I looked on sadly at the black ash and rubble scattered across the lawn.
Frustrated, I thought bitterly about the six hours that I had wasted on
researching and developing a rocket that was destroyed in less than a
second. Neighbors poked their heads out of screen doors and cracked
windows, looking frazzled.
"What happened?"
"Is everybody okay?"
"Who blew up the Hickham's fence?"
"You do know yo're gonna have to pay for that fence." Startled, I looked toward Ma, who had rushed to the porch after hearing the explosion. Her flowered apron had come untied and was flying out behind her as she stalked toward me. "Homer Hickham, what were you thinkin'? You coulda gotten yerself killed!" I heard the sound of swinging doors closing behind neighbors whose fears had been settled.
"I know, Ma. I was tryin' to build a rocket." My response seemed feeble. My original desire to build the rocket seemed a silly and distant memory. My cheeks began to burn and I felt ashamed of the damage I'd caused.
"A rocket?" Ma looked incredulous. "You mean like what we saw up there in the sky a few nights ago? How'd you fit a rocket in the front yard?"
"It wasn't a rocket, Ma. It was a satellite, called Sputnik. And I wasn't buildin' a rocket like one that'd go into outer space. I was buildin' a smaller one, like a model." I fondly recalled Sputnik and I was filled with the same sense of inspiration and wonder that I had experienced only a few days ago, when I had been introduced to the mysterious satellite.
"Look Ma, I'll fix the fence. I'll even do some odd jobs and pay for the wood myself. But I wanna keep building rockets." I didn't need to hear Ma's response; I already knew what it would be.
"Alright Rocketboy. I'll let you build your rockets so long as you don't blow up any more fences. But first you'll have to talk to your father." She winced as she spoke, anticipating Dad's reaction.
I pictured Dad getting home from the mines, covered in black dust and coughing occasionally. His body would sag from the stress of the looming strike and he would be in no mood to negotiate. In fact, he was never in the mood to negotiate. He'd never negotiate with me, anyway. But I'd ask him, anyway. I always do.
I wondered briefly if I could have persuaded Dad if he had been outside that night that Sputnik flew across the sky. Then again, nobody else in Coalwood had seen anything interesting in the small, bright, Russian dot shooting through space.
That night had been clear and peaceful. I'd sat on a swing with my friend, completely preoccupied with troubled thoughts of my nonexistent love life. When Sputnik came into view in the cool night sky, I'd stood with the rest of Coalwood to watch it. As I watched the satellite twinkle across the sky, I was entranced. It was beautiful. I stood there and watched it streak across the sky, and anybody in the world could have been seeing what I saw.
The crowd had dispersed quickly after Sputnik disappeared from sight. I stayed. I couldn't see it anymore, but Sputnik was still out there, hovering over an entire planet. Everybody in the world could see it, except for Dad and the others working the late shift at the mines. He always worked the late shift at the mines.
I woke up every morning and I watched Dad dress up in his heavy uniform. He placed atop his head a lighted hard hat, his only company in those dark, lonely shafts. Dad, like the rest of Coalwood, lived at the Olga Coal Company. He once told me proudly that someday I'd live there, too. He went on to inform me that one day I may even be qualified to take over his job. He watched me every morning as I got ready for school, willing me to accept my fate and follow him to the dark depths of the mines. I never did. I never will.
I looked Ma in the eye, grinning slightly. "Yea. I'll ask Dad about the rockets. Maybe he'd even let me borrow some scrap materials from the Coal Company." Dad would never let me use company materials, but I'd build my rockets.
But first I'd have to do something about the fence.
"What happened?"
"Is everybody okay?"
"Who blew up the Hickham's fence?"
"You do know yo're gonna have to pay for that fence." Startled, I looked toward Ma, who had rushed to the porch after hearing the explosion. Her flowered apron had come untied and was flying out behind her as she stalked toward me. "Homer Hickham, what were you thinkin'? You coulda gotten yerself killed!" I heard the sound of swinging doors closing behind neighbors whose fears had been settled.
"I know, Ma. I was tryin' to build a rocket." My response seemed feeble. My original desire to build the rocket seemed a silly and distant memory. My cheeks began to burn and I felt ashamed of the damage I'd caused.
"A rocket?" Ma looked incredulous. "You mean like what we saw up there in the sky a few nights ago? How'd you fit a rocket in the front yard?"
"It wasn't a rocket, Ma. It was a satellite, called Sputnik. And I wasn't buildin' a rocket like one that'd go into outer space. I was buildin' a smaller one, like a model." I fondly recalled Sputnik and I was filled with the same sense of inspiration and wonder that I had experienced only a few days ago, when I had been introduced to the mysterious satellite.
"Look Ma, I'll fix the fence. I'll even do some odd jobs and pay for the wood myself. But I wanna keep building rockets." I didn't need to hear Ma's response; I already knew what it would be.
"Alright Rocketboy. I'll let you build your rockets so long as you don't blow up any more fences. But first you'll have to talk to your father." She winced as she spoke, anticipating Dad's reaction.
I pictured Dad getting home from the mines, covered in black dust and coughing occasionally. His body would sag from the stress of the looming strike and he would be in no mood to negotiate. In fact, he was never in the mood to negotiate. He'd never negotiate with me, anyway. But I'd ask him, anyway. I always do.
I wondered briefly if I could have persuaded Dad if he had been outside that night that Sputnik flew across the sky. Then again, nobody else in Coalwood had seen anything interesting in the small, bright, Russian dot shooting through space.
That night had been clear and peaceful. I'd sat on a swing with my friend, completely preoccupied with troubled thoughts of my nonexistent love life. When Sputnik came into view in the cool night sky, I'd stood with the rest of Coalwood to watch it. As I watched the satellite twinkle across the sky, I was entranced. It was beautiful. I stood there and watched it streak across the sky, and anybody in the world could have been seeing what I saw.
The crowd had dispersed quickly after Sputnik disappeared from sight. I stayed. I couldn't see it anymore, but Sputnik was still out there, hovering over an entire planet. Everybody in the world could see it, except for Dad and the others working the late shift at the mines. He always worked the late shift at the mines.
I woke up every morning and I watched Dad dress up in his heavy uniform. He placed atop his head a lighted hard hat, his only company in those dark, lonely shafts. Dad, like the rest of Coalwood, lived at the Olga Coal Company. He once told me proudly that someday I'd live there, too. He went on to inform me that one day I may even be qualified to take over his job. He watched me every morning as I got ready for school, willing me to accept my fate and follow him to the dark depths of the mines. I never did. I never will.
I looked Ma in the eye, grinning slightly. "Yea. I'll ask Dad about the rockets. Maybe he'd even let me borrow some scrap materials from the Coal Company." Dad would never let me use company materials, but I'd build my rockets.
But first I'd have to do something about the fence.
