by Alex Lyttle
As she approached, she looked light and fresh—like she’d only just started running. It was the exact opposite of how I felt but I put on a smile and tried to look as perky as she did.
“Not a bad day for a run,” I said, jogging up to her and trying not to gasp for air.
Aleta’s hair was tied back with an orange headband that matched her shirt and she was wearing black shorts and white running shoes. To this day I have no idea how they managed to stay so white.
We briefly stood side-by-side looking around, surveying the land, picking a path. Really, it didn’t matter, it was all the same—corn to the left, corn to the right. If we were lucky we might get to run past a field of soy. Whoopee!
“Which way?” she asked.
“You lead. I’ll follow.”
Aleta took off in the opposite direction of our houses, charting an indeterminate course between the fields. I followed closely behind secretly wishing we could slow the pace. If the run had been a game of who could accidentally step in the most mud puddles and boggy spots, I would have won, and soon my heavy basketball shoes grew even heavier. The sun seemed to grow hotter with every passing minute and the tall grass cut at my calves. As the houses shrunk further and further behind us, I thought about how we would have to run further and further back. I desperately didn’t want to be the one to call it quits but after what felt like hours (though, quite possibly was only ten minutes) I was ready to throw in the towel. I’d had enough. If I kept going I would pass out just like Sammy had and that—I told myself—was way more embarrassing than asking for a break.
Just as I went to open my mouth and sound my defeat, Aleta yelled, “Why don’t we stop in those trees ahead?”
I looked up to find a wall of trees had materialized ahead of us. I hadn’t noticed because I’d been staring at my feet. I couldn’t believe the fields actually had an end! It was further away than I would have liked but at least I now had something tangible to run toward.
I told myself I could make it.
And I did. Barely.
As soon as I ran into the forest, I collapsed onto the ground. It was soft and dry and the relief from the sun was amazing. I lay there listening to my own breathing and feeling my chest move up and down, up and down. I closed my eyes and felt the cool stillness all around me.
After a while, the quietness began to unnerve me. Where had Aleta gone? I sat up and looked around.
“Aleta?”
She didn’t answer so I stood up and walked further into the trees.
“Aleta?”
The forest had looked dense from far away but twenty steps in and I was already coming out the other side. Only it wasn’t like I was on the other side of the same forest, it was like I had walked out of a completely new forest. Like it was some sort of gateway to another world.
I found Aleta standing with her back to me, looking out over the landscape. In front of her was a clear pond as smooth as glass and rimmed with bull rushes. White flowers on lily pads dotted the edges and the reflection of the sky in the middle was as clear as the one above. Beyond the pond was a hill so steep it gave the impression that a part of the world had broken off and fallen a hundred feet. I could see all the way to the horizon miles and miles away—it felt like I could see forever.
Only I couldn’t look at forever for very long.
Lake Huron was lit by a glaring July sun in the distance and it glistened a brilliant gold and blue—like someone had melted the sky, poured it into a pot of gold then added a million stars. It was like looking into the world’s brightest disco ball.
Between the pond and Lake Huron was a landscape of rolling hills and untouched fields; of wild flowers and brambles and dancing long grass. There was no sign of human life—no roads, no houses, no tractors—just a hidden expanse of undiscovered country.
Another world.
I’d never developed Sammy’s love for the countryside. I’d never appreciated what Mom and Dad saw in cornfields and dirt roads, but this—this was different. This was a picture taken from a magazine and stretched out in front of me.
“It’s beautiful,” Aleta whispered beside me.
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s something.”
I walked over to the pond and put my toe into the water, watching as the mud melted off my shoe. Seeping in, the cool water felt like heaven. I put my whole foot in, then the next. I waded into the pond until it was deep enough to swim. The water washed away the sweat and grime. I felt revitalized.
“Aleta, you have to come in. This is amazing.”
Aleta hesitated a moment, watching me swim as she appeared to make up her mind. Then she sat down and began pulling off her shoes and socks.
“Leave them on,” I said.
“These are new,” she replied, then stood and walked to the edge. “And besides, I want to feel the mud squish between my toes.”
As she stepped into the pond her eyes closed and her body seemed to melt into the water. She lay along the surface not moving a muscle, yet somehow managing to stay afloat, like driftwood.
On the far side of the pond, I found a trickle of water running down the sloping hill that had made a path of mud. The hill was steep enough that with a running start I could slide all the way down, finishing in a giant heap of muck at the bottom. I convinced Aleta to try it and we spent the rest of the morning sliding down the hill then running back up to wash off in the pond.
When we tired of sliding, we lay beneath the shade of the maple trees and counted the clouds floating by, feeling the warm breeze of summer and listening to the drone of dragonflies amid a chorus of bullfrogs.
I had nearly drifted off to sleep when I heard Aleta whisper, “This place is perfect.”
I rolled over to find her sitting up, staring off into the distance. Pieces of dry grass were stuck in her hair and her shirt was dirty from the mud. I guess the pond hadn’t completely cleaned us off.
