Peak (25 page)

"Sit," he said.

There was a single straight-back chair.

I sat.

He asked me the same questions he had asked me up at Camp Four, but this time he had a tape recorder going and a soldier taking notes. I answered the questions in the exact same way. When he finished he told me I could repack my things. I began stuffing things back in, but when I got to the cameras the captain stopped me.

"Not those," he said.

"You have no right to take anything," Thaddeus said.

"Cameras will be returned after we look."

"Well, there better not be any damage to them when they are returned," Thaddeus said.

Some lawyer,
I thought.
Glad he wasn't defending me when I was in front of that NYC judge. I'd be in jail right now.

When we got outside the building he whispered, "Was there anything incriminating in those cameras?"

"It's a little bit late to be asking now," I said. "But the answer is no. I took the memory card out and put a blank one in."

"Where is the memory card?"

"Someplace safe." (It was actually stuffed in my sock.)

I was tired. I started toward my tent, and it wasn't until I got there that I remembered I didn't have a tent there anymore. I crawled into Josh's and I was a little surprised at how tidy everything was. All the clothes were neatly folded, gear stored in boxes. He had a little folding desk with pens, paper, and a laptop computer. Next to the computer were two stacks of mail. The first stack was addressed to him. The second stack was addressed to me. (My stack was a lot smaller than his.) I could have gotten mad again at the whole mail thing, but I didn't have the energy or the interest anymore. Like I said, "You don't get to pick your name or your parents." Joshua Wood is what he is. I couldn't change him or the fact he was my father. All I could do is try not to become him.

I opened the big envelope, addressed to
PEAK "PEA-PEA" MARCELLO
. Inside was a drawing and a smaller envelope. Written on the outside of the envelope was: airplan far (six-year-old spelling). Inside was sixty-seven dollars and eighty-six cents. Not quite enough to get to New York, but I still had Rolf's three hundred bucks, and the credit card. I pulled out the drawing. It was an invitation to a birthday party. I would have to hurry if I was going to make it in time.

I started toward HQ to find Thaddeus, but on the way I heard a truck start. I ran over to see if I could hitch a ride and found Yogi in the back.

The drivers charged me a hundred bucks but I didn't care. I would have paid twice as much. I was on my way home and the truck was nicer than the one we'd taken to the mountain. The covered bed was empty, with plenty of room to lie down and sleep.

The two drivers took turns at the wheel, and were both in a hurry. They only stopped for fuel. Which was fine with me.

***

WHEN WE CAME TO THE ROAD
above the Friendship Bridge where the prisoners had been chipping the boulder, the truck slowed, then came to a stop.

Yogi and I hopped out of the back to find out what was going on.

The boulder and prisoners were gone. In their place was a Buddhist monk with a shaved head and an orange robe. He was talking to the driver with his back to us.

As we walked up, he turned around and smiled. It was Zopa! He looked fully recovered—as healthy as he had the first day I met him in the Indrayani temple.

"How did you get here?"

He held up his thumb. "I hitchhiked."

Somehow I doubted that. Why would someone drop him off on this lonely stretch of road? The only thing nearby was the border crossing at the Friendship Bridge. Unless he asked to be let out here.
I will see you on the road,
his note had said. I figured he had messed up the phrase and meant
down
the road. I guess I was wrong. The three of us got into the back of the truck.

I thought we were in for a big hassle at the bridge, but when we got there, the guards looked in our truck, glanced at our papers, then waved us through without a word.

We made one more stop before we got to the airport in Kathmandu. I complained that I needed to get to the airport, but Zopa made a good point: "They will not allow you on an airplane looking and smelling like you do."

The monks at the monastery washed my clothes as I took a long bath.

***

ZOPA RODE TO THE AIRPORT
with me.

Before going into the terminal I pulled out the note Zopa had left for us at Camp Four.

"How did you know you'd see me on that road?"

Zopa shrugged. The answer didn't surprise me.

I unzipped a side pocket on my pack and pulled out the memory card. "You might need this to prove Sun-jo got to the summit."

Zopa took the card and stashed it in the folds of his orange robe. "Will we see you again on Sagarmatha?"

I wanted to shrug my reply, but I couldn't because I knew the answer. "No," I said. "But I might return to Kathmandu to visit."

"You are welcome anytime." Zopa bowed and gave me a blessing.

When he looked up he said, "Thank you for what you did for my grandson."

I returned the bow. "Thank you for what your son did for my father."

DENOUEMENT

IT TOOK TWENTY-FOUR HOURS
to get to New York, but because I crossed the international date line going west, I got there only a few hours after I left Kathmandu.

I grabbed a cab and nervously fidgeted as the driver fought the heavy traffic into the city, hoping that I wouldn't be too late. When he pulled up in front of our building I gave him a fistful of cash without even counting it. I took the elevator to the loft.

I heard the party before I saw it. Rolf knew how to throw a party. (Mom and I were a little weak in that area.) There would be no less than seventy-five people in the loft: parents and their kids, teachers from GSS, neighbors, people from Mom's bookstore, lawyers from Rolf's office.... Last year for entertainment, Rolf had hired a group of performing dogs. The year before he had brought a reptile woman (Helen the Herpetologist—the twins' favorite) with bags of snakes, turtles, and lizards.

