The First Goony… Willy's Last Will… Fratelli Again… Walking the Plank… The Rescue… The Cave-in… We See Light… Chester Copperpot's Last Flare…On the Beach… Setting Sail.
The rest of the kids scrambled up and gaped a while as I walked slowly over to the head of the table.
I stood there facing him, with all these jumbled feelings—admiration, respect, awe, wonder. Familiarity.
I spoke to him. “Hello. I'm Mike Walsh. These are my friends. You've been expecting us, and well, here we are. We made it, Willy. All in one piece, too—so far…”
There was a bunch of stuff on the table in front of him. A small pile of the most perfect gemstones, an open book, a scale imbalanced by gold coin on one side, ingots on the other… and a bottle with a rubber bulb on one end and a kind of mouthpiece thing on the other that as soon as I saw it I knew it was a breathalizer mist inhaler.
So Willy had asthma, too.
I stood closer to him. Me standing and him sitting, we were face-to-face now, starin' at each other like long-lost cousins. Soul mates. Like he was my ancestor. Like I was his reincarnation. Like he'd called me here from some astral plane he was floatin' on, called me here so we could stand face-to-face and maybe talk to each other 'bout bein' a pirate and bein' a kid or maybe how bein' a pirate was like bein' a kid, like maybe it was a way of hangin' on to bein' a kid. And then I thought maybe that's what I was doin' down here all along—tryin' to hang on to bein' a kid.
And that's just what Willy was doin' down here these three hundred years. Hangin' on to that for all of us.
With great respect and even greater curiosity, I lifted his eyepatch—like maybe if I looked into that eye, I could see something special about him. About us.
There was no eye socket.
It was solid skull. Solid bone.
Like the bone of the forehead came down all smooth, and then, when it got to the place where the eye was supposed to be, it was just more flat, hard bone. No socket there for an eye even to be.
So even in life, he'd never had an eye there. He wore the patch over empty skin, to make people think he'd once had an eye there that he'd lost. But he'd never even been born with an eye there.
He'd turned a handicap into a down card. Into a thing of romance.
And then I thought of all the goony contraptions he'd devised to keep people away and how they were just like the contraptions I made to open my gate or Data made to keep away bullies. And I thought of how he was one of society's rejects, and of his sense of humor, and his fold-in map. And I thought of his bad eye and my bad lungs.
“One-Eyed Willy,” I said as I replaced the patch, “you were the first Goony.”
Meanwhile the other guys were in pig heaven, stuffing gems into their pockets, socks, bags. Laughing and shouting. All except Mouth, who was speechless for the first time in his life.
Andy and Stef were trying the rings and necklaces and jeweled combs. Data put on a crown, but it slipped down around his ears. Brand was shovelin' booty into his pants, his shirt, even his underwear. Mouth came over and started to grab for the pile sitting in front of Willy. I stopped him, though. “That's his,” I said. “Don't mess with it.”
Mouth shrugged and went for easier pickings on the floor.
I held a huge perfect ruby up to the light. “Dad's gonna die when he sees this stuff,” I said. It made me feel calm for the first time since this whole thing began. “He's finally gonna get some sleep tonight.”
Brand called out, “Don't take anything you can't carry!” Seemed to me like a dumb thing to say—I mean, if we couldn't carry something, how would we take it? “We'll come back for bigger stuff later,” he added. I was about to mention we weren't outta there yet but decided not to bum everybody out. Instead I just emptied my marble bag and started filling it up with gems. Not the biggest ones. I went for choice.
My collection took me around the room, and back to Willy's side, where my eye was once more drawn to the book that lay open on the table before him. It was written in longhand. Beside it sat a moth-eaten quill pen and a dried-out inkwell.
“Hey, Mouth, c'mere and translate somethin',” I said.
He came over to where I was standing and looked down at the book. “‘Dear Abby… ’” he read.
“Gimme a break,” I told him.
“Okay, okay,” he said, and hunkered down to really try to read the pages the book was open to.
