Trading Secrets

by Melody Carlson

  “That sounds good to me.”

  “And the USS Cod might be fun.”

  “The submarine?” he asks in a way that reminds me of what he was probably like as an eleven-year-old boy.

  As we eat our simple breakfast, which is bare-bones compared to the spreads Zach is used to, I tell him a little about the science center and what other points of interest are nearby. Before long, we’ve put together a plan of sorts. I’m tempted to ask him if he thinks this will be his one and only day to sightsee but decide not to go there. I just want to enjoy whatever time I have left with him—to let things unfold.

  He gets up to pour himself a cup of coffee now, adding milk and sugar before he comes back to sit down. “Will Lizzie and her sister join us today?”

  “I’ll call and see after I clean up the breakfast things.” I stack his plate on mine, taking it to the sink. “My dad and I have a rule that if one cooks, the other cleans up.”

  “Sounds fair enough.”

  “But first I need to feed Katy.”

  “Katy?” Zach’s eyebrows arch, and he looks all around.

  “Remember, I named the kitten Katy.”

  He chuckles. “Oh, ja. That might be confusing for me.”

  I take Katy her food and pet her a bit. I know she’s lonely for her mama cat and siblings. Maybe I should ask Lizzie to bring her kitten over to visit while we’re gone today.

  I return to the kitchen, and as Zach drinks his coffee, I rinse the plates. It’s such a homey little scene that I wonder what it would be like to live like this indefinitely. Okay, I know I’m too young. I know that it’s crazy to even think such thoughts, but I can’t help myself. To distract me from my silly imaginings, I tell Zach how the dishwasher works as I load it.

  “You just put the dishes in there and they come out clean?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Cleaning up might be even easier than cooking here.”

  “You could be right.”

  “Maybe everything is easier for the English.”

  “At least when it comes to housekeeping,” I say as I reach for the phone. While I’m talking to Lizzie, inviting her and Erika to join us, Zach busily makes his way around the kitchen, checking out every appliance. As I hang up, he’s examining the microwave. “What is this? Some kind of oven?”

  I explain what it’s for, and he immediately wants to see if it can really heat a cup of water. I demonstrate, and he is suitably impressed. “I’d like to read more about how a microwave works,” he tells me.

  “I bet you’d like the Great Lakes Science Center.” I explain how it’s a great place to learn about science through hands-on exhibits. I don’t admit that I haven’t been there since grade school or that it might be a little young for Zach. But considering his schooling background, I think not. It’s possible Erika would enjoy it too.

  By 9:00, we’ve reunited the kittens in my bathroom and we’re on our way. First we go to the natural history museum, and Zach is just as mesmerized by the dinosaur exhibits as Erika. Meanwhile, Lizzie seems to be mesmerized by Zach. “I can’t believe what a hottie he is,” she whispers to me. “No wonder you brought him home. Guess I was right all along, huh? You do like him, don’t you?”

  I give her a warning look. Her subtle jabs might’ve been amusing at first, but I’m getting tired of her insinuating that I’m crushing on my Amish pen pal. Okay, maybe I am a little, but I don’t need my best friend throwing it in my face. Zach’s a nice guy—why wouldn’t I like him? Besides, in all likelihood he’ll be gone in a few days. Probably for good.

  19

  By Thursday afternoon, we’ve had a whirlwind tour of the science museum and the natural history museum, but after we finish checking out the USS Cod, Zach is looking very stressed and showing serious concern about the expenses.

  “I can’t let you keep paying my way,” he says as we eat the hot dogs I just got from a kiosk.

  “My dad’s paying,” I remind him. “Because he wanted to.”

  “I have to get a job,” Zach says emphatically.

  “Not today, you don’t.” I take a big bite.

  “But it’s wrong for me to let you—or even your dad—keep paying for everything.”

  “Look,” I say firmly, still chewing my bite. “I let your family feed and care for me for five whole days. Did they let me pay for anything?”

