Pure Dirt

by Francis Adams

  “How much is mine?” he asked his father.

  “Put it down,” Joe cautioned in a stern tone. There were thirty-two hundred-dollar bills spread across the table. “We thought it would be nice to show you what a lot of money looks like because it’s probably the last time you’ll ever see this amount in one place again,” Willow explained.

  “Now go to bed,” Joe urged.

  The next morning, the eighth-grade boys waited at the boiler room entrance as a white van pulled up to the curb. Andy, a parishioner, opened the back doors of the van.

  “OK!” Andy said.

  The paper drive brought extra income into the church coffers. Twice each month, Andy went door to door and picked up the stacks of discarded newspaper from the church parishioners. The boys formed a line from the back of the van to the gate. One by one, bundles of tied newspaper were passed along the line and carried into the boiler room. The boys stacked them in an empty space along the wall.

  At recess, Danny, Owen and Hank huddled in a circle.

  “I wonder what that sound was?” Owen said.

  “Annette,” Danny insisted.

  “You believe in ghosts? Really?” Hank asked.

  “You believe in the Holy Ghost, don’t you?” Danny quipped.

  “Maybe,” Hank replied.

  “Well, there’s one way we can find out,” Danny suggested.

  “What’s that?”

  “Go there at night and wait for her to appear.”

  The boys glanced at each other, “Why?” Hank asked.

  “To prove that there are ghosts, that they exist,” Danny replied, “you want to make a bet?”

  Rose approached the boys carrying a brown box with handles.

  “No!” Hank barked.

  Rose frowned and pounded her foot on the ground before turning away.

  “Rose!” Hank hollered, “how much?”

  Rose turned and approached the boys again, “A dollar,” she said. Hank reached into his pocket and gave her his milk money for the week. Rose handed him a milk chocolate bar and walked away. “Somehow I get the feeling women are going to wind up taking over,” Hank observed.

  “So how ‘bout it?” Danny asked, “Want to stay overnight this Friday?”

  Hank smirked at Danny, turning to Owen, he asked, “Can you go?”

  “I’ll try,” Owen answered, “we can always watch TV instead.”

  “I’ll have to ask,” Hank said.

  “Promise?”

  “Swear.”

  Hank knocked on Danny’s door on Friday night.

  “Come in,” Danny beckoned from the kitchen.

  He entered. Danny’s father sat in a chair watching the news while his mother spoke on the phone.

  “Mom, this is Hank,” Danny said interrupting her.

  “Yes, that’s right, tomorrow? OK, bye,” his mother hung up the phone. Hello, Danny’s told me so much about you. I just ordered tomato pies from Nate’s. Do you like pizza?” she addressed Hank.

  “Sure, Mrs. Novak,” he replied,” thanks for having me over.

  “You boys go to Danny’s room, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

  Danny’s room was filled with curiosities: a model fifty-seven Chevy, a gem collection, water pistols, baseball pendants, a florescent black light, and Zeppelin posters printed in glowing colors. Danny closed the bedroom door.

  “I’ve got these,” he said pulling two flashlights from underneath his bed.

  “You still want to do this?” Danny asked.

  “Sure, You?” Hank responded with false bravado.

  “You don’t mind sleeping on a cot tonight, do you?” Danny asked.

  “No problem.” Hank answered.

  The boys walked to the entrance of the woods after munching slice after slice of pizza. Danny and Hank each carried a pocket flashlight. They edged down the embankment, walked around the sewer tunnel, and proceeded down the trail through the woods. A cool breeze swept through the tree limbs. “Are you double sure you want to do this?” Danny turned around and asked Hank. “I’m not afraid. They’re only trees…and there are no ghosts,” Hank replied. He followed behind Danny, focusing his eyes on Danny’s heels. A branch snapped followed by a rustling of leaves. The boys stopped in their tracks. Danny turned and whispered, “it’s probably a squirrel” They stood silently listening.

  “Let’s go,” Danny beckoned.

  They arrived at the clearing and paused to survey the landscape. The moon bathed the mansion in an unearthly glow. Hank felt uneasy; he swallowed hard. Danny began walking towards the house. Turning around, he called to Hank who was standing in his tracks.

  “Come on,” Danny whispered.

  The mansion grew closer. Arriving at the back of the house, Danny pushed the window open and shimmied through on his stomach. He paused shuffling his feet until they touched the surface of the table inside.

  “You alright,” Hank whispered through the opening.

  “Come on.”

  Hank’s feet landed on the table. He slid down to the floor following Danny’s flashlight as it scanned the basement. As they climbed the stairs, the steps creaked beneath their feet. Danny turned the glass doorknob and pushed forward on the door. The moonlight bathed the kitchen in a subtle glow.

  “You see?” Hank whispered, “nothing!”

  Danny turned his head and whispered back, “We have to check upstairs.”

  “No, we don’t”

  “Yes, we do. That’s where we heard the noises.”