And here's what it said, minus the words Mouth couldn't read or understand:
“… would never have thought these men of seafaring heart to be so small in spirit and [ ]. For after the [ ] British sealed us in these three years ago, it was the fairest company a gentleman could ask in this our domain. Riches beyond [ ] and [ ].And then the women died, every one, in childbirth or [ ] and the men fell to [ ]. Some wanted to leave, but I could not, as captain, permit such desertion, so these men were [ ], [ ], [ ] the temptations of [ ] and began much fighting over the gold. We all were kings and still they fought. Three I beheaded to teach them [ ], and of Jilbahr I had to eat his heart for breakfast, to teach the others. After that there was order again. We drank and slept together. We were family once again, as no [ ] until Reno went mad, and [ ], [ ] no one left but my five loyal lieutenants, who joined me here to come to terms. Yet in less time than a [ ] they killed each other at my table while I watched with a great sadness. For many a lonely month I walked my [ ] and thought of [ ]. Nay, this cannot be, said I, they are not dead—it was but a trick these merry soldiers have played on me, to chastise me for my harsh disciplines. But no trick rotted their corpses at my table. I made to bargain with God, whom I had forsaken many these devilish years, and I told Him that if only He would send me the company of men, I would give a third of my gold to them and a third to the church. Yet nothing came to pass, so when I promised all my earthly treasure to the church, which caused me [ ]. I fell next into a [ ] rage, for my despair made me [ ]. I set traps to keep all men out of my kingdom, for now I hated all things and loved only my gold and myself and [ ]. And now the years have passed and I am not such a [ ]. I have accepted my place here in [ ] for it is proper that such a one as I would [ ]. I rue the misfortunes I have begot, I rue the world that seemed so careless. But do not think thee I rue my life, nor half a sun my time in this sacred place. Yet still there be time for reflection and [ ]. For since there be here now none to hear me, so will I speak to thee—thee in me that I have lost. Thou, thou Boy, hast taken sail from my soul, and it is to thee that I appeal for my redemption and my [ ]. Be thou strong before the mast and rejoice in thy bold youth—but then return to me, thou, that I may at last rest. And when thou hast returned and returned to me that boy who wast me, then to thine own manhood mayest thou go.
I sit here now at my table with my guests. I await my next visitor with joy, and with the passion of a shared secret. I shall not move from this seat of honor until my honored and awaited visitor arrives, for to him I will my final will and testament which is [ ]. Take here what thee will. What was mine now is thine. Yet if thee take it all, do thou get it all—all the running from shadows, the [ ] greed, which hungers more, the more it is sated, the friendless old age, the grave of deep waters. Take rather that which is suited to the treasure thine own heart seeks and seek not for treasure cold and shiny, lest it lead thee to far caverns and chain thee there on a throne of waves, thou King of Empty Wishes.
William B. Pordobel
this 25th day of October, 1684
We just stood there a minute when Mouth finished reading, kinda solemn. I tried to turn back some pages, to read more, but the whole book crumbled in my fingers.
“Smooth move,” said Mouth.
“C'mon, hurry it up, guys,” said Stef. “Those creepos still might be after us.…”
“What're we gonna do?” said Andy.
“I know,” I said. “The Hardy Boys did this once.…”
The others went back to stuffing their pockets as I outlined my plan. “We can leave a trail of this stuff, leadin' to one of those skeleton caves. Then, if the Fratellis are still around, they'll follow the trail, while we hide in another cave and fake 'em out. Then we can make a run for it.”
“That's a good plan.”
We turned instantly to the door.
It was Mama standing there, smiling, with her boys. “Real good plan,” she went on.
Jake and Francis had swords from above deck. Mama still had her gun, which she pointed at us.
I felt pretty scared, but Data just sorta freaked out. “That's it!” he screamed. “This is war! We will not be taken alive!”
Now I, for one, was willing to be taken alive, but Data meant business. He shouted, “Intimidator!” and pulled one of his cords.
His arms and legs began to expand, like he was growing muscles, and then lifts in his shoes elevated, and for a second he did look kind of intimidating, sort of like when the guy turned into a werewolf in The Howling, or like the Incredible Hulk. But then his muscles kept growing, just like the life raft, until they all exploded and brought him back down to size.
Didn't phase him a bit, though. “Optional Bully Buster!” he screamed, and pulled another cord. In a second all these flash cubes he had tied to his coat began flashing, but they shorted out right away, I guess because of all the water we'd been in.
