“You’re supposed to be Davy Crockett, not Geronimo,” I said, out of breath.
“I think I’d rather be Geronimo. I’ve always liked the Indians better, anyway. Since I don’t get to be Daniel Boone, I want to be Geronimo.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “It don’t really matter to me which one you pick, but I’ve got the Indian walking stick here, so it might work better if I’m Geronimo and you’re Daniel Boone.”
“You just want to be the best one,” said Charlie. “First you wanted to be Daniel Boone, but when I come up with a better idea, you want to be that too.”
“It don’t matter to me. I can be Daniel Boone. I was just saying that because I have the Indian walking stick.”
“Whoever said Indians carried walking sticks, anyway. I don’t remember hearing about Indians carrying walking sticks.”
“Just forget it,” I said, throwing the stick.
“You don’t have to get mad about it.”
“I’m not mad.”
Charlie looked at his watch and said, “It’s after ten o’clock. Stephanie should be here pretty soon. I bet you she won’t come. She’ll just take my twenty dollars and spend it.”
“She wouldn’t do that. It’s just taking her a while to get up here.”
Tired and hot from running around, we relaxed on a big rock and waited. Looking at the old truck, I imagined that it was the shell of a giant beetle that had died many years ago. Thinking of a giant beetle reminded me of a book that I had once checked out at the town library. It was full of colorful pictures of enormous animals that had gone extinct thousands of years ago. There was a huge tiger with fangs too big for its mouth, a giant sloth that reminded me of a huge ground hog, and a shark big enough to swallow a bus. I had enjoyed looking at the pictures and reading the descriptions until it came time to go to bed. The minute I turned out the lamp, images of these creatures coming back to life terrified me. I turned the lamp on again and took the book into the kitchen, hiding it in the back of a cabinet drawer. I felt better after that and went to sleep. The book stayed in the back of that drawer until one day, a few weeks later, my mom asked me what I’d done with the book. She said the library had sent a notice saying it was late. I was glad to take the book back because some nights I’d wake up and remember the book was in the drawer, and I’d have to cover my head with my blankets.
At about twenty minutes after ten we spotted Stephanie walking up the old road. We excitedly ran up to her.
“See, I told you she’d make it,” I said. “She didn’t take your money. I knew she wouldn’t. She’s got a sack of stuff from the store.”
“I’m glad to see you two,” said Stephanie, as she approached. “I was a nervous wreck walking up that road by myself. That’s the longest road I’ve ever walked on. You didn’t tell me the road was a hundred miles long. And there’s no telling what kind of animals are in these woods.”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything that’ll hurt you during the daytime,” said Charlie.
“I hope there’s nothing that’ll hurt us at night either,” I added.
“Let’s sit down and relax,” said Stephanie. “I’m worn out from that walk. I brought some food. I figured you’d be starving to death.”
“No, we ate a big breakfast this morning, but I’m always hungry.” said Charlie.
“A big breakfast? Where’d y’all find food for a big breakfast?”
“Nowhere,” I said, giving Charlie a dirty look. “We gathered up some food in the woods and ate.”
“Yeah,” said Charlie, catching my drift. “We found a dead deer and ate it. It was delicious.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Stephanie. “I can’t believe you two ate that. I hope you don’t get sick and die.”
We walked over to the big rock and sat down. Stephanie opened up a sack and brought out some bologna sandwiches and potato chips. A thermos held lemonade which Charlie and I shared. I asked Stephanie if she was going to drink any of the lemonade, but she said she wouldn’t dare drink after us, being that we had eaten a dead deer. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but the sandwiches still tasted good. Charlie ate them like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Look a here,” I said, holding a potato chip up for inspection then eating it. “That potato chip was about half green.”
“I wonder if it means good luck to find a green potato chip,” said Stephanie.
“No,” said Charlie. “It probably just means it’s rotten.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said. “Now I feel great about eating a rotten potato chip. I liked the good-luck theory the best.”
“You two really are in a mess,” said Stephanie in a serious tone, abruptly changing the subject. “Everybody’s looking for you. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get out of the house. My mom told me, before she left for work this morning, to lock the doors and to not go outside or let anybody in until she got back home tonight. She thinks somebody is going around kidnapping children. She said anybody that kidnaps children should be locked up with the door welded shut. I can’t stay up here too long, or they’ll be looking for me too.”
“Wow,” said Charlie. “This has gotten crazy. The police are looking for us, and your mom thinks we’ve been kidnapped. I wonder what the rest of the town thinks. This is just out of control.”
“My mom almost had me too scared to go out of the house, but then I remembered that y’all was just hiding out. But I got scared again about half way up here when I saw that old house. I got worried that maybe that old man was still living and that maybe he had kidnapped you or something. Also, I smelled smoke coming from the house. That made me even more nervous. I thought I was going to have a stroke before I got up here. I was so glad to see you two. I’d of croaked if I’d got up here and nobody was around.”
“Oh, I wish I’d of thought of it,” said Charlie.
“Thought of what?” asked Stephanie.
“I wish we would have hid somewhere until we saw you. Then we could have jumped out and scared you.”
