Old Enough | Chapter 2

Chapter 2
RECYCLING

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Some questions have no answers. If you don't learn this when you're a kid, you'll wear yourself out. Lying flat on the floor, Special Agent Neal Preacham Edruns-Striker kicked left under his bed 11 times and sat up straight with his arms out to the sides. Okay, for the record you need to know his middle name but you also need to know he never uses it and only goes by Edruns-Striker when his mother insists. Neal Striker's plenty good enough. In school it's perfect since he and Pete Sanchez, his best friend for life, can sit together. Pete's with his grandparents in St. Louis. Here's a true fact. Without your best friend for life, life pretty much stinks. Also, you can lie back down and kick right 11 times but you still have to think.

Seriously, you have to think about what's ahead or you won't be ready for your part and then what? Mostly he thought about the Fairwell Open House, the reason why last night his boss, Marshal Will Lightfoot, had told him tomorrow would be a big day when actually the marshal had been talking about today. Time words are confusing. On his feet, Neal stood at attention and spun twice on his right heel. He and the marshal don't have a choice. They have to attend. They need to look sharp and be on their toes because you never know who might break the law and where they might break it. Pete's in St. Louis but Delaney will be there. The Open House is partly Delaney's party and comes at the tail end of Neal's P.O.D. The P.O.D. is in his head. Ever since he can remember, he plans the next day the night before until the shadows and dreams come and stay. Fewer bad things happen and if they do, you're readier for them with a P.O.D. which, if you don't know, is a Plan of the Day.

The marshal says the Fairwell Open House is the most important event in the north end of the county but regular work comes first. Neal opened the box and dug under the dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are for babies but make good cover. He dragged out his tool kit where he keeps equipment for emergencies. The tool kit is really a shoebox and instead of a toybox he should have a strongbox with a combination lock but you don't always have what you should have. You work hard and if you're lucky, you get what you want but you might have to wait a while. This is a fact. Also, when you get a chance at what you want like a used skateboard, you might find it's been sold. This has happened to him more than once and he isn't very old.

From the kit he took a brush that was very old and a plastic packet. He undid the rubberband. Into his open right palm, he poured the pink powder. Working carefully, he coated the brush. Tightening his cheeks and closing his eyes, he tackled his mouth. He knew where to go soft. You learn fast when you lose baby teeth and get permanent teeth. Anyhow, he brushed up, down, back and front. If his mother asks, he won't have to lie. He hates to lie. His new brush hangs by the paste and cup in the bathroom but Mariah is taking a bath. Who wants to go near the bathroom when his sister's taking a bath? Not him! The powder he'd borrowed from Aunt Ida because you never know when some pink powder might come in handy. Actually, she'd thrown out the can before it was empty. Hey, it isn't stealing when you take what someone throws out and even if it is, he isn't confessing to his mother because he doesn't think she'd be too happy to hear that he's using Aunt Ida's tossed tooth powder. They say you have to tell your mother everything but you aren't a criminal if you don't. It might be best if you do but if you don't, you won't go to jail. Well, not always. Manno, he wanted water! He put away the brush and powder and returned the kit to the box. Then he bent down to tug up his socks.

He polished the lenses with the pillowslip and laid his binoculars on the dresser. Chugging back and forth, he made the bed -- probably his least favorite chore in the whole world. Then he hung his binocs around his neck, twisting the rawhide cord so the cool monkeypaw knots tied by the marshal would lie flat. Pocketing his compass, notebook, pencil, pen and the metal tin of his mother's Bugoff salve, he was ready to hit the road. She wanted them to leave at 1:30 in the afternoon. Hey, doesn't he hate to be late or to make anyone else late almost worse than he hates to lie? You'd think someone would notice this and give him a watch. In his P.O.D. he'd allowed two hours for his route and one to finish chores, wash, put on Sunday clothes and report. Out in the hall, he checked his great-grandfather's clock. 10:20 in the morning. Almost perfecto! Ho! His own watch would be totally perfecto!

Being 10 minutes ahead of schedule doesn't hurt if you have a goal and don't mind more work once you do what you have to do. He doesn't but what's his goal? Then, like can happen when thoughts cross and tangle into weirdnesses, he made a giant mistake and licked his front teeth. Mr. Watch calls them his buckers even though they came in straight. Wur! Who likes to swallow wet chalk? Not him, for sure, and he gagged and choked and grabbed his throat and stumbled when he tried to walk.

Hey, maybe it wasn't poison but the pink powder tasted like monster gas and acting's all right if you're alone. Staggering back to his room, he considered unlatching the screen and spitting out the window. Better not. He'd get in big trouble. Besides, the taste was disappearing. If you wait long enough, bad tastes can disappear. They don't always but they can. To take his mind off his mouth, he could measure but first he had to turn his back to the wall and stand perfectly straight. He laid his pencil dead center front to rear down the top of his head with the lead just touching the wallpaper. Some secrets can't be kept in a tool kit under dinosaurs but the marks are so light you barely see them. Also, the only people allowed in his room are the marshal and his mother. Either they haven't noticed or don't care. Okay, his sister might bug him but not often and she doesn't count because it's none of her business for sure. He's been measuring his height since his fourth birthday. No one's complained and he is definitely taller. You might as well keep track of the good things that happen to you and to everyone else. You know why? Because bad things can start any time and when they do, good things give you something else to think about; in bad times the good things that used to happen to you or to others make you feel better and probably you won't cry.

He returned the pencil to his middle desk drawer with his baseball magazines and peered in his mirror. This is a good idea before other people see you. You never know. Of course, some things you can't change and on other things you might have to wait. Early June is not his best time. On the last Saturday in May his mother begins to shave his head and he really looks stupid until that skin turns brown like his face and neck. Luckily this doesn't take long because he works outside a lot. Right now, he's about half there; anyhow, you don't miss your hair when it's hot.

His nose touched the mirror. Holding his breath, he squinted up to where the brown skin met white, then down from his skull to his buckers. His mother says his top middle teeth won't look so big when his other permanent teeth come in. Good! He tongued a loose molar on the left. It wasn't ready. You can tell. The marshal says Mr. Watch should watch his own mouth. Backing off to stand totally still, he stared in the mirror without blinking while he counted to 500 by fives to himself. His face is okay except for the buckers and eyes. His right eye is brown. His left is blue. This is how he was born. His mother says when he's ten he can have a colored contact lens but he has to decide on the color. This might sound easy but suppose your father had blue eyes and your mother has brown? Who wants to choose between parents? He sure doesn't. The marshal's eyes are blue. So are Mariah's, not that he cares about her old eye color. Anyhow, it's no huge deal but it seems like he has to pick brown or his mother will wind up all alone. Actually, he isn't excited about wearing a contact lens in either eye since both work and he can see just fine. Some things rock and rumble along by themselves while you watch; it's like you haven't finished your shopping but you're waiting in the express line.

"It happens," the doctor told Mariah. "His vision's unimpaired. We monitor the eyes as he grows. Keep our eyes on the eyes." Mariah didn't think that was a bit funny. She wanted to sue the doctor and the hospital but their mother was in a hurry to check out and take her new baby home. If you don't count eyes, he's like any normal 6-year-old going on 80. That's what Aunt Ida says. She says he's too serious and doesn't take enough time to play.

