Signal (12 page)

“My turn,” I say.

“Have fun,” she tells me, with a tired smile. “And go the other way.”

“Right.”

Bending down in a crouch, keeping my butt low, I scooch along with little baby steps, knocking down wheat stalks with the board, sweating. Not really what I’d call fun, especially since, from my ant’s-eye view, the signal we’re making doesn’t look like much.

I do come across some interesting things, though, like a nest made from weedy stalks and leaves built in a little hollow on the ground. Inside are thirteen olive-greenish eggs. Judging from the size, I figure I scared off a momma pheasant. I move the nest over, out of the path of my board, and hope she’ll find it when she returns.

Farther along, I see a few smaller, songbird-size nests, a woodchuck hole, and a green-and-yellow striped snake that glides in front of my board for a while before it wises up and escapes sideways. There are all kinds of bugs, too: grasshoppers leaping every which way, spiders, ants, and I don’t know what other kinds of buzzing, crawling critters.

Suddenly I’m aware of a steady hum that isn’t coming from any insect. I look up and, sure enough, there’s another small plane flying almost directly overhead. I freeze until the hum fades. I’m about to start my circle again when the noise of the plane’s engine begins to get louder, and I see it’s making a second pass over the wheat field.

No!
I think, wishing I could slap it away like a giant
bug.
Get lost!
But the plane makes a third pass before droning off across the lake.

The eighty-foot circle seems to take forever. Finally I return to the center and fall down on my back in a sweaty heap. Josie whines nervously, but once she realizes I’m okay, she licks my face until I start to laugh.

I look up and see that Cam seems troubled.

“The plane?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says glumly. “It definitely acted suspicious.”

“I thought so, too.”

Cam shrugs. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now, so I’d better get going on the one-hundred-footer.”

“How many circles are we making?” I ask, trying to remember the picture Cam had drawn.

“Six. Your next one will be the last, at one hundred twenty feet.”

The sun is getting lower and I glance at my watch. I’m amazed to see that it is almost seven o’clock. No wonder I’m starving. “Did you eat anything?” I ask.

Cam nods. “Josie and I both did. Don’t worry, we left some for you.”

“Thanks a bunch,” I say as she heads out into the wheat.

“And I didn’t even see those Tootsie Rolls in your backpack,” she calls over her shoulder.

At a couple minutes after nine, we’re finally finished.
I’m lying on my back on the ground once again, feeling totally trashed, when another plane flies over, makes a second pass, and leaves.

Cam and I look at each other, then look away. Neither of us wants to say what we’re thinking, which is that all of our hard work will be for nothing if somebody comes to investigate the circles tonight.

“It’ll be dark soon. How about I make a daring raid on the tent,” I suggest, “and get the sleeping bags?”

She looks at me with her eyebrows raised.

“We might as well be comfortable while we’re waiting,” I explain.

“I wish we’d thought of it before,” says Cam. “But you’re right, it would be nice.”

“I’ll be super sneaky,” I say. “And super fast.”

After surveying the area, I run through the wheat, across the yard, and over the ledge to where the tent sits like an alien orange mushroom. I grab the sleeping bags and slide the tarp out from under the tent, fold everything up in a ball, and run back across the yard. Cam pops up quickly and waves me on.

We spread out the tarp and arrange the sleeping bags on top. Josie turns in her usual circles before making herself at home between Cam and me, and we settle in. Josie falls asleep, unaware that this could be her final evening on Earth.

C
AM
, J
OSIE, AND
I
LIE IN THE DARKENED FIELD
, i keep thinking,
This could be the last time I’ll lie on the ground of Earth, this could be the last time I’ll see the sun set from Earth
. These thoughts make my heart thump faster. At the same time, the idea of never seeing Earth again leaves an achy emptiness in my chest.

I concentrate on savoring each chewy, sticky mouthful of our last meal on Earth: Tootsie Rolls. In answer to my questions, Cam tells me that the animals and birds on her planet are just like ours, except that they’re not endangered or threatened.

“And soon you’ll see for yourself!” she says happily. “I’m so glad you’re coming, Owen. I’m not sure I could have left without you.”

This both pleases and embarrasses me, and maybe
Cam is embarrassed, too, because she turns away, and we don’t say anything more for a long while. It feels okay, just being quiet.

