Kendall and I head back home and gather our gear. We load it into Big Red, my utility wagon. This isn’t a little kid’s wagon. It’s about 3 feet wide by 5 feet long and rolls on 10-inch rubber wheels. It holds everything we need for camping, and it has a hitch that I can attach to my bike so I can tow it wherever we go. Besides our sleeping bags and the tent, I put my telescope in it. From my back yard, we head up the hill to Riley’s Woods and put up my tent at the edge of the tree line. Mama inherited these woods from Papa Riley. This is where Papa took me camping when I was little, and I still go there from time to time to avoid the world — and to strip down.
We would sit cross-legged on a blanket outside our tent. In the nude, of course. “The human body is amazing, Riley boy,” he said. “Close your eyes. Feel the wind blow across your body. Feel the sun shine on your skin. Sense your body absorbing the energy it needs. Imagine your pores opening to release all the toxins from your body. Allow the stress and negativity to leave your body and your soul. Feel your confidence grow. Learn to live comfortably in your skin.”
Kendall and I set up the tent, and then I put my telescope on its tripod. Peering through the eyepiece, a bright cloud of diffused light fills the viewfinder. I slowly turn the focus knob, and … there it is! The moon is just a sliver in the sky — a thin fingernail shining just above the horizon.
“C’mere and see,” I say. Kendall puts his eye to the scope.
“What are we looking at?” he asks.
“The moon, you dope,” I say, slapping the back of his head. “It’s a waning crescent. It’ll be a new moon in a couple of days.”
“Oh, cool,” he says. “The mountains look extra pointy.”
“Yeah, the angle of the sun makes that happen,” I say. “That thin line between light and dark is called the terminator.”
“Ooh, that would be a cool name for a superhero,” Kendall says. “The Terminator … putting an end to evildoers.”
“Hah! Or an evil alien invader,” I say. “Earthlings, I have come to terminate your planet.”
I look into the telescope again.
“I guess, since I won’t be able to go up to Skylab, I’ll take the moon,” I say.
“Oh, yeah?” Kendall says. “What will you do up there?”
“Well, it’s a whole ’nother world, with places to explore and discoveries to make. I’ll set up a moon base and bring up the smartest scientists and most daring explorers. We’ll drive the Selenar rover all over the surface, even to the other side — “where no man has gone before,” I say in the tone of Captain Kirk.
“You are such a nerd,” my friend says.
I wince. I get called that all the time, and guys don’t mean it as a compliment. I don’t care; I like what I like.
“Yep, that’s me in a nutshell,” I say, shrugging.
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, buddy,” Kendall says.
“Look, I’m not athletic, so I’m not a jock, like you are,” I say. “I don’t sneak off to smoke cigarettes — or pot — so I’m not a stoner. I’m not a country kid, and I’m not a country club kid. I don’t belong to any clique or gang. I can count the number of friends I have on one hand. I know where I fit in: I am a nerd. Science nerd, band nerd, book nerd — that’s me all tied up in a bow.”
“Well, I hope you count me as one of your friends, man,” Kendall says. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I don’t care if you’re a nerd. You’re my little nerd!”
Kendall grabs me and puts me in a headlock and gives me a soft noogie.
“Let go,” I say sternly. “Let me go, now!”
I struggle to get away, and he lets me go.
“Dammit, I am so sick and tired of other guys picking on me, putting me in headlocks and shoving me down,” I say. “I sure as hell don’t want you to do it.”
“I’m sorry, Riley. Don’t be mad,” he says. “I was just kidding around.”
I guess I’m still peeved by what happened today with Dougie.
“Everyone wants to pick on the ‘little guy.’ Bullies shove me, kick me, knock me down, and sit on me. Sometimes, the asshole will drool a drop of slobber over my face, and it will dangle from his mouth and slowly draw closer —”
“That’s a very specific example,” my friend says. “Does that really happen?”
“Yes, it does. I can usually twist my body loose, but I have taken more than my fair share of spit-face.”
“I’ll knock their blocks off if anyone picks on you, man,” Kendall says. “You know that. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know,” I say. “I get called a nerd, a sissy, a wuss, a mama’s boy … They call me ‘Shorty Shrader’ and ‘Shrader the Shrimp.’ They love the alliteration, I guess, but I doubt they even know the meaning of that word.”
Kendall chuckles.
“Those names fit, though, since everyone in our class is taller than me, even the girls. It bothers me a little bit ... Okay, maybe it bothers me a lot. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Papa taught me about body positivity — ‘love the skin you’re in,’ he said. So, I’m learning to accept my size. Bullies, though, love to pick on the ‘little guy.’ I hope that changes soon because it’s getting tiresome.”
“Well, someday you’ll show them,” Kendall says. “You’ll be smarter, richer, more famous than any of them.”
“Ha! Okay.”
Seeing all that we can see through the scope, we decide to lie on a blanket and look up at the sky. It is vividly dotted with sparkling points. With my finger showing Kendall where they are, I name the major stars that we can see — Polaris, Betelgeuse, Rigel, Vega … I trace the constellations — the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Scorpius …
“That’s so cool that you know all these,” he says.
“Yeah, Papa taught me about the stars when he brought me out here,” I reply. “We went 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 scoots over and plops 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. “Do you really want to go up there, up in outer space?”