Closing and opening his eyes in wide circles, he raised his brows like his sister does when she wants something from him. Then he smoothed the ends of his brows like the marshal does after a shower before trimming around his nose and beard. Like the hair on his head when he has some, Neal's eyebrows are shaggy and blonde. Also, there are lots of ways to play. Leaving his image behind him, he kicked forward with each leg three times and backward with each leg four times. He hopped down the stairs, one step at a time. He's working on two but you can't do everything at once. You make mistakes. In the kitchen he slid the wrapped peanut butter and banana sandwich into his vest pocket. He snagged three of Aunt Ida's peanut butter cookies off the plate. Good thing he likes PB. Slowly he opened her back porch door. It isn't her door. Not really. It isn't her back porch or her house. His mother inherited the town lots and buildings when his grandfather died. But Aunt Ida has lived in the house most of her life. The house feels more like her house than anybody else's house. It probably always will. Some things are buried in hard ground so long that it doesn't do you any good to dig them up and try to rearrange them. You might be able to go back to the beginning and take another look at how they started and got to where they are now but you can't change them.

Aunt Ida is his grandfather's sister and Neal's great aunt. Everyone calls her Aunt Ida. At 18 she'd been a silly girl. She'd up and married a bridge-building man from the Boot. Next thing you know the two of them had sashayed down south where her sorry husband turned out to be a gambler and a fool. Well, she'd learned her lesson. Neal's great-grandfather paid her way home and got the marriage annulled. Mariah says in an annulment the marriage never happens and in a divorce the marriage happens, gets rotten and ends. Anyhow, after whatever it was that never happened between Aunt Ida and the bridge-building man from the Boot, she'd lived first with her father, then with her married brother. Now she lives with her niece who's Neal's mother or they live with her. If you're keeping track of money, his mother pays the bills but Aunt Ida cooks and cleans and gardens. She says the Edruns earn their keep. Aunt Ida takes care of the Edruns family bible where his name and birth date are written. So far he's the last of the Edruns but not the last of the Strikers. Out in California are two Striker uncles, one aunt and two cousins on his dad's side. It was before Neal was born that his dad's mom and dad died.

Life and death go together sort of. Like every morning, he squeezed through the door ready for action. Look out! Like every morning the gander waddled towards him spoiling for trouble, mouth working on a good old bite. Neal charged sideways, executed four quick air jumps and chested his binocs. "Harr!" Over his new mesh T-shirt, he wore the marshal's hand-me-down denim shirt with the sleeves cut off and unbuttoned to make a vest with four pockets. With his free hand, he hitched up his regulation black biker shorts with knee and hip pockets. You can't have too many pockets. His mother says he swims in the shorts but he knows what he likes. You don't have to spend gobs of money either. Okay, maybe sometimes but not always. The Wolverine Lacer work boots with steel toes hurt like crazy. Well, too bad. He sure wasn't going to wear the yellow Kidconnection tennies his mother had bought at a Wal-Mart sale the same day she'd bought an orange backpack with a cartoon chicken he'd not seen before and hopes never to see again. In secret he'd buried both under his stuffed monkey in the very bottom of the toy box. Someday he might dig out Monkey Doodle-Dum-Day to say hello but he will neither wear those tennies nor carry that pack. Take it or leave it, each is a totally true fact.

Here's the thing about connecting with kids. Except for Pete, Delaney, Bud, Alicia and maybe a couple more, Neal flat out isn't interested. Mostly he hates the dumb clothes they have to wear and dumb stuff they carry around with them and dumb things they say and do. Also, too many kids act like they know it all when, as Mr. Watch would tell you, they don't know diddly not to mention squat. Mr. Watch is the Postmaster, on the Milo City Council and the marshal's best friend for life. He makes his living as a junk dealer. The mayor calls him a dealer in antiquities when she gives her speech about high living in Milo but he calls himself a junk dealer and Mariah says this has been a sound merchandising title since civilization began and the mayor's being unusually silly. Mr. Watch isn't silly but he is funny. When he talks, he uses words like "boyhowdy", "wheedogie" and "thingummerbobby".

"Harr!" There are times when you need to forget what's in your head before it's too late. If you're in danger, you need to remember where you are. If you're fighting an enemy, you need to pay attention or you'll be sorry. If you're out in the world, anything can happen and your head may be full of bits of life like puzzle pieces but you don't always have time to solve the puzzle. You learn all this after a while when your job requires it. Wide awake now, he ducked, kicked, hopped and skittered by the hissing bird to yank open the shed door. "Harr!" he hollered and slammed it shut. He turned, crossed his arms and took a good look. Each day before you start your job, you should survey your operational base. Of course, that's a job too but still. Anyhow, both the marshal and his sister had helped him with his workspace. Everything is totally perfecto and you can tell right away if anything is out of place.

Nothing was. His gunnysacks hung by their hooks from the two-by-four nailed to the west wall. He'd helped saw the wood and screw in the hooks. It was way easy. If he doesn't work on a deer farm, he might become a carpenter. You never know. Over the hooks Mariah had painted green alphabet letters to match the plastic letters looped to the rings at the tops of the sacks. The bottoms cleared the floor because the hooks were set high but he could reach the rings without standing on tiptoe. He lifted down six sacks: C for Cardboard, G for Glass, M for Metal, P for Paper, PL for Plastics, Y for Yuck. O for Other he left. You can always go back for Other and get ready. Instead of a gunnysack you might need a wheelbarrow. Once he made ten round trips to the park for an old-timey cabinet radio and stereo.

Okay, and the trips weren't worth it because lots of what you find is trash. Most trash is trash and not junk. Here's another true fact. After you run a recycling route, no way are you through. You sort again: glass to brown, green and clear, metal to aluminum and steel, paper to cardboard and mixed paper. Plastic you may have to wash. Actually, you're never through -- not even when you make a run to the recycling center and dump a bunch of trash. There's always more. The world is full of litterbugs. Oh, well, you won't run out of work. Staying on surveillance, he cased the south wall, which is farthest from the house and the line of bins and cans lettered by his sister with her felt pen -- this time in glosheen green. Their mother says glosheen pink and green came and went in the fifties. Mariah doesn't care about glosheen colors but she does care about organization. This helps him more than he feels like letting on to her. You might not understand because you don't know her. All he can tell you is that you have to watch his sister or she takes over.

Anyhow, recycling depends on putting stuff you find where you can find it again when you're ready to haul it to a place to get it fixed so it can be re-used. If you don't sort right from the start, you might as well dump everything you find in the same plastic garbage bin and go find a new job instead. For questions, Neal has a manual in a loose-leaf folder on a shelf the marshal built under the worktable. Of course, you shouldn't have many questions if you know your job. He lifted the lid to the Clear Glass bin to check his inventory. Hey, it's his stuff. Why shouldn't he? Once he'd found an empty bottle of Red Irish Rose wine. Under the bottle the beautiful red stone in a lady's ring sparkled. Manno! He'd barely had time to ask that question. Mariah got right in his face with the answer. The stone was fake -- pure cheap glass. Also, she'd said the hazardous material list in the front of his manual was inadequate, that nothing is safe. She'd begun to print off Internet lists so he would have the most current information about gross stuff. Actually, he wishes she wouldn't do this. On the latest gross stuff, he can wait. The thing is he can't get her to quit printing lists if he wants her to help him keep his stuff straight.

