I Owe You One (7 page)

My stomach lurched. I knew that look only too well. When an adult looked at you like that, there was going to be a condition attached.

“And I'm sure the boys wouldn't mind helping me take down this old barn foundation in return.”

Mrs. Elliot looked at us with eyes so bright you would think Mr. Elliot was offering us a week at summer camp instead of hours and hours of hard manual labor.

“Oh, I'm sure the boys wouldn't mind! They can start tomorrow.” She beamed.

A man always respects his elders, Wes.

I groaned quietly. The old stone foundation was huge. Vines twisted and wound all over the rocks. It was going to take us forever.

“Well, now that that's settled, let's have some refreshment.” Mrs. Elliot began pouring the lemonade.

This whole thing was getting horribly complicated.

Chapter 11

“What a way to spend summer vacation,” Zach moaned. “Everyone else is going swimming at the quarry today.”

I would have given anything to be jumping into the cool water too. Instead I was staring at a fortress of rocks and mortar that looked even bigger than it had on the day we got roped into pulling it down. Part of me just wanted to give up. Mrs. Minton probably didn't even remember what had happened at the creek. She was a kindhearted lady…she didn't really think I owed her a life debt, did she?

And now Mr. Elliot expected us to take down his foundation, we had promised the Chiefs' coach the arrowhead, and the guy in Florida was waiting for his snow. I groaned.

“What did Mr. Elliot tell us again?” I asked.

“One pile for the rocks. One pile for the mortar,” Zach's imitation of Mr. Elliot was so perfect, I snorted.

Mr. Elliot had said he was going to a meeting in town. I thought he could have at least stayed to help us.

Zach grabbed the pickax and, with a grunt, swung it at the foundation. It bounced off and almost knocked him to the ground.

Next he took a crowbar and tried to wedge it in the crumbling mortar. He strained to pry the rock out but stopped after a few minutes, panting. I went over to help him. It still took almost ten minutes to finally free the stone, even with two of us putting all our weight into it. I picked it up and carried it to the pile.

“One down, thousands to go,” Zach said.

I could feel the energy drain from my muscles.

“This is nuts,” I said. “We'll never get this done in time to get that transmitter. Are you sure Mr. Elliot won't give us the arrowhead now if we promise to finish this later?”

“I'm sure.” Zach threw back his shoulders to do another impression of Mr. Elliot. “‘Young people are notoriously unreliable.'” That one had me rolling on the ground.

We tried to pry another rock out.

Zach threw down the crowbar in disgust.

A man works smarter, not harder, Wes.

“I've got an idea,” I said.

“Does it involve shade, drinks and rest?”

“Yes.”

“Count me in. What is it?”

“Daryl.”

Silence.

“You know that Mr. Elliot hates him, right?” Zach finally said.

“He won't even know he was here.”

“Somehow those sound like famous last words.”

We left Mr. Elliot's place and biked over to Daryl's. He was just coming out of his workshop when we cornered him and told him our plan. At first he seemed interested, but the minute he heard Mr. Elliot's name he started to sweat and shake his head.

“It's for a really good cause,” I said in my best wheedling voice.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Daryl said, backing away with his hands up in surrender.

“Come on, Daryl. You're the only one who can help us,” Zach said.

Daryl shifted nervously. You could see him struggle between his fear of Mr. Elliot and the thrill of blowing something up. “You sure Mr. Elliot isn't there?”

“He went into Harrington for a co-op meeting. Those things run two hours at least,” I said.

“What about Mrs. Elliot?” Daryl asked, licking his lips nervously.

“Her book club meets today.”

“I don't know,” Daryl said slowly. “Mr. Elliot said if he ever saw me near his place again he'd”— he blushed—“he'd put my explosives somewhere uncomfortable.”

“He's all talk,” I said. “I think that he'd be grateful to have that foundation down so quickly.”

Zach nodded vigorously.

Daryl finally agreed. I think the idea that he might actually be doing something to please old Jack was what really turned the tide in our favor. Daryl didn't like the idea of being hated by anyone. What was one flying cow between neighbors?

We waited impatiently while Daryl filled a canvas shoulder bag with stuff from his workshop. I didn't see exactly what went in there, but it looked heavy.

Daryl gave a low whistle when he saw the foundation and all the vines. In a flash he whipped out his tape measure and climbed all over the pile, taking measurements and talking to himself. It seemed to take forever.

Zach kept glancing over at me with this panicked look on his face as the minutes ticked by. I was starting to get that sick feeling in my stomach.

“If Mr. Elliot comes back and sees Daryl, well, you can kiss that arrowhead goodbye,” Zach whispered.

I didn't want to admit it, but Zach was right. If we couldn't get the arrowhead, it would be the end of our plan. Still, Daryl was the reason we were in this mess in the first place. Wasn't it only right that he be the one to help us fix it?

Daryl finally trotted over to us with a look on his face like a puppy who has found a chew toy under the couch.

“Easy as falling off a log,” he told us.

