Saturday Boy (16 page)

Before Josie could answer, a song by something called The Jam came on and we were dancing again.

* * *

The good news was that, in addition to the salad, Aunt Josie had also made baked ziti. The bad news was that she said I had to eat some salad anyway. I did a pretty good job of picking out the cheese but a couple times I ate some cucumber that tasted a little bit like feet so I obviously didn't get all of it.

After dinner me and Aunt Josie did the dishes then went into the living room and put on the TV. We played rocks, paper, scissors to see who got the remote control and I won because Aunt Josie always threw scissors first. I flipped through the kid channels but couldn't find anything I wanted to watch or hadn't already seen like a hundred times already so I handed over the remote.

“Can I stay up until Mom gets home?”

“I don't see why not,” said Aunt Josie. “Do me a favor, though? Could you get all ready for bed first?”

I sprang up and tore through the kitchen and up the stairs. I changed into my pajamas and put a sweatshirt on and went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and was back downstairs before the commercials were even over. I flopped down on the couch and pulled the blanket over me because it was a little chilly even with the fire going.

I snuggled in against Aunt Josie and put my head on her shoulder. Then she tucked the blanket in around us and we watched a show where all the men wore ties and everyone smoked cigarettes and acted very serious and there weren't any car chases or zombies or anything. It would have been way better with zombies. Everything's better with zombies. I closed my eyes and thought about how cool it would be if there was a show with zombies who got into car chases.

“Derek?” Mom's voice. Her hand. Warm. Shaking me gently. “Wake up, Piggy-pig.”

“Time izzit?”

“It's late, sweetie. Come on up to your room. Here, lean on me.”

Mom scooped me off the couch and put her arm around my shoulders and steered me up the stairs to my bedroom. Then she helped me into bed and tucked me in and sat, brushing the hair off my forehead.

“I've been thinking about you,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What was in the letter?”

“Words.”

Mom was quiet for a minute. It was warm in my bed. I was comfy and Mom's fingers in my hair felt good. I drifted. Mom said something. I almost didn't hear it.

“Whuzzat?”

“I just asked if the letter said what you needed it to.”

I opened my eyes. The door was open and a rectangle of light fell into my room from the hallway casting all sorts of shadows. These shadows weren't scary, though. These shadows were familiar. I knew all about these shadows.

I thought about Dad's letter—about all of Dad's letters—and how, in one way or another, they've always said exactly what I needed them to. I knew which ones to read if I needed cheering up. I knew which ones would make me feel good about myself and which ones would make me feel like I could conquer the world. I knew which one to read when I forgot Mom's birthday. I remembered what Budgie said about how even when my dad wasn't here, he was still here—how our letters kept us connected.

“Are you cold?” Mom asked.

“No. Why?”

“You're shaking.”

My eyes prickled with tears and deep inside me it felt like something was trying very hard to get out. I took a deep breath. Mom had taken her hand off my head but still sat on the edge of the bed looking down at me. I was grateful for the dark. If she could see my tears she didn't say anything. There wasn't really any need to. We were both sad and we both knew why. We'd probably both be sad for a while.

“It was a good letter,” I said finally.

She moved a little and I could tell she was smiling even though her face was covered in shadows.

“I'm glad. We'll get through all of this, I promise.”

“I know. There's a solution to everything. Even if it's not clear at first.”

“Where'd you hear that?”

“Dad said it in the letter.”

“Well, your dad's right. There is a solution to everything,” she said. “I'm right down the hall if you need me, okay? I love you, Derek. Very, very much.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

She gave me another kiss, stood, and walked out of the room, leaving the door cracked a little to let some light in.

I pulled the quilt up around my chin and stared up at
Buttercup
. In the half-dark I could just make out the Hellfire missiles underneath the wings. I imagined I could see her name painted in white under the cockpit and as my eyelids began to get heavy I heard a noise—soft at first but getting louder and louder until my head was filled with the sound of rotor blades chopping the air apart.

