Man in the Moon (8 page)

I stood up and gave Mr. Lunas a proud smile. “Thank you. This’ll work.” And at the risk of crushing his feeble old bones, I gave him a super big, squeezy hug.

“Yep,” he said, patting my back, then turning me loose. “That’ll work just fine.”

I let out a deep breath, feeling relieved and pleased with myself. “Hard part’s over.”

Mr. Lunas turned back toward the house. Without missing a step, he called over his shoulder, “Nope. Hard part is getting your brother outside to ride it.”

Those words hit me like a baseball bat. My heart beat fast as I watched him hobble away, Buddy trotting right behind him. Mr. Lunas knew my secret! Now I just hoped and prayed he wouldn’t tell a single soul.

Daddy cooked beans and corn bread for dinner that night. He heated up some tomato soup for Ricky. I watched him tiptoe to Ricky’s bedroom door, set the bowl on the floor, then gently knock. He didn’t bother hanging around to see if Mama would let him in.

I crumbled corn bread on my plate and covered it with a mountain of beans. Then I poured on extra bean juice. Daddy fixed his plate and sat down, and Mr. Lunas joined us, but he didn’t eat.

“Mighty good beans,” Daddy said to Mr. Lunas. “I’d hate for you to miss out.” He shoveled some into his mouth, then swallowed it down with a big bite of corn bread.

Mr. Lunas shook his head. “Not hungry.”

I couldn’t bare to see him starve like this. “Maybe you should eat anyway. You can have some of mine.”

His face brightened and his eyes twinkled like little stars. “Thank you, Janine, but I’ll pass.”

“Maybe dessert, then,” I said, thinking how a big slice of pie would do him good.

He nodded. “Maybe.”

Mr. Lunas tapped his bony fingers on the table while a stretch of quiet ran through the room. Then he spoke up again. “I’m leaving soon.”

Daddy stopped chewing. So did I.

“Where are you going?” Daddy asked.

“Home.”

Daddy laid down his fork with a loud chink. “Where’s that?”

Mr. Lunas managed a crescent smile. “Up.”

Daddy nodded. “Oh, Northerner. I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t either,” I said. Mr. Lunas sure didn’t talk like a Northerner. “Where up north—”

Mr. Lunas cut me off. “I’d sure like to say goodbye to Ricky before I go. I haven’t seen him since he took ill.”

Daddy let out one of those half-laughing, half-crying sounds I was getting used to.

“You can forget that. Adele’s done barricaded the door. Ain’t no one getting in there without a bulldozer.”

“It doesn’t seem healthy, does it?” Mr. Lunas said.

Daddy laid his head in his hand and rubbed his forehead. “What choice do I have? I can’t offer a better solution.”

I started thinking about my choices, too. Ricky has never been able to do what other kids do. No birthday parties or school field trips. And what good is someone’s life if he can’t do the
one
thing he really wants?
I have to find a way to break that barricade and give Ricky a ride on the go-cart. Somehow, some way. I just have to.

I spent most of the next morning making my plans and setting them into action. First I dragged the go-cart out front and hid it in the weeds by the side of the road. I needed it in place, in case I could manage to sneak Ricky out that night. I also hid some extra rope. Then I waited through the longest day of my life.

Mama stopped coming out of Ricky’s bedroom, even to use the bathroom. She just went in the same pot she had in there for him. Daddy set her iced tea and sandwiches by the door.

Around nightfall, I snuck out and peeked in Ricky’s window. I could see with one eye through the slit in the curtains. He looked like a dried pepper, all withered up in the blanket. Mama sat with her Bible. Even though it was closed, she was hugging it close and mouthing words—Bible healing words, for sure. The door was blocked by a chest of drawers, and some dirty dishes sat on the floor by it. As I started to back away, something caught my eye—something I was sure Daddy didn’t know about. The window was unlatched! I went around back and sat on the steps, watching Mr. Lunas hobble toward the cornfield with a handful of chicken eggs. More art supplies?

I sat for a long time in the darkness, wanting to plot my next move. But truthfully, I didn’t have a clue what to do. Instead I imagined myself as a doctor, wearing a white coat with a silvery stethoscope around my neck. Nurses and orderlies move out of my way as I march down the sterile white halls of the hospital, on my way to an operating room where Ricky’s waiting. I skillfully replace his gizzard, and then, after he’s recovered, I hand him the key to his very own motor-powered go-cart. One that zooms like a jet. The entire hospital staff applauds.

I don’t know how long I sat there in that dreamy fog, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when Mr. Lunas came up unnoticed and sat down next to me.

I wasn’t sure if it was the darkness or his skin color that made him seem more like a shadow than a man. He looked like a stick with shoes on. And I just knew that if I accidentally touched him, he’d crumble into a little pile right there on the steps. No doubt about it, once I gave Ricky his go-cart ride, my new mission would be to get Mr. Lunas fattened up again.

He rubbed his face with his hands, saying, “I don’t have much time.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that. Maybe he was expected back home . . . wherever that was.

“Neither do I,” I told him, wondering how many breaths Ricky had left. “Daddy says Ricky’s going to die.”

Mr. Lunas let out a sigh that was loud and wholehearted. “What can I tell you, Janine? People die. It’s all a part of living.”

“But he’s too young! And he’s never even had a chance at living.” I was fighting tears and losing the battle. How could Mr. Lunas stay so calm?

“There’s all kinds of living. Even a decade of being with people who love you, no matter where you go or what you do, can be all the living someone needs.”

“Not Ricky,” I argued. “He’s going somewhere. And not just heaven.”

He leaned toward me. “Are you going to do it tonight?”