“Well, get to it, Daryl,” I said, feeling nervous. “Before Mr. Elliot gets back.”

At the mention of Mr. Elliot's name, Daryl's eyes opened wide. “Oh, yeah,” he said, trotting back to the wall with his bag.

I tried really hard not to fidget as he took his time placing the blasting caps in and around the inner base of the wall. Sometimes he'd remeasure something and then move the explosive what looked like a quarter inch. All the while my stomach was churning. I hadn't thought it would take this long. I had pictured Daryl simply stacking some dynamite all around the wall and blasting it to bits.

“Daryl!” I yelled. “I don't think moving it that little bit will make any difference. Come on! Hurry up!”

Daryl stood up and gave me his version of a stern look. “If these sticks aren't placed right, those stones are gonna go flying in every direction, twenty, maybe thirty, feet. Do you want one flying through the kitchen window or knocking out one of Mr. Elliot's cows over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the cow pasture not fifteen feet away. Esmeralda looked up at the sound of his voice. She backed away from the fence.

Daryl bent back down, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

“Daryl's right,” Zach said. “Those rocks could go anywhere.”

My head started to ache. I hadn't even thought about stuff getting damaged. I just wanted those rocks loose so we could pile them up. It was time to call this off. Mr. Elliot was due home any minute.

When we turned around, Daryl wasn't by the wall anymore. He waved to us from behind Mr. Elliot's shed. There was a little black box in his hand and a happy smile on his face. We raced over to him.

“Forget this, Daryl!” I panted. “Just take it all back and I'll make this up to you.”

Daryl looked confused and hurt. “But it's all ready. One press of this button and we're done.”

I opened my mouth to say “No!” and then everything warped into slow motion again as disaster loomed. I tried to wave Daryl off as he smiled and moved his hand to the button. I heard the crunch of tires on gravel and the slam of a truck door. And then
BOOM!

Chapter 12

It took me a couple of minutes to realize that I was flat on my back looking up at the sky. The puffy clouds looked so peaceful drifting along, you wouldn't have thought that a world war was about to erupt.

“What in the world have you done now!?” I had never heard Mr. Elliot at full volume before, and I have to admit, even with my ears ringing a little from the blast, it was impressive. I could feel the ground shake as he stormed over to us. I figured for safety's sake, I should get up.

I was still a little woozy, but a quick check convinced me that all I had was a small bump on my head. The shed had protected us from the worst of the blast. Zach was struggling to get up beside me. I couldn't see Daryl.

Mr. Elliot reached us in what seemed like two strides. A huge vein throbbed in his neck, and his eyes bulged. I was so terrified, I couldn't even speak.

Mrs. Elliot came up behind him. “Now, Jack,” she said calmly, “I'm sure the boys are fine.”

The look in Mr. Elliot's eyes told me that he wasn't as relieved as she was that we were both okay. I think he was from the old school, where young boys who had crazy ideas got what they deserved. I was never so grateful to see Mrs. Elliot in all my life.

Mr. Elliot's teeth were clamped together so tightly that the words could barely escape his mouth. “What. Happened?”

It would have taken one of Daryl's sticks of dynamite to get me to open my mouth right then.

Luckily Zach found his voice. “We were just trying to find a way to speed the job up. So we called in some help.” His eyes were wide and pleading for mercy from Mrs. Elliot.

“Oh no.” A look of horror spread over Mr. Elliot's face as he realized what Zach meant by “help.” “Daryl,” he whispered.

Right on cue, Daryl's head popped up from the spot where the foundation had been.

Mr. Elliot walked over to him very slowly. It was actually scarier than if he had run. Daryl didn't move.

“It was perfect,” Daryl said with a quiver in his voice. “See?” He pointed to the area behind him. Zach, Mrs. Elliot and I ran over.

The foundation was gone. The stones and mortar had all collapsed inward, leaving a neat pile of rubble. None of the stones had scattered, and nothing was damaged. It was amazing.

“You,” was all Mr. Elliot managed to say.

“Well, look at that, Jack,” Mrs. Elliot said, smiling. “What a neat and tidy job Daryl made of this. Why didn't you think of that?”

Mr. Elliot was speechless.

“Daryl,” Mrs. Elliot said, taking his arm and walking him back to the house, “have you ever thought about going into the demolition business? I know Mr. Palmer over Dunkirk way wants to have his old silo taken down.”

I couldn't hear Daryl's answer, and I suddenly realized that we were alone with Mr. Elliot. Zach and I froze. I hoped he wouldn't remember we were there. He wasn't looking at us though. He was staring at Daryl's handiwork.

As if on cue, we both took a silent step backward, praying we could escape.

He turned to us as if to say something, but no words came out. He looked back at the rubble. We moved back another step.

It was like a bad game of Red Light, Green Light.

“STOP!”

Game over.

“I…You…This…He…” Mr. Elliot sputtered like a lawnmower out of gas. He took a deep breath. “Two piles,” he barked. “I want this stuff in two piles by tomorrow.”