Signal (10 page)

When we’re all done and feeling as safe as possible, I say, “So, tomorrow afternoon we’ll make the signal. Then what?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Up to me?”

“Well, tomorrow night I’m going to wait in the center of the circle for my parents, and when they come I’m going home with them. The only question is, will you and Josie be with us?”

I avoid the question by asking one of my own. “How can you be so sure your parents will want me to come? I
am
a degenerate Earthling, after all.”

I’m only partly kidding when I say this. It would be just my luck to go to another planet only to discover that everybody there thinks I’m the equivalent of a Neanderthal.

Cam says,
“Of course
they’ll want you. First of all, the very fact that you’re with me will let them know you’re okay. But, really, Owen, you’ve got to believe me. They wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

“Live like
what?”
I ask indignantly. She makes it sound like I’m holed up in a cave gnawing on bones.

Cam looks away. “So alone.”

“What are you talking about,
alone?”
I protest. “I just moved here. How am I supposed to know anybody until school starts?” She doesn’t say anything, and I go on. “Oh, I know. You’re talking about me and Dad. Well, for your information, when I got home last night he cooked me a great dinner, and we sat down and had a real good talk.”

This is a slight exaggeration, of course. But it
was
a good talk, for us.

“And he left me a note this morning, saying he’s going to come home early tonight so we can talk some more and do something together, maybe practice some soccer moves or something.”

The last part isn’t strictly true, either, but I feel pretty sure that’s what Dad was thinking when he wrote the note.

“That’s good,” Cam says softly.

“Look,” I say shortly, “I’ve got to go.” I take the rest of the food out of my backpack and push it over toward her. “Be careful. You should be okay if you stay hidden.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll be careful.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she seems distant and sad all of a sudden.

“All right,” I say, trying to sound a little less abrupt. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll build the signal.”

Josie jumps up and barks, ready to go if I am. And I am. I want to get away from Cam and her nosy comments about my life. What does she know about me, anyway? She can be really annoying sometimes.

W
HEN
I
GET HOME, IT’S ONLY A LITTLE AFTER TWO
, I’ve been so busy with Cam, it feels odd to have free time on my hands. I think about Dad coming home early, and decide to do something to surprise him.

I get out the weed whacker and trim the edges of the lawn. This is a noisy, boring chore that I avoid whenever possible, and Dad usually has to remind me three or four times. Josie doesn’t like the racket, either, and takes refuge under the porch until I’m finished.

As I survey my handiwork, I see my soccer ball lying in the grass next to the pile of lumber for the abandoned deck project, and I get an idea. I’ll build a goal in the yard, and tonight Dad and I will practice taking shots, just like I told Cam we were going to do.

I’m pretty excited as I pull out three of the boards from under the tarp and drag them into the garage. I get out the saw again and cut one of them in half. Then I
nail the two short boards onto the ends of the longer boards to form a rectangle. I get two more boards, cut each of them in half, and nail them to the base of the frame in a triangular shape. Cool! The goal stands on its own, ready for action. It doesn’t look like much and isn’t regulation size, but that’s okay. It’ll serve the purpose.

I set it up at the edge of the lawn and take a few shots. This isn’t easy, as Josie seems to think I’ve devised this exercise solely for her benefit. She chases after the ball trying to bite it, and when that doesn’t work, she noses it along in front of her and pushes it with her paws. To her, the object of this fun new game is to keep the ball away from me. I figure it could actually be good practice to try to steal the ball from her, and I go after it, using my fanciest footwork.

We play for a pretty long time, until I’ve gotten a couple shots through the goal. I’m sweating like crazy and Josie and I are both panting, and I collapse on the grass. Josie comes over and flops down beside me, heaving, her tongue hanging out.

I lie there, picturing Dad’s face when he sees the goal. He’s going to be amazed. I check my watch. Quarter after four. I wonder how early he might be home. It’s possible it could be any minute. We’ll have time for some soccer before dinner. Afterward, we’ll sit on the porch and shoot the breeze.