I shook my head. “Mama’s still awake. I don’t think I can.”

He reached over and patted my knee. “You’ll think of something.”

“I sure hope so.”

He stood up to leave. “Yep. Hope is good.”

It rained the next morning. Not just a shower. Not even a thunderstorm. It was more like a cyclone. The house shook with the wildest gusts Texas could muster. Whirlwinds spun through the yard. Lightning streaked the quilted sky. And I hovered in my room, hoping the go-cart wasn’t taking a beating. Mr. Lunas helped Daddy put the cows in the barn and cover the chicken coop with tarp. Buddy stayed put on the porch. Hailstones pounded the tin roof, and I imagined angry angels, frowning and throwing rocks at us. I wondered if this was the Bible plague Mama had seen in the tea leaves.

The storm knocked out all the electricity, so Daddy turned on a battery-powered radio to check the weather reports. “If you hear something that sounds like a train coming,” he said, “jump in the bathtub and cover up with these blankets. You don’t want to end up in Oz.”

I didn’t figure that was where I’d end up, and that had me worried. But I worried more about Ricky. What would Mama do if she heard a train coming?

I curled up in the cave and waited it out. It raged all day. At three o’clock, we still didn’t have electricity, so I couldn’t even pass the time watching afternoon cartoons. Late that night, the clouds shut off and drifted away, leaving twinkling stars above and gigantic puddles below. Like the lightning that had spiked around us all day, I felt charged up and ready for anything.

I waited until Daddy was snoring deep and loud before sneaking out. The grass was cold, wet and icky. I looked through the slit of the curtains into Ricky’s room. He still laid there, the same as the night before. Mama laid next to him, sleeping, her mouth just slightly open.

I tried to open the window, but the heat and moisture had made the wood swell. The window was jammed. Buddy came around and jumped up on me with muddy paws. I was so aggravated that I pushed him down. “Buddy, if you’re really smarter than people, then why don’t you think of a way to get Ricky out?” He just tilted his head and stared.

I
had
to get that window open. I tugged again, and this time it slid up a bit. The opening was crooked, but I could slip my hands under it now. Taking my time, I inched it up little by little, one side, then the other. I didn’t need to open it all the way, just enough so I could get in and out with Ricky. I pushed the curtains aside so I could have a better look around the room. All was quiet, hot, and sticky. I managed to slip the window up a little more, and Mama stirred. She rolled onto her side, facing the door. Just another inch, and I was in.

I tiptoed like a robber across the room. When I got to the bed, I moved Mama’s Bible out of the way and gathered Ricky up in my arms. His eyes opened. I froze, afraid he’d say something and wake up Mama. But he smiled at me, then closed his eyes again. I tiptoed back to the window, holding Ricky like a tiny baby. He was as light as a kitten. Getting back out the window was the tricky part. But I did it without spilling my brother or myself on the ground. I took one look back inside. Mama hadn’t moved a hair. I carefully took a few steps away, then ran toward the road, Buddy following.

Ricky bounced in my arms as I reached the weeds where I’d hidden the go-cart. I laid him down in the wet grass and dug the go-cart out. It had survived the storm, although it was plastered with damp weeds. I didn’t care. It still rolled.

Buddy nudged at Ricky, wanting him to play. When Ricky didn’t move, Buddy licked his hand.

I positioned the go-cart on the road at the top of the hill, then went back for Ricky. When I picked him up, he whispered, “Where are we?”

“Look,” I said.

I tilted his head so that he could see the go-cart, and for a brief moment I saw his face light up. “I built it,” he said, his words a real effort.

I set him down on the go-cart and placed the reins in his hands. “Try to hold on, okay?” I took the other piece of rope and tied it around his waist, then tied the ends to the go-cart. It held him up, even though he slumped forward.

“Are you ready?” I asked, wiping away a ribbon of blood that streamed from his nose.

He opened his eyes and looked out, down the hill toward the darkness.

I got behind him and whispered in his ear, “You’re gonna race time, Ricky. You’re gonna zoom. Ready . . . set . . .”

“Wait!”

I looked over to see Mr. Lunas limping toward us. Was he going to stop me or help me? I couldn’t chance it.

“Go!” I gave the go-cart a hard shove and watched as it picked up speed, rolling down the steep road.

Ricky’s head flew back as the go-cart whizzed on. It rushed straight down, and I imagined Ricky smiling all the way. But near the bottom, it veered to the left, running off the road through the gravel and slamming into a barbed-wire fence.

I suddenly felt as cold as the rain puddles. “Ricky!” I ran down the hill, racing toward him and the crashed go-cart. Fear tore at my heart. When I reached him, he was tangled in rope and fence. I picked a couple of barbs from his face and arms, untied him from the go-cart, and carried him to the road.

I sat down, hugging him, my tears spilling on his bloody face. His eyes opened for a moment, and he looked up at me. A small smile crossed his lips and he whispered, “Zoom.” His eyes fluttered, rolled to white, and closed.

I hugged him tighter, rocking back and forth. He wasn’t moving, not even a breath. Buddy whined. I cried. “Don’t die, Ricky. Please . . . don’t die.”

Then two arms reached out to take him from me. Two thin, weak arms, not much bigger than Ricky’s.

“No,” I cried, squeezing Ricky tighter to my chest. “It’s too late.”

Mr. Lunas gazed at me, his eyes quivering. “Maybe not, but I need to hurry.”

He reached again, and this time I handed my dead brother over to him. Mr. Lunas cradled Ricky, wiped some blood away, and whispered, “It’s not your time to go.” What I saw next made me wonder if I was awake or dreaming.