So Data started pulling every cord on his body, while the rest of us just kinda stood there watching, sorta stunned. Green smoke filled his pants and coat but didn't go anywhere else. G.I. Joe toys popped out of his sleeves, firing tiny projectiles that hit the floor. Ball bearings rolled out of his cuffs. Bottle rockets, sparklers, firecrackers, bells—everything was shooting out of Data's body, but nothing was working. It was like a junk explosion.
The Fratellis were enjoying the show. “This kid's better than Fourth of July in Asbury Park,” said Jake.
There was suddenly a shower of sparks as Data short-circuited. Everyone flinched, and a big spark hit Mama's hand and she dropped her gun, and we ran like hell.
Out the door, across the top deck. The Fratellis were right behind us, though, and tackled us in a sec. We were down and surrounded, with swords at our throats, when Mama walked over, slow and angry.
“Up on your feet,” she said.
We got up.
“Now go on,” she said, “empty out all those goodies from downstairs. Move it!”
We emptied our shirts and pants. Jewels and coins rolled onto the deck. The Fratellis were droolin' so much, I wanted to offer 'em a tissue.
Mama walked over to Mouth and stared at him real hard. “You got awful quiet all of a sudden.”
Mouth just smiled with his mouth closed.
“C'mon, chum, open your yap,” said Mama.
Mouth opened mouth, and about a pint of gemstones spilled out. Then Mama stuck her fingers inside and pulled out another three feet of beaded pearls. Mouth shrugged.
“That about it, ladies and gents?” she asked, super polite.
We all looked down at the floor.
She nodded to her sons. “Tie 'em up,” she said, which they did. And when we were tied, they stood us in line at the edge of the deck. Right next to this diving-board thing that stuck out over the water. Sort of a plank.
Mama smiled. “You wanna play pirate? We'll play pirate.”
The plank stuck way out over what looked like a deep section of water. No squid in sight. Yet. But it was still kind of churned up from what had happened with him before.
Mama paced back and forth in front of us, sword in hand, like a pirate queen.
“You know, I've always wanted to do this,” she said. “Since I was a little girl. Wanted to have a bunch of snot-ass punks at my mercy and make 'em walk the plank. Me and my band of pirates. So, let's see, now, who's first? Who wants to help a grandma out with her dream come true? Who wants to belly-up and squirm for me so I can—”
Andy kicked her in the shins, hard. “You gross old witch,” she shouted.
Mama fell to the floor in pain but stood up before Jake or Francis could help her. Her eyes glimmered, and she brought the tip of her sword to Andy's throat. “Move it, sweetie,” she growled.
Slowly Andy moved toward the board, then stepped out onto the plank at a little prodding from Mama Fratelli's cutlass. We just watched. I felt totally helpless and kind of sick. Andy looked so scared, and Mama looked so demented. It was like a bad dream you couldn't wake from. I started to cry.
Andy walked to the end of the plank. She looked down. The surface of the water sparkled below. The brothers held us at knife point, facing the water, making us watch. Andy tried to say something, but her throat must've been as dry as mine. Mama was right behind her.
“Hold your breath, sweetie,” cackled the old witch, and jabbed Andy with the blade.
Andy jumped.
And fell.
She splashed into the water.
She was gone.
“No!” cried out Brand. He ran forward, out of line, and before anyone could stop him, his hands still tied, he leaped over the rail and followed her down to the murky depths.
“Brand!” I yelled. But he was already under water, he couldn't hear.
I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see them drown, or see the squid eat them, or see their heads bashed in on the shoal, or see sharks smell blood and come in, or see Mama's smile or Mouth's fear, or the jewels on the deck, or anything. All I wanted to see was my parents and my house, and the only way I was ever going to see that was to close my eyes.
All I could hear was Mama Fratelli's cold, scabby voice. “Two down. Who's next?”
They tied Mouth and Stef together, back to back. I heard Stef whisper, “How long can you hold your breath?”
“An hour,” bragged Mouth. “Hour of Power, they call me.”
“Be serious for once.”
“Actually… about ten seconds. You were the one who was always champion of that underwater shit.”
“Clarke?” she whispered. “When you run out of air, just turn your face to me and I'll share whatever I've got left.”
Mouth looked really moved, you know, but the jerky Fratellis didn't give him a chance to say anything nice back. Mama just herded them over to the plank and pushed them to the edge. They lost their balance trying to avoid the sword's point and wobbled and started toppling over.
That's when we all heard the scream.
Not scared or wacked out. More like a Tarzan scream or a Crimson Pirate scream. More like a battle cry.