I pulled a piece of long grass from the ground and stuck it in my mouth then lay with my hands behind my head. “I feel like a farmer taking a break after a long morning of hard work.”
“Hard work?” Aleta laughed. “Trust me, you don’t look like any farmer I know. All we’ve done is swim and play. I’d say you look more like Huck Finn.”
“Who’s Huck Finn?”
“Have you never read Mark Twain?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Who’s that?”
“He’s an author.”
“If his name’s not R.L. Stine and his books don’t say Goosebumps on the cover, I’m not interested,” I said. “And don’t pretend like you don’t like Goosebumps because I saw you reading one in church the other day.” Aleta’s face turned red and I grinned. “You’re not as sneaky as you think.”
She grinned back. “But I’m pretty sneaky.”
I laughed. “Yeah, pretty sneaky.”
We sat for a little while longer before Aleta said she should probably get home to help her sister make dinner. We walked as far as an old tree trunk that was split and charred in the middle—I guess when you’re the only tree between miles and miles of fields your chances of getting struck by lightning are pretty good.
“This is probably midway between our houses,” Aleta suggested.
“Yeah, probably,” I agreed, feeling suddenly sad that the day was coming to an end.
I didn’t want the day to be over. It had been the most fun I’d had since moving to Huxbury. My mind fumbled for a way to ask her to hang out again but asking felt awkward, I needed a reason. Another run? Heck, even that pain was worth it. But then an idea came to my mind and I blurted it out before I had time to think it through.
“We should make the pond our Secret Spot,” I said. “We could meet back here tomorrow morning—bring snacks and Goosebumps books—then spend the day reading by the pond.”
“A Secret Spot?”
“Yeah, you know, a place that only the two of us know about. A safe place we could run away to if Huxbury were ever taken over by pirates or
escaped convicts or zombies. I’m pretty sure even the farmers who own these fields don’t know about the pond. It’ll be a place all to ourselves.”
I realized halfway through my speech that I was talking to Aleta as if she were Sammy. The pirates, the escaped convicts, the zombies—these were all stories Sammy and I talked about. We had been searching for a Secret Spot for years. We’d had a few—the creek, a hidden nook behind a bush at the back of the house, the closet in our old home in London—but none of those were actually secret. Mom and Dad always knew about them. The pond was different. It was actually a secret. It was perfect.
Aleta smiled. “I don’t think it would be the first place I’d run away to if the town were taken over by zombies but okay, I like the idea, we can have a Secret Spot.”
Later that night, Sammy asked me what I’d done all day. It was harder than I thought to keep the secret. A big part of me wanted to say, “We found a pond on the top of a mountain with a mudslide over a thousand feet long and a view so far that if you look at it for too long you go permanently blind.”
But a Secret Spot is a secret and I wasn’t about to ruin it.
“Nothing,” I told him, “just went for a run.”
And the Secret Spot remained a secret.
CHAPTER 10
THE FLOOR FELT COOL UNDER MY FEET AS I KNELT AND BEGAN rummaging through the snack cupboard in our kitchen. It was early—really early—and outside it was still pitch black. My parents wouldn’t be up for a few hours and I wanted to keep it that way so I was trying to be really quiet. I reached carefully into a box of granola bars, pulled out a handful and put them into my open backpack. The rest of the boxes I tried were empty—I’d been taking snacks all week to the Secret Spot with Aleta so we were running low.
Next I moved to the refrigerator. There wasn’t much there either. I’d eaten all the sandwich meats and Mom hadn’t gone shopping to replace them yet. I grabbed a couple yogurts and thought about whether they would go bad before we had the chance to eat them. If the weather was as hot as it had been the last few days, they wouldn’t last more than a few hours.
I shoved them in anyway.
We could eat them as a mid-morning snack.
I tried to look through my backpack to see what I had so far but it was too dark to see—I hadn’t turned any of the lights on for fear of waking someone. I used my hand as my eyes and felt inside the backpack.
Goosebumps book, three bananas, two juice boxes, granola bars and two yogurts—I was all set.
I turned around to leave but let out a sharp cry when I saw someone standing in the shadows behind me.
I cursed myself when I saw that it was only Sammy in his Spiderman pajamas. I hoped I hadn’t woken up my parents.
“Jeez, Sammy,” I hissed, “don’t sneak up on me like that! How long have you been behind me?”
The small silhouette shrugged.
“Why are you up? You should still be asleep—it’s really early.”
Sammy ignored my question. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going to meet Aleta,” I said. “I have to leave or I’ll be late.” I started moving toward the door but Sammy followed right beside me.
“But it’s still night out.”
“It won’t be soon and we want to see the sunrise. Which is why I have to go now.” I sat down and started pulling on my shoes.
“Can I come?” Sammy asked, sitting down beside me and grabbing his boots.
I let out a long exasperated sigh. “No, Sammy, you can’t come. You’ve had fevers all week. Mom wouldn’t be happy if you went outside this early when you’re not feeling well.”
It was the truth. Sammy had been sick all week. Every morning when I’d gotten up he’d still been in bed—which was not like Sammy to sleep in—and his sheets were always drenched with sweat from his fevers.
