The Fantastic Secret of Owen Jester (7 page)

Owen stashed some tools in the corner of the barn and then headed down to the pond to check on Tooley. He sat on the rotting dock and stared glumly out across the water. The air was thick with heat. A shiny black turtle was sunning on a log at the edge of the pond. A bullfrog floated among a cluster of leaves nearby. Owen could just make out its bulging yellow eyes and the top of its green head.

Maybe he should try to catch that frog so Tooley would have a friend.

Owen sighed.

His niggle came back.

The niggle had started as a tiny seed of a thought.
Then it had begun to grow, bigger and bigger, until it became a full-grown thought.

Maybe he should let Tooley go.

Owen looked down into the cage. Tooley floated in the dirty water, nestled up against the side, one webbed foot resting on the chicken wire.

He looked terrible.

Owen felt terrible.

He had worked so hard to catch that frog. He had stalked him for weeks, scanning the edges of the pond, searching the leaves and logs. It had been so much fun, trying to figure out if the frog he spotted was
his
frog. The one with the heart-shaped red spot between his eyes.

And then, when he had finally caught him, he had figured Tooley Graham would be his forever.

But now Owen was starting to think maybe he had made a mistake.

He reached into the water and touched Tooley’s foot. The frog swam lazily to the other side of the cage . . .

. . . away from Owen.

“Tooley Graham,” Owen whispered.

The frog nestled down into the slimy mud on the bottom of the pond and closed his eyes.

Owen let out a sigh so big and so loud that the turtle scampered off the log and into the pond, sending little ripples across the surface of the water.

Owen whispered “Tooley Graham” one more time before trudging slowly back up the path to meet Travis and Stumpy in the barn.

Owen and Travis and Stumpy sawed and clipped and dug and hacked.

They sawed down scruffy little pine trees.

They clipped overhanging branches.

They dug up clumps of thorny bushes.

They hacked at tangled vines.

Pete and Leroy joined them from time to time, chewing on twigs, rooting their noses in the freshly dug dirt, then scampering back through the woods toward home again.

Inch by inch, the three boys were clearing a path from the submarine to the pond. By the time the afternoon sun had begun to sink, the backs of their necks were burned and they were only halfway there.

Travis tossed a saw onto a clump of vines. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m sick of doing this.”

“Me, too,” Stumpy said, leaning on the garden hoe he had been using to hack up the roots of a bush.

“We can’t stop now,” Owen said. “We’re almost halfway there.”

“It’s too hot,” Travis said. “We can work on it some more in the morning, when it’s cooler.” He picked up the saw and tossed it into the wheelbarrow with a clang. “Besides,” he added, “we don’t even know how we’re going to get that sub down to the pond, anyways.”

Stumpy nodded in agreement.

“And,”
Travis went on, “even if we do get it to the pond, we don’t even know how to drive it.” He tossed another tool into the wheelbarrow. “I’m going home.”

“Me, too,” Stumpy said.

Quitters, Owen thought.

But he wasn’t about to say it out loud. If he did, they were liable to quit for good.

All he could do was let out a big, heavy sigh and help them load the tools into the wheelbarrow and head back to the barn.

But just as they had finished stashing the tools
under a tarp in the corner of the barn, Owen’s mood went from bad to worse.

Viola stepped through the barn door and said, “So, what are y’all gonna do about that submarine?”

Owen pushed past her and stormed out, followed by Travis and Stumpy.

Viola hurried after them. “I know what y’all are doing,” she said.

Owen whirled around. “You want a trophy, Viola?”

Much to Owen’s surprise, Viola blushed. “What do you mean?” she said.

“I mean, a trophy for being Genius of the World or something,” Owen snapped.

Travis and Stumpy slapped their knees, sputtering with laughter.

“You said you were going to call the railroad company and tell them about that submarine,” Viola said.

“I
am
,” Owen said, and marched off toward the back porch and sat on the bottom step. Travis and Stumpy did the same.

Viola stood in the middle of the yard with her hands on her hips while the three boys tried to ignore her.

“Y’all are clearing trees and stuff so you can get that submarine down to the pond,” she called over to them.