  They moved through the house until they came to the staircase leading to the second floor. Danny placed his foot on the first step shining the flashlight in front of him. Hank followed behind. Halfway up the staircase, they heard a woman’s mournful voice cry out, “L’ai perdue ma precieuse bague!” she groaned. Danny raised his flashlight up to the landing. A woman in a full-length gown moved across the landing.

  Danny dropped his flashlight, turned around and pushed Hank down the steps. He passed him on the run to the basement door. Down the steps they flew like greyhounds barking as they skipped the steps. “Hurry!” Hank shouted. They leaped and sprung from the table like Olympians, diving through the window, and running blindly up the dirt pathway into the night.

  Raucous laughter burst from the second floor. Danny’s older brother spoke through choked tears, “That should keep them away for a long time.” He handed the young girl a cigarette, and the ghost of Annette took a drag.

  “What saps!” she uttered.

  The next week at school, Cynthia ran up to Hank at the lunch bell, “Hank, I need to speak with you.”

  “What about?” he asked.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “Linda told me to tell you that she likes you.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, she wants to go on a date with you. Do you like her?”

  Hank never thought about it, but Linda was a pretty girl.

  “Tell her, I’ll go out with her.”

  “Great! I’ll tell her,” she replied scurrying away.

  After lunch, the class assembled in the second-floor dining room. A police officer stood next to the principal, and the students were seated in front of a glass display case resting on a long table. “This is officer Kelly,” the principal explained, “he’s here to explain about the dangers of drugs. ”The display case contained drug samples fixed on the back panel with a brief description underneath each one.

  “Good morning boys and girls. I’m officer Kelly from the Trenton police, and I would like to take a few minutes to explain about the dangers of using street drugs, what they look like, and how they can harm you. As you can see, these yellow pills, here,” pointing with a stick, “are amphetamines. They are also known as ‘speed’ and cause th
e abuser to stay awake for hours disrupting the functioning of the brain, the heart, and with repeated use, they have caused severe weight-loss, and erratic behavior that often ends with the abuser being placed in a mental health facility.”

  Pointing at the next object, the officer continued. “This is a hypodermic needle used to inject a drug called heroin. Heroin is made from the opium poppy, and people who inject it fall into a stupor. Highly addictive, it causes severe withdrawal. A person will steal or burglarize for the money to buy this drug because without the drug, the physical pain is unbearable. The street names for heroin are ‘horse’, ‘smack’ or just ‘H.’”

  Kelly moved to the next object in the case, “And this is a bag of marijuana also known as ‘grass’ or ‘weed.’ It is rolled tightly into a cigarette and smoked. The effects are erratic thoughts, increased appetite, and often uncontrolled laughter. You should avoid these substances because they can destroy your life. Your minds are fresh and an addiction to any illegal drug will interfere with your wellbeing, ruin your future, and cause misery to your family. I want to thank you for listening today, and should you come across any of these drugs, or someone selling them, please notify your parents, so they can contact us. We want to keep these drugs off our streets and out of our neighborhoods.

  The school day ended, and the students formed two lines in the hall queuing up to leave the building. Looking over at the girls in line, Hank’s eyes met Linda’s. She smiled. He approached her on the sidewalk in front of the school.

  “Hi,” he said,

  “Hi,” she answered.

  “Would you like to come over and visit sometime?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he replied, “we can go for a walk.”

  “That would be nice. I’ll bring Cynthia along.”

  “Fine,” he replied, “where do you live?”

  “On Jeremiah Avenue, here’s my phone number,” she said scribbling on a scrap of paper. “Call me,” She handed the paper to him.

  “I will.”

  Hank pedaled his Schwinn bike to the Atlantic Mills thrift store. He stared at the rings in the jewelry case and found a gold-plated ring with a white stone, one that he could afford, and purchased it with his paperboy money. He was thrilled to have a girlfriend.

  On Thursday, Hank went to confession. “Bless me father for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago.”

  The priest spoke through the opaque window screen, “Why so long?”

  “I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”

  “You should always find time for the Lord. He cares about you,” the priest pointed out, “what’s troubling you?”

  Hank took a breath and exhaled.

  “If you saw something, and you knew that it was wrong, would you keep it quiet or tell someone?” Hank asked.

  “Is it serious?” the priest asked.

  “I think so. The problem is…I could get into trouble if I tell what I know.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I was not where I was supposed to be.”

  “I see. Does it break one of God’s commandments?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Does it break any laws?”

  “I think so.”

  The priest was quiet for a few seconds.

  “It’s always best to be truthful with everyone. Misleading people, or lying, hiding our mistakes and not showing remorse for our actions is cowardly. There is comfort in being truthful. Please think about it.”

  “Is trespassing a sin? Forgive us our trespasses, right?”

  “Did someone get hurt, or did you hurt someone’s property?”

  “No.”

  “Then you should forgive yourself. Don’t make the same mistake again?”

  “Thanks,” Hank said.

  “For your penance say three Our Father’s, go in peace in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

  The door slid sideways shutting out the light that bled through the screen. Hank knelt silently in the dark for a second, then he opened the door and left the church.

  Hank took Danny aside during the next afternoon recess.

  “Danny, that box we saw in the mansion was filled with marijuana. Did you see? It was weed.”

