Andrew and Will eyeballed each other, then in unison turned to Cami. “Uh, no.”
Cami was the only girl Will spoke to in his entire class. She was kind, sort of cute, and always spoke her mind—even if he rarely listened to her. “Okay, well, while you little guys play your cowboy games, I’m going to get some punch.” She marched over to one of the refreshment tables.
When Cami was out of earshot, Andrew spoke up. “All right, get onto the donkey’s back, I’ll give you ten bucks. If you don’t, you have to pay up. Deal?”
Will furrowed his brow and got in Andrew’s face. “Deal.” They shook on it and Will started to leave, but a swift tap on the arm from Simon stopped him.
“I was thinking, as long as everybody’s making wagers,” Simon said, looking over the top of his glasses, “I’ll buy you the first souvenir of our trip—no more than five dollars—if you race the donkey around the yard. You can’t just ride it. I’m talking a full gallop. If there’s no gallop, you pick up the souvenir.”
Will considered the offer for barely a second. “I’m going to be ten dollars richer and score a free souvenir. You’re on too.” He shot the boys a crooked smile, then ran off to appeal the donkey ban to the authority of last resort.
Dan Wilder, Will’s father, with his tortoiseshell glasses and blue apron, stood at the barbecue pit on the deck methodically tending his perfectly spaced burgers. He laid them out like houses on a map at one of his city planning meetings. Dan Wilder was an architect, a city councilman, and a planner for the town of Perilous Falls. He had a refined sense of order even when it came to grilling—patties were restricted to the lower grill, veggies on the top.
As dads went, Dan was a handsome one. He had a strong, square jaw, and aside from three slight scars on the left side of his face, Dan could have been on the cover of any grocery checkout aisle magazine. A dad of few words, he usually kept to himself, attentively watching while others chattered on. Indeed, he had overheard Will’s donkey pleas all day by the time the boy made his approach.
“Dad, I was wondering…”
Without looking up from the smoldering patty at the end of his spatula, Mr. Wilder announced, “The answer…son…is no.” Then, brightening, he added, “Do you want a burger?”
“Unless it can ride me around the yard, no thanks.” Will stalked away in a huff to plot his next move.
He climbed onto a picnic table close to his house and studied the landscape like a general planning an invasion. How to get on that donkey?
On the opposite side of his yard stood the squinty-eyed, mustached Heinrich Crinshaw. The Wilders’ bow-tied next-door neighbor was chairman of the Perilous Falls City Council and a constant if disagreeable presence at family events. On the surface Mr. Crinshaw seemed a refined gentleman, even warm.
Until he opened his mouth.
In a flat drone, he advised the neighborhood kids to stay on the Wilders’ side of the fence, worried that they might leap into his garden and ruin the rare flowers and herbs he spent thousands of dollars maintaining.
“There’s nothing over there for you,” he croaked to the kids when their parents were out of earshot. Then, bending down to their level, with a smile he added, “Though my dog, Suzy, might like to see you all. She so enjoys children. She ate two last year—bones and all.”
Mr. Crinshaw turned away as a couple of the little girls immediately burst into tears.
Will spied Aunt Freda, Deborah Wilder’s blond relative, who had made herself snack guardian. Looking like an albino elephant caught in a kelly-green bedsheet, Freda jealously protected the table from approaching guests, gobbling cheese squares and chips as she made her way toward the cake at the other end of the table.
Across from Aunt Freda, near the drink station, Mayor Ava Lynch held a circle of parents spellbound. Her red suit and helmet of hard black hair seemed out of place at a backyard summer party. With the help of some sort of greasy youth cream, her skeletal face was quite animated that day. “No, no…this city has got to move beyond the shackles of its history or we will never grow,” she brayed, as if giving a campaign speech. At nearly seventy years old, the mayor’s booming voice could still fill a yard, even reaching Will. “That’s why I decided to cancel this year’s Jacob Wilder Day celebrations. The world is changing, and it is high time Perilous Falls evolves with it. We can’t pretend we’re in the era of Jacob Wilder anymore,” she said, chuckling.
