The Second Chance of Benjamin Waterfalls, page 14
“Nothing. We were just messing around,” George says.
I think for a moment, realizing it’s far better for the both of us if I agree with him.
“Yeah. He was just showing me some karate moves in Japan. Sorry,” I say.
She takes a hard look at George, then back to me. She knows we’re lying. “Well, since you’re so buddy-buddy now, then you can clean up this mess together. Another stunt like this, and no video games for a week.” She points to George. “And you”—she turns to me—“your mother will be notified next time. Along with that handsome judge!”
Why do they keep saying that? “He wasn’t even that good-looking!” I say.
Wait. Does Wendy talk to my mom too? That’s wrong on so many levels. You don’t speak to the home wrecker. You hate them forever. Maybe my dad told Wendy about Judge Mason. But why would he mention that? This isn’t Grand Portage; this is straight-up Grand Pour Out Everyone’s Business. No one minds their own around here!
Wendy walks out of the room. George and I look at each other. He probably wants to finish what he started, but instead, he starts laughing. And so do I. I guess it is pretty funny. Two boys fighting all over the world.
“You leveled Japan like Godzilla, dude. Not cool,” he says.
“I think a temple fell and hit me in the temple,” I add, while rubbing my head. “And for the record, you didn’t win. You sucker punched me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Benny-hana,” he snaps back, in between his laughs.
“Whatever. Where does all this stuff go?” I ask.
George begins to clean up the mess. I scoop up all the fallen ninjas from the floor. A few moments pass. I’m not sure what to say. “So … you never leave the house, like, at all?” I ask.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” George says.
“Okay, but what about school?”
“I was homeschooled last year. But that got expensive. My mom tries to teach me, but now I mostly do online classes,” he says.
“Don’t you miss other kids?” I ask. “Why don’t you just take the bus? Buses are safe.”
“You know what else starts with B-U-S? Business. So, why don’t you mind your own?”
Wasn’t I just complaining about people sticking their nose in other people’s business? And here I am, sticking mine into his. But to be fair, he punched me in mine, so I deserve a few answers.
Still, I take the hint, get up, and head into the garage. If annoying him gets me out of cleaning, well, then I did my job.
I close the garage door and wonder for the fiftieth time what the heck I’m doing here. I could be home, hitting the malls with my friends, making money. Where’s the drill sergeant? Where’s Dr. Phil? Where’s the family intervention or the cops who take you to visit a jail to show you how awful it is there in an attempt to scare you straight? Where is this stupid boot camp?
Instead I’m forced to watch a masked girl pretend to heal people. I can’t believe Lulu fell for that stuffed animal stunt. Sure, it would be super cool if magic was real. But it’s not. I thought my dad would magically appear for me every birthday and Christmas … But it never happened.
Believing in magic will only let you down.
People like Tommy Waterfalls don’t change. They just learn how to hide it better. I just need to expose him.
I wait to hear George’s bedroom door shut before I venture back into the living room. All three watch dogs are now sleeping in Jamaica, underneath a Bob Marley poster. I sneak past them and make my way down the hall. My dad’s office door is shut. I don’t know where he is, but if he was home, he probably would have come out when George and I had our scuffle. If I’m going to do this, now is the time.
I open his door and walk in. It’s like a sleeping zoo. Dozens of animals, some painted some not, lie perfectly still in their ceramic poses as I approach his desk. I open his desk drawers and rifle through them. There’re Post-it notes, stamps, pens, markers, glue, carving knives, rubber bands, coins, and takeout menus … But no signs of alcohol.
At home he didn’t even attempt to hide it, but here he has Wendy, and I doubt he wants to lose her like he lost my mom, so I just need to think like him. He thinks everything is a joke, so his stash must be somewhere he thinks is clever or witty. Hmm … Where can it be? Maybe behind a ceramic deer? Deer rhymes with beer. That’s clever. I check behind the deer, but nothing … Maybe the moose? Moose sounds like booze. Nope. How about the rhinoceros? Wine-oceros? I peer behind each one but come out empty-handed each time.