Of course there was a bigger reason Sammy couldn’t come but I didn’t want to mention the Secret Spot or he’d start asking questions.
“But I feel better!” Sammy whined, his voice louder as he sensed I wasn’t going to let him come. I knew if I didn’t think of something quickly the tears would start and Mom and Dad would wake up.
As usual, my mind went to the Levels.
“Why didn’t you say you felt better?” I said, sounding as excited as possible without raising my voice. “I’ve been waiting for you to get better all week so you could start your daily missions!”
“Daily missions?” Sammy asked, looking confused.
“Tell me you know what the daily missions are?”
Sammy shook his head.
“Oh, all right, I’ll explain it. Sometimes I think you don’t even care about the Levels. You certainly don’t know much about getting them.”
“I do care about the Levels!” Sammy said. “I want to be an Eagle!”
“Well, if you want to be an Eagle you better start doing your daily missions. Now that you’re feeling better, I’m going to start giving you a mission each day, and if you complete it, you get a Level. Of course the missions are hard work and they’ll take you all day—so you won’t be able to come with me.”
Sammy stopped pulling on his boots and thought this through. “But can’t I do it tomorrow? I want to come see the sun.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head and standing up. I needed to leave and was getting impatient. I was going to miss the sunrise. “It has to start today. Either you decide now or you won’t be an Eagle.”
Sammy could tell I was serious. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll do the missions. What do I have to do?”
“Hmm,” I said, frantically looking around, trying to think of something quickly—something that would occupy Sammy for the whole day.
I walked over to the sink and opened the cupboard below. Mom kept empty mason jars for making jam and I grabbed one.
“Today’s mission is to catch one hundred live ants in this jar.”
“One hundred!” Sammy cried.
“Shhhhh! You’re going to wake Mom and Dad! Yes, one hundred.”
“But I can’t do that!”
“Yes you can—I did it to get my Cheetah Level when I was only four. And besides, are you telling me you want to quit before you’ve even tried? Because I can always find someone else to train—someone who’s actually willing to put in the work to become an Eagle.”
“No, I do, I do. I mean I will.” I passed Sammy the jar and he took it. “It’s just that—”
Sammy didn’t get to finish his sentence because I was already out the door. I saw him standing on the other side with the jar held tightly to his chest. I felt sorry leaving him behind but it was already starting to get lighter outside and I didn’t have time for feeling sorry. I took off running through the backyard at a full sprint.
It was Aleta who had suggested getting up early for the sunrise. We had come back to the Secret Spot every day after discovering it and had spent hours reading beneath the trees. It turned out Aleta liked Goosebumps books just as much as Sammy and I. She had read the whole series once and was working on them a second time while she waited for new ones to come out. I hadn’t even finished them once—partly because I was a slow reader, partly because Sammy asked so many questions.
But the odd thing about Aleta and her reading was this: every time I looked up at her to see how much further she’d made it through her book, she didn’t actually seem to be reading. She spent more time looking out over Lake Huron than actually reading. And all the while she had this look on her face like she was thinking really, really hard about something. Like there was something confusing about the water.
“If you stare at that lake for too long you’ll go blind,” I finally joked.
Aleta hadn’t responded. She just kept staring off into the distance like she hadn’t heard me.
“You sure like the view, huh?” I said, trying again to get some sort of response.
“Yeah,” she said, still staring at the water.
I went back to reading. When
Aleta gave a one-word answer that meant she didn’t feel like talking, and when she didn’t feel like talking, there was no point trying to force the issue. All I’d get were more one-word answers.
But then to my surprise, she continued, “It reminds me of my auntie’s house in Mexico. Of course this is a lake and that was the ocean, but the sun reflects off the waves the same.” She was sitting with her arms stretched out behind her and kept looking at the water as she spoke. “My parents used to wake Raquel and me up early on clear mornings and we’d drive down to the beach and sit on a blanket; waiting for the sun. And when it came, the beach changed into the most magical place on earth. The whole ocean would turn orange and gold—the sand, the boats floating offshore—everything, golden. But it would only last a few minutes before it was over. The magic would leave our beach and move on to the next. My mother used to say that people who don’t believe in magic don’t get up before the sun.” Aleta looked at me. “Have you ever seen a sunrise over water?”
I shook my head.
“I bet the sunrise here would be amazing. We should come really early one morning and see.”
I liked that idea a lot.
“How about tomorrow?” I suggested.
Aleta hesitated. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow might not…”—she paused, debated it momentarily—“okay, tomorrow. We’ll have to be up really early though.”
And that’s how I found myself running through cornfields at a ridiculous hour. I’d grabbed a flashlight but it wasn’t much help. It only gave me enough time to see what I was going to step in—not enough time to avoid it. Still, I ran the entire way without stopping—partly because I didn’t want to miss the sunrise, partly because I was scared that if I stopped something would jump out of the corn and eat me.
When I got to the pond it was empty.
“Aleta?”
“Up here,” a voice called back. I shined my light up into a maple and found Aleta sitting on a low branch.