  “Well . . . no . . . but—”

  “Think of it as payback time.”

  He shakes his head. “Then your dad should put me to work to earn my keep.”

  “Just let it go,” I say as Lizzie and Erika join us with their hot dogs. “Please!”

  “Can we go to the zoo?” Erika begs as they sit down at the picnic table with us. It’s about the hundredth time she’s asked this today, but I know she wanted to see the zoo more than anything else we’ve done. Really, she’s been a good sport.

  “Aren’t you tired?” Lizzie asks her.

  “No,” Erika declares.

  “But you’ve been to the zoo lots of times.”

  “I don’t care. I still want to go. You said we’d go, Lizzie.” Erika points at Zach. “You’d really like the zoo, Zach. They have elephants and monkeys and rhinos and cheetahs. They even have red pandas.”

  Zach grins at her. “You’re right, I would like it.”

  I pause from my hot dog to pull the zoo info up on my iPhone. “It’s open until 5:00,” I tell Lizzie. “That gives us more than two hours. Maybe we should go for it.”

  Erika is jumping up and down now, insisting that we should go.

  “It’s nearby,” I point out. “Let’s just make a day of it.”

  Even though Lizzie is reluctant, she’s outvoted, and before long we’re at the zoo. Both Zach and Erika are completely enchanted. Erika turns out to be the perfect zoo guide for him since her classroom recently took a field trip here.

  “Look at the two of them,” I say to Lizzie as we linger back behind one of the monkey exhibits, watching Zach and Erika pressing close to the glass. “A perfect pair.”

  Lizzie laughs. “And you’re not jealous?”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously.”

  “What’s he going to do?” she asks quietly, even though we’re far enough away that he couldn’t possibly hear her. “I mean, he’s got nothing, right? Yet he expects to live in Cleveland? With friends?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble. “I’ll admit it’s a little freaky to think about a teenaged Amish guy on his own. My dad’s kind of worried too.”

  “It’s just so sad the way some Amish kids get kinda lost out here in the English world.”

  “What do you mean?” Suddenly I feel defensive. “Zach’s not lost.”

  “Do you think he’s well prepared to live in our world? I mean, just consider his education—”

  “That’s not really fair,” I contradict. “I’ve heard that an Amish eighth-grade education is nearly equivalent to a full high school one—at least in some schools.”

  “That might be. Okay, lets say he’s had a decent education. That still doesn’t make him prepared for our kind of life.”

  I consider this. “Zach’s a hard worker. Doesn’t that prepare him for our kind of life?”

  “Maybe.” She pops a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “But it won’t be easy for him. Not without a high school diploma at least. I don’t see why the Amish stop their education after eighth grade. Shouldn’t parents want more for their kids than that?”

  “It has to do with humility and simplicity.” I frown. “To be honest, I don’t completely get it myself. But it seems to be working for them. They’ve been living like this for centuries.”

  She munches her popcorn with a thoughtful expression.

  “You’re probably right. Amish parents do want more for their kids.” I wave my hand. “But it has nothing to do with preparing them to succeed out here in the English world. They’re preparing their kids to serve God in humility, in the Amish tradition. No Amish parent dreams of thei
r kids leaving their settlement. It goes against all they believe.”

  “But what about the Amish kids who want to leave?”

  “I guess they have to be tough.” I gaze fondly at Zach as he kneels down next to Erika. Both of them are making monkey faces at the chimps. It’s so cute I consider pulling out my phone to take a shot, but I stop myself for Zach’s sake. He hasn’t complained when I’ve nabbed a distant shot, but I’m still not sure how he really feels about getting the camera too close.