“It’s extinct,” a voice says from behind me.
I turn around and see my dad standing there, arms crossed, eyes disappointed. All three dogs are at his feet, staring at me. They must have told on me. They’re nothing but big rats after all.
“What is?” I ask, buying time to come up with an excuse as to why I am snooping around in his office.
“The western black rhino. It went extinct in 2011,” he says. “Very sad, isn’t it?”
“How?” I ask.
I look at the rhino sculpture. It looks gentle, strong, and overall harmless, despite its horns.
“There are some people who believe the ivory from their horns has medicinal powers,” he says.
“I believe those people are called idiots,” I say.
“Doing something wrong only makes you an idiot if you know what’s right and continue to do wrong. If they don’t know it’s wrong, they’re not idiots. They just need help. I know what I did wrong, Benny. I am no idiot. I learned from my past. No matter how hard you search this house, you won’t find what you’re looking for,” he says, and begins to walk away.
No. He doesn’t get to be the perfect role model now. Where was this guy when I needed him? The air in my lungs becomes steam. Angry steam. He doesn’t get the last word. Why are my hands shaking? Or are my legs shaking so much that they’re rattling my hands?
As he reaches the door, I can’t help myself. “But you are an idiot,” I say.
He stops but doesn’t turn around for another three seconds. He commands his dogs to leave the room. They obey him and go back to their vacation. My dad finally turns to me and looks me in the eyes. “Give it to me. You’ve earned that.”
My stomach drops. I’ve wanted to say so much to him for years. I’ve wanted to scream at him. I’ve pictured his face every time I would punch my pillow. But now I can’t find the words. I can’t even open my mouth.
“Ikidon,” he says. “Say it. You need to release it from your body, son.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “Only an idiot would leave Mom. Only an idiot would throw everything away. Only an idiot would forget that he has a—”
“Son. I never forgot about you, Benjamin,” he says, using my first name for the first time in a very long time. “I left for you. I was toxic, and I didn’t want you to see me like that anymore. It killed me every day you had to see your father like that. I needed to leave. You deserved better.”
“You were my dad. Dads aren’t supposed to bail on their family. They are supposed to be there,” I say, choking on my words. “E-even when it’s hard.”
“You’re right. I let you down. I let your mother down. I let myself down. You may not see it now, but leaving was the best way to protect you and your mother. I was in a bad place. And the thought of dragging my family down with me scared me. So, when your mother asked me to leave, I did. I wasn’t strong enough to stay and work through it. But never once did I forget about you. I just needed to get my life back into a good place before I reached out to you. You don’t need to be sneaking around searching for the past. That man is long gone. I lost your mother, but you didn’t lose me. I’m right here,” he says.
I feel the tsunami rise somewhere from my gut and engulf my throat. I close my mouth to dam it, and the surge shoots north, stinging my injured nose and pushing against my eyes. I have seconds to escape before it all pours out of me. I tilt my head back slightly. “Too late,” I say, and rush past him.
As our bodies nearly touch, the dam breaks and tears flood down my face. I look away and bury my face into my hands as I run out of his room, down the hall, and into the living room.
I stop and take in all the countries surrounding me. My dad did all this for George, who isn’t even his son. He did this for Wendy, to make her happy, and he already had a wife he was supposed to make happy. He may have “straightened” his life out, but he still abandoned the people who loved him. He doesn’t deserve happiness and, most of all, forgiveness. He is still the villain, no matter how many times he pretends to be the hero.
I want to go home. I want to run out of this house and never see it again. I never want to see my dad, Wendy, or George again. They don’t need me or want me. They have each other. All I need right now is the only thing that makes me feel special. I need to steal something again. Right now. I need to remind myself I am better than him. I am not weak. I can walk into a store empty-handed and come out with my hands full. That’s my superpower.