You don't have success with mess. Let his sister print lists. Let his mother make rules. He needs their support. His mother's rules aren't in any manual. They're in his head. If you start writing down your mother's rules, you might not have the time to tie your shoes. Hey, maybe your mother's not like his. You never know. People are different. Anyhow, his mother's rules about recycling are a snap to remember, totally hard to forget. Milk, cream and ice cream cartons go right into Y. She does not want him washing icky gross plastic that might have germs or who knows what else on it or in it. Fine by him! If he finds a sex aid or other hazardous material, he is absolutely, positively not to touch it. He is to report it to the marshal who will dispose of it or report it to the sheriff. So far, he hasn't found a sex aid or other hazardous material. He doesn't want to either, not after his mother's rules and Mariah's warning lists because it is way easy to run into material that will kill you dead and hey, like Mr. Watch says, life is important and death sure ain't trivial.

The Clear Glass bin was nearly full. He should tell the marshal. Once a month in the summer they go to the county recycling center. In the winter, they go twice. Usually they haul plastic and paper. There's lots of plastic and paper because plastic and paper are cheap. Back east and out west you can sell clean glass and metal but the marshal says you shouldn't get paid to do right. This is a fact but look out if you think Neal works for free because you're wrong. No way. He gets paid $5 every Friday. The marshal pays him partly for recycling but mostly for noticing and reporting unusual doings around Milo, especially unusual bad doings. He's the marshal's special agent. Go ahead and laugh your head off if you want to. It's true.

Neal banged the lid to the Clear Glass bin against his knee six times and flipped it to the floor with the top turned down. Then he sat in the middle of the saucer to practice staring until he wanted to get up. Sometimes you need to do what you want to do. He replaced the lid that didn't look a bit different for being sat on and lined his six gunnysacks with black baggies. Opening the door a sliver, he stuck out his head in time to see the white rear of the last goose rounding the corner of the house. The scariest thing about a daily route is you don't know what you might see next. Sure, things like the gander happen every morning but you have to stay on your guard because every morning is different and you might see something bad you don't expect. Of course, you might see something good. With the gander gone, he got a better handle on the idea about seeing the good thing. Hey, the Sheriff's Department is cracking down on people who dump trash in Salt Lick County. If he catches a litterbug in the act, he might get a reward and that would show Iris Kelly.

With three sacks slung over each shoulder, he trotted down the path through the Oats' backyard. On Elm Street he passed the Hoopers. Mrs. Hooper was up to something in the lilac bushes but from what he could see she had her clothes on. Also, Mr. Hooper was sitting on the porch and had his eye on her. Neal touched his forehead and kept going. If there's no need to ask for trouble, don't. When grown-ups want help, they ask for it. A special agent who's a kid better learn this or quit.

At Main Street, he turned north. He was jogging now. If you're a horse, there's not much difference between trotting and jogging. If you're a human, you might slow down or speed up when you jog but you mostly keep the same speed when you trot. Also, if you're a human and live in a town with no paved roads or sidewalks and can't drive a car or truck or 4-wheeler, you learn how to use your feet so you don't waste your time and money. Not that Neal can't ride a bike or board because he can. He might get his chance, too. Hey, after what happened to Bud Easily one Saturday two summers ago didn't the marshal ask the mayor and council to let him build a skate park? Neal and Pete and all the okay kids are way excited about this. Bud says he's over skateboards but he's on their side. Poor guy! All he'd done was take an old board gotten in trade for mowing to the school playground for practice. Principal Preacham knotted his head with his knuckle and told Bud to find himself something else to do elsewhere. Neal's mother is on the school board. So is Pete's dad. They were mad and met with the principal. So what? Nothing happened, not until the marshal heard about it and went into action. He says that kids who want legal exercise ought to have a public place where they are welcome. Keep your fingers crossed because a skate park in Milo, Missouri would be totally awesome!

He stopped at the MO14 fork. He's not supposed to cross the highway unless with an adult. Okay by him! Rafe Culpepper got killed by the caution sign. Rafe was riding on a thresher and never saw it coming. Anyhow, the school grounds are Mr. Maynard's job. Mr. Maynard's grandson is fighting for our freedom in Iran. Neal knows two people fighting for our freedom in Iraq: Bud's dad Charley and Mrs. Culpepper's daughter Lillian. Roy Maynard used to fight in Iraq. Now he fights in Iran and Afghanistan. The marshal says the personnel ratios amount to one for every fifty. He says this is a crying shame on everyone's conscience. He says those who volunteer do it for the money during hard times. He says no one should have to kill to make a living or to get an education. He says national conscription has strategic advantages and the military is only one kind of reaction to action or non-action. He says no account Congress is no surprise to him. He says these things to Neal's mother while they watch The News Hour on PBS. Probably they don't know he's listening. Okay, listening and worrying. Hey, who doesn't worry about war? Actually, he listens to what the marshal says about a lot of things. The marshal might not use funny words like Mr. Watch but he knows stuff. Also, Neal doesn't worry about all of what the marshal says; hey, worry about war is worry enough.

Paper skittered over the empty playground and up against the wood and stone building. Dirt lumps and bumps clogged the infield. Mr. Maynard had his work cut out for him from the double-header the night before. On the signboard the scores (H: 23 and 12, V: 20 and 5) proved that Milo had trounced Noonday. Sometimes you miss the best action. Neal gets to watch live baseball once a week. On Monday he'd watched Slater beat Marshall. Next year he and Pete might try out for the Mules but first Neal's hitting has to improve. When Pete comes home, they should practice with Pete pitching and him hitting. Practice helps. So does planning. This is a fact. Hey, you better plan if you mean to convince somebody else to work hard just so you can wind up with what you want. If you don't, you're plain ignorant.

Too bad Pete doesn't need to practice throwing. That would be perfecto. Oh, well. Aunt Ida says smile and think happy thoughts and into your head the Good Lord will pop ideas as bright and as tight as city lights. Neal's head buzzed with plans for self-improvement as he started back down Main towards the River. At the corner of Oak, he fished out of the gutter sixteen week-old programs from the Baptist Church. They were sopping wet and went into Y. Wiping his hand on his shorts, he whizzed west by the home of Judge and Mayor Pride. Hopefully, the mayor wasn't standing at her window where she might see him. He doesn't like to talk to the mayor, not when he's by himself. Well, actually, never. This wasn't a good thought but he wasn't the only one who felt this way about the mayor and if you live in the same town as she does, well, you can't keep up good thoughts about her forever.

But, hey, he could speed past her house and he did, scanning the front out of the corner of his blue eye. Houses and feeders hung from rafters and tree limbs and poked up from the lawn between baths and fountains. Mr. Watch says with her given name, the mayor has to be a bird lover. Aunt Ida says nonsense, that Birdie Mae Pride wouldn't know a catbird or cowbird or chickadee from a crow. Anyhow, it's cat time of day in the mayor's yard all day and all night too. The marshal says the birds and cats play a basic survival game. Aunt Ida says the cats play the devil and yowl. Mr. Watch says they sing. To Neal, noises sound pretty much alike. Some are soft. Some are loud. The cats are loud. At night you can hear them from across town. They go on for a long time. The shadows march up, down and around his bedroom walls. His great-grandfather's clock chimes two. Screech owls howl who.

At the J. D. Bates residence he dropped into Y one dirty Styrofoam cup. Hitching up his shorts, he looked around. A change made him nervous. So far, the route had been too easy-peasy. Usually Saturdays are hard. Seven o'clock sharp on Friday mornings the County Rural Waste Accommodation truck arrives and people can't seem to set out trash without strewing it in the ditches, ravines, streets and yards.