Will saw his great-aunt Lucille Wilder’s face flush with color at the mention of Jacob Wilder. Fireworks were coming. The compact woman with strawberry-blond hair spun on her heels to face the mayor.
“Who are you to cancel a forty-five-year tradition?” Aunt Lucille asked in a sharp voice, her curls trembling as if to emphasize the point. “My father gave his life for this town, and I’ll be stewed if you are going to stamp out his memory. Find another punching bag for your campaign, Ava—preferably someone living. You should all remember, there would be no Perilous Falls were it not for my father, Jacob Wilder.” Those watching the little woman with fire in her arresting blue eyes fell silent.
“Oh, Lucille. You have to admit that your father’s superstitious tales were wearing thin even when we were children. All that devil stuff…” Mayor Lynch laughed, trying to win over the crowd. “I know that your father founded the town—and it is wonderful that you run his little museum, bless your heart—but those antique trinkets and all your daddy’s stories won’t make a safe and prosperous future for Perilous Falls. We’re in the twenty-first century now, honey. People no longer believe the things our parents did. And we just don’t have the resources to celebrate old fables, or even the one who created them.”
The red hue of Aunt Lucille’s face clashed with the powder-blue silk pantsuit she wore. Like loose pajamas, the material swallowed up Lucille’s trim frame—but not her hands, which had balled into fists.
“Your eyes see nothing, Ava, dear. They never did. My father was a visionary who had courage and virtues you’ve never possessed. If you don’t agree with his beliefs, or his warnings, say so. But don’t disparage a man you never knew. Without my family, you might still be seating customers at Belle’s Lounge.” Lucille stared holes into the mayor. “My grandfather Abe opened his first iron ore mine here when it was nothing but wilderness. My father tamed that wilderness with a purpose. He established schools and churches, and the city hall that you profane. He always said Perilous Falls was to be the last stronghold against the dark madness of the world. Our faith and our traditions are what sustain this town, Ms. Mayor. It is who we are. It is who we will always be. That is the legacy of Jacob Wilder, and I will celebrate him with or without mayoral approval. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Aunt Lucille turned a withering glance on the mayor and bolted toward the house.
“Poor woman’s lost her mind,” Mayor Lynch whispered to those nearest her.
Though in her sixty-sixth year, Aunt Lucille looked far younger as she strode across the yard with the ease and grace of a powerful dancer. She stopped next to Will’s mom, throwing an arm dramatically on her shoulder.
“Deb, dear, I totally forgot that I have a physical therapy session today,” Aunt Lucille said. “I left my gift for Leo on the kitchen table. Tell him I want to see his new karate moves and take him out on the boat one day this week, just him and me.”
“Did Ava say something?” Deborah asked, suddenly serious. “Don’t leave. Why don’t you two try to settle your differences?”
“Deceit and lies are differences to be avoided, not settled. Ava Lynch’s lies have done enough damage to this family…,” Aunt Lucille said darkly, shoving both hands into her brocaded silken pockets. Then, smiling, she added, “I would love to stay for the rest of the party, but my physical therapy is so important these days. Let’s talk later, dear.”
Catching sight of Will on the picnic table as she reached the kitchen door, she threw him an exaggerated kiss and, her finger bouncing as if striking a note on an invisible piano, silently mouthed, “You�
�be—good.” With a wave, she was gone in a flash of blue silk.
Deborah followed Aunt Lucille to the center of the yard and announced, “There’s only one more donkey ride to go before we eat. It’s the birthday boy’s turn!” She motioned for her younger son to come forward.
“Mom, I don’t need a commercial.” The eight-year-old with the pouty lips and glasses rolled his eyes. Leo reluctantly edged past his friends toward a jumpy donkey leashed to an old bearded fellow.
“You ride as long as you want,” Mrs. Wilder cooed to the red-faced Leo. “It’s your day. You’re the boss.” She returned to filling cups with punch and ordered Mr. Wilder to start doling out his precious hamburgers.
From the fence Andrew snapped a ten-dollar bill over his head, nodding knowingly at Will. Simon rotated his hands in a circular motion to spur Will to action.
