Freeze Frame (22 page)

“C
'mon.” I tapped on his window.

Chase peeked out. When he saw me, he grinned and ran to the backyard.

“Did you brush your teeth?” I asked.

“Oh, no!”

“I'm joking! Chase!”

Before I could catch him, he ran back into the house. He came back out. “That was close. Ready?” He grabbed my hand.

“How much time do you have?” I asked.

“About two hours.”

“What happens if your mom wakes up and doesn't find you?”

“I've left a note on the kitchen table. It says I went to
do the Carson City historical walk.”

“And she'll buy that?”

“Mike and I used to do it every Saturday—before the event calendar. I have the map here.” He pulled out a tattered map. It had red markings and highlights all over it. “And the guided tour is in my MP3 player.”

I didn't even know there was a Carson City historical walk. “Two hours is plenty of time,” I said.

“Maybe next Saturday, you ought to do the historical walk with us.” Chase raised his eyebrows.

“I'd like that.” And I meant it. “Okay. Let's go.” I handed him a helmet. “It's too far to walk. So you get to go for a ride.” I hoisted Chase onto the bike.

“Does riding double comply with traffic regulations?”

I laughed. “Sure.”

“Really?”

“C'mon, Chase. We don't have all day.”

Chase scowled. “Okay. But just this once.”

“Okay.”

“But ride careful.”

“I will.”

“And don't tell Mike.”

We rode to the graveyard. Rake guy waved at us. When he saw Chase, he came out with a couple of chocolates.

“We come here every Sunday,” Chase whispered.

We found Jase's grave. Fresh lilies and daisies covered
it. I wondered if Jason had a favorite flower. I'd never really thought about it before. I didn't have a favorite flower—at least I didn't think so.

We stood there for a while, listening to the silence of the graveyard. I pulled Jason's sketchbook out of my bag and opened it up to the last page. A full-scale comic-book battle.

Finally Chase said, “That's me, isn't it?”

I explained a little. “You're Kite Rider. You're a superhero. A real live superhero.”

“Only in Jason's world,” he mumbled. “If that were really true, I wouldn't need a bodyguard.”

I flipped through the pages and showed him Freeze Frame.

“Hey, you're a superhero too!”

“Yep. With more experience. Maybe I'm supposed to train you.”

“Instead of protect me?”

“Maybe.”

He grinned. “That sounds better.” He rubbed the chalky drawings and smelled his fingers. “Chalk,” he whispered.

“Chalk.” I closed the notebook. “I just wanted to show this to you. I'm sorry I didn't earlier.”

Chase smiled. “It doesn't matter. You're still going to help me talk to Jase, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he'll hear me? Get the message?”

“Definitely. Do you have the letter?”

“Yeah.” Chase pulled a folded-up note out of his pocket.

“Good.” I took a kite out of my backpack. It was one of those cheap, garbage-sack plastic kites. The AM/PM store didn't have a great kite selection.

Chase's eyes got real big. “We're gonna fly a kite. I could've brought the dragon. It's
much
nicer than this one.”

“Don't worry about it. Fold your note and put a hole in it. We have to put the string through the hole.”

It took Chase about fifteen minutes to find the one spot that didn't have words to put the hole in it. “I want to make sure Jason gets the complete message.”

“Okay, sure.” It was a good thing we had two hours.

Chase pulled the string through the hole. “That's a lot of string.”

“We've got to get the kite as high up as we can—so high we might not even be able to see it.”

“And this is gonna work? To get my message out?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know about this?”

“I read about it somewhere.”

“You read nonfiction?” Chase looked at me sideways.

“Sure, I read everything.” I had lately, anyway—anything Mr. Cordoba threw my way.

Chase bit his lip.

“C'mon, Chase. It'll work. I'm gonna run up the path. The wind is pretty decent. We've got to get the kite in the air, okay?”

“Yeah, but don't run over any of the graves, Kyle. You might wake some of these dead people up.”

Dead people don't wake up.

“I won't. Don't worry. You hold the kite there.” I had Chase hold on. “I'm gonna get it flying, then you'll do the rest.”

He nodded.

“When I say, ‘Let go!' let go. But not any sooner.”

“Okay.”