* * *

I'm buzzing over a mountain range wearing one of those old leather flight helmets with the goggles fixed over my eyes. The glare off the snowcapped peaks is blinding. Something is different. I'm sitting up front in the gunner's seat and I never sit up front in the gunner's seat because I'm not the gunner. I crane my neck back and forth, trying to see behind me but I'm buckled in tightly and can't turn around all the way.

“Is anyone back there? Hello?”

My voice cracks, like when I'm trying not to cry or I'm scared. I'm not though. At least I don't think I am. I tell myself that the reason my hands are shaking is because it's cold.

I hear a crackling in my headset—the kind you hear when somebody's about to say something and I listen hard for what seems like forever and then I hear the crackling noise again, which means the person on the other end is done talking even though I didn't get to hear what they were saying.

“I can't—I didn't hear you! Hello?”

My headset crackles again and I close my eyes, suddenly remembering this thing Budgie said one time about blind people having superhuman hearing abilities and even though I don't believe him I figure it can't hurt to try.

The voice in my headset is a familiar one—one I haven't heard in a long time. I keep my eyes closed, as if opening them would allow it to escape.

“Hey, Kiddo,” says Dad. “Mind if I fly for a while?”

So we fly like that—me up front in the gunner's seat and Dad in the pilot's seat behind me. The sky is big and endless and empty. No Japanese Zeros fall toward us out of the sun. We aren't a pair of sitting ducks, caught in the Luftwaffe's crosshairs
.
Not today.

THE NEXT DAY AFTER
lunch Aunt Josie had to go to the mall and I had to go with her. Mom was working and I wasn't allowed to stay alone in the house for that long, which I didn't really understand. I mean, it wasn't like the chances of something happening increased by the half-hour or anything. I was just as likely to play with matches ten minutes after being left alone as I was after an hour. I didn't feel like arguing though so I shuffled a few steps behind Aunt Josie with my hands stuffed into my pockets and my eyes on her feet in front of me, thinking about all the TV I was missing.

“Derek!”

“What?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“It's time to go home?”

“No. I said I need to exchange a few things in this store. You can come in but I'm warning you right now—it's pretty girly. Do you want to wait out here for me?”

“Can I go get a doughnut?”

“I don't know.”

“Come on, the food court's
right there
. I'll get a doughnut and come right back, okay? I won't be two seconds.”

She caved then and agreed to my terms with the condition that I bring her back a doughnut as well but I was so excited about the prospect of freedom that I forgot which kind she wanted. I figured I'd just get her something with pink frosting. Or sprinkles. I was pretty sure Aunt Josie liked sprinkles.

I took my time walking down to the food court because I liked the way my reflection looked in the store windows without Mom or Aunt Josie right there with me. I looked independent—a free man at the mall just minding his own business. And if this man's business happened to involve doughnuts, then nobody could say boo. Even if one of them
did
end up being pink and sprinkly.

I got in line at Mojo Donuts and started to check out the selection, but after two minutes the only concrete decision I'd made was to return as soon as humanly possible with more money and buy the place out. I ended up getting a lemon glazed French cruller for Aunt Josie and something called Da Bomb for me. It was a cream-filled chocolate doughnut with chocolate frosting and mini chocolate chips with a red licorice fuse.

The doughnuts were boxed up separately and put into a white paper bag. I took it and as I was leaving recognized someone sitting at one of the tables. There was an open Mojo Donut box in front of her with a partly eaten doughnut inside. Raspberry filled? How had I missed that one? Her nose was in a book. As usual.

“Hey, Violet!”

“Derek! Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Getting doughnuts.”

“Are you here with someone?” she asked.

“My aunt's exchanging some stuff and I got hungry so, y'know . . . you?”

“My dad's in the photo booth,” she said. “You can sit down if you want.”

“What's he need pictures for?” I said, sliding into the chair across from her.

“He needs a new passport.”

“Where's he going?”

“Wales.”

“Cool. Is he going to see all of them?”

“All of what?”

“All of the whales. There's a lot of them.”

