The Summer I Learned to Fly (15 page)

I latched one end to my windowsill and dropped the rope ladder down. It unfolded soundlessly. Everything was going so much more smoothly than I expected, and before I knew it, I was in my reflector vest and helmet, pedaling up Euclid Avenue.

The afternoon before, as we’d pieced together our plan, Emmett and I had discussed how to get the money for the bus tickets. That was what had held him up this long, and now, if I was to go with him, we’d need twice as much. But I told him not to worry, that I’d take care of that. I told him I had money saved up, money given to me on various birthdays by my grandparents, and he believed me, because he didn’t know that I don’t have any grandparents.

I went around the back of the shop, near the Dumpster and Swoozie’s smoking bench, and I used my key, the one Mom trusted me with, to open up the rear door. I crept through the office, past the walk-in freezer, up to the front counter and the cash register that I was not allowed to operate. But because one of my jobs was keeping it filled with change, I knew how to open it, and the drawer flew out toward me with a sound that made me jump.

I did feel terrible about taking the money. I told myself it wasn’t stealing, because I knew that I would repay her someday. And I only took what we needed, nothing more. Just enough for two bus tickets.

I closed the register and turned to leave. But before I did I walked over to Mom’s desk and sat down. I took out one
of the pens she used to write checks, and I took a piece of paper.

10:25 p.m
.

Dear Mom—

Before you start thinking it could have been anybody else, I want you to know that I took the money. I also want you to know that I didn’t take it as payment (you never have paid me for my work here) but as a loan. One I promise to pay back as soon as I’m able
.

And before you start thinking I took it for something stupid like that leather jacket you wouldn’t buy me, I want you to know that I took it for something truly vital
.

Please. Don’t worry about me. I may be only thirteen, but I do know what I’m doing
.

I will call soon. I swear I will. But I can’t promise my call will arrive exactly on the hour
.

Love you madly
.

I went back and taped the note to the cash register, then took one last look around before locking up. I did so love the shop. In a world where some people didn’t have even one place to call home, I was fortunate enough to have two.

I went out the way I’d come in and I grabbed the day-old bread and the cheese Veronica or Swoozie had left out back
in the alley. I stuffed it into my bag, hopped back on my bike, and headed for the bus station.

Emmett was waiting for me out front, pacing, with his hands deep down in the pockets of his jeans. He jogged over to meet me where I’d started to place my bike in a bike rack.

“I don’t have a lock,” I said. With all the planning, I hadn’t seen this part through. How would I keep my bike safe? Not only that, but where would I leave my helmet? My reflector vest?

“I guess we could try to find some bushes to hide it in or something.”

“No,” I said. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” I couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t get stolen, but I figured that Emmett had made so many sacrifices to reach this point, if I had to sacrifice my bike and helmet and vest, it seemed only fair.

“You have the money?”

I patted my backpack. “Got it.”

“Good, because I think I’ve found our father.”

That had been Emmett’s job. We were worried that the Greyhound agent wouldn’t sell one-way tickets to Wilcox to two teenagers, no matter how mature or responsible or cautious we might have seemed. So we figured we could take the money Emmett had saved and offer it to someone at the station to pose as a parent and purchase our tickets for us.

The man Emmett picked out probably wasn’t old enough to be a father to either of us. He wore a black track jacket over a T-shirt and jeans, and brand-new white tennis shoes. He was balding, unshaven, and slight. There was something
entirely nonthreatening about him, which probably had something to do with why Emmett chose him, but I hoped that he wouldn’t make a run for it as soon as we handed over the money, because he looked like he could run fast, like a real greyhound.

“Here you go, you crazy kids,” he said as he returned from the counter with our tickets, handing one to each of us. “Ah, young love.” He smiled at me. “There’s nothing in the world like it.”

I blushed.

“See you on board,” he said, and he went over to a bench where he sat down and opened up a magazine.