We looked up to see Sloth swinging down from the mast. I mean, I didn't know his name was Sloth then, that's just what Chunk told me later. He wore a pirate hat and had a sword strapped to his waist, and he swung down on this heavy-duty rope and scooped up Mouth and Stef before they hit the water. Then he gave another bellow and kept swinging back up the deck, where he put them down like a box of candy.
Then he faced Mama and his brothers, and growled that first animal growl I'd heard the day before in the lighthouse. Then he flexed all his muscles, and his shirt ripped and his chest bulged, and I swear I've never seen a better body in my life. It was totally awesome.
“Hunk city,” said Stef. And she'd been around.
With everyone's attention directed at this giganto pirate monster standing between us and the Fratellis, nobody much noticed Chunk climb over the side behind us. He picked up a knife off the floor and started cutting my bonds.
“Chunk?” I whispered.
“Captain Chunk to you,” he said softly, and kept cutting.
Meanwhile Mama pointed her boys at Sloth. “Get him,” she ordered.
Jake and Francis came slowly forward, swords extended. Sloth set himself like a defensive lineman. Francis swung his sword. Sloth ducked, came up holding Francis over his head, and threw his creepy brother all the way over to the foredeck. Francis landed with a crash, out cold.
Chunk got me free, and both of us went to work on the other kids' knots.
As soon as Jake got over his surprise at Sloth's swift move, he lunged for the big guy with his saber. And then I'll be damned if they didn't have a swordfight.
My dad told me once about these kids called idiot savants, who are like born totally out-to-lunch about everything, except they each have one thing that they're a genius in. Like sometimes a kid like can't even tie his own shoes, but he's a musical genius and he plays concertos on the piano. Or maybe a kid can't talk or read or feed himself, but he might be a math genius and spends all his time writing equations and calculations and stuff.
I think Sloth was a swordfight idiot savant.
They went at it up the deck and down, in the rigging and on the rails, advancing and retreating and lunging and parrying and clanging away like real pirates. I mean, Jake was no slouch, but he was no Sloth, either. Sloth was just something beautiful to behold. I don't know, maybe he learned it from all the old pirate movies on TV or something. I mean, that's all he did, watch TV, right?
Anyway, while that was goin' on, we got Data untied, and the others, too. As soon as Data was free, he screamed, “Pinchers of Peril!” and fired his clapping teeth right at Jake.
Those Pinchers of Peril, man, they're Data's only invention that ever worked much. They shot out this time and clamped down right on Jake's crotch. Doubled him over. Sloth grabbed the sword from him and broke it in two and blasted him in the chin with a right uppercut that sent him skidding across the deck into a pile of cannonballs. Out for the count.
Mama was just standin' there watchin' it all, real upset, like her party was wrecked or she hated seeing her children fight or something.
We all ran to the rail. Andy and Brand were wading in the water right below us. “C'mon, jump!” called Brand.
“How'd you get loose?” I shouted. Boy, was I ever glad to see them.
“Cut my ropes on a broken bottle, and then I cut Andy's and pulled her to shallow water. Now quit yappin' and c'mon!”
The other guys began jumpin' over the side. I turned back to see about Sloth and Mama. They were facing off near the hold, Sloth growling, Mama pointing her sword.
“Okay,” she was saying, “so maybe I treated you bad, keepin' you locked up in that little room. It was for your own good, though.”
Sloth growled louder and took another step toward her. Mama looked scared.
“I ain't always been bad to you, though,” she said. “Don't you remember? When you were little? We had some good times then. Remember when I used to sing you to sleep?”
Sloth grabbed the sword out of her hand and threw it overboard. Then he picked up Mama and carried her to the rail, ready to throw her overboard. She began to sing, though. “Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock…”
Sloth stopped. Listening. He got this sweet, gentle smile on his face, like he was rememberin' a real warm memory, and he began to rock her in his arms.
Seemed like he was gettin' second thoughts about what a creep his mom was, which didn't seem like such a good deal for us.
“Mikey, c'mon!” shouted Mouth. They were already halfway across the lagoon. Nothin' more I could do here, so I jumped.
I started wading as soon as I hit the water. Up top I heard Mama singin', “When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall…”
And Sloth dropped her into the water. And then he sang, in this really grotty voice, “And down will come baby, cradle and all.”