Feeling the pressure, Will glared at Leo riding the donkey in lazy rings. He struggled to devise some way onto the animal’s back.
Just then, something out of the corner of Will’s eye drew his attention. A hunched black form crept into the very edge of his vision, sending a chill through his body. The air suddenly reeked, and his nose tingled. Will was afraid to look directly at the form, but he could feel its menace. Given its size, it could have been a crouching bear or even an ogre from one of his kiddie books. But when he mustered the courage to turn his head to face it, he saw nothing.
Shadows and “fuzzy things” appearing in his peripheral vision had been an ongoing problem for Will since he was at least four years old. He had seen them at school, down near the Perilous River, even at friends’ houses. His mother had repeatedly taken him to the eye doctor to diagnose the problem. But each time, Dr. Schwartz reported that there was nothing wrong with Will’s vision and that the shadows were likely the result of too little sleep. Dr. Schwartz suggested that they “continue to monitor the situation” and that Will get some extra rest.
This shadow is different, Will thought with a shiver. It had density and more shape than the others. It seemed alive. Will might have dwelled on the shadow all afternoon had an idea not flashed into his mind, pushing those thoughts aside. The catapult. That’s how he would win the bet and get the donkey ride. He’d take his mother’s advice after all.
Will had been working on the contraption for three weeks, since the start of summer break. Rather than walking around the block to school, which was right next to his house, Will thought it might be fun to simply fling himself over the fence and into the schoolyard. Once classes resumed in the fall, he reasoned, the catapult could cut his daily travel time in half and allow him to sleep at least an extra five minutes a day.
He had constructed the machine out of an old infant car seat from the family garage, as well as springs and levers rescued from the Hinnom Valley Dump. Aside from launching Marin’s stuffed animals and a few books over the fence, the catapult had yet to move anything substantial. Leo regularly begged Will to let him be the first “human trial.” Each time, Will would gravely shake his head and deny his younger brother’s request.
“It’s not ready yet. It’s not safe,” he’d say seriously. “Soon, Leo, very soon.”
Will leapt off the picnic table, grabbed his pith helmet from the deck, and ran across the lawn. “Where are you going with that thing?” Dan Wilder yelled from his burger station. “Will?”
A gift from his aunt Lucille, the war-ravaged helmet had once belonged to Will’s great-grandfather, Jacob Wilder. At the center of the hat was an impressive brass medallion with an angry pelican, wings spread, feeding its young. The splendor of the helmet ended there. The canvas on the front of the hat had been badly marred by six crisscrossed slashes. A powerful pair of jaws had chomped into the right side of the brim, leaving a healthy bite mark behind. Still, the hat gave Will confidence. It had become part of his standard attire, much like his red sneakers and white socks. And though he sometimes carried it in his backpack, if an adventure was afoot, the helmet was on Will’s head—a sure sign of trouble to his parents.
At the makeshift corral at the other end of the yard, Leo told the stooped old man holding the donkey’s reins, “I think I’m ready to get off.”
“Have it your way,” the old gent said, shuffling forward to help the boy down.
“Not so fast, Leo. It’s your birthday lap.” Will sandwiched himself between the old man and his brother. “It’s a special moment.”
“I’m getting sleepy going round and round.”
Will looked over his shoulder to make sure his mother was occupied with the kids and that his dad was still passing out burgers at the grill.
“I have a surprise for your birthday.” Will pushed Leo back onto the donkey. “What have you been wanting to do for weeks?”
Leo’s eyes grew huge. “Test the catapult!”
“Everything’s set. I’ve adjusted the weight and added some springs. I think it just might work this time. You could even make it over the fence. But…”
“But what? It’s my birthday!” Leo drew his eyebrows together and shoved his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Can I use the catapult or not?”
The old man holding on to the donkey was tired of listening. “If it’s all the same to you boys, I’m going to get a taste of cake. Then Johnny and I are headin’ back to the farm.” He tied the animal to the fence post with Leo still aboard and tottered away.
Will had that familiar wild glint in his hazel eyes. “If you agree to let me ride the rest of your birthday lap on the donkey, you can test the catapult.”
