It's a Little Haywire (4 page)

Totally the opposite of Haywire kids
like the Sweets who don’t seem to do anything extra.

So, Gramps and Daisy and I are sitting
there all quiet. I’m thinking my thoughts of home and Mom and
Mikala. I’m guessing Gramps is thinking about Annabelle
Pershishnick and her peach pie. Blah.

Suddenly, I spot a faded, too small
dress heading our way.

Instead of her usual hands on hips
stance, Mikala’s hands are tucked behind her back and when she gets
close enough she stands in one place.

“Hi, Owen True.” Her eyes are kind of
strange. Softer. And she’s tilting her head in a weird way.

“Hi, Mr. True,” she says to Gramps.

“Hello, young lady. How are you this
fine day?”

Mikala nods. “I’m good.”

Then it gets all quiet and
awkward. What should I say? Why doesn’t
she
say something? I look at Gramps, hoping he
can tell by my eyes that I need help here, but he misunderstands.
Instead of jumping in with some conversation, he excuses
himself.

“I think I’ll go roll around in the back
yard,” he says, “leave you two alone to talk.” I almost grab him by
the shirt but he slips past before I can grab hold.

“Owen True?”

I look up at Mikala who’s still standing
there, all calm with her hands still hidden behind her back. “Uh,
huh?”

“Thank you. For what you did for Ruby. I
don’t know what would’ve happened if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, sure. You’re welcome.”

Mikala sits in Gramps’ empty chair.

“That was the scariest thing that ever
happened to me, Owen True. Once I was sure Ruby was okay, I went to
my room and cried for an hour.”

She twists the hem of her skirt around
her fingers. Her hands are chapped and her nails all rough from
being chewed. I have the strangest urge to take her hand and hold
it. Instead I lean away a little bit.

“Mom was really upset when I told her.
Mason didn’t want me to tell her. He doesn’t want us to tell
anyone.”

“Why?”

“He’s afraid the girls might get taken
away from us. Mom’s afraid of that too. She wants to thank you
though, she’s really, really thankful. We all are. I want to make
sure that you know that.”

“Okay.”

“So, are you busy today?”

I wish. I shake my head.

“Mom’s taking a few days off work, to
settle the girls and stuff. Do you want to go check out our old
fort?”

She means the fort we built together a
few summers ago, when she and Mason and I were all still friends.
It’s in the trees behind her house.

“Yeah, that’d be fun.”

So, we walk back to the Sweets’ house.
Not strolling, mind you, Mikala is marching. I have to pull my
fists out of my pockets to keep up.

I spot movement on one of the connecting
roads. It’s easy to pick out Mason’s mop of hair on his tall lanky
body. He’s with a couple other kids who have bikes. Mason’s leaning
against a power pole.

“Who are those guys with your
brother?”

“Judd and Everett Overton,” Mikala slows
up just a bit to stare. “They’re no good. There ain’t any good kids
left in Hayward. Hardly any kids at all for that matter.”

Mikala is right about that. Haywire is
full of white-hairs like my Gramps. It’s practically one big senior
center.

We cut through the Sweets’ back yard and
I gasp a little when I see it. Our tree fort. Obviously I don’t
have one in Seattle. Kinda tough when you live in a condo without a
yard.

Even though it’s all rickety with uneven
boards and nails with broken bent-over heads that didn’t quite get
hammered in all the way, it’s really cool.

Mikala motions for me to go first, since
she’s got a dress on. I test the boards remembering how Mason and I
hammered them on one at a time. They still hold my weight.

“Crickets, Owen True,” Mikala calls out.
“I go up here all the time. It ain’t gonna to fall apart or
nothin’.”

I get to the top and look over the
rails. The creek swoops around behind their yard on one side, and
you can just catch a glimpse of the bridge that leads out of town.
On the other side is the Sweets’ back yard.

“It’s still really awesome!” I say,
trying to reel in my excitement but failing.

“Yeah, I know.”

Mikala pulls out a blanket she had
stashed under a bench, and spreads it.

“Do you want to sit on the blanket with
me, Owen True?”

I answer by doing it. “Why do you call
me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Owen True.”

“Ain’t that your name?”

“Yeah, but, you always say both names.
My first and my last.”