Later, I nudge Cam. “Hey, are you awake?”

“Wide awake.”

“Look. The moon!”

It’s coming up over the wheat stalks, full and round. We lie quietly, watching it rise and slowly change color from orange to white.

You really can’t spend that much time looking up into the sky without imagining that there are other planets and other worlds out there. You can’t help feeling really, really small compared to it all, either. I guess billions of people have had the same feeling, but that just shows how true it is.

I don’t say it, but I’d feel even smaller if I were lying out here alone. I’ve never had a girl for a friend before, but that’s what Cam is.

“Well, we sure got the full moon we needed,” I say after a bit. “Guess we should be on the lookout for the ship, huh?”

“They won’t come until well after midnight, I’m sure,” she says. “The less chance of people being up and about, the better.”

“Makes sense.” I look at my watch. It’s only a couple minutes after eleven.

Josie lets out a sudden bark, and I grab her snout to silence her. There are far-off voices, and music. It’s the teenage kids coming up from the trail. We hear them
talking, laughing, and finally getting into their cars and driving away.

Cam and I try to pass the time by telling jokes and playing word games, but it’s not easy to focus and, finally, we give up and just watch the sky.

Anxiously, I scan the moonlit darkness, trying to catch the first glimpse of the spaceship. I’m afraid to close my eyes for even a second, and they burn from staring upward with such concentration.

“Look!” I say, jiggling Cam’s arm and pointing skyward. “There! What’s that?”

After a couple seconds, Cam says, “A satellite.”

A while later I get faked out by a shooting star, and then by a faraway airplane. I decide to keep my mouth shut until I’m sure I see a spaceship.

If the real thing appears
, I think,
you’ll know
.

The night stretches slowly on. Too slowly. I have a lot of time to think, and I begin to have second thoughts about what I’m doing.

I tell myself it’s not that I have a small view of things. I believe there are other planets out there that support life, and that Cam came from one of them. For her to return home is a no-brainer. From what she’s told me about her brief time here on Earth, she’s got no reason to stay.

It’s not the same for me.

Yeah, my relationship with Dad isn’t so hot. But compared to Cam’s problems here on Earth, ours don’t seem so bad. I’ve been moping and blaming everything
on Dad, but lying here in the darkness I wonder if that’s fair. I ask myself what I’ve done to make things better, and the answer is … not much.

I think about the night when I came home late and Planet Dad and I broke out of our separate orbits and
almost
connected. I begin to wonder if I’m giving up too easily on something big. Something important. I wonder if, instead of heading toward something new, I’m just running away. I feel a little unsure now.

Then I tell myself,
You have a chance to go to another planet!
And I think,
Of course you’re going
. I remind myself that Cam said her parents will bring me back if I want. That settles me down a little.

I check my watch. It’s a quarter of one. The moon is directly overhead now. The next time I check, it’s five after one. I try not to look for a long time. One-twenty-five.

Josie snores softly, and I envy her calm obliviousness. I feel Cam beside me, rigid with anticipation. I try to imagine what it’s going to be like for her to see her parents again after all this time.

I’m happy for her. But at that moment I know I won’t be going with her after all.

Her planet sounds beautiful, but I can’t help thinking of all the things I would miss about Earth if I left. There are all the animals and birds, the snakes and turtles and frogs and fish, the things Mom taught me to see, and to love. I think about packing the first snowball of the year, riding my bike, running on the trail, and
playing soccer. Even mowing the lawn and raking leaves can be kind of fun when you’re in the right mood.

I think of the wood duck nest I saw this morning. Suddenly, I really want to be around to see those baby wood ducks grow up. They need people to care about them here on Earth.

I think of Dad. I said it would take a couple days for him to notice I was gone, but I know that’s not true— I’m sure he’s worried about me right now. I think of him here all alone, first losing Mom, and then me.

I peek over at Cam, lying next to me, staring intently into the heavens, waiting. I really, really hope her family gets here safely. And I hope she’ll be so glad to see them that she won’t mind if I stay behind.

I’m not going to tell her my decision until it’s time for her to go. Not because I’m chicken, but because I hope that then she might be able to understand.