I rush into the garage, and grab George’s bike. I need to find my way back to the mall. It was far, but I don’t care. The thought of shoplifting already gets my blood pumping and my heart beating faster. I choose a direction that feels vaguely familiar and pedal as hard as I can away from the house. Away from my dad. Away from all of this.
CHAPTER 16
THE STOLEN COMPASS
I hide George’s bike behind a bush. Finding this place wasn’t easy. I had to pedal down the highway for three and a half hours. The only way I knew I’d get there eventually was keeping Lake Superior at my side.
Usually, security keeps a close eye on a kid wearing a backpack, but at a trading post like this, I haven’t even gotten a second glance. I feel like a wolf strolling through acres of farmland, looking at all the beautiful, delicious sheep. The only question is, what do I want to steal? The truth is, I don’t need anything. I just want to prove to my dad that nothing he can do will change me.
I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.
I walk past the first set of stores, but none of them interest me. It’s all Native American jewelry, dream catchers, and woven blankets with traditional patterns. All that stuff looks expensive and is pretty cool, but kids back in Duluth wouldn’t buy it. I need to steal something I can sell. Rule number five.
I take the stairs up to the second floor and see a small store that sells hunting gear and camping stuff.
Jackpot! People in Duluth love to go camping. I can stuff my backpack with binoculars, hunting knives, camouflage hats, and walkie-talkies. I put on my most curious customer expression and approach the store—but just as my first foot crosses the threshold, an all-too-familiar voice calls out from behind me. “Not another step, Benjamin Waterfalls.”
I turn around, and it’s Niimi, sipping on a hot cocoa. She may not know there’s whipped cream around the fabric over the tip of her nose, and I’m not going to tell her.
“Are you following me?” I ask.
“Technically, I was here first. I didn’t think you’d take so long. But it did give me time to get us hot cocoas. Here.” She reveals another cup from behind her back and offers it to me.
“How did you know I’d come here?” I ask, and take the warm drink from her.
I don’t want to accept it, because I’m on a mission and this is just another attempt at distracting me, but it’s so cold outside and I don’t remember the last time I had a hot cocoa, so I do.
“You’re upset. And I know why you’re here,” she says.
“Oh, right. Because superheroes know everything. I forgot?” I say, and take a sip.
It glides down my throat, smiling and singing the entire way to my stomach.
“I know that you shouldn’t go in there and steal. I know the guy working there. His name is Sam Morrison. He and his family are super sweet. They grew up on the rez, and they’re pooling all their income to send their younger sister, Lavinia, off to college. If inventory is off, he’ll have to answer for it,” Niimi says.
I look at the guy at the register. He’s a teenager with spiky black hair and glasses, wearing a camouflage shirt that says YOU CAN’T SEE ME on it.
I was so excited to steal, but this girl completely ruined the vibe. Now I’d feel bad for getting this nerd busted for sleeping on his watch. This sucks. Why can’t people just leave me alone?
“Don’t you have someone else to rescue? I mean, you believe you’re a superhero, right? Go do superhero stuff and leave me alone,” I say.
She laughs. “If I wasn’t here to swoop in and save the day, some thief would have rolled in and robbed the place. Sam would be fired, Lavinia would have to delay her college plans, and the family-owned store would have lost money. I totally just did superhero stuff.”
I never really thought about what happens after I leave a store. Do employees really get held accountable? Does it come out of their paychecks? That’s so unfair. Everyone knows people steal. It’s part of life. I wonder how many people I got in trouble. Maybe even got fired?
“Look, you stopped me from stealing. You happy?”
“I am. For Sam, I am,” she says.
“Good, Dr. Seuss. Now you can leave. I believe, I believe, that now you can leave,” I say, mimicking her. “Unless … you’re being paid to babysit me. Are you?”
“I’m not here to babysit you, but I am working. Now, after you finish your hot cocoa, we can get down to business. There’s someone out there waiting for us, and I don’t like being late,” Niimi says.
“What? Who’s waiting for us?” I ask.