Owen jumped up and hissed, “Shhhhh!”

He shot a quick look up at the back door, hoping like anything that Earlene wasn’t standing there.

She wasn’t.

Owen moved closer to Viola and whispered, “Look, Viola, somebody’s gonna have to come get that submarine, right?” He glanced up at the back door again. “I mean, after I call the railroad company and tell them about it,” he added.

Viola shot a look at Travis, then Stumpy, then back at Owen. “So, why are you clearing stuff out of the woods?”

“We’re just trying to help.”

“I’m not stupid, Owen,” she said.

“No, you’re just dumb,” Stumpy called from the back steps. He and Travis pushed each other and roared with laughter.

“Don’t worry,” Owen said. “Me and Travis and Stumpy are taking care of everything, okay?”

Viola narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “Just
admit it, Owen,” she said. “Y’all are going to put that submarine in the pond, aren’t you?”

Silence.

Viola whirled around and stomped off toward the hedge, calling over her shoulder, “I’m telling on y’all!”

“Wait!” Owen hollered.

Viola stopped.

Owen ran over to her, his mind racing. He had to think of some way to keep Viola from ruining everything with the submarine.

“Look, Viola,” Owen said. “We
are
going to call the railroad company. I swear.” He held his hand up and looked solemnly at Viola.

“But you’re going to put it in the pond first, aren’t you?” she said.

Owen glanced over at Travis and Stumpy, then he said, “Yes.”

Travis stamped his foot. “Dang, Owen!” he said.

“I knew it!” Viola gave Owen one of her smug faces.

“Trust me, Viola,” Owen said. “We’re going to take care of everything.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Okay?”

The silence hung thick and heavy in the summer air. Owen studied Viola’s freckled face, her glasses
perched down on the end of her nose. He had an uneasy feeling about her. She was liable to tell somebody about the submarine before he had a chance to get it in the pond.

Owen made an instant decision to take a gamble. “You can help us if you want to,” he said. “Get some tools and meet us down there tomorrow.”

Travis and Stumpy stopped laughing and stared at Owen, wide-eyed and openmouthed. Owen shot them a look that said,
Trust me, I know what I’m doing.

Viola flapped her hand at Owen. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Like I want to spend my day cutting down trees. Besides,” she added, “you don’t even know if that submarine works. Y’all are stupid to do all that work cutting down trees and stuff before you even
test
it.”

“Aw, heck,” Owen said. “That’s a piece of cake. We got all that stuff figured out.”

“Well, good luck,” Viola said, turning to leave.

Owen tried not to look too relieved.

“If you change your mind, just come on down,” he called after her.

As soon as Viola disappeared through the opening into her yard, Travis and Stumpy hurried over to Owen.

“What the heck did you do
that
for?” Travis said.

“Do what?” Owen said.

“Tell her she could help us.”

“Because . . .” Owen beamed at Travis and Stumpy. “If she thinks she’s in on our plan, she’ll keep her yap shut and won’t tell on us.” Owen said this with an air of confidence, but on the inside, he had some big worries about trusting Viola. “Besides,” he added, “I know Viola better than anybody. There is no way she’s going to go down there in those woods and help us.”

“I got Jarvis’s hacksaw,” Viola said when she stepped out of the woods into the clearing. “I decided to come help y’all, after all.”

Owen’s stomach sank clear down to his feet.

Travis and Stumpy stared at Viola with their mouths hanging open.

Then Travis’s face turned red and he stomped over to Owen. “Way to go, Owen!” he hollered. “
Now
what are we gonna do?”

Owen looked down at his feet, his mind racing. His sneakers were coated with dirt, his legs scraped and bruised. He looked at his hands, red and blistered. Sawing and clipping and digging and hacking was hard work. Much harder than he had thought it would be.

He and Travis and Stumpy had gotten to the
clearing early that morning, when the dew was still clinging to the wildflowers and ferns. But they hadn’t made much progress. The ground was hard and full of rocks and roots. Some of the bushes pulled right up, but others had to be dug and chopped and yanked. Even the smallest trees required sawing and hacking. Branches had to be hauled off to the side. Large rocks had to be rolled away.

