Chapter 4

    Kendall and I head down to Riley’s Woods and put up my tent at the edge of the tree line. Our houses sit at the top of a hill, and a slope out back leads to the woods that Mama inherited from my Papa Riley. (Yes, I’m named for him, sort of.) The woods are nice and private. That’s where Papa and I camped, and I go there alone to “peace out” naked, as he taught me. I still go these from time to time to relax. 

    Tonight, Kendall and I (with my shorts on, by the way) are lying on a blanket outside the tent. The sky is vividly dotted with sparkling points. With my finger showing my friend where they are, I name the major stars — Polaris, Betelgeuse, Rigel, Castor and Pollux, Sirius, Vega … I trace the constellations — Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Scorpius, Orion …

    “That’s cool that you know all these,” he says.

    “Yeah, I’ve been studying the stars ever since Papa brought me out here,” I reply. “He took me camping all the time. We would lie here — just like we are now — and I would rest my head on his shoulder while he extended his arm to line it up with my line of sight, so I could see which star he was pointing at.”

    “Like this?” Kendall says, as he suddenly scoots over and puts his head on my shoulder.

    It startles me, but I let him stay that way.

    “Yep, just like this. … So, see … right there. See the backward question mark?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Well, that’s the head of Leo the lion. Follow the head on down, and his body goes here and then down and over and back up,” I say as I trace the figure.

    “Wow, that’s so cool,” Kendall says.

    “One of these nights, I’ll set up my telescope. Then you’ll really see something!”

    “Cool,” he say. “You haven’t done that for a while.”

    We continue lying there. He doesn’t move his head off my shoulder. I don’t mind.

    “Why do people look to the stars for answers?” Kendall asks. “Like Miss Palomar said, ‘Keep your eyes on the stars, but keep your feet on the ground.’ What the hell does that even mean?”

    “Hmm, people have always looked up,” I attempt to answer. “They thought Heaven was up there, and that the gods lived among the stars. So, they were looking for guidance from the gods when things got hard.”

    “Isn’t the state motto something like that? Something about the stars and difficulty?” he asks.

    “Yeah. ‘Ad astra per aspera.’ To the stars through difficulties,” I answer. “I think they were talking about the hard times that Kansas had when it was formed. Bleeding Kansas, the Civil War, the Indians, the Santa Fe Trail, and all that stuff. They went through all that, but they were still optimistic about the future.”

    “Hmm. Well, you gotta be optimistic, I guess,” Kendall says.

    “Yep,” I say agreeingly.

    “I’m optimistic!” he say.

    “How so?” I ask.

    “Oh, I’m optimistic that our football team will win lots of games next year, and that I will win some wrestling matches. My dad says I’d better be good and get a scholarship because that’s the only way I’ll get into college.”

    “He’s really onto you these days, isn’t he?” I say. “Well, college is a few years away. You can have some fun until then.”

    “Not according to him. I have to ‘buckle down and train’ this summer. Every day.”

    “Ooh. I hope that doesn’t cut onto our plans,” I say.

    “Let’s hope not,” he says. “I want to hang out with you as much as possible.”

    “Me, too,” I say. “Let’s go inside and settle down.”

    “Okay.”

    We unzip the tent. It’s dark inside because I forgot to bring a flashlight. I take off my shorts. Kendall knows I’m a nudist, so he’s seen me strip down. He, however, keeps his shorts on. I crawl into my sleeping bag, yawn, and then I hear Kendall yawning, too.

    “Oh, I’m so sleepy,” he says.

    “Me, too,” I say.

    “Good night,” he says. “Catch you on the flip side.”

    “Ten-four, good buddy,” I say back. “Sleep tight!”

    “And don’t let the bed bugs bite,” we both say.

I jolt awake. I look over at Kendall. He is awake and he’s watching me.

    “I just had a very weird dream,” I tell him.

    “What was it about?” he asks.

    “Well, you and I were licking an ice cream cone — the same one. Then, Paige — I think it was her — and I were licking it. And then, it was you and me again. Then, it was Paige and me again. It kept going back and forth. The ice cream dripped all over my body, making it sticky. Someone was licking it off me, off my body, but I couldn’t tell who it was. I couldn’t see their face, just dark eyes staring at me. … Then I woke up.”

    “Wow,” Kendall says. “You were also twisting and turning and rolling over.”

    “Hmm, well, should we go check in with our moms and meet later at the swing?”

    “Sounds good to me.”

    I pull on my shorts, and we head up the hill. Kendall goes into his house, and I go into mine. Mama is in the kitchen. She is gritting her teeth and frowning as she scrubs the sink. Great, she’s in one of her moods, I say to myself. Normally, she is cheerful in the morning. She laughs and sings as she cooks. She will start dancing when a good song comes on over the radio. A few times, she has even grabbed my hands and made me dance with her. None of that is happening today. 

    “Take out this trash,” she says. “And then sweep the sidewalk and front porch. And if any of those damn neighbors left their beer cans in our gutter, pick them up.”

    “Can’t I eat some cereal first?” I ask.

    “Be fast about it,” she says.

    “Be fast about breaking my fast?” I snicker.

    She pauses to think about what I just said.

    “You’re so funny,” she says without even a chuckle.

    Well, crap. Doing housework and yard work is putting a monkey wrench in my plans. I slurp the milk in my cereal bowl and finish up. I take the bag outside and toss it into the garbage can. I pick up some food wrappers and plastic straws from the gutter and toss those in the can. A certain few of our neighbors are slobs. 

