Fort Page 3

  “Hey,” I said, to get his mind off those guys. “Let’s finish up this painting fast. While it’s drying, we can go to the woods and scout out a good place for the fort.”

  “Yeah,” Augie said. “Maybe we can even get some boards up.”

  I nodded. We made a quick job of the rest of the lumber, then cleaned up all the painting supplies.

  “Just put everything in my car,” Unk said gloomily. “I’d tell you to throw it all out, but lately your aunt’s got her eye on the bathroom.”

  “I hear they got a new color for that,” said Al. “It’s called You’re in Yellow.”

  With Al’s chortles following us down the road, Augie and I headed across a big open field that led to the woods.

  Al’s junkyard sat on the edge of a big state forest. The forest was named after Ferris Findley, some rich dead guy who used to own it, but Augie and everybody else just called it the woods.

  There was an official entrance to the forest on the main road. I’d been there with Dad. There was a lake where you could fish and rent canoes and kayaks, and there were some campsites and trails. But, as Augie had explained to me, hardly anybody ever made it to this side of the forest. There was a really deep gorge right through the middle of the woods. People got there, stopped to look at the gorge and the falls, and turned back.

  “So nobody ever comes into the woods this way?” I asked as we approached the trees.

  “Nope,” Augie said. “There’s no road in this way and people don’t think of coming through the junkyard.”

  “Which makes this part of the woods ours!” I shouted.

  “You bet it does!” Augie shouted back.

  We high-fived, then stepped into the woods. After just a short way, it got all dark and shadowy and the air was cooler and piney-smelling. It was real quiet. All we heard was the wind in the tree branches and, once in a while, the chirp of a bird or chatter of a squirrel.

  We walked a little farther and came to a stream. It wasn’t real big, but too wide to jump over. We dragged over some rocks to make stepping stones, and as we hopped across, Augie said, “Let’s pick a spot close to here. I just saw a fish. Plus, it’ll be good to be near water.”

  We walked a little farther, scouting around. “What are we looking for?” I asked.

  “Well, with these boards we’ve got for walls, all we need to do is find some trees just the right distance apart—there!” He gestured excitedly. “See the ones up near the top of that hill? How they grow in sort of a square?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “They’ll be our four corners.”

  I took a minute to picture it. “So we nail the boards to the trees to make the walls.”

  “Right.”

  “Awesome!”

  “It’ll be just the right size,” said Augie. “Plus, it’s far enough in to be secret but not too far to carry all our stuff.”

  I nodded. Augie was always thinking.

  We began lugging boards out to the site. On our final trip, Al gave us a hammer and a coffee can full of nails. First I held up a board and Augie hammered, then we switched. The back wall and the sides went up really fast. We put the squiggly, camo-painted boards on the back wall, so that if anybody did come in from the junkyard side of the woods, they’d be less likely to see them.

  Then we stopped to admire our work. I couldn’t believe how cool it looked already.

  “So tomorrow we add the front and the roof…” I began.

  “And then we stay out here the rest of the summer!” Augie finished.

  That was our plan. Since I had to go home in two weeks, we had to make the most of the time we had left. “Have you asked Gram?” I said.

  “No,” Augie admitted. “But she’ll let me if I say you’re allowed. She thinks you’re a good influence.” He grinned. “Don’t ask me why.”

  I grinned back. “And I’ll tell my dad you’re allowed. He’ll go along with it if he thinks Gram said yes.”

  We bumped fists over this brilliant tactic, and started back to Al’s. On the way, I thought I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look there was nothing. Probably a squirrel or something. I was going to have to get used to the sights and sounds of the woods, now that it was going to basically be my home for the rest of the summer.

  At Al’s, the lawn chairs were empty, Al and Unk’s game of checkers apparently over for the day. Augie and I got on our bikes and rode home just as it was getting too dark to see, after agreeing to meet up first thing in the morning.