A little gray Escort was parked at the church. Nurse Comfort must be back and inside playing for Junior Choir practice. Nurse Mary Comfort lives at the Fairwell mansion and helps care for Ham but in late spring she goes away to school to learn more about nursing. Everyone misses her. Mrs. Carver can't leave the mansion because she has her hands full with Ham and her other work. Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Culpepper take turns at the church organ. The music sounds the same to Neal but the two of them say they aren't nearly as good as Nurse Comfort. They get all excited and tell Aunt Ida to come up with some other temporary remedy. Aunt Ida claims Nurse Comfort is irreplaceable, that she's the best organist in the county.

Neal isn't in the choir. He doesn't sing. He might pretend but he doesn't make any noise because he can't carry a tune. Probably this has to do with how he hears. Maybe how he hears has to do with why he can't carry a tune. Who knows? You can imagine stuff from this or that way or from one way to the other. The deal is he's tone deaf like his grandfather Edruns. Aunt Ida had explained it and he'd totally understood. They'd been singing Church in the Valley by the Wild Wood.

On spring evenings her front porch is her favorite place to be and singing is her favorite thing to do. Aunt Ida says homemade music is restful for the soul and healthier than TV. Mr. Watch brings his kazoo and they have themselves a high old time. Neal had been marching along the sidewalk up the steps and back down. He'd been shouting, "come, come, come, come" as loud as he could when Aunt Ida stopped singing and tapping her toe. She held up her hand so Mr. Watch would be still too. She shook her head, made a face and called Neal over to her. Before his mother could stop her she'd taught him how to move his lips without making a sound so people think he's singing. Learning to do this trick was a simple thing.

"You can sing to me any old time, honey." That night his mother kissed him hard when she tucked him in. She was mad. Well, he was glad. If Aunt Ida hadn't told him the reason why people turned and stared when he sang at church and school, how would he know? Who wants to be stared at? If she hadn't showed him what to do, he might have figured it out on his own but if you don't like to be stared at, the sooner you can make people quit it, the better. "I don't care. I can be good at other stuff." "Of course you can," his mother said. She kissed him hard again. His mother doesn't get unmad fast. She doesn't get mad too often but when she does, it lasts.

Really Aunt Ida's okay. Every Sunday, he and his mother and the marshal follow her to church. Once the marshal tried to take her arm and walk on the curbside like men are supposed to do. She told him she used to be a Methodist and prefers to step out in front. "Fairwells are still Methodists and more power to them," is what she told Neal's mother right after they moved in with her and his mother began having ideas about the First Free Church. When his mother has ideas, everybody gets involved. Aunt Ida she'd put in charge of the music. "It doesn't make a hill of beans where you attend so long as you do but I wish you could have heard that boy tickle the ivories when he was himself." Neal had been dusting hymnbooks. Aunt Ida had been telling his mother about when Ham played organ for the Methodist services. Nurse Comfort taught Ham to play when he was a baby. Aunt Ida says this was meant to be and heaven sent. Ham is what you call a musical prodigy but you wouldn't know it -- not since he quit being himself and started being different.

Back to the First Free Church, when Neal's mother makes up her mind to go for something, mostly people help her to get it. Probably this is because she gives them important jobs like Aunt Ida on music, Nurse Comfort on the organ and Mr. Watch on collections. Mr. Watch, who used to be a Baptist, donated the old Community Center for Sunday services and meetings and so that Preacher Zirconia Jones and her friend and housemate Ms. Wong can have a decent place to live in town. Mariah says they're too brave. Aunt Ida says they're two good, God-fearing women which is more than she can say for some folks. Okay, this is absolutely everything in the world that Neal knows about whatever in the world all of that is but he likes the Preacher and Ms. Wong. Hey, everybody does and everybody has all along.

Mr. Watch says he got the Community Center property for a song and a prayer and the building has never been used for much of anything anyway. He says now is always the time to begin. Neal's mother found the stained glass windows in Arrow Rock and the marshal and Neal picked them up. Then the marshal and Mr. Watch put them in place with Lucite sealed over the outsides so vandals can't destroy them. From inside the church the windows are special. If you look sideways and up through your eyelashes, you see the sun blast shooting stars and comets into the glass colors. Each window has three big rectangles soldered together with lead. The south window is blue, purple and blue; the north window is red, purple and red.

His mother never gives up. You don't have to be around her long before you know this is a totally true fact. She'd even gotten Mrs. Carver and the Culpeppers to attend First Free Church services when nobody believed this was possible. Black and white people in Milo used to go to different churches. Mrs. Carver used to be Presbyterian until her church shut down. Mrs. Carver told his mother if Aunt Ida could make the change, so could she. Sometimes Mrs. Sanchez lets Pete come with Neal. Of course, Pete has to go to mass in Boonetown, too, either before or after and it's better if he goes after. Mariah doesn't go to church. She doesn't pray with others and as far as her brother can tell, she doesn't pray alone. If you ask her about her religion, she'll tell you it's her business and you should mind your own.

Neal continued south past the water tower and Co-Op where Iris's dad was loading grain, stopping long enough to show respect like Aunt Ida had taught him to do before he started school. When she was a girl, boys and men tipped their caps to be polite. If they went bareheaded, they touched their foreheads so you're wrong to think he's making fun of people in Iran, Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, wherever. Actually, maybe those people are being polite too. You never know. Anyhow, Mr. Kelly gave a friendly wave so it worked. It can't hurt to have grown-ups feel friendly. You need all the help you can get. This is a fact. Neal paused, looked both ways and crossed the tracks to the old train station. The Milo Historic Museum rents half the building. The mayor owns the museum but Miss Valjean is the curator. The US Post Office rents the other half. Only the first floor is open. Well, not really. The second floor must be open because bats and chimney sweeps get in and Mr. Watch has Bud clean them out. Mr. Watch doesn't care about bats and sweeps inside the building but Miss Valjean does. She cares a whole lot. Squatting in the road dust, Neal gathered up oily cigarette butts and sticky mint wrappers. There's always something for Y! Under the boardwalk, he found two capped, empty plastic strawberry soda bottles for PL and ten dry Weekly Reader fillers for P. The bottles he'd have to wash; oh well, as Delaney says, life away from the city.

Look out! Miss Valjean was coming out of the museum. Wur! What would she want today? She probably had 60 jobs lined up for him. "Check thoroughly in the back, Neal," she ordered, folding her skinny arms. She orders him around like he's her slave. She's Doc Oats' sister and Nurse Comfort's aunt. She's little and fast as a lizard with a deep crease down the middle of her forehead. Also, she has what Aunt Ida calls halitosis, which means smelly breath. The week before they'd held the City Council meeting at the café and Mr. Watch complained out loud that Valjean Oats was getting meaner than sin on Sunday. "It's her teeth," the mayor snorted. The mayor snorts pretty good too. "She refuses to see a dentist; I'm worn to a frazzle trying to reason with her; in all honesty I do not know what I'm going to do."

Just because your teeth hurt doesn't mean you can give orders. Well, you can but you shouldn't. Except for Saturday mornings, the museum is closed. Miss Valjean would like to curate all week and boss Neal every day but too bad because the mayor won't pay her for those hours. Usually Neal can avoid Miss Valjean. He was around the building and out of her sight now. He heard the door shut. He backed up in front of the window. He practiced jumpstepping in place. He looked at the artwork from Miss Miller's combined first and second grade class, taking his time over each item in the display. He has one boss, the marshal, and sometimes you need to prove you can do what you want for as long as you want and when you want even if no one actually bears witness while you're totally getting your way.

