It looked like a giant praying mantis. Emily came over to look. "What is it?"
"A helio-popter, stupid." Pizza knew how to pronounce helicopter. She was just trying to be cute.
"Where's the engine?" asked Emily. "Does it fly? Can I go up in it?"
"It's not a helicopter," said Callie.
"It's an autogyro," I said. "It's not supposed to have an engine."
"Then how does it fly?" asked Pizza.
"You have to tow it," said Callie. "Behind a plane or else behind a car." All of a sudden she was the expert.
"Can I go up in it?" asked Emily. "Will you take me for a ride, Brian?"
"How many seats do you see?" I asked.
"I'm not that big," said Emily. "We can sit close together. I don't mind."
"Brian looks like the guy in the Old Spice commercial," said Pizza. "I never noticed it before."
"You mean the one with the glasses?" asked Emily.
So when I heard the first rumble of thunder I was glad instead of disappointed. A good downpour would save me from Pizza and Emily.
"Come on, Callie," I said. "Let's get the rotor off and stow this thing in the garage before it blows away."
Then Aunt Speed came out. "Looks like we're in for it," she said. "How about a game of cards? Do you girls know how to play rummy?"
We spent the afternoon playing rummy with Emily and Pizza. Pizza had this bright red polish on her nails and pink gloss on her lips. She had her hair ratted up to make her look about a foot taller than she really was. Emily was wearing a tee-shirt with a bra underneath it. She had some kind of perfume on. It was stinking up the whole place. At first they made me nervous, but after a while we all got involved in the game, and they seemed almost like normal people.
Callie blushed when Aunt Speed said she didn't believe in playing for pennies. "We can play for pennies," she said. "I guess it's O.K.."
"Did you discuss it with your parents, then?" asked Aunt Speed.
"No. But I thought about it, and I decided it's not immoral."
"I'm relieved to hear it," said Aunt Speed.
"Let's play poker instead," said Pizza.
Callie blushed again because she didn't know how.
Outside it was pouring. The thunder and lightning terrified Meeko. He started barking even before humans could hear any thunder, and kept it up until after the storm had ended. He insisted on going outside. Then he shook his rope and growled between thunderclaps. When he saw lightning he would run out to the end of his rope and start barking again. Nobody got too excited about it. He always acted that way in an electrical storm.
Emily let out a little squeak when the thunder was especially loud. Pizza started imitating her. Aunt Speed got a little snappish. She wanted everybody to pay attention to the game. Callie was acting weirder than usual.. She made a lot more noise than necessary shouting rummy and tried to do some kind of fancy shuffle when it was her turn to deal. The cards went spattering over the floor, and she blushed again.
"Callie's blushing," said Pizza.
"What's the matter, Callie?" asked Emily.
Callie didn't say anything.
"Cat got your tongue?" said Emily.
"Leave her alone," I said. "Callie, it's your deal."
"Oh. Yeah." Callie dealt the cards.
I wanted to ask Aunt Speed if she could take me out in the country so that I could get the autogyro up in the air. First we'd have to do it with the rotor blades off, until we got out of the city. Then we'd put the rotor on. I'd sit in the pilot's seat. She'd start the car and drive slowly on a straight road out in the middle of nowhere. She'd build up speed. The rotor would start turning. I'd feel the wheels of the autogyro leave the ground. Gradually I'd gain altitude. The angle of the tow rope would get steeper and steeper. When I got up high I would release the tow rope and glide. Maybe I would catch an air current and climb even higher. If you catch a thermal you can go up and up until people and cars are like the specks you get on the back of your hand when you're painting.
"Brian," said Aunt Speed. "Are you among the living?"
I came out of my daydream. It was my turn. Aunt Speed was irritated. It didn't seem like a good time to talk her into towing the autogyro.
"I guess I'm not interested in rummy," I said.
"You want to play blackjack?" asked Callie.
"Yeah," said Pizza. "That's the next best thing to poker."
"I don't know how," said Emily.
"It's easy," said Callie. "I'll teach you."
"Blackjack it is," said Aunt Speed. "I'll deal."