  As if reading my mind, Lizzie pulls out her phone and snaps some shots. I say nothing. Seeing she’s got some texts, she turns her focus to her phone. As Erika is leading the way to the next exhibit, Zach walks with me. “Why do the English have such an attachment to their phones all the time?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  He points out several people who, like Lizzie, seem more interested in their phones than in the zoo animals. “Can they even see these incredible animals with their eyes?” he asks. “They are so concerned with their phones. Did Lizzie notice the way that monkey made funny faces at Erika, like he thought she was his little sister?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, and I can tell he’s caught off guard by the fact that he’s hatless today. “It’s the strangest thing, Micah. So many people pay good money to come to these places and then don’t even pay attention to anything except their phones.”

  “You make a good point. I’ve never been a real phone freak myself.” I glance over my shoulder to where Lizzie is walking and texting behind us. “Not like some people who shall go unmentioned.”

  “Even the people taking photos with their phones,” he continues in an aggravated tone. “It seems like they can’t really see what’s right in front of them. They’re so preoccupied with looking at their little phones. Staring down at those tiny screens or looking at the pictures they’ve already taken. In the meantime, real live beautiful animals are all around, doing amazing things. It’s like these people don’t even know it.” He sighs. “I just don’t understand.”

  I pat him on the shoulder. “Me neither.”

  “I hope I never get a phone,” he tells me as we come to the giraffe section. “If I do, I will use it only to call people with.”

  “Come on, Zach,” Erika is calling. “Let’s see if we can feed the giraffes.”

  He wastes no time joining her, and I consider his observation as I look at the people around me. He’s right. Most of them seem more interested in their phones than the zoo. Silly English people—what an odd bunch we must seem to someone like Zach.

  We don’t leave the zoo until closing time, and as we’re out trying to find Dad’s car in the parking lot, Zach seems very uneasy. “Are you worried about the car?” I ask as I click the lock on the key to see if I can get the horn to beep. “We’ll find it eventually.”

  “No, that’s not it.” He shades his eyes, peering over the tops of the cars with a creased brow. “But are you sure you will find it?”

  Finally, we do find the car, but Zach still seems anxious about something. I unlock the doors and we get inside. Zach is in the passenger seat, fiddling with the seatbelt across his chest. “Is something bothering you?” I ask him.

  “No,” he says quickly. “I’m just thinking about what I should do now.”

  “What do you mean?” I put the key in the ignition but don’t turn it on.

  “I need to go look for my friends . . . find a place to stay . . . get a job.” He turns to look earnestly into my eyes. “Today was fun, but I can’t just keep playing around like this.”

  “Oh.” I just nod, trying to think of something encouraging to say, but I’m coming up blank.

  “You can’t go get a job in one day,” Lizzie says from the backseat. “And it’s almost the weekend. I mean, tomorrow’s Friday, and honestly, you can’t find a job on the weekend.”

  “You can’t?”

  “Besides, you need a résumé.”

  “What’s a résumé?”

  “It’s where you write down all your job and education experience so the personnel people will have an idea of what you’re good at,” she explains.

  “Oh.” Zach looks even more frustrated.

  “We can help you make a résumé,” Lizzie assures him. “But it might take a day or two.”

  “Lizzie is right,” I tell him. “You can’t really expect to get a job that quickly. It takes time.”

  “Ja . . . but I still need to find my friends.” Zach points toward the city. “If you can just drop me off somewhere that you think would be a good place to start.”

  “Drop you off?” I give him a stunned look. “By yourself? In the city? With no money or anything?”

  “I have to start somewhere,” he says stubbornly.

  “But what if you don’t find your friends tonight?” Lizzie asks in a horrified tone. “Where will you sleep? On the street?”

  “Zach is going to sleep on the street?” Erika says in a sincerely concerned voice.

  “No, honey,” I assure her as I start the engine. “Zach is going to sleep right where he slept last night. In our guest room.”

  “Oh, good.” Erika is relieved.

  “But your father said I could stay one night, Micah. And that was very generous of him.”

  “My dad does not want you to sleep on the streets, Zach.”

  “But he said one night. Didn’t you hear him?”