Charlie and I thought it was funny but Stephanie didn’t. “You better not do something like that,” she said, not laughing. “I would have just died if y’all had done that. I was scared to death already.”
“You would have thought it was funny too after you got over being scared,” said Charlie.
“I would have been in the hospital suffering from a heart attack, is what would have happened.”
With that we all laughed, including Stephanie. We finished eating, and Stephanie carefully picked up the trash Charlie and I had thrown down, placing it in the paper sack. It occurred to me that, although Stephanie was poor by most standards, there was something sophisticated about her. It was as though she knew in her heart that she wasn’t always going to be living in a dilapidated trailer, that one day she would be important and wealthy, and was going to act accordingly in the meantime. At that moment, I understood why she made up stories. She was embarrassed about her current station in life, the same way a person born into wealth would be that suddenly found herself broke, only with Stephanie it was in reverse. Anyone who saw Stephanie today, driving around in her expensive Mercedes, parking in a reserved parking space in front of one of the Square Deal Lumber Company stores she owns, would find it hard to believe that she came from such a humble background.
“I’m Geronimo,” said Charlie, “and Brian’s Daniel Boone. “You can be Pocahontas if you want.”
“That sounds like fun,” said Stephanie. “What game are we playing?”
“Cowboys and Indians,” said Charlie.
“Daniel Boone’s not a cowboy,” I said.
“Then why don’t you pick a cowboy to be?” said Charlie.
“Who would I be?” I asked.
“How about Mean Sam Cobra, the mean guy from your Johnny West action figures?” suggested Charlie.
“Or how about Howdy Doody?” said Stephanie.
“Are you kidding?” I said.
“Howdy Doody?” Charli
e said, laughing so hard he could hardly talk. I started laughing too. “Howdy Doody’s a goofy-looking doll my parents used to watch on TV when they were kids. Yeah, Brian, you can be Howdy Doody, and I’ll be Geronimo and kick your butt.”
“I didn’t know who Howdy Doody was,” said Stephanie, starting to laugh herself.
“I think I’ll just be Mean Sam Cobra,” I said, finally able to talk after laughing so much. “We’ll just pretend I’m wearing black clothes and a black cowboy hat.”
“So what do we do?” asked Stephanie.
“We’ll pretend that the old truck is a train engine, since they didn’t have trucks back then, and Brian will hide in the train. We’ll act like Brian, Mean Sam Cobra, just robbed the train. Me and you will pretend we just got done hunting and are returning home. We’ll walk past the train, and when we get close to it, Mean Sam Cobra will jump out and rob us.”
“I’ll have to find something to use as a gun,” I said and looked around on the ground until I found a small piece of wood that was crudely in the shape of a pistol. Geronimo and Pocahontas disappeared into the woods, and I was left standing beside the old truck.
Everything seemed suddenly quiet to me, like the world had stopped turning for a moment. Looking the truck over, I could see that it had once been red. I thought of what it had looked like when it was new. I wondered who the original owner had been. I imagined him to have been a young person like myself, when I got old enough to drive, of course. He must have been very proud driving that new red truck, revving up the engine, testing to see how fast it would go on a stretch of lonely country road. The older folks must have thought the pair a couple of fools. Now the truck sat abandoned with only a few chips of red paint remaining as reminders that it had once been shiny and new. I wondered where the owner was now. I wondered if he was still living, and if so, was he now as dilapidated as the rusty old truck. Did he have enough chips of red paint left to remind him of the days when he was young and testing the limits of his new truck? I hoped that, no matter how old I lived to be, I’d never lose my youthful spirit, that inside I’d stay as shiny and new as that truck had once been.
Continuing my nervous inspection of the truck, I saw that the front windshield was divided in the middle, and the driver’s side window was cracked. Of course the tires were flat, and there were no hubcaps over the wheels, exposing the circles of nuts and bolts that held them in place. Each of the wheels was shielded on top by covers that were rounded and complemented the bubble-shaped hood. The bed of the truck was a rectangle with a lip that ran all around the top it. Some type of vine had filled most of the bed and was making its way up the back of the cab, almost covering the small rectangular rear window that had rounded-corners.
The door squealed when I pulled it open, as though in agony over the sudden movement of one of its old stiffened joints. I wasn’t sure why, but I had the strange sense that I was disturbing a grave and was opening the lid of a coffin. I wanted to slam the door shut and run, but I didn’t want Charlie and Stephanie to think I was a chicken. My heart pounded, but I kept the door open and looked inside. The truck had a huge steering wheel, at least bigger than the ones I was used to, and a long clutch stuck out from the floorboard in the middle. The seat was covered in a brown canvas-like material that was dusty and dry rotted. I sat down cautiously in front of the big steering wheel. I left the door open, afraid that the rusty old door wouldn’t open again if I shut it, and I’d be trapped inside until I could crawl through a broken window between shards of broken glass, perhaps bleeding to death soon afterwards. Part of the floorboard was rusted out completely, and a few curious weeds had made their way inside.
I jumped, startled, when I heard Stephanie and Charlie approach, making that Indian warrior sound with their hands clapping their mouths while they yelled. It occurred to me that I hadn’t thought out my part in our little play. As they walked past the truck, I jumped out and pointed my wooden weapon at them and said, “Hold your hands up. This is a stick up.”