It was raining hard. The street was like a river. The drains had backed up and now there was so much water that you couldn't even see them. We played blackjack for a while. It stopped raining. Meeko stopped barking. Callie, Emily, Pizza and I went out in our bare feet to wade in the water. It was so deep I had to roll my pants up. Wilton Post was on his front porch. "Hey Pizza," he said. "It's really something, ain't it?"
"Come on in," said Pizza. "The water's warm."
"No," said Wilton. "That kind of stuff's for kids."
Wilton doesn't know a miracle when he sees one. It's a miracle when your own street turns into a river. The water felt warm around my feet. The air smelled fresh. "Look," said Emily. "A rainbow." We all looked at the rainbow for a while. Usually you just see a little bit of a rainbow, but this time we could see almost the whole thing. Callie started telling Emily where rainbows come from.
"Everybody knows that," said Pizza. "You think we're stupid?"
Even rainbows get boring if they last long enough. Emily and Pizza decided to go to the store. "Hey Brian," said Callie. "Want to show me your radio equipment again?"
Last time I tried to show her, she hadn't been interested. "You thinking of getting a license?"
"Maybe."
"I could teach you in a month."
"You have to know code?"
"It's easy," I said. "Mr. Garafano can give you the test. Or Mr. Kemp down the street." Any adult with a general class license or above can give the novice test. Mr. Garafano had given me mine. "Come on," I said. "I know this way of teaching the code. Makes it easier. I'll bet you can memorize it before you have to go home for supper."
And she did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning Timo called me up. "Brian," he said. "I've been sort of talking to one of the counselors here."
"How do you sort of talk?" I asked. "Sounds like a good trick."
Timo ignored my snotty question. "I mean we've been kind of talking a lot and I told him about the autogyro."
"What about the autogyro?"
"How I lied to you on Christmas Eve. You know. I admit it. I lied."
"It doesn't matter now."
"He convinced me that I should call you up and apologize."
"That's O.K.," I said.
"Wait a minute," he said. "You don't even know what I'm apologizing for yet. I talked to the counselor and we agreed that you were pretty stupid to fall for it. I mean, am I to blame if my brother's so unrealistic?"
"What's so unrealistic about an autogyro?"
"You should know that dad and mom could never afford one."
"What you're saying doesn't exactly make sense when you think about what's happened recently."
"You mean the trip to Ireland? Brian, you know that's hardly costing them anything."
"Listen, Timo, I have to get off the phone. Today's Saturday."
"So?"
"So I have to go collecting." Even if Timo hadn't called, it would have been the worst day of the week. I hate to go around collecting money from the people on the paper route. At least Callie could keep me company.
"I didn't get to my apology yet."
"Whatever it is, you're forgiven, my son." I was imitating this retired priest who lives next to our church. He calls every boy he meets my son. You can't tell if he's kidding or what.
"I don't apologize for telling a story. A person your age should know the difference between fact and fiction."
"Some apology."
"But I do apologize for keeping it up. I didn't have to needle you that way. I feel especially bad about the way I lied the night before I went away to camp."
"What?"
"You remember. The night before I left, I was still telling you that you would get the autogyro. I think I said you'd get it for your birthday. You weren't buying it any more. But still, I feel the worst about that night. I guess it was getting almost violent. It makes me feel nasty to remember it."
I wasn't paying much attention to this speech. "Timo," I said. "What are you talking about?"
"The night before I left for camp."
"I know that. Why are you apologizing?"
"If you can't accept an apology, forget it."
"Timo. I got the autogyro."
"Sure."
"It came in time for my birthday."
"Sure it did."
"I have it all put together."
"In that case, dad's in for a big surprise when he gets back." Timo didn't believe me. I could tell by the tone of his voice.
"Now that I have the autogyro, you're telling me dad never ordered it."
"Brian, if you have an autogyro you won't have it for long. As soon as dad gets home, he'll make you send it back.
"Liar."
"I'm sorry I called," said Timo. "That's what I get for trying to do the right thing."
"Timo, you are so full of it."
He hung up. The trouble with a liar is that you never know when he might be telling the truth. If I could count on Timo to tell nothing but lies, I could simply reverse everything he told me. But sometimes he told the truth.
I had to convince Aunt Speed to let me fly.