Mama went under, and I took off as fast as I could, half swimming, half running. The rest of the guys were near the far shore already. Sloth climbed the rigging, grabbed hold of a rope, and swung out over the water, landing even farther than me. He made it to the shore a little before I did, and we all huddled there for a few seconds, catching our breath and figuring what to do next.
I saw Mama climb back onto the ship—so that was one thing we didn't have to worry about immediately, at least. They weren't coming after us right away.
And we were safe. And we'd found the treasure, and I'd found Willy, and we were all safe.
I looked us all over, and my gaze came to rest on this totally weird demento in a pirate hat two sizes too small.
Chunk stepped forward. “Guys, this is Sloth. He's just like us. A reject.”
Sloth smiled and growled real low.
“What are we gonna do now?” said Mouth.
“I thought I saw some light comin' from behind those rocks over there,” said Chunk. We started workin' our way around the edge of the cavern, over these huge rocks, into the water sometimes, and then out. It was bringin' us closer to the ship again, which made me kinda nervous.
All of a sudden I heard a loud clanking and looked up to see this trapdoor on deck fly open, and Willy's skeleton hoisted up to stand in front of the wheel. The opening trapdoor hit a cannonball, though, which rolled down a track until it hit a beam, which fell over, releasing, a bunch of loose rocks onto a balance that dislodged a bigger beam that was tied into the support system of a whole section of wall, causing the wall to start to collapse.
The whole cavern shuddered and rumbled. Big sections of ceiling began caving in, dropping rocks down on the ship, on the water. On us. We ran toward where Chunk said was light.
An entire curve of wall crumbled away, leaving an enormous opening, high up, on the other side of the ship. An opening to daylight.
Wind filled the sails, and the ship half righted itself, just as the Fratellis ran up on deck. The tilting threw them across the floor to the rail, where stones and rubble rained down on them.
The ancient anchor began raising on some reactivated pulley system, its rusted chains groaning in all the other noise. This caused some additional lurching, which tossed the Fratellis overboard.
It was like an earthquake. The ground was breaking up, the walls cracking, rocks crashing to the ground, the whole place shaking so bad, you could hardly stand.
And then we saw the exit. Light at the end of a long tunnel, light to the outside. We ran for it.
The Fratellis were moving in our direction but not getting very far. They were being pelted with rocks and dirt, and the lagoon was getting wavy now, too.
We made it to the tunnel entrance, but it started collapsing, like everything else. Boulders clunked down in front of it, earth started shifting, piling up. We all held back, except Sloth, who went right on ahead. Went up to the entrance and held his arms out against the walls and wedged his back up against the low ceiling. And held the damn thing up!
“Rrwrgh,” he said to us, and it was pretty clear what he meant. One by one we crawled between his legs, into the tunnel. The rocks kept comin' down everywhere, man, but he didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle.
Chunk was the last one in. He called back, “Sloth, c'mon, take my hand, you come, too!”
Sloth still didn't move, though. He just kept starin' out at the lagoon. I followed his eye. He was lookin' at his mama and his brothers, in the water, half-drowned, struggling for their lives. He was probably thinkin' about all the shit they'd dumped on him all those years and how he was finally gonna be free of it, but then I guess he must've thought about how he loved them, too, and they were part of each other, I guess the way I feel about Brand even when he's being a royal pain in the ass.
Anyway, I thought all that because Sloth just turned his head toward Chunk, with a tear in his good eye, and said, “Mom,” and gave Chunk like a little kiss on the cheek and then turned and stepped back into the cavern, back to his family
“Sloth! No!” called Chunk. But too late. Falling boulders sealed off the entrance forever.
And that's not all.
The exit to the daylight was buried in the same moment.
We were sealed in the tunnel.
No way out.
Well, obviously Brand started freaking right away.
“We gotta get outta here,” he said in this real thin voice.
No lie. The ground was still rumbling, stones were falling in on us—it was like major bad news.
Brand's voice was getting louder. “Data, we need one of your lights!”
Data fumbled in his backpack for one of Chester Copperpot's flares, then lit a match, then lit the flare. The sparking light just showed us that the situation was even worse than we'd imagined—the tunnel was smaller, dirt was filling in at both ends like there was no tomorrow. Like there wasn't even any tonight.
