27
NAME: CAPRICORN ANDERSON
I gave the picking pole an expert twist. When I felt the weight of the apple in the canvas catcher, I lowered it to deposit yet another Macintosh into the basket. It was overripe and not as firm as it should be.
Everything at Garland was like that—neglected. And with Rain still hobbling around on a cane, most of the extra work was falling on me.
On the whole, we'd been lucky. The fruit was a little past its prime, but the potatoes, carrots, and turnips were in good shape.
The really great news was that Rain was making a full recovery. Just being at Garland seemed to energize her. By the second day home, she was driving again, taking our truck into town to restock our supplies.
I asked to go with her so I could call Sophie using the gas station phone in town, but she turned me down.
"You can talk to your friend next week- there's enough work to be done here," she told me. "Besides, I think you've had enough of civilization for a while."
I got her point. I had two black eyes, and my nose still hurt where Darryl had punched it. A wounded raccoon—that's how Rain described me.
So off she went, leaving me filling the root cellar with bushel baskets of vegetables, pruning the fruit trees, spreading the compost—getting ready for winter.
It was Garland—my Garland—everything I'd longed for all these weeks. And I was happy to be home.
But…
My mind kept wandering back to the halls of C Average High School—the crash of locker doors, the babble of excited conversation. The ringing of iPhones, the beeping of Game Boys, the traces of far-off rap music escaping the earbuds of a hundred iPods.
It was crowded, noisy, obnoxious, and even scary, but it had its own rhythm and urgency and life. And I missed it so much it was almost like an ache.
At night, I spent hours poring over the yearbooks. Each familiar face triggered an avalanche of memories: tai chi on the lawn, singalongs in the music room, tie-dyeing, the hundreds upon hundreds of Halloween dance volunteers.
I looked around Garland, and in my heart, I knew it was the best place for me. But the quiet, the dull beiges and greens, the familiar farm chores, the complete lack of other people—this used to be my life; it used to be enough. Before.
Did I want to go back? How could I? I spent all my time there wishing I was here, yet that life kept calling me. I wanted to eat food that was scooped onto my tray by crabby ladies in hairnets and greasy aprons. I wanted to watch reruns of Trigonometry and Tears and ride the school bus with Sophie. I wanted to twist the little metal dial to those mysterious numbers that would magically open my locker. I wanted Sophie to kiss me one more time.
In just a few hours, the Halloween dance would be starting. It was the responsibility of the eighth-grade president. Okay, I knew nothing about dances and had planned zero percent of this one, but I felt that I should be there.
I'd asked Rain just that morning if I could go to the dance in the evening, but she flat out refused.
"All that's behind you now, Cap. Our life is here."
"I know that," I told her. "But my name is on all the posters. How can I let everybody down tomorrow?"
"They won't even notice you're not there," she assured me. "You know how people are in the outside world. Only interested in themselves and their own mindless fun."
I tried another argument. "But you always said we should finish what we start, see things through to the end—"
"Cap, when you left that school, that was the end. And a good thing too. You were only there for a couple of months, and see how much you've changed: you talk about television programs and waste your time staring at silly yearbooks. Thank goodness I was able to take you away before the contamination got any worse."
Contamination. That was the word she kept using, like I'd spent her recovery wallowing in a toxic waste dump. Sure, the Donnelly house and C Average weren't much like the life Rain and I had built at Garland, but different didn't automatically mean bad.
Yet the more I talked about my experiences of the past eight weeks, the more upset she got. Not angry—that would be a sign of spiritual imbalance. Just really, really worried.
Maybe she was right. I was contaminated. Would I ever have stood up to her before my time away from Garland?
And for sure I never would have done what I was about to do.
I tore a small piece from the duct tape roll and fastened the note to our refrigerator.
DEAR RAIN,
I'M SORRY, BUT THIS IS JUST TOO IMPORTANT.
DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME, I'LL BE HOME TONIGHT.
CAP
Rain had the pickup, so that left me on foot. The nearest gas station was a few miles away. My plan was to go there and use the phone to call Sophie and ask her to come pick me up and take me to the school so I could finish setting up for tomorrow's dance.