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

I ran up the path, the string trailing behind me. “Let go! Let go!” I shouted. Chase let go just at the right time, and the wind caught the kite, pushing it high above the elm trees and graves.

“C'mon, Chase.” Chase caught up to me and grabbed on to the string. “You've got to work the note up to the top of the string, okay? Jiggle it a little in the beginning, and the wind will do the rest. The kite has to fly until the note hits its base.”

Chase ran up and down the path; the kite flew high between trees—a plastic red square in the sky. Its colorful
tail zigzagged with gusts of wind. It was perfect April wind for flying a kite.

“Kyle, it's there. The note is there! See it?” He laughed.

“Okay. Now let the string out. Let it out until the very end.”

Chase unraveled the extra string until all he had was what was looped around his hand. By then the kite was nothing but a tiny red dot in the sky.

“Come over here.” We stood next to Jason's grave. “Now you've gotta think about the person you want to receive the note, okay? Think real hard about Jason.”

Chase squeezed his eyes closed.

“When you're ready, let the kite go and let it fly away.”

We waited. Chase clutched the kite string, taut from the tug of the almost invisible kite. “Ready?”

Chase sniffled and clutched the string.

“Jason will get your message, Chase. Just think real hard about him. Think about how happy he'll be to hear from you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Boy Scout's honor?”

“Yeah. Boy Scout's honor.”

“You're not a Boy Scout.” Chase's lip quivered.

“But I have honor.” I smiled.

“That's my line,” he protested.

“I learn from the best.” I winked. “Let go of the kite. It's okay.”

“Okay.” He inhaled and let go of the kite. He unlooped the string, and it slipped out of his hand and floated away, attached to the kite we couldn't even see anymore. Chase grabbed my hand.

He looked up at me. “I really think he got it.”

“Me, too,” I said. “This is for you.” I handed him the sketchbook.

Chase hugged the sketchbook. “It's him. He's really here.” His eyes flooded with tears. “This is the best present ever.” He wrapped his small arms around my waist and hugged me. “I'm so lucky to have you.”

“I'm lucky to have you, too, Chase.” He hugged me harder. “Hey, listen, I was thinking that maybe you could help me with something too, something I have for Jase.”

“You wrote him a note, too?”

“No. But I thought I'd leave him this.” I pulled out the watch.

Chase grabbed my hand. “It's okay, you know?”

“What's okay?”

“It's okay to let it go.”

I nodded and wiped the tears from my eyes. Jesus, Chase made my throat knot up.

He squeezed my hand tighter. “Come on, Kyle.”

Together, we put the watch on top of Jason's grave. I
looked at the time—on the watch Chase had given me. “Jase,” I whispered. “It's eight thirty-seven.”

Then Chase took my hand and we walked back through the heavy silence of the graves.

E
arly on April 23, Chase, Kohana, and I got together. I took off my shoes. “One year,” I said. “three hundred and sixty-five days.”

“Actually three hundred and sixty-five point two-five days, Kyle,” Chase corrected me.

Kohana smiled. He and Chase got along really well. I thought Chase would feel bad that I had a friend, but one day he'd said, “It's just too bad Jason wasn't friends with Kohana, too. He's really nice.”

“Are you ready to film?” Kohana asked.

I took a deep breath. We'd already filmed Jason's duffel and sleeping bag. We created a movie poster/comic art montage with all of Jason's favorite comic-book artists, including Kyle Baker and Frank Miller. We had footage
from old home movies that Chase had snuck out of the house: birthdays, Christmases, Little League and stuff. Chase had found the WXYZ volume of the encyclopedia in Jason's room, and we filmed that. Kohana convinced me to open up the papers and film them. Funny. Jase and I had written the same thing:

My hands shook so bad, I couldn't keep the camera in focus. That day we didn't film any more. I think it made us all sad.

We had even filmed Chase and his kites—running up and down the path of the cemetery sending Jase messages. The only thing I didn't film was Jason's secret stash. I figured it was okay for some scenes to be just between Jase and me.

“Are you ready?” Kohana asked again. “Last scene.”

I looked over my director's notes. Chase came over and sat next to me. “He'd like this scene. Even though it might bug him. He never lost a bet, you know.”