  Dad’s car wasn’t back yet. I put my bike in the shed and was walking to the house when I heard a rustle in the bushes. I stopped to listen. There was another rustle, and another, then someone or something went crashing off through the trees and bushes. It sounded big, as big and clumsy as a bear …

  Whoa. Bad thought. There were bears around. Augie said so. But he’d never seen one close up. And he said the bears didn’t want to mess with people.

  Usually.

  The noise faded and died away. Whatever it was was gone.

  4

  I was stoked about the fort and a little spooked by the thing in the yard, so I thought I’d never get to sleep. But I must have crashed pretty fast because I didn’t even hear Dad come in.

  In the morning, as he and I had a quick breakfast together, I told him about the commotion in the bushes the night before. We went outside, him to get in his car and me to get on my bike, and something caught my eye underneath the bushes at the edge of the gravel driveway, right where the rustling sound had come from. Kneeling down and peering in, I found a rabbit’s foot on a silver bead key chain and some gummy worms.

  “Look, Dad! Clues!”

  “Hmm,” said Dad, looking over my shoulder. “I think we can rule out a bear.”

  “Or a rabbit,” I joked.

  “This seems like stuff a young kid might have,” Dad said thoughtfully.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “But what was a little kid doing out so late, hanging around our house?”

  “I guess you and Augie have a mystery to solve,” said Dad.

  “Oh, by the way, Dad,” I said casually as he was getting in the car. “Augie and I are building a fort.”

  “I had a fort when I was about your age. Me and a guy named Chester. We made it out of sheets of roofing tin and a bunch of old oil drums.” He smiled and his eyes got a faraway look for a few seconds. “We had some great times…”

  “Did you sleep out in it?” I asked.

  The smile faded. “My parents wouldn’t let me. Even though we built it in the vacant lot just on the other side of our neighbors’. Two doors away! What could have happened?” He shook his head at the memory.

  I couldn’t believe my luck. I mean, I felt bad he never got to sleep out in his fort. But—could there be a more perfect time to ask the big question?

  “That stinks, Dad. Augie and I want to sleep out in ours, too,” I said.

  “Well, it’s okay with me,” said Dad. “But I’m not sure what your mother would say, so maybe this ought to be our little secret, eh?”

  “Deal,” I said.

  “When do you think you’ll finish?”

  “I’m not sure. I think today, but I don’t know.”

  “Where is it?” Dad asked.

  “It’s right behind Al’s junkyard, in the woods.”

  “Sounds like a good spot,” Dad said.

  “If we finish today, can I sleep out tonight?” I asked.

  Dad hesitated. “I wish I had time for you to show it to me now. But I know the general area you’re talking about. Would I be able to find you if I needed to?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “Just go to the back corner of Al’s yard and holler. We’ll hear you.”

  I wasn’t sure if this was true or not. I kind of liked to think we were too deep in the woods to hear sounds of civilization. But this was no time to mention it.

  I kept talking before he could say no. “Gram’s cool with it,�
� I said. Then, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try, I added, “Actually, she said Augie could stay out two nights.”

  “She did, huh?” said Dad. He gave me a smile that told me that maybe I wasn’t fooling him as much as I thought.

  “Yeah,” I went on. “So we were thinking we’d spend tonight and the next night, and come back early Saturday morning for the weekend.”

  Dad and I always got our laundry and grocery shopping for the week done on Saturday morning. When all our chores were finished, we did something fun. Last weekend we explored a nearby cavern, which was really cool. Once we hiked a mountain. We’ve rented kayaks, checked out an airplane museum, stuff like that. When it’s rainy, we go to the library or the movies or play board games and cards. Sometimes Augie joins us. Anyway, since Dad had to work all week, weekends were our time together.

  “So you’ll be home first thing Saturday morning?”

  I nodded. “Augie’s got chores, too. And church on Sunday.”

  “Well,” said Dad, “I don’t see why not. You boys have good heads on your shoulders. And it’s not as if you’ll be far away. You can always come home if you need something, or if you change your minds.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” I said. It still amazed me how different he and Mom were about stuff like this.