“Sorry.” Emmett shrugged. “I had to tell him the story I thought would work—you know, the kind that would make him want to break the rules.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him we were running away together because our parents forbade us to ever see each other again. The basic Romeo and Juliet scenario.”

“And that worked?”

“Yeah. The money didn’t hurt either.” I looked up at the clock. Our bus would be leaving in ten minutes.

“Robin,” he said, and he turned to face me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Are you sure you want to do this? Because we can leave right now. I can go back to saving up the money on my own. I could go back to my loft in the barn for a while. As long as it takes.”

I wasn’t checking the clock to see if there was still time
to escape, I was checking to see how long before our adventure really began.

“I’m sure, Emmett. I’m absolutely, positively sure.”

He leaned closer and shoved me a little with his shoulder. “Good. Because I am too.”

let me go

The line to board the bus was longer than I’d thought it would be for a late-night departure, but that just confirmed my suspicion about where I lived: people only stopped over here, they didn’t come to stay.

We stood toward the back, a few people behind our fake father. As we all stood waiting, the driver came out in his uniform and cap. He cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the eleven-fifteen to San Francisco. We will be departing shortly. Have your tickets in hand. And due to a recent security incident, we will be checking all bags prior to boarding, so please have them ready for inspection.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh God. Oh no.”

“What is it?” Emmett asked. He grabbed me by the elbow. “Hum,” I said. I gestured to the bag on my back.

We stood and stared at each other. There was no creative thinking, no plotting left to do. The rules were clear, spelled
out on a large sign above the open bus door:
SHIRTS AND SHOES MUST BE WORN. ABSOLUTELY NO ALCOHOL, FIREARMS, OR ANIMALS WILL BE ALLOWED ON BOARD. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE
.

Emmett pulled me out of the line.

“So we can’t go tonight,” he said.

“We have to go tonight. There’s only tonight. I’ll never be able to do this again.”

He led me out of the terminal, outside onto the street. I filled my lungs with the cool night air.

It was because of Hum that I was here; he’d brought me to Emmett. He’d delivered me to this moment. Mrs. Mutchnick had handed him to me that night of the grand opening because I looked like I needed a friend. And now I had one. A real friend.

I put my bag down on the sidewalk and unzipped it. I took Hum out of his cage. He made his happy clicking sound. I scratched him behind his ears. I’d thought he had no wisdom to impart, that he wasn’t magical, that he couldn’t talk, but as I looked at him, I could almost hear him whisper:
Let me go
.

It was one thing to sacrifice my bike, but this was my Hum. His Excellency the Lord High Rat Humboldt Fog. I couldn’t imagine a world without him. How could I let him go?

I turned around and looked back inside the terminal. Half of the line had already boarded the bus. The time to choose was running out.

“Robin,” Emmett said, and then he stopped. There was nothing left to say.

I walked around the side of the building to a cluster of trees and a stretch of unmowed grass. Emmett followed.

I got down onto my knees. I took out a macadamia nut and held it in my outstretched palm. Hum devoured it quickly and I took out another.

“Humboldt Fog,” I said. “You are an excellent rat.”

Tears welled in my eyes and fell onto the grass.

“If you can understand me, hear this: I will come back for you, but it’s okay if you don’t wait around for me. It’s okay if you go on and find another life for yourself. You are a good rat. A kind rat. And maybe you’ll be a happier rat when you discover that the world is bigger than your little wire cage.”

I reached out and I touched him one more time. Just under his chin. And then I took the macadamia nut, and I threw it as far as I could into the grass, and I watched him run off after it, just like Emmett had taught him to do.

I grabbed Emmett by the arm and pulled him toward the station doors. I didn’t look back to see if Hum was playing out his role in our little game of fetch—if he was returning to me, the nut clenched in his teeth. I didn’t look back, so that someday, when I remembered this moment, I might be able to picture Hum picking up the nut, and then continuing to run, happily, far away through the tall grass.

awake and alive

As the bus took us north on a connection of dark farm roads and smaller highways, I started to wonder where all the cars were. How could the streets be so empty? How could people sleep when there was so much at stake, so much happening, when there were so many reasons to be awake and alive?