“Not the
mammals
,” she said, smiling. Her nose crinkled a little, making her freckles crash into each other. She only had one dimple. It was awesome. “The country.”

“Oh.”

Me and Violet sat there for a minute and didn't say anything. She picked at her doughnut a little, breaking a piece off and scooting it around in the raspberry filling before eating it.

“He's going to be gone for three months.”

“Three months? That's easy. When my dad was gone I'd sometimes hold my breath for three months.”

“I know it's not that long,” she said. “Plus I get to go visit over February vacation.”

“See? At least you're
allowed
to visit. I woulda loved to visit my dad but no—it's too dangerous, they said. There's a war going on, they said.”

Violet laughed a little, then got quiet.

“I was sorry to hear about your father, Derek,” she said softly. “I meant to tell you earlier but never got a chance.”

It was my turn to get quiet. I stared at her doughnut and only then realized how much the raspberry filling looked like blood. I shrugged. Nodded. Mumbled “Thanks.”

“I didn't mean to make you sad.”

“That's okay.”

“The funny thing is that just when you think you're going to be sad the rest of your life you wake up one morning and you're not sad anymore.”

“How would you know? Your dad hasn't even left yet.”

I didn't mean to say those words. Well, maybe I did—I just hadn't meant for them to come out sounding so mean. Violet didn't flinch or anything. She just sat there looking at me, making me wonder if I'd spoken out loud at all.

“My mom passed away, Derek,” she said. “That's how I know.”

“No she didn't.”

“Yes she did. Three years ago.”

“But she was at the play.”

“That was my stepmom.”

“Crap.”

Violet smiled. She actually
smiled.
It made me feel a little better. Not great—just less bad.

“What happened to your mom?”

“She got sick.”

“My dad's helicopter was shot down.”

“I know,” she said. “It was on the news.”

“You saw that?”

“A lot of people did,” she said. “My dad read it in the paper.”

“It still doesn't seem real.”

“It will. And it'll hurt. But you'll get through it. I did.”

“How?”

“It wasn't any one thing. I mean, life just kept going. We still got mail every day. I still had homework to do. People kept playing tennis and driving their cars and walking their dogs. I couldn't get mad at them for living their lives just because I was sad. And in a strange way that's when I started feeling better.”

“Welcome to Dragsville, Ohio.”

“What?”

“It's something my dad used to say.”

“Your father sounds funny.”

“He was.”

“Violet, sweetheart, who's your friend?”

I jumped a little. I'd been so busy thinking about my father that I wasn't aware of Violet's until he was standing right next to me. I stood and we shook hands.

“Derek Lamb, sir. Violet and I are in the same class.”

“It's good to meet you, Derek,” he said. “Lamb, Lamb . . . where have I—oh, from the play!”

“Yes sir.”

“That was a heck of a thing, wasn't it? The punch-up there in the beginning? I've always said that nothing spices up a classic like a good donnybrook.”

“Huh?”

“He's just playing with you, Derek,” said Violet. “Dad, cut it out.”

“She's right. I'm joking,” he said. “Violet, are you ready to go?”

Violet carefully closed the lid to the Mojo Donut box. Then she put her book away in her backpack, stood up, and to my surprise gave me a hug. Her hair tickled my nose as I hugged her back. It felt different than it had in the play—like there was something more to it. I found myself not wanting it to end and I didn't care if there was anyone from school around to see it. Even Budgie.

“See you in school, Derek,” she said.

Then she got her bag, took her father's hand, and left the food court, not skipping but looking as though she might at any moment. She turned around once to wave good-bye. I waved back and stood there for a moment. Thinking. Then I remembered the deal I'd made with Aunt Josie so I grabbed my doughnut bag and started back to meet her.

I didn't look at my reflection in the windows this time because I was too busy thinking about Violet and the way she'd hugged me. And the more I thought about it the surer I was that it hadn't been just a hug. It had been an embrace. Definitely. Violet had
embraced
me.

My head was swimming with the smell of her hair.

Apples. Her hair smelled like apples.

Tomorrow must be Saturday.