Line Dancing and a Trøndesian Named Petter
THE WIND ROARED in Nilly’s ears. His lips were pursed in deep concentration, his arms stretching out to his sides. He was looking straight ahead while putting one foot in front of the other with the utmost caution. A gust almost sent him toppling head over heels off to the side, but the shoes sort of suctioned a firm hold on the metal wire beneath him.
As he regained his balance, his hat made a little jump on his head.
“Quit hiccuping, Perry!” Nilly whispered. “I’m trying to concentrate here!”
He glanced down.
“And don’t look down, Nilly!” he quickly whispered to himself, bringing his eyes back up again.
But it was too late. He had already seen how dizzyingly far it was to the surface of the water below him. Which was also black. Black as asphalt. And probably just as hard, at least if you came plummeting down from a height of several hundred feet. Nilly remembered his grandfather’s story about the time when he was a sailor and went ashore in San Francisco along with the third mate and it was so hot they decided to go for a swim and they jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. But they only had one pair of swim trunks; they were blue and quite loose fitting. So they had played rock-paper-scissors for the swim trunks and his grandfather had done rock and the third mate had done paper, and this was back when paper beat rock. So the third mate had triumphantly removed his third mate’s hat, pulled on the loose swim trunks, climbed up over the railing, and jumped. And Nilly’s grandfather had watched, watched the third mate getting smaller and smaller, and realized that they were much higher up than it had appeared. And when the third mate hit the water, Nilly’s grandfather realized that the surface was much harder than one might have thought. Basically, it was good-bye to the third mate. All that was left were the blue, somewhat loose swim trunks, which floated back up again. And Nilly had often wondered, What if his grandfather hadn’t chosen paper that time, what if he had been the one to jump, and then he never would have met Nilly’s grandmother and had his Dad so that Nilly could be born. Although right now Nilly was wondering if that actually would have mattered anyway. Because another gust of wind came and grabbed hold of the high-voltage lines. It made Nilly sway so violently that for a second he was looking straight down at the black water, which now had a fair number of teeny tiny whitecaps on it.
Nilly bent his knees, struggled to keep his balance, and waited for the wire to stop swaying. But there was still a long way to go to the other side, and the wind wasn’t letting up. He couldn’t quite see how he was going to be able to do it, with or without the balancing shoes. But he had to. It was as simple as that. So he put his left foot in front of his right. Then his right in front of his left. It wasn’t going so badly. Had the wind died down a little? Yes, it had. Nilly heard a voice shout something from a distance. It was Lisa from back behind him, down by the shore. But he didn’t want to turn around. He wanted to hurry. He moved his feet faster. Then even a little faster.
Well, there was absolutely no wind now. Maybe this was going to work after all? And that’s when he heard it. A rushing, roaring sound from the forest. And out of the corner of his eye he could see the tops of the enormous spruce trees down below him along the riverbank. They were pitching to and fro, leaning over sideways in the colossal gusts of wind. And Nilly knew that he was lost. It was as if the wind had just been inhaling, gathering all its strength to blow this cheeky little redhead down from where he didn’t belong. And now it was exhaling at full force. Nilly hunkered down as the initial squall line buffeted him and blew his orange hat off. He saw it fly away, first up a ways, then swirling downward until it became a small dot. The second gust sent him spinning twice around the high-voltage wire before the third and final gust sent him off into midair.
“Urraaaaaaaaah!” Nilly screamed and fell.
“Hiccup!” Perry hiccuped.
They slowly turned in the air so that Nilly first saw the high-voltage wire above them getting farther away, and then saw the surface of the water below them getting closer.
“Double urraaaaaaaaah!” Nilly screamed.
“Hiccup-hiccup!” Perry hiccuped.
Because of course they both knew what the outcome would be. Flat as pancakes with strawberry jam.
Nilly closed his eyes.
Kept them shut.
Waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Wasn’t the crash going to come soon?
Yes, yes, the longer it took the stronger it would be when it finally happened.
He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.
Come on now, get it over with!
But, no. Nothing.
How high could they have been? Because this was actually starting to get a little boring. Or maybe he was already dead?
Nilly cautiously opened one eye. He could still see the river way down below him, but it wasn’t getting any closer. The opposite, actually. It looked like it was getting a little further away. And something around his hips was tugging, as if he were wearing a harness.
Nilly turned to the side and looked up.
And could hardly believe what he saw.
A skinny thread was running straight up from him, apparently into midair. And Perry was sitting on the thread right above him. Slowly it dawned on Nilly what it was: a spiderweb.
“Hello?” Nilly asked. “Am I dreaming?”