Last year's assignment had been to render artistically the animal or bird that you wish you could see every morning. His mother says Miss Miller challenges. Okay, whatever. Choosing the subject was a no-brainer. Plenty of kids picked the Old Man. Neal drew him by himself, using charcoal. Pete painted him in front of does and fawns with their big ears and eyes in a forest of red and white oak trees. Pete used different gray, red and brown watercolors and deserved first prize but Miss Miller doesn't give prizes. Once Mariah paid Pete $5 for a picture of Aunt Ida that he drew with a pencil stub on a white paper napkin. It took exactly five minutes and 43 seconds. Neal timed him with the marshal's watch. Mariah says Pete is the first Thomas Hart Benton of the twenty-first century. Pete reads Amigoman comics and likes Scooby Doo. He can draw that way too but only when he wants to.

Back to the window, each year Miss Miller brings new art to Miss Valjean so the display changes. This year it's pretty cool. Even Iris's computer drawing of millions of pink and white rabbits is okay if you like that kind of thing. On the other side of the window is a display that never changes and isn't cool. You can see it today but get ready. In a curly silver frame under glass there's an old black and white picture of a naked dead man stretched out on a table with a sheet over his bottom half. Men in butcher aprons stand around the table and stare down at him. One of them is way tall, wears a hat and holds a knife high in the air. He is about to carve. You can tell. The card next to the picture reads: Dr. Tempest M. C. K. Preacham Lectures, Surgeon College, 1874, Loaned 2000 et seq by Philomena Fairwell.

Okay, the first time Neal saw this, he freaked. Hey, ever since he'd started school, he'd been worried about Principal Preacham. Who wants a skateboard hater for a relative? Now here was another Preacham, a doctor he never, ever would have wanted to visit for a well check, sick check or any check! So he'd gone to his mother and asked about his middle name. Mr. Watch says you don't ask, you don't get and when the question is serious, your mother's the person to ask. Well, his told him that Preacham is a distant family name on her mother's side and that they are related to half the people in Milo, not just those with Preacham for a name. Also, she said the principal comes from up north and that Struther has his good points. Neal hasn't noticed these but he didn't ask what they are or exactly how he's related to the doctor with the hat, apron and knife. He will someday, he guesses. You can't find out everything the first time you ask, not even from your mother. You're better off to wait on some questions. Also, some answers aren't what they seem. The museum door creaked; you can count on disruption of a daydream.

The door creaked again. He ducked behind the building. Against the martin house post leaned a trimmer. Hooked to the trimmer, Bud's T-shirt flapped like a peace flag. Okay, why check thoroughly in the back? Miss Valjean knows Bud will leave everything in perfect shape. She just wants to be boss! Hot wind blew from the southwest. Sweat ran in his eyes and Neal wiped his face on the tail of his vest.

"How you today, Neal?" Bud asked. He turned to mow another straight line. He wears cut-off bibs in the summer but Bud doesn't look like any baby. He looks like a man except no hair grows on his chest and he isn't as tall as he's going to be. You can tell by looking. Marks on the wall measure but you can predict the future by looking, too. Actually, Neal quit wearing cut-off bibs when he was four and isn't ready to start again. Otherwise, he and Bud have a lot in common. They both have butches. Around his forehead, Bud wraps a red bandana. Neal keeps forgetting his sweat rag. Anyhow, they both believe in hard work and sticking to a job until it's done and done well. Bud might work the hardest in summer. He for sure works the hardest in winter. He plows snow, traps and ice fishes. Neal just helps plow snow. Mr. Watch owns the summer mowing and trimming equipment. From May to October on the last of each month the mayor and council pay Bud $40 for the care of the cemeteries and riverbanks behind the museum and post office. They buy the gas. The marshal says this is highway robbery. Bud says he needs the money.

If you don't think going up and down riverbanks with a trimmer is hard work, then you try it. For fun Bud plays baseball. He catches for the Mules. Delaney pitches. Neal isn't sure what position to try out for. Pete wants left field and gets excited if you ask why. He yells it's his business and he likes the view from there, whatever that means. Mariah says that you don't always know why artists make scenes.

Here's something Neal does know. You're smart to include breaks in your P.O.D. especially when it's hot. It was and he was and he took a short one. He lay down in the cool clover patch under Miss Valjean's weeping willow. He was safe because she wouldn't come to the back of the building. At least, she hadn't before and that's mostly what you have to go on -- what a person did before. Through the drooping branches, he watched a robin hop in front of the tractor and drop behind. Swallows swooped down for the day moths thrown into the air by wheels and blades and for the gnats whizzing around the red bandana. Every so often, Bud would shake his head. Gnats and skeeters rose up and spread out into a cloudy halo. Martins and swallows broke through the cloud, diving and snatching like pin-wheel spinners. Bug-eating birds can help you if you do outdoor work that stirs up their dinners.

Mariah does the regular yard work for their mother and for Aunt Ida. Each week in the summer she pushes a hand mower the marshal keeps working for her. She says she needs the exercise. If you want to know the truth, this is fine by her brother. He has plenty to do besides mow. He just wishes she wouldn't make such a big deal and act so super smart. He reached into his pocket for the Bugoff. Ho! One time his sister had been super dumb. She'd forgotten to use the salve. Well, Mariah might need the exercise but not 13 mosquito bites, five chiggers and a tick fixing to settle in behind her left ear. Aunt Ida had to work her over real good when she finished that daily workout. Neal grinned. So what? Bugoff smells like what gets rubbed on your chest for a cold and feels like it too only mixed with hot peppers. Nothing chases away gnats but Bugoff works against skeeters, ticks, chiggers and flies. With his fingers, he spread the hot smell on his face. Mariah and Iris think his mother should sell Bugoff. He thinks this is stupid. His mother's already too busy. Also, Bugoff doesn't always help. Don't bet your life on it or you'll be sorry. Bugs might not let you rest in the shade even if you are a special agent and not bothering them. Bugs can get meaner and meaner and Neal had no bird allies flying counter-attack missions. Right now the bugs were out for his blood. Must be time to leave Bud.

He cruised east to Jake's Junkyard. The junkyard is not his responsibility. Mr. Watch says he knows where everything is and everything isn't and the yard is his durn affair and concern and best for it to stay that way. In Riverside Park Neal turned upside down three Budweiser cans and jounced them. He put them into M.

Along the bluff he climbed to the highest point. There he laid down his sacks and binocs. From his back pocket he removed his compass, a gift from the marshal on his fifth birthday. He opened the lid and placed it on the grass next to a gooseberry bush. He knew where he was but it never hurts to practice for when you don't. While facing the River, he saluted and recited "N for North". Next he wheeled in a circle, stopping three times at the 90 degree angles. Each time he stopped, he saluted and spoke: "E for East", "S for South", "W for West". He wound up staring in the direction of town. Bending over, he took the binocs from their case. You can count on it. If he needs to see, they need cleaning. He wiped each lens with the tail of his vest. Then he stood at attention and raised them to his eyes, sweeping the range of sights, looking for the strange and unusual and out of place, for what has never been before. The marshal calls this using his hunter's eye. He paid close attention to where groundbreaking is supposed to happen for a plant that is supposed to make gas out of alfalfa, timothy and Queen Anne's Lace. Nobody was breaking ground. Nobody had broken ground all year. The marshal says the idea is crazy anyway. He says fuel cells are the future and the future's insecure. Wur!

