Saving Montgomery Sole

 

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To DBT, who has saved me many times

 

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

—T. S. Eliot

 

1

I used to have a T-shirt that had the words
NEVER STOP EXPLORING
on it.

On the front was a starry moonlit sky with puffy text across the belly. On the back was a tiny ship floating into what I imagined to be an endless night.

When I was in fourth grade, I wore the shirt to show-and-tell. I said it was my favorite because it had “a moon” on it.

Some kid at the back of the room shouted out, “
The
moon.”

“Duh,” I said. “There's more than one.”

I got a time-out. Because it's not nice to say “duh.” Even though I was right. It
is
“a moon,” which I knew back then and know now. The universe is really big. There's more than just the one moon that happens to hang over the teeny-tiny town of Aunty, California, where I live. Have lived. For what feels like forever.

Although Mama Kate says everything feels like forever when you're sixteen.

*   *   *

It was a crispy but sunny fall afternoon in Aunty. Outside, I could see the shadow of a day moon hanging like an idea in the blue sky. The clock at the front of the clubs room, also Mrs. Dawson's classroom, ticked to 3:31, and I called the meeting of the Jefferson High Mystery Club, Jefferson's smallest student organization, to order.

“Okay,” I said, dumping my knapsack on Mrs. Dawson's desk. “Let's do this.”

“Right!” Thomas settled his bag on a chair. “Meeting to order!” he boomed. “Members Thomas Masters, Naoki Wood, and
Chair
Montgomery Sole presiding.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” I said, pulling a cardboard box out of my bag and balancing it on my hand like a tray of drinks. “Thanks for making me a chair.”

“Anytime,” Thomas said.

“What am I?” Naoki chirped from her perch by the window.

Thomas paused and tapped his chin. “The lamp,” he said.

“I love Mondays,” Naoki sighed. “Mystery Club is the best.”

The official purpose of the Mystery Club, as listed on Jefferson High's hideous garbage-bag-green website, is
Fan Club, Literary
. Which I'm sure is because Mr. Grate, the vice principal, in charge of clubs, teams, and overall student welfare, thinks the Mystery Club is for people who read mystery novels.

The actual purpose of the Mystery Club is to examine unexplained phenomena, curiosities, and other subjects the members consider to be interesting.

Most students at Jefferson High care about things that are the opposite of interesting, such as celebrity weddings, lip gloss, and expensive cars. These things seem interesting, and people obsess about them, but really, if you think of it, stuff like this is not even curious. No one cares about celebrity weddings from twenty years ago. Because they're just … weddings. A boring person, in lip gloss or a great car, is still boring.

Compare that with black holes, telekinesis, or spontaneous combustion. Spontaneous combustion. No matter when it happened, and to who, it's
always
interesting.

When Thomas and I started the Mystery Club two years ago, before Naoki came to Jefferson, Madison Marlow started a rumor that we were devil worshippers obsessed with aliens.

First of all, kind of a leap between the devil and aliens from outer space.

Second of all, we are neither.

We are examiners of the unknown, Naoki will often say. Voyagers.

Turning, I grabbed a piece of chalk with my free hand and wrote
Remote Viewing
on the chalkboard.

“Remote viewing,” I began, swiveling back to the classroom, “is based on the idea that we—all of us—have the ability to see beyond time and space. Yes, Naoki? You don't have to raise your hand.”

Naoki dropped her hand into her lap. “I was going to ask, um, could it be possible with this technique to see into the past?”

“Yah,” I said. “Like, you know, in ideal circumstances, our mind's eye can see anything, anywhere.”

Naoki rubbed her hands together. “I knew this would be good.”

“But today we're just focusing on looking into a box,” I clarified.

“Cool,” Naoki said, waving her hands excitedly. “Sorry to interrupt. Please continue.”

“Is this from one of your weird conspiracy theory websites?” Thomas asked, striding to the front of the room and grabbing the cardboard box.

“Yes, it is,” I said, snatching it back. “Any
other
questions?”

The stars braided into Naoki's long black-and-white hair twinkled in the sun. “Can I go first?”

“Sure,” I said. “Did you bring a mystery item?”

Naoki bobbed her head and twirled toward the front of the room, a lumpy grocery bag in hand. Thomas and I sat down on the floor. Shielding our view with her massive white smock, Naoki tucked her object into the box and tapped the lid closed.

“Okay!” She spun around. “How long does it take to remote view?”