    After a while, Kendall comes out of his house.

    “What are you doing?” he asks.

    “Oh, my mom has decided to go on a cleaning streak,” I say. “I probably can’t do anything for a while.”

    “Damn,” he says. “Hmm, I guess I’ll work out for a while, and then maybe I’ll go get some ice cream.”

    “And talk to Melody?” I say, batting my eyelashes at him.

    “Maybe so,” he reply. “Maybe so.” 

    I watch my buddy walk back to his driveway. His broad shoulders swivel as he saunters. He swings around and waves at me. I smile and wave back. 

    Hmm, that guy, I say to myself. He’s becoming quite the hunk. Girls go crazy over him. I wonder if Melody is into him. But she’s older than us, so who knows? I shake my head and look up at the cloudless sky. If I have to do yard work, at least it’s a nice day. I take my shirt off to work on my tan. Fortunately, Mama didn’t say anything about mowing the yard. Dad told me last week that it would be my job to do that now. He also said I would get a raise in my allowance for doing it. Cha-ching! I start to sweep again, and I begin to hum, “Whistle While You Work.” 

    “Hey, I should be whistling!” I say to no one in particular. So, I do. After about an hour, I head back inside. I find Mama in my bedroom.

    “Pick up all these clothes off the floor,” she says. “Clear off your desk. Put all of these games away.” 

    “Hi-ho!” I sigh.

    I look around. My room is just a bit … untidy. Not messy, really. Things are just a bit … askew. I toss the clothes into the hamper. I take the books off my desk and place them in my bookcase. I even take the time to arrange them in alphabetical order by author, just like they do at the library. 

    I stack my comic books in boxes, organizing them by title and number. I pull out a copy of Adventure Comics. It’s a good one. It’s a Giant-Size issue with stories about Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Deadman, Aquaman, and the Justice Society. I thumb through it and read a couple of the stories. Then, I arrange my action figures, putting them in their proper places on my Justice Shelf of America. Batman stands next to Robin, of course. The Flash and Green Lantern, who are friends, stand side-by-side. Wonder Woman and Aquaman — the two members with royal blood — line up together. I put my hands on my hips and look around. Now my room is tidy.

    What is going on with Mama, I wonder. She hates housework. She often jokes, “Cleaning the house is something to do in a mad frenzy the night before company is coming from out of town.” Our house is a bit cluttered — no, a lot cluttered! So much so that I’m embarrassed to bring any friends over. Mama has accumulated many items for her “collections.” She has collected old plates, china figurines, and salt & pepper shakers. She even collects strands of barbed wire and nails them to a board to display them on a wall. Who knew there were so many kinds of barbed wire? 

    She especially likes old vases. Several shelves of them in all shapes, sizes, and colors line the walls of our family room. Since she hates housework, they have never seen a dustcloth. I swipe my finger across a shelf and leave a trail. The vases look a bit dingy and dirty. I once picked one up to wipe it clean.

    “What are you doing?” Mama shouted.

    “I’m wiping it off,” I said. “I’m cleaning off this grimy dust.”

    “Well, put it down,” she asserted. “You’re going to drop it!”

    I quickly put it back on the shelf. She was furious. I’ve never tried to clean one of her precious vases again. They are still covered with a thick coat of sticky dust.

    What has gotten into her today? Why is she being a clean freak, all of a sudden? Why is she being so bossy? I look around the kitchen. On the table is a pile of odds and ends that she has pulled out of the junk drawer. On top is an old cutout newspaper article. A date written in pen under the headline says: May 30, 1959.

Local teen dies in house fire

    Wynwood police are investigating the death of a girl who died Sunday night in a house fire near the sewage plant.

    Luna Harrison, 16, died of apparent smoke inhalation after attempts to revive her failed, fire officials said. Other family members escaped unharmed.

    Firefighters were called to the house on Water Street just before 6 p.m. Sunday. They found heavy smoke coming from the two-story house, David Nickels, communications officer for the Wynwood Police Department, said.

    Firefighters searched the burning building and found the victim on the first floor, she said. She was carried out, and paramedics administered CPR for several minutes. However, they pronounced her dead about 6:45 p.m.

    Firefighters put out the blaze while containing it to the house where it began, Nickels said.

    “Inspectors noted some unusual signs, indicating the fire may have been set,” she said. Nickels said the cause of the fire was under investigation.

    I put the newspaper clipping down and think, “That’s a creepy coincidence — it happened 20 years ago today. And is this the famous Luna that Mama talks about?” 

    Mama comes into the kitchen.

    “Did you straighten your room?” she asks.

    “Yep. Everything’s tidy and in tip-top shape,” I reply.

    “Good,” she says. “Go pack a bag. We’re going to visit your Aunt Marge.”

    And there it is. Mama’s cleaning frenzy is because of her older sister. Whenever Aunt Marge says she’s coming for a visit, we swing into action. Except, this time, Aunt Marge is not coming to town; we are going there.

    “Why do I have to go?” I ask.

    “I need you to ride shotgun, of course, and keep me company.”

    I sigh. For years, I have ridden in the front passenger seat on all of our road trips. It’s my job to hold the map and give directions. But she doesn’t need directions to get to Aunt Marge’s, so why do I have to go?

    “Is Dad going?” I ask.

    “No, he has to work,” she answers.

    “Ugh.” 

    “Come on, we have fun on these trips,” she says.

    I know how “these trips” go. I have better things to do than sit around Aunt Marge’s house doing nothing.