Maybe this is finally the start of the real boot camp? I wonder who is out there, the angry drill sergeant or the kindly Dr. Phil type of therapist who will make me get in touch with my inner feelings and admit that stealing is bad. I’m secretly hoping for the drill sergeant. I’m sick of feelings. I just wanna be forced to run a dozen laps, drop and give him twenty, then finally go home.
“Follow me,” she says, and walks off.
I sip the hot cocoa and follow her outside and see a man near a large black pickup truck waiting for her. He is a bald white man and has a large gut overflowing out of his shirt. This must be the drill sergeant. Hello, boot camp. No more silly games and talk of magic and superheroes. The sooner boot camp starts, the sooner it’ll be over, which means the sooner I can put all this behind me.
We approach him, and up close, I can see the heavy bags under his eyes. His camouflage pants and scuffed-up black boots fit the setting well, but he’s wearing a neon orange shirt, which completely contradicts his pants. His top half says look at me. His bottom half says you can’t see me. Seriously? You want to be seen or not?
“This is him?” the guy asks, with a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
“In the flesh,” Niimi says to him, then whispers to me, “Just go along with everything I say.
“Benny, this is Hank. Hank, this is Benny.”
“He doesn’t look like an expert to me,” Hank says. “I mean, he looks more like one of those scrawny street thugs who stole my radio out of my truck last week.”
I know I should be offended, but I’m not. One, because he’s right. I have stolen many radios out of trucks back in Duluth, and two, because drill sergeants are supposed to be mean. I just thought it would be from a tough-looking Native man, one with scars across his chest and a deep thunderous voice, not an overweight white guy who wears contradicting clothes.
Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.
“Could have been him. Buckshot Benny here hunts many things. I’m sure radios are just one of his many prey, ain’t that right?” she says, and looks at me.
Umm … “That’s right. I can’t deny hunting down a few radios from time to time,” I say.
“Well, if you think this will work, let’s go. Alex is waiting,” Hank says, and smacks his truck.
As he walks around to the driver’s side, I see a young kid, maybe seven years old, sitting in the back seat. “I’m confused,” I whisper to Niimi.
“This next blooming of mine is quite a unique one. I’m kind of working as a double bloomer. I need you to keep the boy distracted when we reach the woods. Just talk to him about stuff. Except for stealing. I need enough time alone with the dad for this to work,” she says.
“Wait. I thought we were going to finally begin my boot camp. This is just another gig of yours?”
“You help me with this, and I’ll boot you into boot camp myself. Okay?”
“Fine. I’ll distract the kid. What about George’s bike?”
“Toss it in the back,” Niimi says.
I run over to the bush and grab George’s bike. Hank takes it from me and puts it in the bed of his truck. That was nice of him. He’s definitely not a drill sergeant.
“First, we’re going to make a quick stop back at Lulu’s,” Niimi says. “When we get there, run in and tell her you need to borrow a stuffed animal. Grab the wolf and put it in your backpack. Don’t let Hank see it. When you’re alone with Alex, give it to him. He’ll do the rest.”
I can’t believe Hank trusts the word of a kid in a mask. I wonder how much he’s paying her.
Niimi hops into the truck. I follow her in and take the back seat, next to Alex. He looks anxious. He wears the same outfit as his father, but that’s their only similarity. Hank is huge, and Alex, well, he’s so thin and fragile-looking that I bet the wind could knock him over.
“Hi,” I say to him.
“So, you’re the thief, huh?” he whispers to me.
Even the kids catch the wind super quickly around here. I nod.
We drive out of the parking lot and enter the highway, heading north. On the floorboard, by my feet, I see a compass sticking out of a small black leather travel bag. The compass is gold plated, with a large moose carved into it. And just like that, my blood begins to heat up and race through my body. I want it. And if I want it, it will be mine. No one ever gave me a compass, so it’s my job to give it to myself. They won’t even know I attacked. I’m that good. I make sure no one is looking and slip my hand down toward it. With my eyes still on Alex, I pluck it out of the bag and stuff it between my legs, then make it look like I’m tying my shoe.