“This ain’t a bank robbery,” said Charlie. “You sound like you’re robbing a bank. That’s what a bank robber always says.”
“Other robbers might say the same thing,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Stephanie, “I don’t know what the difference would be. Now we got to start all over.”
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“Say something like, ‘Halt, who goes there?’“ said Charlie.
“That sounds ridiculous,” said Stephanie.
“I think what I said the first time sounded better than that. You want me to act like I’m trying to guard a castle or something. I mean, what kind of cowboy would say the word, ‘Halt?’“
“Just think of something,” said Charlie, “It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re the one that made a big deal out of it,” said Stephanie.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I need to get back home, anyway,” said Stephanie. “Before my mom discovers I’m not there. I’ll be in big trouble if she finds out I left the house.”
“Can you come back tomorrow?” asked Charlie.
“My mom’s off work the next two days, so there’s no way I can sneak off to come up here. Anyway, it’s too far to walk up here every day. I can come back up in three days, the day after the day after tomorrow, when my mom has to work again. Her boyfriend’s got to work tomorrow, thank goodness, and she said me and her are going to Nashville and do some shopping and see a movie. I can’t wait. We’re going to have so much fun. I hope there’s a good movie playing.”
“I’d see a good scary movie if I was you,” said Charlie.
“You’re crazy. I’d rather see a love story or something like that.”
“Yuck,” said Charlie. “I’d go into a coma if I had to sit through a stupid love movie.”
“I’d want to see either a scary movie or a comedy; maybe a good action movie would be good too,” I said.
“The best part of seeing a movie is the popcorn,” said Charlie.
“My mom said we’re going to bring our own snacks to eat.”
“They won’t let you bring your own food,” I said.
“My mom said she’s going to put it in her big purse, and they’ll never know it. She’s going to bring us some can Cokes, chips, and some candy bars.”
“I’d rather just have the popcorn,” said Charlie. “By the way, can you bring us some Cokes and candy bars when you come back again, using that money I gave you?”
“What kind of Cokes and candy bars do you want?”
“I’d like a Dr. Pepper, a Snicker’s bar and a bag of barbecue potato chips,” said Charlie.
“Just bring me a Coke, two Hershey bars with almonds, and a bag of Bugles,” I said.
“I hope I can remember all this. I don’t have anything to write it down on. I hope you know that chocolate candy bars will be melted by the time I get up here in this heat.”
“Might better make it Payday bars,” said Charlie. “I don’t think they melt.”
“Payday bars are okay,” I said.
“And y’all better not try to scare me when I come back,” said Stephanie, “or I’ll be too scared to walk up here again.”
“We won’t try to scare you,” I said.
“No, we won’t,” said Charlie. “It sure would have been a blast, though.”
With that, Stephanie headed back down the hill, leaving Charlie and me alone with the old truck. We stayed and played our cowboy game until the oppressive heat and humidity tired us out.
“The only thing I wish,” said Charlie, “is that Mr. Miller had an air conditioner in the cabin. That would make everything just perfect.”
“Then it wouldn’t be any different than living at home,” I said. “They didn’t have air conditioners back in the olden days.”
“I bet they would have used them if they did have them,” said Charlie, wiping his brow with his right forearm.”
“I guess we better head back.”
“Yeah, I guess we better.”
Chapter 12
Upon returning to the cabin, we found Mr. Miller in the back yard digging with a hoe in his small garden.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m digging up some potatoes for our supper tonight.”
“How’d they get buried?” asked Charlie.
“What do you mean, ‘How’d they get buried?’“ said Mr. Miller. “You mean you live on that huge farm, and you don’t even know how potatoes grow?”
“We don’t grow potatoes. We just grow tobacco, corn, and soybeans.”
“I know how they grow,” I said. “Potatoes are a root, so they grow underground.”
“Now that boy knows the farming business,” said Mr. Miller, “and he don’t even live on a farm.”
“I knew that,” said Charlie. “I just forgot.”
“I’m going to make us a little stew tonight,” said Mr. Miller, placing a freshly dug potato into a galvanized bucket.
“What kind of stew?” I asked.
“Raccoon stew, complete with potatoes, carrots, and onions.”
“I’ve never heard of eating raccoons before,” said Charlie.
“Best stew you’ll ever eat. I’m going to fix it tonight in my Dutch oven.”
“What’s a Dutch oven?” I asked.
“You’d think y’all was from New York City or something. That’s how the old timers used to do a lot of their cooking. It’s an iron kettle with a lid on it that you place in front of the fireplace. The heat from the fire warms up what you’re cooking. The fireplace inside has one of them fancy bars that swings out. I hang the pot on it, and that way it’s easy to move the kettle in or out of the fire. I’m going to cook it outside tonight because it’d be too hot to sleep tonight if I started a fire in the kitchen. It’s already hotter than blue blazes as it is. We’ll wait until it gets dark. There’s nothing like cooking outside at night under the stars. I’m going to hang the pot on this bar I’ve fixed here over the open fire.”
Chips of Red Paint Page 12