  Dad waved and slowly pulled away, calling, “Have fun.”

  When he was out of sight, I pumped my fist in victory.

  Augie showed up a few minutes later and I gave him the good news.

  “We’re home free now,” he said cheerfully. “Gram thinks your dad’s real smart ’cause he teaches college and all. She’ll say yes for sure.”

  I told him about the rustling in the bushes the night before, and showed him the gummy worms. Augie took one look at the key chain and said, “That’s Gerard’s.”

  Wow: mystery solved by Augie in two seconds.

  “He takes it everywhere,” Augie went on. “He kind of rubs it with his thumb. And he loves gummy worms.”

  Gerard. The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember why. I guess Augie saw my puzzled expression, because he said, “Gerard DeMuth. The kid whose mom you’re renting from. The one who burned down that old shed at Al’s.” He shrugged. “Or that’s what people say, anyway.”

  “Oh, right,” I said.

  Dad had said the rabbit’s foot and the gummy worms seemed like things that belonged to a little kid, but that description didn’t exactly fit Gerard DeMuth. I’d seen him around town before. He had a giant head with a face like a full moon. Once, I’d seen him following his mother around the grocery store, and had been amazed how tall he was. Definitely over six feet. More like six foot seven. And not fat, exactly, but big. I remembered thinking there was something kind of weird about him.

  “I wonder what he was doing spooking around my house?” I asked nervously. I was glad I hadn’t found any matches.

  Augie shrugged. “Gram says he’s harmless, but she’s about the only one who thinks so.”

  I looked again at the rabbit’s foot. I could see where the fur was rubbed thin, probably from Gerard’s thumb.

  “He loves that thing,” Augie said. “I bet he’s freaking out about losing it.” After a pause he added, “His house is right on the way to Al’s. We could stop by, I guess.”

  “Should I ask him what he was doing last night?”

  Augie shrugged again. “You could try.”

  I was eager to get back to work on the fort. But Gerard’s house wasn’t out of our way. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I followed Augie into a short driveway that led to a smallish house painted a bright lavender color Aunt Hilda would probably have loved. You could hardly see the house, though, for all the stuff hanging from the roof’s edge: bird feeders, wind chimes, gizmos and doodads that twirled and caught the sunlight and made me feel dizzy, a regular flag, a Santa Claus flag, and one with a pumpkin and a witch. In the yard, there were a whole bunch of statues of animals and stuff, and some scraggly flowers planted in tires painted to match the house. It looked pretty crazy, but I got the feeling all those decorations meant a lot to somebody.

  We knocked and Gerard’s mother answered. “Why, hello, Augie. And Wyatt, is that you?” She looked and sounded tired.

  “Hi, Mrs. DeMuth, it’s me,” I said. “Is Gerard here?”

  She looked wary. “Ye-es,” she said slowly. “But he’s had a bad night, and—”

  I held up the rabbit’s foot. “I think he lost this.”

  She broke into a smile that changed her whole face from saggy to happy. “Gerry!” she called. “Gerry! There are some boys here to see you!”

  A muffled voice answered cautiously. “Who?”

  “Come see, lovey,” said his mom. “You’re going to be happy, I promise!”

  We heard shuffling footsteps and Gerard peered around the corner. His face looked rounder than ever, swollen and red from crying. I’d remembered that he was tall, but he looked gigantic as he came into the small room. His mom looked tiny next to him.

  Quickly, I held up the rabbit’s foot. Gerard’s face underwent a transformation much more dramatic, even, than his mother’s. Every bit of sadness disappeared in an instant. His mouth smiled, his eyes smiled, I swear, and his ears and nose and hair were all beaming with what could only be called joy.

  I felt like a magician.

  Gerard ran over, reached out a chubby white hand, and took the rabbit’s foot. He began running his thumb over the smooth fur, talking to it in a low, happy murmur.

