CHAPTER 14
When his dad stopped the car in front of 37 Beecham Street around seven thirty, Ben thought they must be at the wrong address. Robert lived in a small saltbox-style house—not what Ben had imagined. What with his brand-new racing sailboat last year, and the way he always wore nice clothes to school, Ben had thought Robert’s family must be rich or something. As he and his dad went up the front walk, Ben saw that the house needed painting, and a couple of the boards on the front steps had wide cracks—nothing dangerous, just not shipshape.
“Hey, Ben, come on in. Hi, Mr. Pratt—this is my grandmother.”
Ben’s dad stepped forward and shook hands with a woman in her midsixties.
She smiled warmly and kept hold of his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pratt, and I’m so glad Benjamin’s come to spend the night. It gives me a chance to thank both of you in person for the way he rescued Robert the other weekend. I hope you got my thank-you note.”
“Yes, thanks,” Ben’s dad said. “My wife mentioned that you’d written to Ben. We’re proud of him, and I’m glad to see these two doing something together other than trying to be the first one to round a buoy.”
“Yes, I’m sure they’ll have a good time. I’ll be running some errands around ten tomorrow—shall I bring him home? I’ve still got your address over on Walnut Street.”
“Actually,” his dad said, “if you could drop him off at Parson’s Marina, that’d be great. He’s staying there with me this week.”
“All right, that’s fine. Really, it’s so good to meet you.”
“Thanks, you too.” Turning to Ben, he said, “Have a good time, and behave yourself, all right?”
“I will, Dad. Bye.”
Following Robert inside and through the living room, Ben noticed that the chairs and couch weren’t fancy, and that the carpeting looked a little worn. But the wooden floors were waxed and buffed, and the whole place was spotless—completely shipshape. The kitchen was plain as well, but orderly and clean, and the smell of chocolate chip cookies was in the air.
The kitchen opened into a small sunroom that had been added to the back of the house. Robert pointed at a doorway with steps down into the backyard.
He whispered, “Check it out—it’s gonna be a snap to do you-know-what at you-know-when.” Pointing again, he said, “Toss your sleeping bag on the couch—I’m using the cot over there. Gram said we could sleep down here in the TV room, after I begged for about twenty minutes. Pretty sweet, huh?”
“Yeah—she seems really nice,” Ben said. “Are your parents out of town or something?”
“No,” Robert said slowly, “they’re in town, sort of. They’re just . . . not alive. They’re in the cemetery behind the Congregational Church. They both died in a car crash about six years ago. And my grandfather died three years ago—so here at 37 Beecham Street, it’s the widow and orphan show, seven days a week. Welcome to this Friday night performance.”
Ben jerked his head around to look at Robert’s face—was he joking? No, couldn’t be, not about that . . . and he wasn’t smiling. Ben didn’t know how to react, when suddenly he pulled in a sharp breath—he hadn’t realized that he’d stopped breathing when Robert said that, about the car crash.
“I’m—I didn’t know any of that—about—all that.”
Robert shrugged. “No sweat—not many kids do. I mean, that was when I was in kindergarten, so it’s not like it got talked about at school or anything. The teachers all know ’cause Gram’s always at my conferences and stuff. But everything’s working out okay.”
Ben smiled faintly, but he didn’t know what to say.
“So,” Robert went on, “you want food or anything? Gram made some killer chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, and there’s ice cream—all kinds of good stuff.”
Ben shook his head. “No thanks—maybe later. I just ate at the steak house with my dad. Oh—I mean—yeah, I—I just ate.”
Talking about his dad? After what Robert had just said? So stupid!
Ben felt his face turning red.
Robert looked at him hard. “Listen, Pratt, I get it, okay? Almost everybody else has parents, and I don’t. It’s just the way it is, and I’m okay with it. So don’t get all weirded out. Sheesh!”
“Sorry,” Ben said, still blushing.
“And don’t say you’re sorry, either, Pratt. I’m still the same pushy jerk I’ve always been, right? So lighten up . . . before I have to come over there and punch you.”
Ben laughed. “Right. A jerk. And pushy . . . so true.”
Robert pointed at the table by the couch. “Toss me the remote. Gram said we could watch anything as long as it’s PG or PG-13 . . . wanna check out the cable listings? Or we could hook up my PlayStation. . . .”