After some hard work rehanging the binocs, he pocketed the compass and shouldered his sacks. He tackled Pecan Street, way glad he'd used the Bugoff because you need two hands for balance so you have no hands to swat. The mayor owns five lots on Pecan. The rest belong to people from out of state. The marshal says the annual taxes are so low they forget they own the property. Vines and thorns remember to sprout. Vines get thicker. Thorns get sharper. Nobody actually lives on Pecan but you can't call the street empty. Danger could lurk behind any crumbling shack. Dodging wild roses and thistles that tear your skin like small knives, Neal steered over toadstools and around poison oak, ivy and sumac.

Sweat burned his eyes but he had a good reason to keep going. Actually, he had a very good reason. A bobcat lives in the wild woods just before Mr. Noland's catfish farm. Neal hasn't seen the bobcat but Pete says the eyes are like the eyes of the Egyptian pharaoh in Miss Miller's world history book. Pete hopes to see the bobcat again. Well, guess what? Neal won't get in his way. Cats should have cat eyes not people eyes. That's how he feels about it. In front of Mr. Noland's cabin he broke down a red, white and blue carton. Fireworks are illegal in Salt Lick County. Of course, empty cartons won't land you in jail but you never know. He looked behind him while he continued working. You need to stay alert. Would a firecracker scare a bobcat? Probably. Finally, he managed to stuff the flattened cardboard into C.

Thinking about Pete made him sad. He trudged by the Sanchez buildings. Like his mother's business, the Sanchez Store fronts on the highway. Except for fireworks and alcohol, you can find pretty much what you need there. If you head north on MO14 across the Harry Truman Bridge and over into Noonday County, you can buy fireworks and bread and milk and pop and beer and worms from Clete Dobbs. You can but unless it's for fireworks, nobody from Milo wants to shop across the River and nobody from Milo wants to buy from Clete Dobbs unless they have to. Mr. Watch calls him a "wrongun". Neal hitched up his shorts. Forget the binocs but he did take a good look around. When Pete isn't home, he keeps a special watch on the Sanchez property. You do this for friends. The fruit and vegetable bins were covered with the tarp in place over the flowers and the closed sign was lit. Pete's folks and his little brother must be at the Open House already; that must be it.

You never see trash or garbage on the Sanchez property. Mr. Sanchez gets to it first or sends Pete if Pete is around. Oh, well. At the turn in to the main parking lot, Neal inspected his mother's wooden sign. He blew off a dead moth and maple leaf skeleton tightly wrapped in a good-sized cobweb. He used the bottom of his vest and a little spit to shine first the white letters that spelled Juanita's Travel Stop and then the black metal frame around the sign. He dealt with one Missouri State Fair matchbook cover (P), two rusty nails (M), three filter cigarette butts (Y). You can go nuts missing a friend. His cousins in California want him to visit next summer. He doesn't want to visit California next year. He wants Pete right now and here.

That's how it is with your best friend for life especially if you have the same hero. This makes a good story but you need to hear the beginning. For one thing, maybe Pete has always lived in Milo but not Neal. Neal was born in Columbia because his mother was too old to have a baby. The best doctors and hospitals are in Columbia. His sister said so then when she was living on the University of Missouri campus and getting her first degree. She says so now. The doctor who joked about eyes was a stupid jerk. Still he was the best. This is a fact. Not all facts make sense. You have to use tricks to memorize the weird facts and you shouldn't rely on them too often.

Sedalia's where Neal and his mother and dad lived after he was born while Mariah stayed in Columbia to get her second degree. Okay, besides Columbia and Sedalia, he's traveled to every town in Salt Lick County and to both Kansas Cities and St. Louis. Maybe he hasn't gone to a billion different places like the marshal but he's young. Also, he's not sure he wants to go to a billion different places. Here's a fact that does make sense. You have to think before you rush off and do things or you'll be sorry. Not everyone needs to move around a bunch either for free or for money.

His dad moved around a bunch, didn't he? Look what happened to him. In the picture by the grow marks, Neal's dad is way bigger and taller than the marshal. He has two blue eyes and hair the color of Mariah's. In the picture, he looks happy. Mariah claims he was never home but when he was, he was nice. Neal was only a baby when he was killed on the road. People think he was killed in a road accident because lots of truckers get killed in road accidents but that's not what happened. He was found dead in the men's room at a rest stop outside Kansas City, Kansas. Some drug-crazy teenager had shot him and stolen his rig. The rig was later recovered after a shootout in Kansas City, Missouri. Their mother didn't want to see it and sold the rig for junk. The drug-crazy teenager was killed in the shootout. Manno! Isn't it weird how you start to tell one thing and end up telling something different? When you explain the past, everything gets mixed in with the present.

Okay, you do not remember everything. This is probably good. His mother decided a change of scene would be good for them but wasn't in a hurry. She worked three more years at her job with Casey's before she retired and sold their house. They packed their stuff in the Ryder van and moved in with Aunt Ida the summer before he was to enroll at the Milo K-8 School. He could see the Sanchez Store from his bedroom window. Why waste time? He palled up with Pete the first morning so Pete could watch his back and show him the rules. You need help in a new place if you're a kid too old to run home to your mother. You need a friend while you're getting your balance and settling in unless you have a big brother.

All summer the two of them hung together. Neal got to skip Kindergarten. On the first day of first grade they walked together into Miss Miller's classroom. Miss Miller uses given names and the letters "N" and "P" are close in the alphabet so she let them sit together. Neal didn't have to explain the Striker and Edruns-Striker business. Phew! Miss Miller is nice and things were fine until morning recess. She got them started playing Who Wins? He and Pete were partners. If you don't know this game, you and your partner and some other partners form two teams with you on one team and your partner on the other. When your turn comes, you and your partner run a relay race and you sit down behind the last person on your team who ran before you ran. You're supposed to sit down exactly when your partner does. Nobody wins. They were having a pretty good time until Miss Miller had to go in.

Snapping his fingers and smelling like trouble, Tyler Roper came over from the big kids' side. He might snap like a rapper but you can take Neal's word for it, he isn't. For some reason, Miss Miller had left Iris in charge. Well, Iris might boss little kids but Tyler just stood on his hands and bebopped at her. Next he flipped right side up, got in Pete's face, spun Pete around and made him walk Spanish. If you don't know what this is, someone taller grabs the back of your pants under your boody and lifts you up. You have to hurry forward on tiptoe and you look totally stupid. Who knows where the Spanish part fits in? If you try to know everything about everything you say, you'll be up all night. Anyhow, Pete says it so it must be right.

"Yo, Señor Español, who's the geek freak before I give him a new name?"

Pete couldn't kick loose; "don't worry," he said to Neal, "it's just a game."

"How about crazy eyes," said Tyler Roper, "until I figure something better."

"Where's Miss Miller?" asked Iris like Neal should know; "you better get her!"

Only he saw Delaney sprint across the schoolyard. With a twisting yank and wrist squeeze, Delaney had Tyler hung by his heels where he could jounce Tyler hard.

"Apologize to both of them, dirthead!" Delaney demanded from between his white teeth. He shook Tyler up and down against the chainlink fence until Tyler said he was sorry. "Where's Miss Miller?" he asked Iris. "I want to talk to her about this."