  I understood then that Gerard was sort of like a little kid, even though Augie had said he was somewhere around fifteen or sixteen. His body had gotten bigger and more grown-up looking as the years passed, but his mind hadn’t kept up.

  There was no way I was going to hassle him about being in my yard the night before, so I looked at Augie and mouthed the words, Okay, let’s go.

  “Glad you got your rabbit’s foot back,” Augie said to Gerard. “We’ve got to take off.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Bye, Gerard.”

  Mrs. DeMuth walked with us toward the door. “Bless you boys,” she said in a low voice. “You have no idea how upset he was…” She let the thought trail off. “Sometimes he just wanders away and I—” She paused and said, “I think he’s just trying to be like other boys.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded and Augie said, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  We said goodbye to her and headed out the door. Gerard followed us off the porch and into the yard, happily stroking his rabbit’s foot and singing something softly under his breath.

  I wasn’t really paying attention, but as I climbed on my bike, I thought I caught the words to his little tune. I stopped and listened, holding up a hand to Augie so he’d quit kicking the rusty kickstand on his bike and listen, too.

  In the sudden quiet, Gerard’s voice rose and fell in a singsongy rhyme:

  “My name is Gerardo,

  I am a retardo.

  My name is Gerardo,

  I am a retardo…”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Gerard was saying a really terrible, mean word, one everyone knew you were never supposed to use. Not about anybody. Ever. And the worst thing was, he was saying it about himself.

  “Why are you singing that?” I asked. I guess the question came out louder than I realized, because Gerard stopped singing, looking scared. He backed away, anxiously rubbing the rabbit’s foot.

  “I didn’t mean to yell,” I said quickly. “I just wondered … where’d you learn that—that song?”

  He stopped and smiled once more. “Morrie and J.R. taught me it,” he said, adding proudly, “It has my name in it. It’s a good song, huh?”

  For a few seconds I couldn’t speak. I looked at Augie. In his face I could read the same disbelief and anger I was feeling.

  “Don’t you like it?” Gerard said, sounding distressed. “It has my name in it.”

  I hesitated, looking at Augie. I knew he was thinking the same thing I
was: it was an awful song. But Gerard was so proud of it, it would feel even meaner to ruin his enjoyment.

  “Not everybody has a song with their name in it,” Augie said, finally.

  “But I bet we can come up with an even better one,” I said. I didn’t really think about this. It just sort of came out. “What do you say, Augie?”

  Augie glanced at me uncertainly, but said, “Yeah. Sure.”

  Gerard looked at us eagerly, as if he expected us to burst out with a new song right there on the spot.

  “We’re gonna need a little time to come up with something,” I said. “Meanwhile, don’t sing that one. It is just not good enough to be your song.”

  Augie shook his head. “No way,” he agreed.

  “No way,” Gerard said, shaking his head.

  “Ours will be way cooler,” I promised.

  Augie nodded.

  “Way cooler!” said Gerard happily.

  “I mean, Gerardo isn’t even your name,” I said.

  I was thinking it was going to be hard to make up a song about Gerard because I didn’t know anything about him, really, except that he liked gummy worms and his rabbit’s foot. And fire. But we couldn’t let him go around singing that other one.

  “Okay, Gerard,” said Augie. “We’ve got to go now.”

  “Where you going?”

  “We’re building a fort,” I said. Right away, I wished I hadn’t said that. Maybe building a fort was something Gerard had always wanted to do, too, and nobody ever asked him. I felt bad about it as we pedaled away.

  But the fort was Augie’s and mine.

  5

  “Can you believe J.R. and Morrie?” I asked Augie when we were out of Gerard’s earshot.

  “Jerks,” he said. “It’s bad enough they torture us, but picking on a kid like Gerard?” He shook his head disgustedly.

  “Teaching him that song … Geez.”

  “But how are we going to make up a better one?” Augie asked. He sounded a little desperate.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “We’ll just have to think of some words that rhyme and put them together, I guess. I mean, J.R. and Morrie came up with two crummy lines. We can do better than that.”