“Hell, yeah,” I say. “To the moon, baby! Ha-ha. … I really wanted to go up to Skylab, but NASA says it’s gonna come crashing down any day now.”
“Really?” he asks. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” I reply. “Hey, want to hear something funny? The astronauts up there found out that their drinking water gave them gas, and it made them fart all the time.”
“Ha-ha!” he laughs. “That’s hilarious! I’ll bet it was stinky!”
“Yeah, I’ll bet it was!” I say. “They probably used it as propulsion. ‘Toot, toot! Comin’ through!’”
“Engage rear thrusters, Mr. Sulu!” he says.
“‘Rear’ thrusters!” I repeat. “Ha-ha!”
We start laughing hard. His head is still on my shoulder. We stare up silently for a few minutes.
“So, ‘keep your eyes on the stars, but keep your feet on the ground.’ What the hell does that even mean?” Kendall asks. “What did Miss Palomar mean when she said that?”
“Hmm, well, people have always looked up,” I attempt to answer. “The gods live up there.”
I wave my hand above us.
“People think that’s where Heaven is. So, they were looking for guidance from the gods when things got hard.”
“Ha. You said, ‘got hard,’” Kendall says as he brings a fist to my crotch.
I flinch and knock his hand away.
“Knock it off, or I’ll knock your block off!” I say.
“Ha! You wish,” he replies. “Isn’t the state motto something about stars and hard times?”
“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 Santa Fe Trail, and all that stuff. They went through all that … difficulty, but they were still looking up. They were optimistic about the future.”
“Hmm. Well, you gotta be optimistic,” Kendall says.
“Yep,” I say agreeingly.
“Coach says I gotta be optimistic!” he says.
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, I gotta be optimistic that I’m gonna get in shape and score lots of touchdowns so our football team will win lots of games, and that I will win lots of wrestling matches. I hope I do, just to get him off my back. He says I’d better be good if I want to go to college. He says I’ll have to get a scholarship because that’s the only way I’ll get to go. He says he can’t afford it.”
“That’s too bad,” I say. “Well, college is a few years away. You can have some fun until then.”
“Not according to him. I need to ‘buckle down and train’ this summer. Every day.”
“Well, I guess you have to stay in shape,” I say. “I hope that doesn’t cut into our plans.”
“Let’s hope not,” he says. “I want to hang out with you as much as possible.”
“Hey, I know! I’ll be your training partner,” I say. “I’ll lift weights with you. I’ll do jumping jacks with you. You can wrestle me.”
“What? You want to wrestle?” he responds. “What has gotten into you?”
“I’m tired of being bullied,” I say. “I’m tired of other guys making fun of me. I don’t want Anson Daugherty, or Dougie Walters — or anyone — to shove me ever again. I don’t want those assholes to take out their frustrations on me. Next year is gonna be tough. I will be an easy mark. In Phys Ed, especially. There will be a lot of body contact. It will more or less be organized bullying. If I’m tackled in football, someone may “accidentally” step on my back. In dodgeball, the ball may “inadvertently” slam into my head. During a basketball game, I may take an “unintentional” elbow to the face. It’s not that I am not athletic. I can run fast, and I’m a decent swimmer. I even won a second-place ribbon in a tennis tournament last summer. But I am lousy in most other sports. I’m sick and tired of being everyone’s target. I’m tired of having you rescue me. You shouldn’t always have to run up and say, ‘Knock it off, or I’ll knock your block off.’ —”
He interrupts, “I like saying that! I like telling the assholes that I’ll knock their blocks off. It gives me a … a charge to light into someone who’s not treating you right.”
“Well, I want to feel that charge,” I say. “Show me how to take care of myself. Show me how it’s done.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
Kendall is on me in a flash. He puts his left arm under my legs and lifts them. His right hand goes behind my head. I try to twist away, but he has me in an awkward position. I can’t get any leverage. He pulls my legs up to my chest. He pins my shoulders to the ground.
“1 … 2 … 3!” he shouts.
He jumps up and raises his clenched fists above his head. “And the crowd goes wild! Aaa-aaaaa!”
I lie sprawled out beside him, gasping at the suddenness of his actions.
“Let’s go again,” I say.
We wrestle for a while. Kendall shows me some moves and I try to repeat them. But he is so much stronger than me. I don’t think I’m making any progress. He gives me encouragement, though.
“Okay, that was pretty good. Good for your first try, anyway,” he says. “But I’m tired.”
“Me, too,” I say, yawning. “Let’s go inside and settle down.”
“Okay.”
I unzip the tent. In the dark, I strip down. Kendall rolls his eyes, like he usually does.
“Man, why do you always get naked?” he asks me.
“My Papa always said, ‘The only thing you need to wear to bed is a smile,’ so we slept in the nude when we went camping. And he told me about Benjamin Franklin’s air baths.”
“Air baths?”
“Yeah. He would throw open his windows and let the sunlight flood his room. He sat there in the sunshine without clothes. He believed it energized his body, soul, and mind – and now I believe it, too.”
Kendall keeps his shorts on. We crawl into our sleeping bags. I yawn, and then I hear Kendall yawning, too.
“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 say together.
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