“I got Jarvis’s hacksaw,” Viola repeated, waving it in the air. She was wearing garden gloves that were way too big and a khaki canvas hat pulled down over her ears.

“Great,” Owen said glumly. He flung his arm in the direction of one of the larger pine trees. “Then cut that down.”

“Okay.” Viola ran over to the tree and started sawing.

“Closer to the bottom,” Owen said. “You can’t leave a big ole stump there.”

Owen looked at Travis and shrugged. What else could he do? Besides, they
could
use Viola’s help. Why not let her do all the hard work with the larger trees and bushes? Maybe inviting Viola to help really
had
been a good idea.

But Travis and Stumpy didn’t look like they thought Viola helping was a good idea. They looked like they were mad as all get-out.

While Viola happily sawed away at the tree, Owen whispered to Travis and Stumpy, explaining to them why Viola helping them was a good idea.

“. . . and
then
,” he whispered, “we’ll only have to work on these puny little bushes while she does all the hard stuff.”

He grinned.

Stumpy looked convinced, but Travis was still red-faced, glaring over at Viola and looking like he was ready to storm out of there.

“. . . and
then
,” Owen whispered, “we’ll tell her we changed our minds about putting the submarine in the pond and that the railroad company is sending someone to pick it up in a couple of days, so she doesn’t need to come back down here. And
then
”—he glanced over at Viola, who had paused from her sawing to blow her nose—“we can figure out how to get the submarine into the pond and go for a ride!”

Owen watched Travis’s face change ever so slowly from mad-as-all-get-out to maybe-that-will-work.

So the boys picked up their tools and set to work sawing and clipping and digging and hacking again.

That night after dinner, Owen sat by his grandfather’s bed and told him some more about Tooley.

He told him about how Tooley wasn’t quite as green as he used to be.

How his throat wasn’t quite as yellow and the heart-shaped spot wasn’t quite as red.

He told him about how Tooley didn’t seem to be eating the water bugs and crickets in the cage and how he didn’t swim very much anymore.

“And last night,” Owen said, “I heard some other bullfrogs down there in the pond and, well, um, I felt kind of bad.”

Owen’s grandfather raised his bushy white eyebrows.

“I mean, you know . . .” Owen picked at the dirt under his fingernails. “ ’Cause those other frogs were free, but, um, Tooley’s in a cage.”

His grandfather’s mouth was a little droopy on one side. He nodded at Owen.

Owen could hear his mother out in the hall putting
sheets and pillowcases in the linen closet. He leaned toward his grandfather’s bed and said in a low voice, “I’m thinking maybe I should let him go.”

There.

He had said it.

The thought that had been niggling at him for so long.

And now that he had said it, he felt better.

That night, the train clattered down the tracks behind the house.

The
clatter, clatter, clatter
started low and got louder and louder until it became a
whoosh
and then trailed off to a faint
clatter, clatter, clatter
again.

And then it was gone.

As Owen sat in the window of his bedroom, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle and new-mown grass, listening to the crickets and bullfrogs, he knew he had to do two things.

He had to let Tooley go . . .

. . . and . . .

. . . he had to get that submarine into the pond.

Owen had begged and pleaded and begged and pleaded to stay home from church.

Begging and pleading almost never worked.

But today a miracle had happened.

His mother had said yes!

So he and Travis and Stumpy had worked all morning, sawing and clipping and digging and hacking.

Viola had come down there to tell them she had to go over to Macon with her cousin but they could use Jarvis’s hacksaw if they wanted to.

Travis had told her they didn’t need her and they definitely didn’t need anything that belonged to her loser brother, Jarvis.

After a while, they had gotten tired of sawing and clipping and digging and hacking, so they gathered
around the Water Wonder 4000 to figure out how they were going to get it down to the pond once they were finished clearing the trees and bushes.

“Maybe we could take the wheels off a wagon, tie ’em on the sides, and just roll it,” Stumpy said.

“That’s dumb,” Travis said. He slapped the side of the submarine, making a hollow, clanging noise that echoed through the trees.

“Yeah,” Owen said, “that
is
pretty dumb, Stumpy.”