Sometime later, I wake with a start. Someone is whispering my name. Cam. Something warm and furry is pushing at my hand. Josie. For a few seconds I have no idea where we are.

Then I remember! We’re waiting for the spaceship. I can’t believe I fell asleep.

Cam sits up. “Listen,” she says tensely.

Struggling to emerge from sleep, I sit, too, and strain to hear what she hears. After a moment, I do. Steady but stealthy, the crunching of wheat stalks and the swish of the stalks against fabric. Footsteps. Someone is walking toward us through the wheat.

Josie lets out three sharp barks, and I grab her nose to hush her. Cam and I stare at each other, too frightened to speak. The footsteps come closer and we sit frozen, listening. My body remains paralyzed while a thousand thoughts rush through my brain, none of them good.

A flashlight beam pans across the tips of the wheat stalks. A loud, angry voice calls out, “Damn it, girl, I know you’re out there, so just stand up where I can see you.”

Cam grabs on to my arm so tight I feel her fingernails through my shirt. “Ray,” she says in a frightened whisper.

There is silence for a minute except for Ray’s steps, coming closer. Ray is making no attempt at stealth or silence now, but moving fast.

“I know where you are, so don’t think you can get away,” he says.

“How can he know where we are?” I mutter desperately. “He
can’t
know.”

He can’t know
, and yet he is heading directly for us. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I sure don’t plan on being huddled helplessly on the ground when Ray’s flashlight beam finds us. I let go of Josie’s nose, and she leaps to her feet, barking.

“Stay here,” I say to Cam. Without waiting for a reply, I hunch over and scoot several yards to the left of our sleeping bags before standing. Josie dashes toward
the flashlight beam, then races back to me, barking wildly. She is caught for a second, fully illuminated. Then the beam falls on me and zeroes in on my face. I squint against the brightness and shield my eyes with my hand.

“Where is she?” Ray says. He sounds almost bored as he says this, as if he knows I’m no match for him and he just wants to get it over with. As if I’m no more than the pesky bug he shooed away in the store. It makes me mad.

“You leave her alone,” I say. My voice comes out high and shaky, and I stop to swallow. “Just leave her alone.” I sound ridiculous, I know. This makes me even madder.

Ray chuckles, but it’s not a jolly sound. “Sure, kid. I just need to talk to her first. Where is she?”

He has stopped walking, but continues to shine the light in my eyes. From behind its glare, he appears to me as a large, black, faceless form. He ignores Josie, who is circling him, barking like mad.

“Look,” I say. “She’s going away for good, somewhere far away.”

He gives a snorting laugh.

“Just go and leave her alone.” I hate the pleading note in my voice, but I can’t help it.

“Kid. Shut up. Where is she?” Ray repeats. He sounds tired and his voice is impatient now, flat and mean.

I’m hoping that Cam is making an escape somehow, sneaking away while the flashlight is trained on me. If Cam runs off now, he won’t be able to catch her.

I guess Ray is thinking the same thing because he turns the flashlight away from me and begins scanning the surrounding area. My eyes follow the light and—
no!
There’s Cam, standing right where I left her. She’s caught in the brutal beam, and turns her face away from it.

Ray reaches her in seconds. Before I know what’s happening, he’s dropped the flashlight and grabbed her. He’s towering over her, holding her by both arms and shaking her.

“You little brat, if it was up to me, I’d have taken off and left you. You want to run away, it’s
fine
with me. But your mother says I gotta find you, so she can kick your little smart-ass butt.”

What is he talking about, “your mother”?

“Leave her alone!” I scream, running toward them.

Josie, hearing my cry and seeing Cam struggling with Ray, begins a frantic, high-pitched yelping. In the gleam from Ray’s fallen flashlight I can see her jumping and hurling herself at their grappling bodies. I come from behind and grab Ray’s arms. Cam dodges to the right, and Ray shakes me off and turns to face me.

“You little …” he mutters. He’s so close I can smell his breath, and I realize he’s been drinking. Then his fist comes flying at me. I turn away quickly enough so that it misses my face, but it catches the side of my head in a shimmering burst of pain. I fall to the ground from the
force and surprise of the blow, and the dark, hulking shadow that is Ray looms over me.