Neal and Pete didn't say a word but the story spread. Later Aunt Ida told his mother that Delaney behaves like a protector because of Ham. They didn't know Neal was listening. Usually, if you're quiet, people don't. "Of course, he has that gift," said Aunt Ida, meaning second sight. Delaney can sit on his own front porch and tell you what's going on in another county, state, country or planet. He knows the past and present and can predict the future for anywhere. Most people only want to know about where they are or where they're going to be. Delaney was four when he warned about the Flood of '93. "Frightened the living daylights out of us," said Aunt Ida, "and he was right as rain about that sorry dose of River history."

Delaney doesn't like to talk about his gift. Hey, this is okay by Neal and Pete. They plan to follow him to the University of Missouri Agricultural College and learn how to deer farm and come home and work hard for him and get rich themselves. Pete plans to study art too but he says he can do both. That's his business. You need your own plans. Also, you better believe Tyler Roper stopped saying "Señor Español" and "crazy eyes". Okay, the Roper family moved to Sweet Springs so maybe he calls them names behind their backs. You don't know what people are calling you when you're in a different place but if you are, you don't care because they aren't in your face. The same goes for what they do. Neal hitched up his shorts. He might have gone wrong with this idea but he was too hot to find his way back to where he once belonged. You get tired after telling a long story even if the story's good. When tired and mixed up in the head, he usually thinks about food.

Rufus sprawled in the shady back of the dog pen with a pork steak bone. "Hot bicket and poke steak, all you can make," Mr. Watch tells Aunt Ida. When he gets her to cook pork steak, Rufus gets the bones. Mr. Watch likes to eat. So does Rufus. Hey, who doesn't? The PB cookies were history. The sandwich was a linty wad. Maybe Neal should suck in his stomach and wait. Pretty soon he'd be at the Open House eating plenty of good things. Rufus left the bone, came over and took the sandwich from him. The thing is you have to have some fun and maybe you have to make yourself laugh. Probably all dogs who love peanut butter look funny eating it. Molly, the marshal's dog, would never eat PB, not even if she could unscrew the lid and open the jar. Molly isn't funny; some dogs aren't funny and some dogs are.

Rufus quit licking his teeth and sneezing and returned to his bone. Neal snickered and headed for the cabins. He felt a little bad but was Rufus complaining? No! He shifted all the gunnysacks to his left shoulder to free his right hand and arm for action and tried the door to vacant Cabin A. The door should be locked. It was. In front of Cabin B gleamed the fire engine red scooter with five silver stars painted on the hamper that Mr. Watch had gotten in trade for a rusty sewing machine with a broken treadle. Unlike the MO Mobility Store chairs recommended by Doc Oats or electric scooters Iris claims she'd lie down and die for, the scooter was custom made into a speedy streamlined bike powered by gas or ethanol or soy diesel. You could convert to anything. Neal wanted very much to stop and do a bit of friendly polishing but he kept on walking. Mr. Watch is picky about property plus Neal still had to finish routine cabin security. He still had to complete and sign his daily record, empty and deal with the contents of the sacks and finish his regular house chores. Finally he had to clean up and report. He doesn't like to rush or be late. That's just how he is. You can have more than one dislike and these are two of his.

Missing from the Cabin D parking slot was the silver Cadillac, Lewis N. Clark's airport rental. He and his daughter must already be at the Open House. Manno! Would Neal's people be the last to arrive at the most important event in the north end of the county? Well, if that's supposed to happen, a special agent isn't the one to argue. Special agents keep their eyes open and try not to leave or miss clues.

You can't do it all. Mariah called the Cadillac fancy, schmancy. When he told his sister there is no such word as schmancy, she told him to lighten up. She said he needed some Mel Brooks. "High Society," she said, raising those brows of hers. "I'll order it. We should have the film anyway." His sister came to Milo after the Travel Stop opened. She says there's a limit to how much money and energy you should devote to a third degree. She rents, sells and shows movies. She sells Missouri State lottery tickets and Iris's dolls. She tends bar and helps cook and does most of the maid's job. She's working for their mother while she figures out what she really wants to do. She knows she doesn't want to go to church. She says she needs to find out where she does want to go and that she's on a personal vocational search.

Dropping the sacks, Neal sat on the curb and took out the pencil, pen and spiral notebook she'd given him so he can write down words. Later he's supposed to look them up in her Oxford English Dictionary and increase his vocabulary. Actually, he doesn't mind this. The pictures in the OED are pretty good, too. If he waits until she has time, Mariah helps him look up words on the Internet. That's fun. But even if you find schmancy on the web, you may not know what it is when you're done.

You have to pay to use the OED on the web. His sister says this is capitalistic piggery. Sometimes the marshal drives everyone to the Boonetown Municipal Library. Neal has his own card and checks out his own books. In the winter someone else might have to return or renew them. You can only keep books three weeks. You can only keep movies one week but Neal doesn't check out movies from the library. Mariah has all the movies you would ever want to see in your lifetime. She has tapes, videos and dvds. This doesn't mean she'll let you watch them. She might. She might not. That's the way she is. On his older sister, you have to trust him. Well, maybe you don't have to. It'll be easier on you and on him if you do.

Trust is real. Like dreams, it can vanish and appear. Here's the thing: Neal's lost track of how much he relies on his sister. Forget vocabulary. He keeps his records in the notebook she gave him. Hey, doesn't he read from them when he reports to the marshal? Records need to be right. Also, if he dies on a case, he does not want to leave behind a bunch of sloppy evidence. When he was three, he could read and print in capital letters and add, subtract, multiply and divide. His mother taught him in English. They were alone in Sedalia and she had to have something to do after her shift. Of course, this made First Grade kind of boringus but Pete was there. Pete could read and print and do math in English and Spanish before he started school so when it got boringus, they had each other. Even when Miss Miller appointed Iris to direct the class production of the first Thanksgiving, they sat on the stage and made it to the end. You can get through anything with a friend.

Sitting on the curb, Neal opened to the empty page following yesterday's record. He wet the pencil lead, printed today's report and signed in cursive with the pen. He uses Edruns-Striker on official reports. You never know when the marshal, who definitely likes the first half of his double last name, might look at one. If you can help yourself with your boss, why not? Under his signature Neal printed the date with first the day, then month, then year and no commas. This is his favorite way of writing the date plus how he enters the date on his reports is his business and the marshal's. After pocketing the notebook, pencil and pen, he stood and slung all six sacks over his left shoulder. Yes, you should even out the weight if you can but sometimes you have to break your own rules and do what feels right. Besides, the door to Cabin E was wide open. His right hand was best at hitting and you never know when you might need to fight off a burglar. Still, his left hand was great at grabbing and holding. He looked down at it now so it wouldn't feel snubbed. You lose out big time if you don't pay attention to every bit of yourself. This is a fact. Also, he heard a vacuum in the cabin's bathroom. Usually burglars don't vacuum.

The noise stopped. From the doorway he watched Mariah return VHS tapes to the right jackets. The cabin TV sets only play VHS movies. She stacked the movies on the bottom of her cart in some sort of order she understood. Then she punched the pillows and swayed and swooped around the bed. She wore torn sweats and one of Aunt Ida's aprons and had her blond braids looped and tied with shoestrings. She was listening to her headset and dancing to herself. When she opened her eyes and saw Neal, her brows shot up like always. Manno, he hates this! It makes her look like she knows what he's been up to and could tell their mother and get him in big trouble but she won't if he does what she says. He waited for her to tackle him. Being quiet is one way to resist her. You learn tricks for dealing with your sister.

"Somehow I never featured myself as a motel maid," she said, unstoppering her ears and tweaking her shoestrings until her ragmop braids swung horizontally.