Aunt Speed said, "Wait till your parents get home."
"Aunt Speed!"
"It's only a week." She was in the living room knitting. Meeko came in to see what we were talking about. "Where's the cat?" said Aunt Speed when she saw him. Meeko sniffed the air. "Where's the cat, Meeko?" He checked the corners of the room, ran down the hallway, came back through the living room, cut through the dining room, and ended up bumping the door in the kitchen. "There's the cat," said Aunt Speed. "Maybe Meeko wants to go outside."
So I chased Squirrel downstairs and put Meeko out on his rope. Then I went back down the basement and spent about fifteen minutes pacing around with Squirrel in my arms. He purred and I worried.
Callie knocked at the side door. "Brian! You down there?" She knew I liked to hang out in the basement when it got hot.
"Come on down," I said. I told her about my talk with Timo. "So now," I concluded, "I don't know if my parents gave me the autogyro or not."
Callie didn't seem bothered at all. She gave the impression that she knew something I didn't know. It irritated me to listen to her talk. "Let's say for a minute that your father and mother didn't send you the autogyro. What difference does it make?"
"What difference does it make? My parents will think the company made a mistake. They'll make me send it back."
"I thought you said your father never sent anything back."
The phone rang. Aunt Speed answered it. "Brian," she called. "It's for you."
It was Father Olszewski, the priest in charge of altar boys. "I just called to remind you and your brother that you're supposed to do the eight-o'clock Mass this week."
I had forgotten all about it. "Timo's not here," I said. "He's at camp."
"Can you think of anybody for a substitute?"
"How about Callie Clemson?"
"Let me look at the list here. Yes, she's on as an alternate."
"She's right here in my house. You want me to ask her?"
"Maybe I'd better talk to her," said Father Olszewski.
I called Callie to the phone and between them they settled the matter. The two of us were to serve at the eight-o'clock Mass starting Monday.
"What did you pick on me for?" asked Callie when she got off the phone.
"If you didn't want to do it, you could have said no."
"Sure," she said. "Try saying no to a priest."
"If I can stand it, you can too."
A lot of kids like to serve during the school year. You get to fool around in the sacristy, the place behind the wall in back of the altar, and you don't have to show up in class until half an hour after the other students. Nobody likes to serve in the summer, though.
"Thanks a lot," said Callie. "You're a true friend. And after all I've done for you!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Collecting money on Patrick's paper route was just as painful as I'd expected. I had gone around the week before with Patrick. He introduced me to his customers. Now most of the customers who met me had some confused idea of what I was doing. Some of them thought I was Patrick's brother. Others thought Patrick was gone for good and I was taking over. I had to keep explaining myself. And in many cases, of course, I had to deal with people who had never met me. Some customers hadn't been home the week before. Or else I had been introduced to the wife, and now I had to deal with the husband.
A lot of houses had dogs that would start barking the minute they saw us. Some people who recognized me found Callie suspicious looking. Many families can't keep track of when they paid and how much. It seemed like a play. I felt like an actor saying the same lines performance after performance.
"We paid last week."
"I don't have you punched."
"I'm sure we paid."
I had an official-looking pile of cards fastened to a big steel ring. Each customer appeared on a different card. The cards had little calendars on them. Not calendars--they had a square for each week instead of a square for each day. When I collected a week's subscription money, I'd punch the appropriate square.
"I came around with Patrick last week, and I don't remember meeting you."
"No. Patrick came by himself last week. I distinctly remember paying him."
"It must have been two weeks ago. Last week I went along so I could meet the customers."
"What day is it today?"
"Saturday."
"I know that. I mean what date?"
It could go on and on. If the family had a dog, we'd get to listen to it barking the whole time.
The next morning at Mass I found myself praying. Usually I sing along and everything and join in the words and pay attention to the sermon until it gets too boring, but I don't have my own special prayers. They have a part where they tell you to pray for your own special intentions, but usually I can't think of anything.