And that wasn't all. In the dim flickering light Data noticed something funny about the flare. “Hey, this isn't a road flare,” he said. “It's… it's… dynamite!”
He dropped it, and we all ran to the near end of the tunnel, crying, huddling, and shouting. The stick just lay there, its wick sparking lower, ten feet away. Suddenly Data jumped up, ran over to it, carried it to the far end of the tunnel, stuck it in a crack there where the earth just kept falling in, and ran back to us. We all closed our eyes, held our ears, and pretended it was an air raid drill.
There was a giant BOOM, and the ground shook even more, and more dirt fell. When it quieted some, I opened my eyes to find a large hole blown in the wall.
We ran like crazy through the hole and stumbled out into a little rocky alcove, just as the entire passageway collapsed in a cloud of rock dust.
Pebbled beach spread out in two directions, and the great Pacific Ocean washed up on our feet.
It was over.
The heavy rumblings changed to muffled echoes in the background, like it was already a memory or a daydream. Willy's caverns and tunnels were being buried forever. Only his story was left.
I breathed in the fresh sea air and looked at us. Bruised, scratched, dirty, and tattered. We'd been through so much, so together. It made me feel… strong. Like we weren't Goony kids anymore. Like we were heroic.
I took another deep breath, and I don't know what it was, but somehow I just knew my asthma was gone, too—buried in the tunnels somewhere.
We hugged and cheered and jumped up and down and like were totally stoked, except Chunk was kind of bummed out about losing Sloth. That's when he told us about his adventures.
I told you most of it already. Him and Sloth went into the skull tunnel right after the Fratellis and followed them down the river to that giant, foggy lake. Chunk said Sloth had a real hard time handling the fog—he just sat in the middle of their raft, all hunkered down, sort of whimpering and tryin' to swat at the mist like it was flies on his neck. Chunk said he just sat there and comforted the big guy the whole time—petted his back and scratched behind his ears and sang him jingles of all the TV commercials he could remember, especially food commercials. So Sloth started doin' better by the end and even started singin' along with Chunk a little, like a regular hootenanny.
Anyway, they finally made it across the lake, and the fog lifted, just like for us, and they tiptoed over the mast through the cave of rushing waters and up into the organ chamber, too. It turned out that the entire floor of the organ chamber didn't fall away—there was still a little lip of ledge around the wall from the entrance to the exit, and they inched over it and made it to the water slides and into the lagoon.
And then, in the lagoon, they saw the Fratellis sneaking up on us, so they snuck up on the Fratellis, and the rest, as they say, is history.
We started walkin' up the beach, talkin' all at once about everything, and it wasn't a minute before two Beach Patrol guys in a dune buggy zoomed around the bend and tore over to us. One of 'em ran up, while the other one was sayin' on his walkie-talkie, “I don't know where they came from, they weren't here a minute ago,” and the one who ran up was sayin' to us, “You kids all right?”
They took us to the Ranger station down the beach, and it looked like Disaster Central. The place was packed with cops, reporters, ambulances, rubberneckers, coast guard. And parents.
Mom rushed up and hugged me, with the arm that wasn't broken, and Dad hugged Brand and said, “Where have you been?” But he didn't sound angry like I thought. Even Rosalita was standing there, crossin' herself to beat the band.
I felt kind of embarrassed. “Hi, Mom. I guess we're in deep, huh?”
She just cried and hugged me again, though, and then she started unbuttoning my shirt and told Rosalita to help her get me out of these wet clothes and into some dry ones they'd brought.
I just let myself be passed around for a while. I watched Chunk regroup with his parents. You couldn't miss 'em, they were the same shape and wore the same clothes as Chunk, down to the same tacky Hawaiian shirts. After their hugs were over, his mom gave him a cardboard box wrapped in tinfoil.
“Lawrence, we were so worried,” she said. “Here, darling, I wrapped supper for you. It's your favorite.…”
Chunk ripped the foil away, and there it was—a Domino's Pizza with the works.
When Data's family finished with their first round of hugs and kisses, Data's father stepped back and pushed a button on his chest, which released a snap on the camera around his neck, so the lens cap flipped open and the shutter clicked and a flash went off, all automatically.
“Dad, you're the greatest inventor,” said Data, and hugged him again.
“And you're my greatest invention,” said his father.