I look at my watch again. Twenty after four. I’ve got to do something to pass the time, or I’ll drive myself crazy. When Dad told my new school that I’d be coming
in the fall, they gave him a list of books my class was supposed to read over the summer. I have a couple of them in my room, and I look them over. One has a picture of a kid catching a baseball on the front, so I grab it and settle in on a lawn chair in the shade. Josie curls up on the grass beside me and falls asleep immediately, snoring softly.

The book is funny, even though the kid who is the main character loses his hand in a meat grinder in the first chapter, and when I look at my watch again I’m surprised to see that it’s five-thirty. My stomach growls, and I decide to check the refrigerator.

There’s a package of hamburger meat and a bag of buns, so I go back outside and put some charcoal on the grill, squirt it with starter, and light it. I always get a thrill—and a little bit of a scare—when it catches with that whooshing sound. It takes a while for the stinky stuff to burn off and for the coals to get to just the right temperature, and I figure the grill will be all set to go by the time Dad gets home. I make four hamburger patties and set them on a plate.

Then, thinking I’ll
really
surprise Dad, I make a salad. I get out plates, forks, napkins, ketchup, mustard, a bottle of dressing, the works.

I go back outside to read some more, but it’s harder to concentrate now that Dad will be home any minute. Every time a car goes by, I look up to see if it’s turning into our driveway.

At six-thirty, the coals in the grill are almost burned
down to nothing, so I add more. By seven, I’m too hungry to wait any more, and I’m starting to feel grouchy, and ticked off at Dad. Why did he leave a note saying he’d be home early if he wasn’t going to be?

I eye the telephone. He gave me grief for not calling him last night, so why doesn’t he call me if he’s not going to make it home early? I’m sure not going to call
him
.

I cook myself two cheeseburgers and eat quickly, standing at the kitchen counter, barely even tasting what I’m chewing. Josie watches, not begging, but on the alert for any bits that might fall to the floor. I give her the last bite of my second burger, and we go back outside.

I read until it starts to get too dark to see, then I sit staring blankly out at the neighbor’s farm fields, feeling stupid. Did I really think things were going to be different with Dad, just because he was worried about me last night?

Josie climbs up onto my lap, and her warmth feels good in the evening chill. I look up at the sky and watch as one star after another appears. I think of Cam’s planet and imagine her parents, worried sick and missing her, waiting for the full moon and the signal.

The stars become blurry as my eyes fill with a sudden wash of tears. I hug Josie fiercely, burying my nose in the familiar smell of her neck, recognizing that Cam was right. Except for Josie, I
am
alone. My mother’s gone and I can’t even remember her face clearly anymore.
My father is in his own world and seems happy to stay there. I don’t know any kids here, except Cam. And she’s leaving.

I look up at the sky, remembering all the things Cam told me about her planet. It sounds pretty darn great.

Her showing up is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. She actually knows me better than anybody, when I think about it. Life will be very dull when she goes. Then I’ll really be alone.

I try to think just what it is that I have to stick around here for. I ask myself: When you’re there waiting with Cam, and a spaceship actually comes for her, are you going to refuse to go on the biggest adventure of your whole life?

“They like dogs,” I say out loud, quoting Cam to Josie. Josie turns and licks my salty cheek.

“What do you think, girl?” I ask.

She gives the funny singsongy growl she makes when we’re having a conversation and she’s answering one of my questions.

“You’re right,” I say. “Only a person with a small view of things would pass up an opportunity like that.”

We get up and go inside. Josie heads for her corner in the living room, circles a few times, and lies down. I go to my room, close the door, and sprawl on the bed. I stare into the darkness for what seems like a long time. The longer I lie there, the more sure I am of my decision.

If a spaceship does land, I’m getting on it.

When I hear a car coming up the driveway, I get under the covers and curl up on my side, my face turned to the wall. I hear the door from the garage into the kitchen open and close. I listen to footsteps coming down the hall and stopping outside my room. The knob turns slowly, and a thin sliver of light shines on the wall. Though I’m facing away from the door, I close my eyes, feigning sleep, and remain absolutely still.