By eleven forty-five the TV was off, but it was still warm.
Robert said, “I know it’s kind of early, but if we’re quiet now, Gram’ll be snoring in ten minutes. Maybe we should catch some sleep too, set our phones to buzz at two thirty. What do you think?”
Ben was surprised Robert was asking his opinion. All night long he’d been the total chief about everything—the movie they’d watched (“Nah, that one stinks . . . this is the one we want.”), their Need for Speed marathon (“I am invincible!”), even about the snacks (“Sour cream and onion chips are the best!”).
Ben nodded. “Yeah, some sleep would be good.”
They both set alarms, and then Robert turned off the lamp on the table by his cot. With the light out, the wide glass walls and skylights of the sunroom stopped acting like mirrors and became windows again.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ben felt like they were sleeping outside. There was no moon—he had checked the moon-phase calendar earlier. But the streetlights threw enough glow to reveal the oak and maple trees overhead, their swaying limbs outlined against the cloudy sky.
After five minutes or so, Ben could tell Robert was still awake too. It seemed kind of weird to just lie there, both of them wide awake, without saying anything. But then again, it was a welcome break. Robert had talked nonstop all night.
And anyway, what was there to talk about?
I could always tell him that he’s started being pretty obnoxious again, especially to Jill. . . .
He smiled to himself at that, but instantly heard his mom’s voice in his mind: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.
Something nice? About Gerritt? How about halfway nice?
“You know tonight?” Ben said quietly. “When you said you were the same pushy jerk? That’s pretty much how I always saw you.”
Hmm . . . was that nice at all?
But Ben heard a smile in the voice that answered.
“That’s not exactly a news flash, y’know.” Robert paused. “So . . . what about now?”
Ben had an answer ready, and almost cracked himself up. “Progress—from a D-minus up to a C-plus.”
Robert laughed softly. “Nice report card . . .” He was quiet a moment. “You know, I kind of envied how your mom and dad never missed anything you did at school—choir concerts, that art show in fourth grade, even that dumb play we did for Colonial Day . . . you were Governor Winthrop.”
“And you got to be Captain Oakes—I was so jealous!” Then Ben added, “And I—I was also jealous of how rich you were—new clothes all the time, and when you got your boat last year? That about killed me.”
“Me? Rich?” Robert was genuinely surprised. “You got that wrong, completely. When my mom and dad died, they both had insurance, and the money went into a trust fund. Gram gets paid for my expenses once a month, and she’s crazy about making sure I dress nice for school. And the boat, that was a present from my uncle Mike. He’s not really rich, but he doesn’t have any kids, so I’m his go-to guy when he feels sad that his little brother died. I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t glad to get the boat and everything—but it’s not the same as yours.”
Ben sat up on the couch. “Who told you about my boat? I was gonna keep it a secret until I crushed you out on the bay next weekend!”
“Shhh! You’re gonna wake Gram.”
Ben whispered again, “Who told you?”
“Jill—she said your mom and dad pitched in for it . . . but you can forget about trophies, Pratt. The sailor wins the races, not the boat.”
“Yeah, big talk.”
“Big winner, you mean!” said Robert.
“Big jerk, is more like it” said Ben. “And pushy, too—D-minus!”
They both laughed a little, and then the room settled into a comfortable silence.
Ben yawned, and ten seconds later, Robert did too.
“So,” Robert said, “at oh-two-thirty hours, we roll.”
“You mean, at five bells, we roll.”
“Whatever. Get some sleep, Pratt.”
“Yeah, you too.”
But Ben lay awake. He could hear Robert’s grandmother snoring from upstairs, as predicted. A low branch scraped on the roof now and then. And in just a few minutes, he heard Robert’s breathing slide into a deep, regular rhythm—waves on a beach.
He was glad Robert had explained about his parents, and about the clothes. His boat, too. That stuff really was a news flash. But really, it was more like learning history. You go along, and you think the world is one way, then you pick up just a few more facts, and everything changes.
Ben was pretty sure he’d never look at Robert the same way again. And he felt like that was a good thing.
He also felt like this was going to change the way he looked at the problems his own family was having.
And that was a good thing too.