The Candy Shop War
Page 36
Trevor helped with the shovel, and Summer kicked at the dirt as well, but it was Nate using the Forty-niner to wrestle earth into the hole that got the job done. In the end, the grave looked recessed and grassless. Too much of the dirt had dispersed too widely as Nate had chucked it skyward during his digging. Staring at the grave, they could see how obvious it would be that somebody had dug it up.
Trevor walked over to Summer. “What do we do?” he asked.
She surveyed the area. “Nothing. Had we been thinking, we would have cut out squares of grass at the start, set them aside, and laid them back down now. At least we got the box and pretty much filled in the hole. We better get out of here.”
“Should I wake you up, Nate?” Trevor asked.
The Forty-niner bobbed his head.
Nate felt the rush of wind against his eyeball and was once again back in his own body. He was already back to his original race. Summer remained Polynesian. Trevor had not ingested a Melting Pot Mixer.
Trevor and Nate hauled the Forty-niner back up to Hanaver’s tombstone; then they went and found a Latino Pigeon sleeping beside the supply shed. They woke him up, retrieved their bikes, and rode home.
Chapter Nine
Clean Slate
Nate stood at the front of Mt. Diablo Elementary, watching from beneath an overhang as rain streaked down, wondering why white sidewalks turned brown when they became wet. A nearby gutter funneled a steady flow of water from the roof. Great pools had formed in the overcrowded parking lot, where kids were trying to leap into cars without dousing their shoes.
The rain had caught him unprepared. There had been a few clouds in the sky when his mom drove him to school. The day had grown overcast by first recess, then the rain began around lunchtime, accompanied by prolonged growls of thunder. Although the thunder had passed, a ceiling of murky clouds stretched to all horizons.
Trevor exited the main office and trotted over to Nate. “My mom is coming,” he said. “She’ll take all of us.”
“At least somebody still has parents,” Nate said. He and Pigeon had both already tried to phone home and reached only voice mail.
“I’m surprised none of our families knew the rain was coming,” Pigeon said. “Plenty of kids brought raincoats and umbrellas.”
“Mrs. White should start printing the forecast on her fudge boxes,” Summer proposed.
Trevor shifted his backpack on his shoulders. “What should we do about the thingy we found?”
The previous night, after returning from the cemetery, they had unfastened the clasp on the ivory box and opened it. Inside, bundled in silky fabric, they found what looked like a little golden spyglass. When they had looked through the spyglass, whatever image they focused on was fractured into fragments, as if someone had inserted kaleidoscope mirrors into a telescope. Upon further examination, they had discovered no other clues in the box, among the silken wrappings, or on the view-warping spyglass.
“We go home, get dressed for the weather, and meet on the path by the Nest,” Nate said.
“I still say we take the telescope apart,” Summer insisted.
“And I still say it isn’t made to dismantle easily,” Nate said. “It seems too fancy, with mirrors or whatever inside—we’ll mess it up.”
Summer crossed her arms. “I don’t want to rely on Mrs. White. I want to see the clues myself.”
“If we could see screws or something we’d give it a try,” Trevor said. “I agree with Nate.”
“Me too,” Pigeon said quietly.
“Okay, have it your way,” Summer relented. “But if Mrs. White claims she found a clue inside the telescope telling us to rob a church, I’m turning in my candy.”
Nate shrugged. He gave Pigeon a playful shove. “I saw you dozing in class,” he said. “Not that Miss Doulin noticed.”
“I couldn’t keep my eyes open for a while there,” Pigeon confessed. “I hope next time Mrs. White gives us an assignment we can do during the day.”
“Have you guys seen Denny or Kyle or Eric?” Summer asked.
“I saw Kyle on my way into school,” Trevor said. “He noticed me and avoided me. I think we’re in the clear with them. Oh, speaking of that, did I tell you guys I saw the dude with the overcoat?”
“No, where?” Summer asked.
“I was at the Colson General Store yesterday with my mom. He was sitting by the entrance reading a paper and keeping an eye on everyone. Mrs. White was right that he’s definitely up to something. I forgot to tell you guys last night.”
“Did you play it cool?” Nate asked.
“I think so,” Trevor said. “But he gave me a look that made me nervous. Hopefully it was just in my head.”
They stood listening to the patter of the rain, watching the cars in the parking lot dwindle. Miss Doulin scurried over to her little hatchback without a coat, holding a leather satchel over her head, and entered through the passenger door to avoid the puddle on the other side.
“You guys stranded?” a mellow voice asked from behind them.
They turned. It was Gary Haag, the custodian. Nate had seen him around a few times. He was a thin guy in his early thirties with a wispy mustache and a light brown mullet that dangled to the base of his neck in straggly curls. He wore a denim jacket decorated with images doodled in black ink: a Viking ship, a frowning snowman, a dollar sign made out of cobras, Homer Simpson’s head, a snowflake, a scuba diver, a pair of dice, a curved sword, a biplane, an algebra equation, a hamburger. A ring with at least twenty keys dangled from his belt. The odor of cigarettes lingered about him.
“My mom’s coming,” Trevor said.
“Oh, right on, I was feeling bad for you guys,” Gary said, brushing hair out of his eyes. “I was going to find you a ride or something.” He looked up at the gray clouds. “You’re not dressed to walk home, and that rain ain’t letting up anytime soon.”
“That’s nice of you,” Summer said. “We’ll be all right.”
“How you been doing, Pigeon?” Gary asked.
“Good,” Pigeon said.
“Right on.” Gary stood with his hands on his waist, examining the sky. “You ever wonder if the clouds are really just hiding alien spaceships, like in that movie? I mean, this could be a full-on invasion.”