“Hiccup!” Perry said.
“Am I hanging from a cobweb? Is that possible, Perry?”
But before he got any response, the wind picked back up again and caused them to swing back and forth as if they were sitting on an enormous swing right over the river. And the cobweb held! Nilly sat there feeling quite pleased about his life. Until he realized that the world was about to end anyway. He had to act. He had no idea how a cobweb from a completely average seven-legged Peruvian sucking spider could hold a guy with so much muscle mass and an oversized brain, but he could think about that later.
“Perry!” Nilly yelled. “Can you make the thread even longer?”
And Perry could. Soon they were hanging right over the surface of the river, and Nilly stretched his small legs straight out and leaned back in his cobweb harness. They swung a little forward. He leaned forward and bent his knees under him. They swung backward. He stuck his legs straight out and repeated his pumping action. Their speed slowly increased, and the arc they were swinging in got bigger and bigger. In the middle of the arc, Nilly’s feet almost dragged through the water while over on the sides it was a long way down, the air rushing past his ears. And then there was a puff of wind from behind, and the swing with Nilly and Perry on it swung all the way over the far bank.
“Let her rip!” Nilly yelled.
And with that, Perry unfurled even more cobweb and Nilly sank down onto the ground.
“Yippee!” Nilly shouted as he landed gently in the snow on the riverbank. He tugged on the thread.
Perry must have bit it off, because the end soon drifted down. Nilly ran over to the rowboat, pushed it out, jumped in, and snapped the oars into the oarlocks. As he rowed, he spotted Perry sitting on the seat in front of him.
“Ingenious!” Doctor Proctor yelled as the boat reached him and he helped the others aboard.
“Fantastic,” Mrs. Strobe said, pinching Nilly’s cheek.
“But what actually happened?” Lisa asked after she gave Nilly a hug.
“My hat blew off and we fell,” Nilly said, leaving the rowing to Doctor Proctor and Mrs. Strobe, who had each grabbed an oar. “It’s really unbelievable, but Perry must have shot out a thread of cobweb around the high-voltage line and then attached the other end around me. It was like falling attached to a rubber band; I didn’t even notice that we’d stopped. But I don’t really understand how that’s possible.”
“Hiccup!” Perry said.
“Hm,” Doctor Proctor said. “But I think I do. Do you remember the flask Gregory smashed on the asphalt? The one containing Doctor Proctor’s Strength Tonic with Mexican Thunder Chili, Medium Ho—”
“Yeah, yeah!” Lisa and Nilly yelled impatiently.
“Do you also remember that we picked Perry up off the ground and that he was standing in the middle of those glass shards?”
“Aha,” Lisa said.
“Aha,” Mrs. Strobe said.
“Aha!” Nilly said. “Perry, you sneaky spider! You tasted the strength tonic, didn’t you?”
Perry didn’t respond.
“With such a small body, it wouldn’t take more than a few drops to make him super-strong,” the professor said.
“And make him spin super-strong spiderwebs,” Nilly said.
“And start hiccuping,” Lisa said.
They had crossed the river and pulled the boat up onto the bank. Then they walked up to the road that ran in front of the house with the big sales banner.
“We could try to hitchhike into South Trøndelag proper,” Doctor Proctor said.
“Or maybe a bus will come along soon,” Lisa said.
They stood there for a while looking up and down the road, but no one came: no cars, buses, motorcycles with sidecars, kick-sleds, or anything else.
“Seems pretty deserted,” Nilly said.
“Maybe someone in the shop can help us,” Doctor Proctor said.
THE SHOP TURNED out not to be a normal shop, but more of a large hall. They walked over to a very empty, very deserted counter.
“Hello?” Doctor Proctor called out, but the only response was an echo.
“What’s that?” Lisa asked, nodding at the strange devices scattered across the floor. They were the size of trampolines and consisted of colorful sailcloth stretched over frames, with a bunch of attached bars and strings. Underneath each sailcloth frame, there was something that looked like a sleeping bag.
“It looks like someone didn’t read the instructions for how to set up their tent,” Nilly said.
“Those are hang gliders,” Doctor Proctor said. “If you take one of these high up in the mountains, you can get a running start, take off, and then just lie down in this sack under the wings as you fly away. For hundreds of miles if you luck out in terms of the wind and weather conditions. HELLO?”
“HELLO!” Nilly shouted.
Nothing happened.
“There doesn’t seem to be anyone here,” Lisa said.
Just then there was a bang that made the air in the hall vibrate.
“Wh-wh-what was that?” Doctor Proctor asked.
Nilly nodded at Mrs. Strobe’s hand, which was still resting on the counter.