“Should we ask Mom?” Leo wondered.
“She said you were ‘the boss.’ I heard her. The choice is yours.”
Leo brightened and leapt off the donkey. Within seconds Will had untied the reins from the post and mounted the animal.
“Go get in the catapult, Leo. I’ll come by and launch you in a minute,” Will instructed his brother. Leo bounded like a small bear across the lawn, adjusting his glasses as he dodged party guests.
“I think you just lost ten bucks, moron,” Simon told Andrew as they leaned against the fence. “Now let’s see how fast he can move on that thing.”
The donkey’s owner spotted Will on the animal’s back. “Hey, son, you’re too big to ride Johnny!” he yelled.
Before the old fellow could form another word, Will had jammed his heels into the animal’s backside, determined to win the bet with Simon. The donkey began to buck wildly, lifting its hind legs and kicking at the air. Will tried to get the animal to gallop, but it had other ideas. Round and round it spun, trying to remove the boy from its back.
Parents pulled their children close to shield them from the donkey’s killer hooves. A disgusted Mayor Lynch hastily excused herself and headed out the yard’s side gate, Heinrich Crinshaw following close behind.
On the deck, Dan Wilder dropped his tongs into the barbecue pit. Terror covered his face. “Not the donkey,” he said almost to himself. “Will! Will! Off the donkey!”
The braying animal leapt atop the snack table, sending potato chips and cookies flying in all directions. Ignoring Will’s frantic tug on the reins, the donkey started jumping up and down. At the other end of the table, Aunt Freda focused on the trembling birthday cake before her.
“Deborah!” she yelped to her niece. “Should I take the cake to a safer spot or just leave it?” But before Mrs. Wilder could respond, the bouncing donkey sent the table’s edge and the cake flying into Aunt Freda’s jaw. She tumbled backward, her face covered in frosting.
The donkey’s hooves skidded off the table’s surface, Will still holding on.
“William David Wilder! Get down!” Deborah Wilder screeched through gritted teeth as she attempted to revive her unconscious aunt.
“That could be kind of difficult right now,” Will said, one arm around the donkey, the other holding his pith helmet in place. “Heeee-yaaaa,” he boomed, grinding his heels into the sides of the donkey. The animal reared up and began to run toward the tree at the
far end of the yard, not far from where Leo impatiently squirmed in the catapult.
“Hurry up and launch me,” Leo demanded, holding the sides of the old car seat. “I have a birthday party to get back to.” Leo had tied pillows to the front and back of his body to buffer his landing.
Will galloped onward. The lever for the catapult, a slightly warped Louisville Slugger bat, was just eight feet away. Will reached his hand out, ready to throw the switch.
“Almost there,” Will grunted. Suddenly the donkey slid to a complete stop, tearing up the grass with its hooves and tossing Will headlong toward the catapult.
“Aaah!” Will screamed as he flew into the lever, cracking the bat. Splinters of wood pierced his skin, slicing his hand and wrist.
PLUUUUNG. Will looked up from his throbbing wrist to see Leo sailing into the upper branches of the tree. His catapult really worked!
Leo flew much higher than Will thought possible, but his brother’s body wasn’t arcing wide enough, and he was dangerously approaching the top of the fence.
“Mom! DAAAAAAD!” Leo screamed on his descent.
Will realized with a pang of guilt that he should have tightened the tension on the springs. But before he could calculate how much added force would be necessary, Leo smashed shoulder-first into a wooden slat, breaking the top off and flipping into the schoolyard.
“Leo!” Dan Wilder yelled, running toward the edge of his property and his whimpering son. “You’re punished, Will,” he fumed as he began to scale the fence, still in his blue apron. “I mean—all summer!”
The whole yard fell quiet as everyone listened to the scene on the other side of the sun-bleached wooden slats.
“Are you all right? Can you stand up?” Dan asked Leo.
“My arm hit the board. I can’t move it,” Leo whined.
“His arm may be broken. He’s bleeding, Deb,” Dan shouted over the fence. “We’re going to have to take him to the hospital.”
Will Wilder Page 2