"The marshal and Mr. Watch do for themselves and A, D and E are mostly empty."

She stuck a pillow under her chin and peered at him with her two blue eyes while she wiggled the slip up, up and on. "I know you mean well, little brother, but guess what? My ultimate solution is elsewhere." She began to sing. "Buffalo gal, won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight? Oh, buffalo gal, won't you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon?" Hopping around like some weird heron bird, she draped clean towels over half her face and tossed them in the air. Okay, you don't need to carry a tune to understand words and Neal wasn't excited about the words to this song. Also, you don't need to hang around your crazy sister. She put the headset back on and began flipping and flapping the clean sheets. Making a face at her, he took off; Mr. Watch would say he beat feet.

Sailing past the scooter, he wished again for a watch -- actually, a stopwatch. Hey, wasn't he setting speed records? He flew across the tracks and inside the shed before the gander knew it. On the edge of the worktable he stacked the aluminum cans from M. "Harr!" He smashed them with Aunt Ida's old bread mallet and tossed them into the open black bin. He put the plastic bottles from PL by the door. He dropped the baggies from M and PL into the open baggie from Y, knotted the top with a slipknot and dumped this into the green bin, lifting and replacing the tight cover without having to use the mallet. He pounded once just in case because you never know. The Reader fillers from P he tipped into the paper side of the trough with the board down the middle. The cardboard from C he laid in the cardboard side. The baggies from P and C he left for tomorrow. His mother says they don't give away baggies, which is no big surprise. Also, she buys his supplies.

Slowly he stuck out his head. Then he tore across the yard to wash the pop bottles, probably breaking another speed record. Just as he got to the hose the gander charged. Neal was way ready. He turned on the faucet and shot a stream of water high in the air. Hey, he could have aimed right into the big fat mouth. "That would have fixed your wagon," he muttered, sending the honking, hissing watch bird for cover with a medium spray. He didn't dare spray harder. Aunt Ida would tan his hide. Not really, but she'd be hopping mad and his mother would be on her side.

In his hand he cupped the cool stream of water and rinsed his face and the bottles. He wanted to dunk his head but with the gander backed off, now was the time to boogie. In a flash, he twisted the faucet knob left, dropped the hose and ran for the shed. He threw the bottles in the red bin for clear plastic and raced to the door. Would he get inside the house before the gander forgot who was boss? He shut the door behind him and made a left fist. Hitching up his shorts, he jogged across the yard to safety. The gander would try to be yard boss tomorrow and Neal would be way ready then too. Battle with the gander is built in to the P.O.D. he works out each night. Also, even if your enemy's only a goose, you get hot when you fight!

In the house are two window air conditioners: one in the dining room, the other in the upstairs hall. They weren't turned on because his mother goes by the date, not how hot it is. In the kitchen the ceiling fan whirred and stirred the soupy air. He climbed on the stool for a drink. Soon he'd be able to get himself a drink without a stupid stool. The marks on his bedroom wall prove he's growing. You need proof. This is a fact. He rinsed the cup, turned it over on the counter and spit in the sink to make sure the drain was working. He emptied the kitchen paper and cardboard trash into the box on the porch. He'd made his bed. On the P.O.D., he was ahead.

"Is that you, young Neal? Are you done with your chores?" Aunt Ida's bedroom is downstairs in the front so she can keep an eye on things. He knew what she was doing. She was curling her hair with an old-fashioned curling iron. Mariah says the iron is barbaric and shows you how vain and silly women were and are still. Aunt Ida says it sure beats trying to sleep on a head full of hard rollers and the Lord understands and know-it-all folks who don't attend church shouldn't criticize or they'll be sorry when cometh the Great Day. Aunt Ida says Mariah soon will learn pride goeth before a fall. On the curling iron, lots of stuff that is supposed to make you look good stinks something awful but burned hair probably stinks worst of all.

Neal held his breath and went to see what she wanted. When grown-ups call, that's what kids are supposed to do, not hold their breath but find out what's wanted. He doesn't always do what he's supposed to do but today was a special day and he was playing it safe even though the closer he got to Aunt Ida, the more he needed air. You can't hold your breath forever. You can hold it for quite a while if you practice. Just like with spins, sideswipes and jumping scissors, practice is the key. If you're a kid and want to get along in the world, you're smart to learn and practice tricks. To take his mind off not breathing, Neal took just one breath and did 12 back kicks.

"Don't bother your mother, honey. She's having one of her times." Aunt Ida unplugged the iron. Around her head she sprayed Evening of Paris, the perfume he'd given her last Christmas after he'd heard her say she'd worn it as a girl. His mother helped him order the gift over the Internet where it cost ten times as much as it used to but they were not to tell Aunt Ida. She'd probably freak. Secrets with your mother are way easy to keep; also, they do not make you feel like a sneak.

"There, much better." Neal took a deep breath and that's what Aunt Ida thought! Oh, well, he had to start breathing more anyway. You have to live with some things unless you live alone. It's true the bad smell was fading as the perfume took over in deep waves. Through his nose Neal began breathing in medium amounts of air between long holdings of air so that he could stay and watch Aunt Ida finish what she calls making up her face without passing out. Gazing into her wavy mirror she stuck her right pinky into a teensy pot of pink rouge and dabbed her cheeks and forehead. She rubbed in the pink spots and patted all over her face with a floppy puff. White powder swirled around her head and neck like a laundry suds ruff.

When J. D. Bates says she has the prettiest face in town, her face and neck turn red. She has deep dimples like they were punched into her cheeks with a machine. So do Neal's mother and sister. He does not and this is fine by him. Once they'd been looking at old scrapbooks and he recognized Aunt Ida wearing a frilly white dress and carrying yellow roses. She's pretty in this picture so he told her so. You'd think she would have been glad to hear it. Instead, she got upset and left for her bedroom with big old tears in her eyes. Mariah called Neal a peanut. She said he ought to think before he opens his mouth, that it hurts Aunt Ida to hear she was pretty. His sister said "was" really loud. "Implications, little brother, implications!" Hey, he got the message. You have to watch how you tell the truth to Aunt Ida.

"You go along now, Neal, but mind you don't bother Juanita."

As he climbed the stairs, he heard the pipes gurgling. Good! His mother must be taking a bath. Usually a bath helps when's having one of her times. Like him, she worries about war but she worries about other things, too. Does Neal have friends and is he learning in school? Is Aunt Ida working too hard? Is Mariah ever going to become what she wants to become? Will the marshal find a new girlfriend? His mother's worries make her tense and she has one of her times. She says she just wants to give up. Mariah says she's just exhausted. "Maybe I need a long, hot bath," their mother says. "Go for it," says his sister. In Sedalia, their mother called her give up feelings pain. She took pills and they don't want her to do that again.

In his bedroom Neal looked in the mirror. He needed to clean up, change clothes and report to the marshal. He'd have to sit in the clawfoot tub even though he's way too old for it. Sometimes he gets to shower in one of the cabins but his mother had said they'd be too busy today for that kind of nonsense. With her wet hair in a purple towel, she came into the room and he was glad to see she didn't look tense.

"How are you, working man?" She walked around his bed for a hug. She smelled like cherries, maple syrup and taffy you pull. His mother always smells wonderful.

And what's better than someone who smells wonderful rubbing your sweaty head?

"Counting the eggs in the basket, making sure the chicks are ready to roost, fighting the demons and braving the elements, " she said.

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