The sermon got pretty emotional. Father Inez told us how much he loved his mother. She did so much for him he could never repay her. Then he got off on how much he loved his dog. His dog almost died that week, and it made him realize how much he cared about his beloved pet. Then he told us we didn't have to believe this next part. He couldn't find anything in the Bible or in the teachings of Holy Mother the Church to support it. But he believed that dogs can go to heaven. He started telling us about all the dogs he ever had. Every one was a saint of a dog. He was sure that they had gone to heaven. They were more noble than a lot of humans he had met.
This sermon kept me interested all the way through. Father Inez wove in a lot of stories about how dogs had saved people's lives and so on. After he got done, he introduced the part where we pray for special intentions. I found myself praying for everything to come out all right. I didn't get any more specific than that. I knew what I meant. I was praying for a chance to enjoy the autogyro.
Sister Sarah taught us that all our prayers are answered. But we don't always know what we want. We're not always praying for what we think we're praying for. It's hard to explain. I could pray for Aunt Speed to tow the autogyro so that I could find an updraft and make it all the way to the stratosphere. That would be a stupid prayer. There isn't enough air to breathe in the stratosphere. But I would really be praying for something to make me happy. The prayer would be answered somehow. I don't know if I agree with this theory. I haven't studied prayer very much. But I could see that people often don't know what's good for them. I remember some stories I read when I was a kid. By magic people would be granted three wishes. They always got what they wished for, but usually something unexpected happened and they ended up feeling miserable.
If I learned anything this summer, I learned that unexpected things are always happening. For example, the experience of delivering the Sunday paper early that morning had not been what Callie expected. The Sunday paper is three times as big as the daily paper. And twice as many people get the paper on Sunday as on other days. So we had six times as much work to do as on a weekday. I didn't see Callie for the rest of the day.
I tried to talk Aunt Speed into changing her mind. "Dad wouldn't have sent it in time for my birthday if he didn't want me to enjoy it."
"Didn't you enjoy putting it together?"
"Sure. But what good is it if I don't get to fly it?"
"Anticipation makes enjoyment greater," she said. "You'll think about it for a week, and then when it happens it'll be even better."
"Can't we just go for a trial run? I just want to feel it lift off the ground. I promise not to go up high."
"I never heard of such a thing at all. Towing a helicopter behind an automobile!"
"That's one way of doing it with an autogyro," I said. "I read an article about it in Popular Coptering.
"It's one thing for the daredevils," she said, "and another for the likes of you and me." She was back in dad's easy chair. Her knitting needles were clicking away. "I can just see you tangled like a kite in the telephone pole. I don't want to hear another word about it. How about a game of cards?"
I didn't say anything.
"Can you imagine it? Me at my age speeding down the highway with a whirleybird in tow. You'll have plenty chances to fly it after your parents get home."
I found it easy to imagine Aunt Speed towing me. But she did have a point. Someone who never drives faster than thirty miles an hour is not the logical choice for the job.
"Maybe I could get Uncle Sean to do it."
"Not another word. If you don't want to play cards, why don't you read a book? Did you finish that one I bought you for Christmas yet?"
"Not exactly."
"Cowboy Brian. It looked like a good book."
Her talking about books made me want to go to the library. I couldn't even do that, though. The library isn't open on Sunday.
"Buck up," said Aunt Speed. "It isn't the end of the world."
"I guess I'll go downstairs and play with Squirrel," I said.
I made him a toy by wrapping kite string around itself in a little ball. Aunt Speed's mentioning kites made me remember I had the string. I left about four feet of string dangling off the end of the ball. I could bob it in front of him or swing it around myself in a circle. He liked to hit it with his paws. I think he liked it best when I let the ball sit still on the floor and then moved it only slightly. He would crouch and stalk it, sneak up gradually and then pounce. Once he got his claws into it, I would pull at the other end of the string. I bet he was pretending that he'd caught a mouse or something.
After a while he got bored with the game and went to wash his fur. Meeko wouldn't smell so bad if he could learn to do the same. Terriers have an awful stink, especially when they've gone out in the rain to bark at the thunder. Squirrel had a long tongue. If I put my hand near him when he was washing, he would lick it. His tongue had a rough feel, not slimey like Meeko's.
Callie called. "I programmed my computer to send code," she said. "Why don't you bring your transceiver over and we'll try it."