“Mrs. Strobe’s signature move,” he whispered. “Hand slap on the teacher’s desk.”
“Could you ask her not to do that again?” Doctor Proctor said, stretching his jaw and shaking his head to try to get his ears to pop.
They heard rattling from somewhere, a door opened, and in came a young man in a tight red leotard with black oil stains on the outside of it and a teeny tiny little potbelly on the inside. He looked liked he’d just rolled out of bed, because his blond, bushy hair was sticking up in all directions, and from behind the thickest eyeglass lenses Lisa had ever seen, a pair of narrow eyes peered at them.
“Flabbergast me!” he said with a mixture of fear and excitement. “There’s people here! No one’s been in here since last Easter!”
“Petter! I’m Petter! I’m the one and only Petter and a heck of a Petter I am!”
“I see. I’m Doctor Proctor, and this is Lisa, Nilly, and Mrs. Strobe.”
Petter leaned over and took a closer look at Nilly. “Are you sure your name’s not Petter, son?”
“Quite sure,” Nilly said.
“You look like a Petter.”
Nilly shrugged. “You’re the only Petter here, Petter.”
“And you can bet your moonshine on that!” Petter said, straightening back up again. “What are you folks doing here?”
“We came to find the king,” Lisa said. “The king of Norway, that is.”
“He has a cabin in the big city,” Petter said.
“The big city?”
“Klæbu, population three thousand and sixty-three. It’s far from here, though. Sixty miles. Do y’all have a car?”
“No,” Lisa said. “But maybe there’s a bus?”
Petter shook his head. “Everyone moved to Norway. Or Klæbu. I’m the only one left.” He stretched his arms out to either side, tilted his head back and yelled: “I’m Petter! Petter! Ain’t nobody better!”
“Um, do you have a car, Petter?” Doctor Proctor asked. “We would gladly pay you for a lift into Klæbu.”
Petter shook his head and adjusted his eyeglasses. “Near-sighted. Quite bad. Those cowards at the DMV wouldn’t give me a driver’s license. That’s why I never make it to Klæbu. I’ll never make it out of this hole without a driver’s license.” He tipped his head back and screamed at the ceiling again. “Cowards! I’m Petter, come on!” He stopped abruptly and looked at them. “I suppose they were afraid I’d run somebody over. But now that every last person can just drive wherever they want, there are no pedestrians left to run over. Why can’t I get a driver’s license? Why is everyone against me?”
“What about your boat?” Lisa said. “Could we borrow it?”
Petter shrugged. “Klæbu is upstream from here. And the other direction, the river is all waterfalls and rapids.”
The Four Vincibles gave each other dejected looks.
Then suddenly Petter lit up: “Wait! I have hot chocolate! I did a hot chocolate commercial back in my hang gliding days, you know. I was good. I beat them all! Child’s play! I’m Petter! Should I make you some hot chocolate? I’ve got a cupboard full!”
“I don’t know,” Doctor Proctor said, looking at his watch. “The invasion of Denmark is going to start in forty-eight hours.”
Petter looked pleadingly at them: “Can’t y’all just stay for a little while? We could play Chinese checkers. I’m good, you know! I’m Petter!”
“Don’t go! I’ll put whipped cream on the hot chocolate.”
Doctor Proctor looked at the other three.
“I think he’s a little lonely,” Lisa whispered. “I guess we could stick around for a little while.”
Doctor Proctor turned to Petter with a big smile: “We’d love to have a little hot chocolate.”
LISA AND NILLY helped Petter make the hot chocolate in the small kitchenette over by the one wall.
“I’m going to get out of here someday, you know,” Petter said. “If I could only just sell the rest of these hang gliders, I could get out of here. Yes, maybe I’ll make it all the way to Oslo and visit you guys. If you’d like a visit, that is.”
“We’d love one,” Lisa said.
“How are hang glider sales these days anyway, what with no one living out here and all?” Nilly asked.
“Things aren’t going well at all,” Petter said gloomily. “The sale’s been going on for almost three years now, but there are hardly any customers.” He lit up. “But maybe I could interest y’all in a hang glider?”
Lisa laughed. “I don’t really think we need any . . . uh, hang gliders, Petter.”
The hope behind those thick eyeglass lenses, correction minus seventeen, faded again. “No, of course not. What would y’all do with a hang glider?”
It was quiet for a while in the kitchen as they listened to the rumbling from the saucepan, keeping an eye on the hot chocolate so it wouldn’t boil over.
“Although, actually . . . ,” Nilly said. “I think . . . I think I actually have an idea.”
Oh no, Lisa thought.