I hadn't made this walk since the time the truck ran out of gas, so I'd forgotten how long and dusty it was. The whole way, I didn't see a single vehicle. I couldn't help thinking of the crowded streets around C Average.
Finally, through the red gold of the autumn underbrush, I could make out the Service King sign.
Maybe it was because I was upset about disobeying Rain. Whatever the reason, I didn't notice the car until I was in the middle of the road. The driver slammed on the brakes, and the tires shrieked their protest against the asphalt. The sedan spun around, its rear end swinging toward me at incredible speed. Desperately, I flung myself out of its path. The taillight missed me by inches, and I tumbled into the ditch.
The driver jumped out.
"Mister, are you okay?" a familiar voice called out.
"Mr. Donnelly?"
I sat up, and there he was, peering anxiously down at me. "Cap?"
I climbed out of the ditch, brushed myself off and looked at the car that had nearly run me over. I recognized that it was Mr. Donnelly's, and I saw Mrs. Donnelly sitting in the passenger seat, with Sophie in the back. All of the windows were pulled completely down.
Sophie shrieked when she saw me standing there on the side of the road, got out of the car and ran up to me.
"You maniac, where do you get off running into the middle of the road like that?"
She was right to be upset. It had been a very close call.
"What are you guys doing here? You're almost at Garland, you know."
"We came to find you, you idiot!"
"Me?"
"And don't think I don't already regret getting my parents involved. My dad could have gone to jail for running over some freakazoid in the middle of the road!"
Sophie pointed to her right arm. "This bracelet—when it came back engraved," she accused. "That wasn't from my dad, was it? You sent it."
I could feel my face burning bright red again.
She leaned over and kissed me on the lips for the first time. My face felt so hot I was afraid it would peel off, and I turned away from her.
"Now get in the car," she ordered. "We're going to take you back to Claverage."
"What a coincidence! I was planning to call you to take me to the Halloween dance."
"There is no Halloween dance, Cap. Kasigi canceled it the week after you left."
"What? Why?" I asked, confused.
"Why do you think? Kasigi found out that you were spending the dance money left and right on charitable donations, so he had to cancel it to recoup what he could."
Mrs. Donnelly also got out of the car and walked up to me. "Frank Kasigi called me an hour ago. At first, he thought there was some kind of riot going on at school, but then he told me that the parking lot is full of kids with candles. They said it's a memorial service for Cap Anderson!"
I was thunderstruck. "A memorial service? I'm not dead!"
"Well, only a few kids at school seem to know that, dear. The rest of them all think you died that unfortunate day you were knocked out at school and then picked up by that ambulance. Mr. Kasigi wants us to bring you back to the school so you can show everybody there that you're alive and well."
"Great idea, Mrs. Donnelly," I replied, getting into the back seat next to Sophie.
In the car, Sophie told me that she had seen Zach and Hugh sticking up posters during the lunch break, inviting students to pay their respects to me in the parking lot tonight. As we approached the outskirts of town, there was traffic and buildings and lights and people on the streets. I drank in the hustle and bustle, greeting it like an old friend, but I couldn't suppress a pang of guilt, wondering if Rain had come home and found my note.
Night had fallen by the time we reached C Average.
We turned the corner and pulled around the side of the school, stopping just short of the main driveway. There was no going in. The parking lot was jam-packed, not with cars, but with people. It would have been every bit as dark as the school, if not for hundreds and hundreds of flickering candles. There were so many people in the crowd that many of them had spilled onto the sidewalk and the front courtyard.
Mr. Donnelly pulled over to the curb and parked his car, and Sophie handed me a rubber mask with a round black nose and large ears.
"What's this?" I asked.
She took a deep breath. "Costumes? Halloween? You're Mickey; I'm Minnie. Best I could do on short notice."
We put the heads on and waded into the mob. It wasn't loud, but I realized there was music. Somewhere in the crowd, a single boom box was playing the Beatles' Abbey Road album, Rain's favorite.
I surveyed the crowd through the eye holes of my mask. "Sophie, how come we're the only ones wearing costumes?"
All at once, she put a death grip on my shoulder. "Look around—ponchos, tie-dyes, peace signs. Cap—they are in costume. They're dressed as you!"