It turned out that I was the entertainment this year—at least that's what it looked like when I walked through the front door.

"I told you he would be here!"

"I did, too!"

The two Peas dropped their presents and threw their little arms around my thighs. Mom was next, then Rolf. I told myself that I wasn't going to cry, but that idea went right out the window as soon as I saw them. As we hugged, everyone sang "Happy Birthday."

When everything had settled down a little, Mom pulled me into the kitchen and asked me how I was. I told her I was tired and a little sore.

"You've lost weight."

"I guess."

She looked at me for a moment, then gave me another hug. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too."

"So, you didn't make it to the summit."

"How'd you know that?"

"Josh called this morning. Said to tell you happy birthday."

That was a first. "Where was he?"

"He didn't say ... somewhere up the mountain. The connection wasn't very good. It reminded me of the old days."

"I bet," I said. "I know I should have called, but I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It was still a surprise," Mom said. "I didn't think you'd get here in time for the birthday—although the two Peas insisted I was wrong."

"Is everything okay here ... I mean is it all right that I came back?"

"Your skyscraper stunt is old news, and Rolf and I are trying to keep it that way."

"What do you mean 'trying'?"

"Holly Angelo."

"Uh-oh."

"She's been hanging around a lot."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I kind of like her, and the twins are wild about her. Rolf? Well, he
tolerates
her. We've talked her into not writing about your Everest trip. It would just bring up the whole skyscraper thing again and we don't want to do that, especially now that you're back in town. It's best if we—"

Rolf opened the kitchen door with an apologetic, worried look on his face.

"Peeeeak!"

Holly pushed him aside as she assaulted the kitchen wearing a bright pink pantsuit, lime green scarf, and a red purse the size of a suitcase. I let her throw her spidery arms around me and actually hugged her back. It was good to see her.

When she finally set me free she glanced furtively around the kitchen as if she were looking for spies. "I heard you didn't make it to the summit," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"How did
you
find out?"

"I've talked to Josh several times in the past couple days."

He was being pretty chatty, it seemed.

Holly put her red purse on the counter, looked around again, then pulled out a newspaper. "This is about to hit the streets."

YOUNGEST PERSON SUMMITS EVEREST
by holly Angelo. It was a full-page spread with several photos taken from video I had shot. The biggest photo was of Sun-jo, Yogi, and Yash sitting next to the summit pole.

"I think there's a book in this," Holly said. "I talked to Sun-jo today. He said to say hello and to wish you a happy birthday. He also told me he's enjoying the birthday present you gave him, and so are his sisters."

I smiled.

"What did you get him?" Holly asked.

"Nothing much," I said. "I'd better go out and mingle."

Rolf gave me a doubtful look.

I said hello to a few people, got a tour of the twins' presents, then noticed Vincent sitting in the corner by himself, gathering grist. I was surprised to see him. We always invited him to the parties, but he rarely showed up.

"Thanks for coming," I said.

"I was just about ready to leave when you walked through the door," Vincent said. "You have had an interesting few weeks."

"You read the Moleskine," I said.

"Yes, and it was well written. Unfortunately, there is only a beginning and a partial middle to the story. Even though you managed to fill the Moleskine I'm afraid the assignment is incomplete. The story lacks a climax, an end, and a denouement. So, I cannot—"

"There's a second Moleskine," I said. "I'm not sure about the climax, but the story does have an end ... kind of. And I'm right in the middle of the denouement, literally." I pointed at the partygoers.

Vincent smiled. "Of course. I see your point."

"How about if I finish it up tomorrow morning?"

"That will be fine. I will be at GSS until noon. School is out for the summer and the deadline for your assignment has passed, but under the circumstances I think we can make an exception." He stood up. "And again, it's a well-crafted story. You left me hanging. I'm desperate to find out what happened."

I'M SITTING IN MY BEDROOM
finishing the Moleskine.

The twins are awake. I hear them giggling and arguing as they eat their midmorning snack. I promised to take them to GSS with me when I drop off the Moleskine.

Here they come, their little feet pattering up the steps. The door opens.

"What are you doing?"

"You said you'd take us to school."

"I'm working on my assignment."

"What's this?" Patrice points at the newspaper article about Sun-jo pinned on my bulletin board.

"Is that you?" Paula asks, pointing at Sun-jo.

"No."

"What are those flags?"

"Prayer flags."

"What's a prayer flag?"

"There's a prayer written on the flag. When it blows in the wind the prayer goes up to God. If you put the flag really high on a mountain the prayer gets to God faster."

"Looks like that yellow one has a blue mountain on it like the ones you used to draw."

"It could be. Now, sit down on my bed and be quiet so I can finish this."

"We missed you, Peak."

"We love you, Peak."

"I love you, too. I'm almost finished."

I look at the twins, smiling, and write my last sentence...

The only thing you'll find on the summit of Mount Everest is a divine view. The things that really matter lie far below.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

I want to thank Kate Harrison for her wonderful editing and encouragement, and for giving me the Os to finish the climb. I also want to thank Anne Davies, who has gone off to climb her own peak.