“Oh.” Mikala wrinkles her brow, like she
really didn’t realize she did that. “I don’t know. Does it bug
you?”

I think about it. Funny thing is, it
doesn’t bug me. In fact, I sort of like it. But only from Mikala.
No one else. “No, I don’t mind it. Just curious that’s all.”

“Okay, Owen True. Tell me, what’s it
like to live in a big city?”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s okay.
There’s always lots to do. But there’s also lots of noise and
pollution.”

Mikala sighs wistfully. “Crickets, I’ve
never been to a big city before.”

“Really?”

“It’s true. I’ve never been anywhere
outside of Edson, and I only go there to go to school and shop
sometimes. That’s why I want to be a writer. If I can get rich and
famous, I can leave Hayward and buy a new dress.”

I suddenly feel really sad for Mikala.
And a little ashamed of myself. I have so many opportunities and so
much stuff and I just take all of it for granted. “I’m sure you’ll
be a great writer someday,” I say. “Are you writing anything right
now?”

“Ah, I try, but I don’t have any good
ideas. Do you have any good ideas, Owen True?’

I lean back to think about it. Any good
ideas? Then I remember the weird fog thing that happened the first
night I arrived.

“Have you ever seen fog here? I mean,
not regular fog but strange fog?”

Mikala shakes her head.

I decide to chance it. To tell her what
happened that night. I hope she doesn’t think I’m a big weirdo and
throw me off the fort or something.

“The first night I was here, I went to
the creek behind Gramps’ house. There’s an old log there I like to
sit on. I can throw rocks into the creek from there and watch the
trains go by.”

“But the trains don’t go by Hayward
anymore,” Mikala says.

“I know, but that was the weird thing. I
heard a train. The whistle blew loud and clear. Then the fog came
up outta nowhere, and rolled sort of like a long snake. It stayed
on the tracks. I know this sounds crazy Mikala, but I swear, I saw
it.”

“If you say you saw it, then I believe
you.”

“It turned into a fog train and then at
the end where the caboose would be, this thing formed. Some kind of
being. It had a face with small holes where the eyes would be and
two arms. It saluted me, and then disappeared.”

Mikala’s eyes are as big as Daisy’s food
and water bowls.

“What’d’ya think it was?” she says.

“I don’t know. Maybe a ghost?”

“Or an angel?”

I ponder that. “Well, it did have
wing-type things, so I suppose it could’ve been an angel. But why
would an angel show itself to me?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Mikala says, “but
whatever it was, it does make for a good story.” She smiles then.
“Thanks, Owen True.”

I smile back feeling strangely
happy.

CHAPTER SIX

Owen True – The Forgotten

THE THING ABOUT LIFE in Haywire is that
time S-L-O-W-S right down to a crawl. Like the caterpillar I’m
watching inch its way across the sidewalk. It’s in no hurry and it
might make it across by nightfall if it’s lucky and someone doesn’t
step on it first.

So, even though I’ve only been
here one week, it feels like a
month
. Or longer. And I still haven’t heard from
my mom or my dad. Probably because time in Seattle and the Bahamas
goes by like wild fire and for them, I’ve only been gone, like, two
hours.

Still, I’m their kid! Can’t Mom
take a little break from all her happy fun to call her only son?
Does
Ar-throw-up
have to
dominate all of her time?

Fine. Forget about me then. See if I
care. Let me just rot away here in Haywire while you have all your
fun and busy work days.

And if it weren’t for Mikala, I would be
suffering an actual slow death. The fact that she is on her way
over makes this day bearable.

I wait for her at the log by the creek.
She wants to see if the fog will show up again and maybe the angel,
if it was an angel.

I tried to talk her out of it. This
place kinda creeps me out now, but Mikala can be really persuasive.
I didn’t want to look like a fraidy-cat so I said okay.

I glance at my watch. Where is she?

Just then I hear twigs snap. Mikala is
pushing her way through the long grass.

“Owen True.”

“Hey.”

She sits beside me on the log. She sits
close enough to me that I can smell her. A nice fruity scent.
Shampoo? I take a close look. Yup, Mikala washed her hair. And
combed it.