I saw Mouth talkin' to Stef over by themselves, 'cause their parents weren't there yet. “I just wanna say… well, you know, you were gonna save my life, and I… well, I… just wanna say… thanks.”
“What?” she said. Her eyes got real wide. “What was that?”
“Thank you,” he said real fast, so it was hard to hear.
“Was that you talkin'?” she said, kind of shocked. “Wow. You know, Mouth, you sound kinda nice… when your mouth doesn't screw it up.”
He nodded. “You know, Stef, you look kinda pretty… when your face doesn't screw it up.” Then he laughed. “Hey, kidding. Just kidding.”
I saw Andy with her mom and dad. They were wrappin' her in a cashmere sweater and scolding her for doin' such a terrible thing to them, as if it had anything to do with them. But parents are just like that, sometimes—kinda self-centered.
Andy came up to me then, while all the parents were signing some forms or something. She smiled at me. “Mikey, you just keep kissing girls the way you do, and the parts of you that don't work so well are going to catch up to the parts that do.”
That was when I realized that she knew it was me who'd kissed her in the cave. I don't know if she knew it then, but she knew it now. She knew it, and she liked it.
I guess it's like Willy said, I was on my way to being a man now. It felt okay, too. Especially now, the way Andy was lookin' at me.
Brand walked up before I could say anything and put his arm around her. I didn't want to deflate his ego, though, or undermine his psychological defenses or anything like that. You know? So I didn't say anything about me and Andy. I figured we were all adult enough to handle it, but why hurt someone if you don't need to, especially a friend, right?
So I let 'em just walk away together. Made me feel a little like Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca.
I heard Brand say to her, “Okay, so what's it gonna be? You a full-time Goony? Or a part-time Goony?”
“I'm a lifetime Goony,” she said, and kissed him the way she used to kiss me. On their way to catch the plane to Lisbon.
I coughed, so I didn't have to hear what they were saying, and then from reflex, because I was coughing, I got my mist inhaler out of my jacket and was about to take a puff, when I realized… I didn't need it anymore. So I tossed it. More growin' up.
I noticed my dad watchin' me, and I saw him smile.
All of a sudden there was a big commotion, and the cops and paramedics ran to the shoreline. And what do you think?
There was Sloth, walkin' out of the ocean, dragging Mama, Jake, and Francis, all of them totally waterlogged.
The police took Mama and the boys into custody right away, but Chunk was the first one to Sloth. “Sloth! Sloth!” he shouted.
Sloth gave a happy grunt and picked Chunk up in the air for a big Sloth-hug. Chunk held out his box of dinner to share. “Look, Sloth. Have some.”
There was this great look of instant recognition on Sloth's face, and he immediately started singing the Domino's Pizza jingle. Then he devoured a slice in a single gulp.
Chunk's parents got over to 'em by then, and they didn't look too thrilled.
Chunk spoke up. “His name is Sloth, and he's my new friend. And Dad? If they take away our house and we have to move to New York… I thought maybe we could adopt him? 'Cause they're gonna take his mom to prison for sure, so they'd just put him in a home somewhere, and that wouldn't be any good for him, and he's my friend. So maybe we could adopt him and get him a job with the New York Jets or with the Rangers as head goalie? Now, I been thinkin' it out, and…”
Sloth, meanwhile, destroyed another slice of pizza and, let loose a volcanic belch. Chunk's parents just looked kinda glazed.
Mr. Perkins and Troy drove up, then, in a big white Cadillac convertible. They came over to where me and Dad were standing. Mr. Perkins was waving a paper at us—that guy never missed an opportunity to be the jerk in every crowd.
“Trying to avoid me, eh, Walsh? Well, running away from your problems won't solve them. Neither will this little beach party. Midnight tonight is your deadline, and the sun's nearly down, so let's sign these papers and get it over with.”
“Please, Mr. Perkins,” Dad said, “if you could just hold off—”
“Hold off? Walsh, your home is blocking the start of our first fairway. We've got to begin with you.”
“But if you just give me a little more time, I might find—”
“C'mon, Walsh,” piped up Troy, that chip off the old blockhead, “my daddy doesn't have all day. There's fifty more houses to trash after yours.”
Dad looked at the papers, then reached into his pocket and took out his Promotene mist inhaler—oh yeah, did I mention that my dad, had asthma, too?