And I wondered how it was that I could feel both empty, like these streets, and yet so full at the same time. And those weren’t the only contrasting poles inside me. I felt sad and happy. Scared and exhilarated. I felt young and old.

I leaned my forehead against the window. It was cold against my skin.

We didn’t say anything to each other for a very long time.

Finally, Emmett spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I kept my face to the window.
Hum. My Hum
.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”

I turned to him. “I think so.”

“I hope this all turns out to be worth it,” he said. “I hope this isn’t just a big waste.”

I hoped so too. I hoped that Emmett was right to believe in the waters and that I was wrong to have my doubts. I hoped so, but in a way, I didn’t care what was real and what was just a crazy dream. How could I tell Emmett that this was already the most important thing that had ever happened to me? That it didn’t matter if the legend was true? That I’d already taken my leap? I’d risked everything, and I felt alive. Just sitting here with him on this midnight bus in the dark was worth everything I’d given up and more.

I couldn’t tell him any of this because Emmett believed in the waters. He had to believe in the waters. His life depended upon it. And because of that, because he was my friend, I wanted to believe in them too. I wanted to believe that we were on a journey that was only beginning, and that when we finally reached our destination, we’d be able to heal our people.

And so I believed. I began to think about the people in my life who needed healing. I leaned back in my seat and I tilted my head away from the coldness of the window, closer to Emmett, and I imagined easing the pain of the people I loved, and I let the rocking bus, and the darkness, and the empty roads draw me in to sleep.

the magician’s party trick

Emmett woke me with a gentle nudge.

I looked out my window. Exhaust still poured from our pipes and the pipes of the buses on either side of us. Gone were the vast fields of farmland, the empty roads, and the darkness. We idled just outside the terminal, a concrete block with yesterday’s trash strewn on the surrounding sidewalks, under a large and very noisy overpass.

To me, it was almost unspeakably beautiful. Here I was, in San Francisco, at the break of day. Dad’s favorite place.

I turned to Emmett and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Right back at you.”

We were the last to disembark from the bus, and as all the other passengers hustled off in various directions, we stood for a minute, not knowing what to do or where to go.

We had three hours to kill.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring more money,” I said. “I wish I
could take us to breakfast. There must be a diner somewhere, someplace like Daisy’s.”

He threw his arms out wide and spun around. “Who wants to go sit in a diner? Look where we are. Have you ever been here?”

“I’ve never been anywhere.”

“So then, let me show you around.”

“You’ve been?”

“No. But I’m a really good tour guide.”

He linked his arm through mine and we found our way down to the water, which is almost an inevitability in San Francisco. Three of the four directions we could have walked in would have brought us to the water.

We wandered past huge docks with enormous boats. Everything was arriving and departing, coming and going, just like I’d always imagined about home. Even Emmett and me—we were here now but we’d be gone soon—and it felt, at that moment, like the only way to be in the world.

The sky lightened slowly, from metal-gray to dolphin-gray, and it was cooler than I’d expected, with a wind that made me tighten my arm in his, drawing him closer.

“What do you think of when you think of San Francisco?” he asked.
Dad
. I thought of Dad, but that’s not what I said.

“Rice-A-Roni?”

He laughed. “No, I mean, what do you picture when you close your eyes and imagine the city?”

“I guess … the Golden Gate Bridge?”

He separated himself from me and looked at his watch. “Then I’m going to show you the Golden Gate Bridge. C’mon, let’s pick up the pace.”

We continued to walk with the water to our right. We went by more docks and piers. We passed hotels and people wandering into and out of coffee shops. Garbage trucks rumbled by. Seagulls screamed at each other. The salty air was thick with morning fog.