  “I saw it,” Danny said, “don’t tell anyone. It’s none of our business. If we tell, the people who put it there could come after us. Besides, that place is off limits…it’s haunted.”

  “Bury it,” Danny insisted.

  Chapter Three:

  The Red Barn

  The station wagon crossed the Trenton Makes World Takes bridge and winded its way north alongside the Delaware river through Pennsylvania. Hank and his brother sat in the back seat staring at the stone colonial homes set back from the road. The station wagon turned up a hill and parked at the base of Bowman’s Tower. The tower stretched one hundred and twenty-four feet in the air and was constructed of native stone quarried from the hill. The family began the long climb around the spiral staircase. Hank counted the steps until he lost count. The family emerged onto the lookout platform at the top of the tower. A stone fence with balustrades wrapped around the perimeter. Hank and his father glanced over at the panorama before them. The winding Delaware river looked like a thin scar running through the landscape, and the green hills stretched until they met the sky.

  “This is where Washington crossed the river on Christmas night marching his troops into Trenton,” Joe recounted. “They surprised the Hessians in their barracks the next day. The fate of the revolution began to change because of that victory.”

  “Why did it change things?” Hank asked.

  “Because after several defeats, two-thirds of the Hessian force was captured. The morale was lifted, recruits began re-enlisting,” Joe explained.

  “They built this tower?” Hank asked.

  “No, this was built in 1929 and named after a doctor who was a surgeon for Captain Kidd. This hill was a lookout point before the tower was built.” Hank scanned the horizon across the river. Looking down over the top of the balustrade, his stomach churned, and his legs felt wobbly. Willow and Jeremy peered over the adjacent side.

  “I can see Trenton,” Jeremy pointed, “there’s the bridge.”

  “Trenton Makes the World Aches,” Hank kidded.

  “That was true at one time,” Joe interrupted, “John Roebling built Trenton. He manufactured bridge cables for a lot of bridges. The Brooklyn bridge over the East river, a railroad bridge over the Niagara, and another over the Kentucky river. Trenton also had its own steel mill, rubber mill, and potteries. American Standard started here. Trenton was a boomtown back in the day.”

  “Now?” Hank asked.

  “Trenton’s boomtown days are gone, I’m afraid. After the Depression, manufacturing was bought out and relocated elsewhere. Trenton lost control of its economy.”

  They descended the tower. Hank started a new step count. Joe drove the wagon into a parking area next to the riverfront in Yardley.

  “What are we doing?” Jeremy asked.

  “Dirty Bill’s…lunchtime.” Joe answered.

  The smell of burning coals spilled from the inside of a small shack. Stepping inside, a grey-haired man leaned over an open pit. The grill was crusted over with burnt carbon. A line of plump pinkish-red frankfurters rested between the grates.

  “Dirty Bill’s dogs are the best,” Willow commented.

  They carried their lunch to an outdoor picnic bench.

  “Yellow or brown mustard?” Willow asked her two sons.

  “Yellow,” Jeremy blurted.

  “Brown,” Hank followed.

  “I don’t want onions,” Jeremy complained.

  “We didn’t get onions,” Willow said unwrapping a dog and handing it to Jeremy.

  “You have onions!” Hank said.

&n
bsp; “They’re in the foil wrapper,” Willow replied.

  Hank surveyed the bank of the river while eating his hot dog. What’s that?” he asked his father. Joe turned around, “There used to be a bridge there. It was destroyed in the flood.” “Flood?” Hank asked. “Yes. The year before you were born, the river overflowed,” Joe explained. “Was it bad?”

  “The streets turned into rivers in Trenton. There was a drought that summer. Temperatures soared into the nineties. We prayed for rain. After the drought came a deluge, followed by two hurricanes, Connie, and a week later Diane. It poured twelve inches in ten days washing out the bridge. What you are looking at is what’s left of it. You were born at the tail end of two hurricanes, Hank,” Joe teased.

  Hank walked across Lalor street the following afternoon. Knocking on the front door, he was greeted by Linda’s mother. Linda walked up behind her. “We’re going to walk to the park, mom. This is Hank, the coach’s son.” The two classmates walked to the park and sat on a bench. “Where are you going to school next year?” Linda asked. “I’m going to a public school. We’re moving in with my grandmother and uncle. She needs looking after, and my mom will keep up the house.” Hank confided. “I’m going to the Cathedral school in the city,” Linda said, “are you going to the dance on Friday night?”

  “Will you be there?” Hank asked.

  “Certainly, I hope you come.”

  Hank was tongue-tied.

  “I got you something,” he said while reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small box and lifted the hinge.

  “For me?’” she enthused

  “Only if you like it. It’s a friendship ring.” he said.

  “Of course, I do,” she said placing the ring on her finger.

  “It’s a little big.”

  “I can take it back.”

  “No. Don’t. I like it.”

  “If you like, we can go for lunch this weekend,” he proposed.

  “Love to,” she agreed.

  “I’ll pick you up. Can I tell you something?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

  “I’ll make sure to finish my homework early,” she said.