells’ houses. Then he stopped. “I . . . can’t talk to your father right now. I’ve got to see Mrs. Chudzik. That’s where I was going when I met you earlier. Then I’ve got to get home. Mom will be worried to death, and she . . . she’s not well.”

  “Oh, I see,” Abby said, walking away.

  “Good-bye, Abby. I . . . I’m glad you’re okay . . . except for your hands . . . ,” he stammered. “You’re right, Abby. I am sick.”

  He ran toward the big gray house. He had to talk with Mrs. Chudzik right away.

  14

  Sympathetic Character

  Hovi must have seen Corey through the window, because he barked as Corey ran across the grass from Abby’s house.

  He climbed the steps to the porch, and before he could pull the handle on the ugly knocker, Mrs. Chudzik opened the door a crack and peered out. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Corey.”

  She opened the door wide and waved Corey inside and down the hall to the kitchen. Mrs. Chudzik didn’t look as scary today. She was dressed in a long blue skirt, a white blouse, and a blue sweater that matched the skirt. She looked quite nice, with her silvery hair swept up in a bun. Under the electric light over the table, he noticed for the first time that her eyes were blue and they didn’t bulge as they did from behind her driving goggles.

  “So, where were you that you’re running and out of breath?” she asked after they sat down at the oak table.

  Corey told her how Abby had fallen into the pipe on the cliff and how he’d had one of his spells and couldn’t do anything to help. “I failed her.”

  She listened without a comment until he was finished. Then she said, “I find it interesting that Abby’s fall set off your phobia. This tells me you are a sympathetic character and explains why you reacted so powerfully to Abby’s predicament.”

  “Sympathetic character?”

  “Someone who is sensitive to another person’s pain. When your friend Abby was in danger, you reacted as if it were happening to you.”

  She leaned toward Corey and her blue eyes darkened. “Listen to me. No matter what happened up there on the cliff, don’t you believe for one minute that you are a failure or a coward. It is not true.” She sat back. “You are a sensitive young man who cares deeply about others and who will do something remarkable and heroic one day.”

  Corey looked down at the checkered tablecloth. How could she think such good things about me when everything I do proves the opposite? Yet once again, Mrs. Chudzik made him fe
el better. She understood. She is the sympathetic character, he realized.

  “What you need right now is a good cup of tea.” She got up and put tea in the pot and then poured steaming water from the kettle on it. “My husband and I never knew there were open shafts on that property. It’s fortunate that no one has had an accident before.” She shook her head. “I must have everything sealed up right away, before someone gets killed.”

  “Is there a map that shows the mine chutes and shafts?”

  “The map was very old. It only shows my property before that mine started working. I already gave it to Mr. Russell. He is looking for more information or maps to bring the records up to date. I’m sure he’ll be even more concerned now that Abby fell into that vent.” She poured the tea into cups.

  “I was heading this way to bring you the change from the five dollars you loaned me, when I ran into Abby.” Corey emptied the leather change purse into his palm and handed her the money. “Thank you so much for helping me, Mrs. Chudzik.” When she didn’t answer, Corey continued, “I paid off my debt this afternoon, and now I don’t owe anyone—except, of course, for the work I owe you.”

  She placed a dish of cookies on the table and sat down again. “I knew you might be coming by, so I made cookies.” She took a sip of tea. “Do your folks believe now that you did not steal the money?”

  “I hope so. They’ve promised not to speak of it again.”

  “They know you wouldn’t bring shame to the family by stealing. Anyone can see that.” Mrs. Chudzik leaned across the table and said intently, “That day at the pond, I didn’t think you’d make it, but you fought hard and you lived. There’s a reason you survived that you’ll understand someday.” She sipped her tea again.

  It was hard to understand what Mrs. Chudzik meant after he’d confessed to her that he couldn’t help Abby. “The cookies are good,” he said, trying to change the subject. “My Polish grandma used to make these same cookies.” He sipped his tea. “Dad’s family is Polish, and my mother’s side of the family was from Wales.”