The ride back to
Willowbank takes

a lot longer. No one
talks. No one seems

to breathe. Dixon
passed his physical;

he reports for duty
next week. Malcolm

rocks his knees back
and forth, and my

stomach growls so
loud, Dixon turns

the radio up just
to drown it out.

I reach into my
pocket, feel around

for the piece of
notebook paper

on which I copied,
word for word,

exactly what
Captain Kidd, who

might be the most
famous pirate ever,

said in his ship’s log
on June 3rd,

more than two hundred
fifty years ago.

When we stop
along Route Nine

for gas and snacks,
I read the headline

on the papers stacked
beside the station:

Casualties Increase
as Johnson Moves

to Boost American
Troops. Before Dixon
and Malcolm come
back outside, I slide

the papers behind
the air pump

on which someone
has drawn a green

peace sign and
written underneath:

HONK IF YOU
LOVE JANIS.