It made me so sad to see him beaten like this. I felt like somehow it was my fault. “I'm sorry, Dad. We had our hands on the future, but… we blew it.”
Dad looked like he was gonna start bawling any second. But in some weird way he looked real strong, and sure of himself, too. I don't remember seeing him look much like that before.
He looked down at me and said, “You and Brand are back. Safe. With your mother and me. That makes us the richest people in Cauldron Point.”
And then you know what he did? He threw away his mist inhaler. I guess maybe he'd grown up a little over the past day, too.
“Walsh?” said Perkins. “You're looking at the richest people in Cauldron Point. Now sign it.”
Troy propped the paper against his father's back and whipped out a fancy fountain pen. “Here,” he said to my dad, “use my pen. I'll even let you keep it as a souvenir.”
The crowd seemed to know what was going on, and I was suddenly aware that everything got a lot quieter. Everyone was watchin' us. I think my dad trembled a little.
I heard Data whisper, “I sure am gonna miss bein' a Goony.”
The wind was blowing. The sun was setting. I remember everything about that moment. The way the blanket was wrapped around me for warmth, the sadness in Mom's eye as she watched Dad take the pen from Troy. The way it was so quiet, you could hear someone cough, and someone else rubbing his hands together. The way the salt air smelled, with the coolness coming on, and the long shadows and the gritty sand in my hair and the way my tears tasted.
And I felt so close to everyone here. There was so much love and loyalty, it was like hard to even work up a big hate against these ignorant clods who had money and now had our houses but who somehow seemed so pathetic and pitiful for everything they didn't have.
“Sign,” Perkins said again. It sounded like a sound an insect makes.
I remember the way the Fratellis looked, handcuffed to a patrol wagon. I remember the way Rosalita looked, trying to keep from being sad by folding my wet clothes on a big rock. I remember the look of shock on her face as Dad started to sign, and suddenly started shouting in Spanish.
It made Dad pause, her shouting. Made the whole crowd look at her. She just kept shouting.
I heard Stef say to Mouth, “Okay, Mr. Mouth—what's she saying?”
Mouth listened carefully, but he wasn't like real good at understanding spoken Spanish. “Don't… sit down … no… don't shoot… no… don't throw up… no… don't sign!”
I heard him before Dad did. As Mouth and Stef ran up I grabbed the paper out of Dad's hand, so the fountain pen kind of dribbled down Mr. Perkins's back.
Rosalita ran over, then, carrying what she'd found in my pants when she was folding 'em on the rock—my bag of marbles. Except it wasn't marbles in it anymore. Remember?
“Look,” whispered Chunk at Rosalita's cupped hands.
It was jewels.
Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires. All choice. All sparkling like an extraterrestrial fire in the rays of the setting sun.
Dad turned to Mr. Perkins. “I don't think I'll be signing anything today, Mr. Perkins.” Then he tore the contract in two.
The crowd cheered.
The Goonies all formed a huddle, and gave each other a huge Goony hug.
Suddenly the police couldn't hold back the reporters anymore, and they rushed forward, snapping pictures of us and asking a million questions.
“Are those stones real? How the hell did you kids…”
“What happened out there? Were your lives in danger?”
Data talked first. “Well, the giant squid was pretty bad.…”
Andy said, “But walking the plank was even scarier.…”
“Walking the plank?” said one reporter with that adult know-it-all sound in his voice.
“Well, see, we found this pirate ship,” said Brand.
“And when we tried to take the treasure…” added Chunk.
But the sheriff arrived just then, and he hadn't seen the jewels yet, but he had experience with Chunk's powers of description. “You tellin' more stories, Lawrence?” he said.
“Wait,” said Chunk, “this time I'm really tellin' the truth, sheriff, honest.…”
The sheriff nodded patiently and turned his head a second to give Chunk some time to think up another one, but when he turned his head, he saw something in the distance. Out on the water. “Holy Mother of God,” he whispered. And then, louder, “Look!”
We all looked toward the sea. And we saw the ship.
Sailing free, to the horizon, the last edge of the sun just dipping below the line.
Willy was going home, too.
“Thank you, One-Eyed Willy,” I whispered. And I know he heard me. 'Cause I was the melody in his head that finally set him free, just like he was the melody in mine.
And everyone on that beach watched him sail away. Nobody moved or said a word, until the ship was just a dot on the horizon.
And then it was gone.