CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Owen True – The Rescuer
MIKALA SHOWS UP THE NEXT MORNING, all jokey and smiley like that could cheer me up.
“What a waste to try to do some good.” I shove my fists in my pockets and kick at the loose dirt in the road.
“It’s never a waste to try to do good, Owen True.”
We get to Mikala’s yard just as Mason storms out, letting the door slam behind him. Mr. Sweet is yelling at Mrs. Sweet, though I can’t make out exactly what’s got his poop in a knot. One of the little girls is crying inside.
Mikala’s lips pull down in a deep frown, her cheeks flushing red behind her freckles. “Let’s go to the creek.”
I feel sorry and embarrassed for her, so I keep my eyes to the ground and follow her wherever she wants to go.
She storms right up to her favorite stone, flat and smooth and easy to sit on, and whips off her shoes. She lets out a frustrated huff as she puts her feet into the freezing water.
I find a suitable stone and do the same. My own grief over our failed experiment eases as I compare my problems to Mikala’s. I have no reason to feel sorry for myself. So what no one came to eat free soup? So what if Mom married Ar-throw-up. At least they didn’t fight and make little girls cry and older boys explode with anger. At least my mom and dad are still friendly and can hang out together in a civilized way—even with Ar-throw-up in the room.
In fact, I give Ar-throw-up a harder time than Dad does, and really shouldn’t he be the one mad at him for marrying his wife?
Ar-throw-up makes Mom happy in the same way Mrs. Pershishnick makes Gramps happy. I decide I should give Mom a break. And it wouldn’t kill me to call my new step-dad, Arthur.
“How’s the writing going?” I’m hoping to get Mikala to think about something else.
“Bad.”
“Really? Why?”
“Cuz I suck, that’s why.”
Not exactly the mood change I’m looking for. “I told you, all good writers suck when they first start. You just have to finish your story even if it does suck. At least it’s finished then, right? You can fix it later.”
Mikala stares at me like I’m eating mud.
“Maybe.”
My feet feel like icicles and I pull them out of the creek and let the sun work its magic.
“It’s just,” Mikala says, her face so worried her freckles look like they want to jump off. “I want to get out of here. Run away. I can’t bear the thought of six more tortuous years before I graduate and can skip this town, y’know? It’s like an eternity. A life sentence.”
I don’t know what to say. She’s just so sad. I feel like I should hug her or something, but I just listen.
“And I’m so angry, just as angry as Mason, even though I don’t slam doors and pick up tossed away cigarette butts from underneath the bleachers and smoke ‘em.”
“I know.”
“I’m worried we’re not going to make it, Owen True. That my family won’t make it.”
“Mikala, you’re smart and kind and gifted in a lot of things. I know you’ll make it.”
Her worry lines soften a bit. I hope she’s listening to me, really listening.
I stare out over her shoulder. There’s movement on the bridge. A man walking?
Whoever it is, he’s standing still. The bridge is narrow and scary and I wish the man would keep going so he doesn’t get hit by a car, but he doesn’t.
Mikala turns her head. “What’cha lookin’ at?”
“There’s a man on the bridge.” I squint harder. “It looks like he’s on the outside of the rail.”
We stand and put our shoes on.
You don’t think...,” I start, but can’t finish. It’s kind of a long drop. If a person fell, he would get seriously hurt. Or worse. “Hurry, Mikala.”
We jog along the edge of the creek, along a narrow path that is steep in parts. Rocks roll out from under our feet and spin into the ravine.
“Careful, Owen True.”
As we get closer, my heart chills. I recognize the pony-tail and the heavy shoulders. It’s Mr. Joseph. He’s leaning against the outside of the rail.
I think he’s going to jump.
“Mr. Joseph!”
He doesn’t hear me. The noise of the creek and car engines in the distance, drown out my voice. I call again.
“Mr. Joseph!”
I keep calling until finally his head lifts up and he looks out towards my voice.
“Mr. Joseph, hi!” I slow up now that I got his attention and catch my breath. “I thought that was you.”
Mr. Joseph’s eyes jerk from my face to Mikala’s to the creek pooling below. His knuckles are white as he grips onto the rail on either side of his body.
There’s a moment where it feels like the world stops. Don’t do it. He’s breathing heavy, like a rabbit caught in a trap.
His eyes glaze and I think he’s going to cry.
Please Mr. Joseph, I mouth.
He takes one hand off the rail.
No. I turn away not wanting to watch. Mikala’s eyes are wide with terror too. Then she points.
I’m afraid to look, but I do.
Mr. Joseph climbs back over to the other side of the rail. He stares at the pavement and then starts walking back into Haywire like he was just out for a stroll or something.