I can’t stop staring. She looks
different. Nice. It makes weird things happen in my stomach. I look
away quickly before she says anything.

“Any fog?”

“Uh, no, not yet.”

“Oh.”

We wait there, for, I don’t know how
long. I toe the gravelly sand and sift it through my fingers to
find a pebble large enough to chuck. There are three, and I throw
them into the creek, one at a time. Mikala picks a stalk of long
grass and sticks it in her mouth. I do the same.

“What’s Mason up to?” I finally say.

“I dunno. Something dumb with his dumb
friends I suspect. Mom says he’s old enough to be working, but
there’s no jobs, and if there were, the men would get them first. I
know my mom really wishes my dad would get a job. He just lies on
the couch all day working off his hangover.”

“Oh.” I totally forgot about Mr. Sweet
and their family problems.

“Mason never sticks around when Dad’s
home.”

I just nod. I don’t have siblings so I
don’t know how families with more than one kid are supposed to
work.

“I don’t think the fog’s going to
happen,” I say.

“Maybe it only happens at dusk. That’s
what time it was before, right?”

I nod again. “Yeah, probably. We can
come back later. Do you want to go to Don Chan’s for an ice cream?”
It’s getting steaming hot again.

The corners of Mikala’s lips tug
down.

“My treat,” I say quickly. “I got money
from my Mom before she left. She’s paying me off for ditching me to
go on her honeymoon.”

Mikala’s smile returns and we head into
town.

Just before we get to Don Chan’s General
Store, Mikala points and squeals. “Crickets! The mobile library! I
forgot it was coming today.”

She jogs towards the trailer on wheels.
It looks to me like it could be a hotdog stand or something. I
never saw a library so small before and definitely not one on
wheels. “This is a library?”

“Yup, it pulls into Hayward from Edson
once a week.”

Mikala hops the steps and is greeted by
a middle aged woman with short curly hair and glasses. “Hi Mikala.
I thought I might see you today.”

“Hi, Mrs. Smythe. I almost forgot. Can
you believe it?”

Mikala searches the shelves for her next
summer read. I brought books with me, so I’m in good supply, plus I
didn’t think I could borrow from Haywire’s mobile library/hotdog
stand, since I’m not from here.

I squish through a couple narrow aisles
and start to feel claustrophobic. I decide to wait by the door.
There’s a poster taped to it.

“Mikala! Come see this.”

She squeezes up behind me and reads the
words on the poster. “Writing contest for young people. If you are
between the ages of nine and thirteen you could win a trip to
Seattle to meet Joan Hopper.” A little gasp slips from her mouth.
“Joan Hopper! Owen True, she’s one of my favorite authors for kids.
I have one of her books in my arms right now!”

“You should enter the contest, Mikala. I
bet you’d win.”

“Really, you think so? Oh, if I won, I’d
get to go to a big city. I’d get to go to Seattle!”

She looks at me carefully. “I could
visit you, Owen True.”

“That would be so cool, Mikala. You
definitely have to enter now.”

Mikala reads the rest of the directions
and asks the librarian for a piece of paper and a pen so she can
write it all down.

“I’m so excited, Owen True. I’m going to
go straight home and start writing. Is that okay?”

My day just took a turn for the worse,
but her face is so excited and hopeful, I can’t tell her that. I
force a grin. “Of course. Go write that winning story!”

Mikala grabs her new books and shoots
down the road, leaving me standing alone in front of the mobile
library/hotdog stand.

Hrumph
.
Now what? Now time is going to slow up so much it’ll go backward.
Before I know it, it will be yesterday again. I shove my fists into
my pockets and scuff my feet towards Don Chan’s. Might as well
still get that ice cream for me.

I’m bemoaning my friendless state with
my head low, watching for cracks in the sidewalk, kicking at any
loose stone in my way, so tuned out that I bump into something.

Not hard like a wall. Soft like a body.
I lift my chin and whose eyes am I staring in? The scary guy in the
box’s, that’s whose. I lose my breath and stiffen like a statue.
The guy in the box stares me down, his dark eyes narrow to
slits.

My heart pounds. I can’t believe I just
ran smack into the guy in the box! He doesn’t move out of the way
and my legs seem to forget how to work. “Uh, sorry, sir.”