“Give us ninety seconds,” I said. I adjusted my overalls, tossed my hair up into a ponytail, and tucked my boots under my knees.

Shifting into a kind of side sit, Thomas flicked a giant dust bunny off the palm of his hand. “And we do this how?” he asked.

“You clear your mind,” I said, resting the backs of my hands on my thighs in lotus pose. “We have to open ourselves to our potential.”

Thomas ran his hand, flat, in front of his face. “Done!”

“Aaaaand”—Naoki turned and checked the clock—“
go
.”

Remote viewing had been on my list for several weeks as a possible Mystery Club meeting topic. Generally speaking, at every meeting, each member takes a turn presenting a subject they're into. Sometimes we bring in objects or books. Thomas usually shows movies on his laptop, because that's more his thing.

My last presentation was on ESP, during which every two minutes Thomas yelled out, “Oh! I knew that!

Two weeks ago, Thomas talked about what he deems the great mystery of why Capricorns are really good boyfriends and Aries are not.

At the last meeting, Naoki gave a presentation on lucid dreaming.

When Naoki dreams, she can shape herself and the world around her. She can turn herself into a penguin and swim in the ocean. She can turn herself into a gumdrop or a boot. Whatever she wants. I've tried this, too, but mostly it just makes me wake up. Thomas says most of his dreams are sexy dreams.

This summer, Naoki had a dream she was a crane, and so, in the real, nondreaming world, she bleached her hair white and added black tips, like wings.

The site I found on remote viewing didn't exactly say how to do it. It just said, “Clear your mind.”

Thirty seconds into sitting down, I was getting pretty much nowhere.

Wait
, my brain whispered.
I think I see a circle
.

“Time!” Naoki cried.

I opened my eyes and the classroom swam into focus.

Naoki danced over to the box. “So this is like ESP, then?”

“Sort of,” I said, pulling myself up from the floor with the grace of what Momma Jo has described as a swan with one leg. “Back in the day, it was used for, uh, psychedelic warfare. Soldiers used it to see into bunkers and stuff.”

Thomas stood and dusted off his pants. “For what war specifically?”

“The sixties…” I said, trying to sound authoritative.

“Ah. Hmmm. Not a lot of wars being won around then,” said Thomas, clearly amused. Thomas is the official Mystery Club skeptic, despite also being the person who wants to talk about Capricorns and superheroes the most.

Naoki clapped. “Okay, so Thomas is first. What's in the box?”

“A hair dryer,” Thomas announced, throwing his hands up in the air like a marathoner crossing the finish line.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really. A hair dryer. You
saw
a
hair
dryer.”

“Yes,” Thomas said, dropping his arms and winking at Naoki.

“Interesting.” Naoki nodded.

“You do real-ize,” I explained, with exaggerated teacher tone, “that typically with this sort of technique, a person gets a
sense
of the thing.”

“Well, I'm
incredibly
gifted at the whole mind-clearing technique,” Thomas added with equal exaggeration. “So that probably helps …
me
. You know.”

Naoki giggled.

“Clearly,” I said, switching into my best wise, old alien impression, “your sense of sensing objects is stronger than most. Yes.”

“It's a gift,” Thomas sighed. “It is my gift and … my burden. Also, your Yoda is terrible.”

Naoki smiled and hugged herself. “Oh you guys! I love this stuff! Like, sensing! Yes! Your faces were so, um…” Naoki rubbed her lips together, feeling out the word. “Triangulated with the object in the box. I could totally see your third eyes.”

No one else I know enjoys herself as much as Naoki does doing just about everything. She's like one of those cartoon teddy bears that bursts out in a rainbow glow when she's happy, which is often.

“What did
you
see, Monty?” Thomas said, pointing a wiggling finger at me. “Sorry. What did you
sense
?”

I grabbed at the last image that had danced in front of my eyes. “A circle. Like, a charcoal circle.”

“So”—Thomas tapped his chin with his index finger—“not a hair dryer is basically what you're saying.”

“Ummmm,” I mused. “That wasn't my
sense
, no.”

“Naoki, would you enlighten us?” Thomas asked.

Naoki popped off the lid and pulled the object out of the box. “It's a sunflower!”

Silence.

Thomas and Naoki looked at each other, then at me. It was a look similar to the one I got when we did the telekinesis flash cards (which didn't work). A look not unlike the one I got when I brought in spoons for us to try to bend with our minds (which also didn't work).