“Owen?”

I try to breathe evenly, like a sleeping person.

“Are you awake?”

I don’t answer.

“This audit is a nightmare. I was holed up in a meeting with an IRS guy and couldn’t get away. I should have called, I know. But we are right down to the wire on this thing.”

Ooh, your big audit, I think. Nothing’s more important than that.

“I couldn’t leave,” he says.

Yeah, I know.

There’s silence for a while. Just when it’s gone on long enough that I think he must have walked away without my hearing, he says in a barely audible whisper, “I’m sorry.”

I almost turn around then, but I don’t. What’s the point?

The door closes, and I take a deep breath. I fall asleep and dream of a spaceship landing in a wheat field.

I
WAKE UP EARLY, BEFORE
D
AD
, Q
UICKLY
, I
FEED
Josie and eat some cereal. Then I pack food for Cam and me, along with some water, dog food, and Milk-Bones. I leave a short note on the kitchen counter.

It’s vague, but offhand enough not to raise any suspicions. At least, that’s what I hope. I want him to think it’s just a day like any other.

I read it over and add the word “Love” before my name. I’m not sure why, but I don’t feel mad anymore. I guess I feel kind of sorry for him. He’s the one who’s going to be left behind.

If
the spaceship comes.

I’m about to leave when I think about packing some stuff to take with me. I hear the words in my head:
in case I never return
. I put my two favorite World Cup soccer T-shirts into my backpack, along with a pair of boxers. I take a look around my room to see what else I might miss. I hate to leave my posters, the model airplanes I worked so hard on, and my rock and fossil collections. But they’re all too impractical to pack. Pinned to my bulletin board is a picture of me and Dad somebody took at an office Christmas party last year. It’s a dumb picture, because the photographer made us put on Santa Claus hats, but I grab it anyway and shove it between the folds of the T-shirts.

Then Josie and I sneak out of the house. I see my soccer ball lying in the grass where I left it last night, and after a minute of indecision I put it in my backpack. Any decent planet has got to have soccer, right?

Josie and I hit the road. This is very possibly my last day on Earth, I think with a sharp thrill. It promises to be a beauty, too.

Mr. Powers’s store appears to be open, even at this early hour, and I stop to buy a last bag of Tootsie Rolls for Cam. She said she wanted to take some back home with her.

I wonder again what the spaceship will look like.

When Josie and I walk into the store, Mr. Powers looks surprised. “What’s got you and the hound out and about at this hour of the morning?” he asks.

I smile, wondering how high his fuzzy eyebrows would shoot up if I said, Oh, we’re taking off tonight for another planet, and we wanted to say goodbye.

Instead, I say, “Oh, nothing much. Just an early morning bike ride.” I grab a bag of Tootsie Rolls and put them on the counter.

Mr. Powers commands Josie to sit, says, “Good hound,” and gives her a Slim Jim. He rolls me a jawbreaker before taking my money. Then he eyes me with interest. Too much interest. “You two are up to something. Don’t try to kid a kidder.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to look innocent.

He ignores my question. “Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with that big-neck fella. He’s bad news, you can take that to the bank.”

I don’t say anything and Mr. Powers shakes his head. “Every day, I see you out running around loose,” he says. “I ask myself, Where are that boy’s parents?”

I wish I’d skipped the Tootsie Rolls, given Mr. Powers a farewell wave from the road, and kept on going. I’d be edging my way to the door now except he hasn’t given me my change yet. “Oh, you know,” I say. “Working.”

“Hmmm,” he says. He holds out his hand with my change in it, and adds, “Well, whatever you’re up to, you be careful now, you and the hound. You hear?”

“I—we will,” I say. This last comment of his seems nice, rather than nosy, and makes me feel more kindly toward him. I realize with surprise that I will miss my
visits to old Mr. Powers’s store. “And thanks for all the jawbreakers and the Slim Jims.”

He says gruffly, “More where they came from. Come get ’em any time.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I start to walk out, then turn back and say, “Bye, Mr. Powers.”