  Instead of pulling out of the parking place, I pull out my phone, hitting speed dial and hoping that my dad will answer. Fortunately, he does. I quickly explain the situation, telling Dad how Zach is insisting on being dropped off in the city because he’s certain he’s worn out his welcome. “He thinks you will throw him out after one night.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Dad commands.

  I hand the phone over to Zach, who tentatively puts it to his ear and says, “Hello?”

  I can hear the sound of Dad’s voice but not what he’s saying. Zach listens and says ja a couple of times and thank you even more, and eventually hands the phone back to me. “I guess it’s settled,” he says with what seems a bit of relief. “I’m to stay at your house until I have another place to stay . . . or I go home.”

  “Right.” I start backing out the car. Everyone is quiet on the ride home. I chalk it up to tiredness, and since we’re caught in rush hour traffic again, I appreciate the lack of distraction. I know I’m a good driver and fairly experienced for my age—even my dad acknowledges this—but I don’t take it for granted. Catching a glimpse of Zach’s strained expression, I know he’s still not comfortable with this many cars driving this fast. I wonder if he ever will be.

  Finally we’re home again, and Lizzie and Erika come into our condo to pick up their kitten, which Lizzie has named Bella. When I accused her of being a Twilight freak, she returned the jab by calling me an Amish freak. I guess we’re even.

  When they leave, it’s just Zach and me watching Katy lapping down her dinner in the middle of the kitchen floor. I know he feels uncomfortable—as if he needs to work to prove his worth as a human. To be fair, it’s simply how he was raised. How could he possibly think differently? Quite honestly, if we had any yard work or maintenance, I would gladly send him out to do it, simply because I have a feeling that would make him happy. But there is no such thing in this condo.

  “I’ll bet you’re bored here,” I blurt out.

  “Bored?” He presses his lips together as if considering the meaning of this word. Surely he knows it.

  “Yes,” I declare. “Our little house, with no land to speak of, no animals except this kitten. It all must feel very small and confined and boring to you. Especially when you’re used to being out in the wide open spaces, with grass and trees and livestock, and family members and friends, and horses and buggies.” I point at him. “Honestly, aren’t you missing all that?”

  He looks very uncertain now. Almost blindsided. “I, uh, I don’t know. I guess may
be I am.”

  “Well, you should be,” I tell him adamantly. “In fact, I’m missing it myself, and I was only there five days.”

  His somber face breaks into a slow smile. “Really? You miss my family’s farm?”

  “Yep.” I nod glumly. “I think I do.”

  “I’ve been a little worried about Molly.”

  “Why? Do you think she needs the vet again?”

  “No . . . but Daed might forget to give her the antibiotics. Or he might not remember to pour the capsule into a crushed apple.”

  “Oh.” I frown at the kitchen phone. “Do you want to call him—I mean, call your grandfather’s house? Would someone there run over to your dad’s farm and remind him?”

  Zach shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to go home?” I ask suddenly. “Because we could have you on a bus tomorrow morning. You’d make it to Hamrick’s Bridge by early afternoon.”

  He looks really torn now.

  “I don’t want to push you,” I assure him. “But if that’s what you know you want to do—if that’s what you need to do, if that’s what’s best for you—well, I know my dad will help you out with the bus fare. We can even get your ticket reserved online. That’s what I did. If you’re worried about the expense, don’t be. You can always pay him back after you get home. I mean, no hurry. Not until you have a chance to earn some money.” I can tell I’m blathering now, but I can’t seem to help myself. If Zach needs to go home, I do not want to stop him. As sad as I’ll be to see him go, I will totally support him in this decision.

  20

  On Friday morning, I feel slightly lost. I’m not sure if I offended Zach last night when I told him Dad would finance him a bus ticket home, but he barely said two words to me after that. When I got out of bed this morning, Zach was nowhere to be found. My only consolation is that his clothes are still here—his Amish clothes, as well as some of the things Dad gave him. Still, when it’s nearly 11:00 and Zach is still gone, I feel extremely worried. I consider calling Dad, but what can he do?