"I don't feel like it," I said. It was amazing that Callie could have figured out how to make the computer send code. She couldn't have spent much time working on it, considering how many hours she had been hanging around my house. It's a lot easier to get a computer to send code than to get one to receive it and translate it into letters on the television screen. Still, she had done something amazing and I was too gloomy to show any enthusiasm. "Some other time," I said.
"O.K.," said Callie. "Listen, you're not mad at me, are you? I didn't mean to blame you for the altar boy stuff. Well, I guess I did mean to blame you, but I didn't think you'd get mad."
"Aunt Speed won't let me fly the autogyro. I can't even call up my Uncle Sean to ask him if he'll tow me."
"As long as you're not mad at me," said Callie.
"It's not your fault," I said. "I just don't feel like doing anything."
"As long as you're not mad at me, I want to mention something else. I don't think I want to do the paper route any more."
"Nobody's forcing you."
"You're not mad?"
"No, Callie. Do whatever you want. I don't care."
"See you at Mass then."
"O.K.," I said. "See you."
I hung up and kicked a metal waste basket across the basement. It made a big noise but survived the experience without so much as a dent. Then I punched a pillow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning I felt better. Nothing had changed. But as I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I reminded myself of the facts. I had build my own autogyro. Timo had said that my parents would make me send it back. Timo was one of the great liars of the western hemisphere.
I enjoyed the solitude of doing the paper route without Callie. It let me keep thinking. Why did I want so badly to fly the autogyro in the next day or two? Partly because I had doubts about what Timo told me on the phone, partly because I knew dad would have to run the show when he got home, but mostly because the machine was ready to fly and I couldn't wait. Why had I felt so gloomy the night before? I tend to feel worse at night when I'm tired than in the morning. And I've noticed that the humidity and pressure of the air before a storm make me depressed sometimes. It had rained again last night. The air smelled good again. And I didn't feel like a victim any more.
My body went through the motions of delivering papers like a robot. I wanted to fly. Aunt Speed said no. What could I do about it? I could get permission from my parents. They were somewhere in Ireland. But I had an amateur radio license. I could try to contact Ireland. It seemed obvious in the morning. If Timo had lied on the phone, I could find out and relax. I could get permission to fly. Aunt Speed would do it if my parents gave permission. At least she'd let me arrange to have Uncle Sean get me up in the air. If Timo had told the truth on the phone, I would find out for sure. I could prepare my father and mother for the shock of seeing a giant praying mantis in the driveway when they got home. I could start to soften them up. I could convince them to let me keep the autogyro. I knew I could.
I decided to mention Squirrel to them only if they already knew about the autogyro.
I was feeling quite cheerful as I met Callie outside the church and walked with her into the sacristy.
"You're not mad, are you?" she asked again.
"Not at all," I said.
In our parish you have to wear these long red cassocks when you serve. They're like the black cassocks the older priests wear--long robes that reach to the floor. They look something like women's dresses, but not much really. You wear them on top of your ordinary clothes. Then you wear this white filmy shirt on top of the cassock. You can see through the shirt. It looks pretty weird, but all the altar boys in the parish wear the same thing, so nobody makes fun of it.
After Mass, Father Olszewski, who was saying the eight- o'clock that week, said thanks. Callie and I went to the separate room where the servers had their closets full of cassocks of all sizes. James Ferraci and Thomas Zubov were standing there.
"I didn't know they let girls be altar boys," said Zubov. "I like your dress, Callie. Want to go out on a date?"
"Well, if it isn't the little pill," I said. "Did Zubov get religion?"
"His mother made him come," said Ferraci.
"Your mommy made you come?" I said.
Zubov grabbed me by the front of my cassock and pushed me back against the closet door. His nose got red.
"Zubov's got a lightbulb in his nose," I said. "It lights up when he gets mad."
Father Olszewski came in. "What's going on? There'll be no rough-house in here. Thomas, put your cassock on. Father Inez is almost ready to start."
So Zubov let go of me and turned to fact the closet. Father Olszewski left the room. When I tried to go to another closet to put away my cassock, Zubov moved between me and the door. "Pardon me," he said politely. "I have to get ready for Mass." Every time I would try another closet, Zubov would get in the way. I didn't lose my temper. After about five minutes, Father Inez called Zubov and Ferraci to start Mass, and I put my cassock away and went outside to look for Callie.