Nate could think of a few movies Gary might be referencing. “It’s a big storm,” he said to fill the silence.
Gary nodded. “Don’t you wish rain would fall from
Trevor walked over to Summer. “What do we do?” he asked.
She surveyed the area. “Nothing. Had we been thinking, we would have cut out squares of grass at the start, set them aside, and laid them back down now. At least we got the box and pretty much filled in the hole. We better get out of here.”
“Should I wake you up, Nate?” Trevor asked.
The Forty-niner bobbed his head.
Nate felt the rush of wind against his eyeball and was once again back in his own body. He was already back to his original race. Summer remained Polynesian. Trevor had not ingested a Melting Pot Mixer.
Trevor and Nate hauled the Forty-niner back up to Hanaver’s tombstone; then they went and found a Latino Pigeon sleeping beside the supply shed. They woke him up, retrieved their bikes, and rode home.
Chapter Nine
Clean Slate
Nate stood at the front of Mt. Diablo Elementary, watching from beneath an overhang as rain streaked down, wondering why white sidewalks turned brown when they became wet. A nearby gutter funneled a steady flow of water from the roof. Great pools had formed in the overcrowded parking lot, where kids were trying to leap into cars without dousing their shoes.
The rain had caught him unprepared. There had been a few clouds in the sky when his mom drove him to school. The day had grown overcast by first recess, then the rain began around lunchtime, accompanied by prolonged growls of thunder. Although the thunder had passed, a ceiling of murky clouds stretched to all horizons.
Trevor exited the main office and trotted over to Nate. “My mom is coming,” he said. “She’ll take all of us.”
“At least somebody still has parents,” Nate said. He and Pigeon had both already tried to phone home and reached only voice mail.
“I’m surprised none of our families knew the rain was coming,” Pigeon said. “Plenty of kids brought raincoats and umbrellas.”
“Mrs. White should start printing the forecast on her fudge boxes,” Summer proposed.
Trevor shifted his backpack on his shoulders. “What should we do about the thingy we found?”
The previous night, after returning from the cemetery, they had unfastened the clasp on the ivory box and opened it. Inside, bundled in silky fabric, they found what looked like a little golden spyglass. When they had looked through the spyglass, whatever image they focused on was fractured into fragments, as if someone had inserted kaleidoscope mirrors into a telescope. Upon further examination, they had discovered no other clues in the box, among the silken wrappings, or on the view-warping spyglass.
“We go home, get dressed for the weather, and meet on the path by the Nest,” Nate said.
“I still say we take the telescope apart,” Summer insisted.
“And I still say it isn’t made to dismantle easily,” Nate said. “It seems too fancy, with mirrors or whatever inside—we’ll mess it up.”
Summer crossed her arms. “I don’t want to rely on Mrs. White. I want to see the clues myself.”
“If we could see screws or something we’d give it a try,” Trevor said. “I agree with Nate.”
“Me too,” Pigeon said quietly.
“Okay, have it your way,” Summer relented. “But if Mrs. White claims she found a clue inside the telescope telling us to rob a church, I’m turning in my candy.”
Nate shrugged. He gave Pigeon a playful shove. “I saw you dozing in class,” he said. “Not that Miss Doulin noticed.”
“I couldn’t keep my eyes open for a while there,” Pigeon confessed. “I hope next time Mrs. White gives us an assignment we can do during the day.”
“Have you guys seen Denny or Kyle or Eric?” Summer asked.
“I saw Kyle on my way into school,” Trevor said. “He noticed me and avoided me. I think we’re in the clear with them. Oh, speaking of that, did I tell you guys I saw the dude with the overcoat?”
“No, where?” Summer asked.
“I was at the Colson General Store yesterday with my mom. He was sitting by the entrance reading a paper and keeping an eye on everyone. Mrs. White was right that he’s definitely up to something. I forgot to tell you guys last night.”
“Did you play it cool?” Nate asked.
“I think so,” Trevor said. “But he gave me a look that made me nervous. Hopefully it was just in my head.”
They stood listening to the patter of the rain, watching the cars in the parking lot dwindle. Miss Doulin scurried over to her little hatchback without a coat, holding a leather satchel over her head, and entered through the passenger door to avoid the puddle on the other side.
“You guys stranded?” a mellow voice asked from behind them.
They turned. It was Gary Haag, the custodian. Nate had seen him around a few times. He was a thin guy in his early thirties with a wispy mustache and a light brown mullet that dangled to the base of his neck in straggly curls. He wore a denim jacket decorated with images doodled in black ink: a Viking ship, a frowning snowman, a dollar sign made out of cobras, Homer Simpson’s head, a snowflake, a scuba diver, a pair of dice, a curved sword, a biplane, an algebra equation, a hamburger. A ring with at least twenty keys dangled from his belt. The odor of cigarettes lingered about him.
“My mom’s coming,” Trevor said.
“Oh, right on, I was feeling bad for you guys,” Gary said, brushing hair out of his eyes. “I was going to find you a ride or something.” He looked up at the gray clouds. “You’re not dressed to walk home, and that rain ain’t letting up anytime soon.”
“That’s nice of you,” Summer said. “We’ll be all right.”
“How you been doing, Pigeon?” Gary asked.
“Good,” Pigeon said.
“Right on.” Gary stood with his hands on his waist, examining the sky. “You ever wonder if the clouds are really just hiding alien spaceships, like in that movie? I mean, this could be a full-on invasion.”
Nate could think of a few movies Gary might be referencing. “It’s a big storm,” he said to fill the silence.
Gary nodded. “Don’t you wish rain would fall from