I laughed. He hadn't. Not with me, anyway. “Ready,” I said, and took another deep breath. This was the final
scene. There were no more stills, no more overexposures, no more shadows. Just regular filming—moving forward.

 

UNTITLED: FINAL SCENE—Orange Chili Shoes Kyle is sitting in the middle of cans of chili. He doesn't speak. He sits there, waiting for his cue.

Kyle takes off the shoes. Chase comes into the camera's view and hands Kyle a 1948 Captain Marvel Adventures #81.

ZOOM IN: On the comic book

 

FADE OUT:

Kohana, Chase, and I sat there for a while, just hanging out on the porch. “Hungry?” I finally said, holding up a chili can. Then we all cracked up. It had been a long morning.

“What if we finish editing this afternoon?” Kohana asked.

“Yeah!” Chase jumped up. “Let's go!”

“You think Mr. Cordoba would be okay with that? On a Saturday?”

“We can ask,” Kohana said.

We called Mr. Cordoba.

“Can we work in the library today? To finish the movie? I asked. “I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“I'll meet you there in half an hour,” Mr. Cordoba interrupted, and hung up the phone.

We hardly recognized Cordoba. He was wearing a pair
of jeans, a Juan Valdez T-shirt, and a paint-splattered baseball cap. He let us work all day, late into the afternoon.

“We're done,” I finally said.

Kohana and Chase nodded.

“Let's watch it,” said Chase.

“Wait.” Kohana went and got Mr. Cordoba.

The four of us sat down and watched as Jason's friendship and memories came to life. When the movie ended, nobody said anything for a while. Then Chase started clapping. I thought I saw Mr. Cordoba wipe his nose with a handkerchief.

“What do you think?” Kohana asked.

Mr. Cordoba said, “I bet the judges in the film competition will love it.”

Maybe they would, but that's not why I had made it.

“You did it, man.” Kohana took out the DVD, slipped it into the case, and handed it to me. “What are you gonna title it?”

I turned it over in my hands and felt relieved. And sad. But I knew it was going to be okay.
“Freeze Frame.”

“That's a perfect title,” Chase whispered.

“Do you boys need a ride home?” Mr. Cordoba said, interrupting the silence of the media room.

“That'd be great, Mr. Cordoba,” Kohana said.

We piled into his car. When we got to Kohana's house, he said, “We're going to Squaw next week, Kyle. Can you come?”

“I'd like to,” I said.

“You asked your PO?”

“Yeah. He said it wouldn't be a problem.”

“Cool.” Kohana walked up the path to his house.

On the way home, Chase told Mr. Cordoba about Jason's planets being wrong on the ceiling and how the Mayas had calculated Venus's orbit for 6,000 years and were off by a day or something. Mr. Cordoba told Chase he had a great book about the Incas and their solar calendars that he would get to me to give to him. I loved listening to them, talking about ancient worlds, planets' orbits, and things that made a difference in the world.

W
hen I got home, Mel was all ready for the junior prom. “Whaddya think?” She curtsied. She had on a green shiny dress that, I admit, was tight in just the right spots.

“You're real pretty, Mel.”

She blushed. “Thanks.”

Mom cried when Jake (a.k.a. Hoover) showed up with some massive carnation corsage dyed mint green. She took about a thousand pictures and Dad looked crabby. He did that for the intimidation effect, and since Jake said, “We'll be home by midnight,” I think it worked.

Mom and Dad decided to go for a walk.

I stepped outside in the chilly evening air. The clouds had faded into streaks of pastels and purples. It was the time of day when the moon still has to share the sky with the sun.

Mrs. Bishop had already turned on her lamp, waiting for Jase to come home. I walked across the street and worked my way to the porch. I stood there in the dim evening light. My hand trembled when it reached out to ring the bell. I listened to the life unfolding inside. Chase and Brooke were fighting about something. Somebody put dishes in cupboards. What would I say?

Mrs. Bishop opened the door with a damp dish towel in her hands.

For a moment, I thought about running away, but some force kept me on that porch. Her cheeks sagged a little. She looked thin. I knew I had done that to her.

My hands shook as I gave her my DVD. “I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “This was the best I could do to bring him back.”

She wrapped me in her arms. “I've been waiting for you.”