"Where've you been?" I asked.
"I wanted to get some fresh air," she said. She was still wearing her cassock and filmy shirt.
"Hurry up and put your stuff in the closet," I said. "We haven't got all day."
When we got back to my house, I sent Callie up to my room. I expected Aunt Speed to ask questions, but when I asked her where my parents would be staying that week she gave me a neatly printed sheet of paper. It said ITINERARY at the top and included all the details of my parents' tour of Ireland. I guess Aunt Speed didn't find it odd that I wanted to know about my parents' trip. Or maybe she didn't ask questions because she expected everyone to be interested in Ireland.
Upstairs I showed Callie my Novice rig. She had seen my QRP equipment before. She was a bit confused.
"Let me get this straight," she said. "The QRP transmitter that you prefer puts out less than a watt."
"Right."
"And the transmitter you had when you first got your license puts out fifty watts."
"Right. And Mr. Garafano's rig puts out a thousand watts."
"And both of your transmitters send only code."
"Right again. What's the problem?"
"I don't see why you get to use more than fifty times as much power when you're just a beginner."
"Oh, that. No. I can use a thousand watts now if I want to. I use low power for the challenge."
"You can't get very good results."
"Whatever results I get seem better because I'm not using a bulldozer to get them." Callie didn't understand what bulldozers had to do with it. "Forget it," I said. "We have work to do."
For my first attempt to contact Ireland, I was going to use my Novice transceiver. I turned it on and made sure everything was working properly. I started sending out my CQ.
"Brian," said Callie. "I appreciate the way you stood up for me back there."
"Not now."
"I guess I'm not too good at defending myself."
"Can't you see I'm transmitting?"
Callie was, of course, talking about my hassle with Zubov. I finished my first round of transmissions and turned the transceiver to the receive position. "Now," I said to Callie. "You were saying?" I knew I could carry on a conversation with one ear on the signals coming in.
"Nothing," she said. "How about explaining what you're doing?"
I was a little ashamed of myself. Older radio operators like Mr. Garafano and Mr. Kemp down the street had always given good explanations when I showed an interest in amateur radio. Now Callie was interested, and I was practically ignoring her. "Sure," I said. "I'm sending a CQ. That means a general call to anybody who's out there. Except I'm limiting this one to Ireland. So I'm sending CQ Ireland CQ Ireland CQ Ireland DE and then my call letters. DE means from. My call letters identify my station. You know. Even commercial radio stations have them. And T.V. stations. Pause for station identification. That kind of thing."
My call letters were visible in several places around the desk where I kept my radio equipment. Callie already knew my call letters. I had given her one of my QRP cards--post cards amateur radio operators send each other when they've had a conversation on the air. You collect QRP cards like trophies. They show that you really did talk to Africa or Japan.
"Then what?"
"Then I listen for a while. In case anybody wants to answer the CQ. Then I transmit again. After a while, if nobody answers, I get a sore wrist. Then I take a break, or maybe change to another frequency." Luckily my Novice transceiver was not limited to Novice frequencies.
"If you used a computer your wrist wouldn't get sore."
"I don't even use a bug, much less an electronic keyer." A bug is a mechanical key that you move from side to side. It's easy on the wrist. I use an old-fashioned straight key. You tap out a signal by pressing down on it. It's hard on the wrist.
"I have to go home now," said Callie. "I just had an inspiration."
"O.K.," I said. "See you." I went back to work. CQ Ireland CQ Ireland CQ Ireland.
After a few more rounds, my wrist was sore. I went downstairs and tried to call Mr. Kemp on the telephone. I knew he would let me use his radio telephone equipment. I would have to use it eventually to talk to my parents. My wrist made me think I should use it as soon as possible.
"My husband's out of town," said Mrs. Kemp. "He won't be back until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Maybe not until Wednesday morning."
"Oh," I said. "O.K.."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"I guess not."
"Can I take a message?"
"Just tell him I called. Thanks." I shook my wrist out and went back to the transceiver.
Next Section of Brian's Story.