Chapter Ten

AFTER SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, I’M SURPRISED to find Lyle already waiting for me at the bike rack.

“Still no bike,” he says, “But I thought you’d be here. I have something I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait until you come to my house, but I think you’ll want to see it.”

“Can you give me a hint?”

“Nope.”

This time Lyle leads the way down the dirt path. I’m happy to have an excuse not to go home to an empty house.

“You changed your shirt,” I blurt out with relief as I read GOT SCIENCE? on the back of his navy blue T-shirt. Somehow I hadn’t noticed in class today.

“What?”

My face burns red. It wasn’t a nice thing to say.

“Nothing,” I tell him.

It’s a rare cloudy day for late September in Colorado. I breathe in the smell of fall as we walk—hay and dust with a twinge of cow manure. Behind us the school and the beige strip of stores that make up Thornville grow smaller. Ahead of us is nothing but rolling hills, a handful of trees, and scattered houses and farms. We take our time and don’t say much. I pluck pieces of grass as we go and chew on one of them, watching the feathery top of it bob up and down with each step.

“Teach me how to make that sound you made with the grass.”

Lyle plucks a piece of grass and places it upright between his two thumbs, cupping his other fingers around it.

“Hold it like this,” he says, extending his arms so that I can see the position of his hands. I pick a new piece and place it between my thumbs. “Now it’s simple. Just blow.”

I blow between my thumbs as hard as I can. It sounds like a fart. Lyle laughs until he starts sneezing again.

“Adjust the grass a little so that it’s tight between your fingers. Then blow.” He demonstrates and makes another piercing sound.

As we walk up the hill, I attempt again with no luck.

“I can’t do it.”

“Clearly,” he says, laughing harder.

“Ha, ha,” I reply. Lyle begins to say something back, but I hold up my hand for him to stop. I hear voices but don’t see anyone.

“Who is that?” a voice calls from over the hill.

My eyes meet Lyle’s. We stop walking.

“Who’s up there?” someone yells again and I recognize the voice.

I hold a hand up to prevent Lyle from answering, but I can tell by his face that he knows Axel’s voice too.

We don’t move.

A cloud passing overhead casts a shadow across the hill. The voices on the other side start up again, hopefully having forgotten about us. I’m about to whisper to Lyle that we should turn around and walk the other way when I get a whiff of something sharp and unpleasant. It smells like smoke but has a chemical tinge to it. I remember the farmer burning hay in his yard yesterday and look around but see no sign of smoke.

“Let’s go,” Lyle whispers.

“Hold on a minute.” I crouch down and begin to climb the rest of the hill in a crawl. I look back at Lyle, who raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. I feel foolish, like a little kid playing a silly spy game, especially since the smell has disappeared with the breeze, but I need to see what’s over the hill.

When I near the top, I look over my shoulder. Lyle still hasn’t moved. I continue to crawl and nearly cry out when my shin bangs against a rock. I pull myself up to a crouch, rubbing my shin, and peer down below me. Axel and two other boys are huddled together. An instant later they break their huddle and throw something into the air. It’s a small object and it glows white-blue. It lands in the dry creek bed next to them and Axel stomps it out with his foot.

“Awesome!” one of the boys yells.

“Let’s do another,” Axel says, pulling something from a box. My heart pounds so hard in my chest it might burst right out and land on the cracked dirt in front of me, but I creep down a little farther.

A small box next to them reads GI JOE ACTION FIGURES in silver letters across the side. Axel lights another one of the green plastic figures on fire. I smell the smoky chemical odor again.

We are surrounded by dry fields. I can’t remember the last time it rained. A spark could set everything ablaze. There’s more than just the fear of the fire from my future flash gnawing inside of me. A lifetime of warnings about fire pumps through my veins and my heart races faster.

Something rustles behind me. Then Lyle’s arm brushes against mine. He wrinkles his nose at the smell. I worry that he’ll sneeze but he doesn’t make a noise.

Axel stomps on the second burning GI Joe. He inspects the bottom of his shoe.

“Nice one,” he says, pulling another out. My mouth feels like it’s full of dry dirt. When I try to swallow I make such a loud gagging sound that I’m sure they hear me. I hold my breath.

“Let’s do another,” Axel says, and I exhale.

Lyle motions for me to turn around.

Can I leave knowing that they could start a fire any minute? Does the fire I saw begin now, with these burning toys? Does Lyle run into a nearby house before the fire swallows the whole field and all of us in it?

Then I remember his shirt. Blue. Today is not the day.

I begin to follow Lyle back up the hill when something changes. It takes me a minute to figure out what it is. I no longer hear voices below me. A prairie falcon flies above me and I wonder if it’s the same bird I saw yesterday. This thought is running through my head when I turn around and see all three boys staring up at us.