Page 135 of Whistle
Fifty
Charlie could not recall ever being this excited.
When he went to bed, he knew this would bethe night. He would have to be very quiet not to wake his mother. He didn’t just have to get dressed and slip out of the house unnoticed, he needed to prepare. That meant going down to the kitchen and packing up as much food as he could carry in a backpack. It was too bad about what happened to his mother’s friend, Finnegan, but the good news was he’d brought lots of good stuff for them to eat from New York, especially the bagels. He grabbed six. Charlie didn’t want to take the time to cut them and put peanut butter on them. He’d pack that stuff, and a knife from the kitchen drawer, and take it with him.
He wished he could tell his mother he was going. Then they could take the car, which would not only be faster, but would take a whole lot less energy than would be required to ride a bike all the way to Vermont. But he knew that if he told his mother that they had to go Lucknow because his dad was there, she’d be all, “Oh, Charlie, no one wants your father to still be alive more than I do, but I’m sorry, he’s no longer with us.”
Other mothers might have said he was in heaven now, something along those lines, but Charlie’s mother had never been a very religious person. You were alive, or you were dead, simple as that. But Charlie knew different.
Charlie could have told her he’d been talking to his father, thathis dad had shown him how to get the key to the shed, that his dad had told him he was living in the real town that was the inspiration for the one Charlie had made on the floor of his mother’s studio, but what was the point? Some days you just couldn’t talk to her.
Which left Charlie with no choice but to leave without telling her. He didn’t know where, exactly, Lucknow was, but he wasn’t worried about that. His father would guide him, tell him which roads to take. All Charlie knew for sure was that it was avery long way, which was why he had been riding his bike so much, around and around the house, building up his strength, so that when it was time to go, he’d be up to it.
He figured his mother would be all worried when she woke up and found him gone, because mothers were like that. She’d be mad, too. But when he found his father, and when he brought him back, and they were a family again, he was pretty sure his mother would forgive him.
After only ten miles, or at least what he guessed were ten miles, since he didn’t have any way to accurately measure distance, he was exhausted.
The sun was coming up ahead of him, and while he had no real idea where he was, the sun rose in the east, and Vermont was east, or so his father had told him. The sun was a reassuring sight, but holy moly was he tired.
It was time for a break.
He came to a stop, hopped off the bike, walked it down into the ditch and up the other side, and leaned it against a large oak tree. He sat down, his back up against the rough bark of the tree, and dug into his backpack for breakfast, which consisted of a plain bagel with gobs of peanut butter on it. The knife he’d brought was not a sharp one, and he would have needed a flat surface on which to slice thebagel in half, so he simply piled the peanut butter on top of it and went at it, one bite at a time.
He’d also brought three bottles of water with him. He would have brought more, but they were heavy, and he figured water was something he could get along the way.
Charlie finished the bagel and washed it down with half a bottle of water. Needed to conserve. He wasn’t sure how long this trip would take, but he knew it was a long way.
He went around the back of the tree for a pee, zipped up, and hopped on his bike, first checking to make sure there was decent air pressure in the tires, and continued on. After another hour, he was feeling especially weary. He hadn’t had much sleep and had been pushing himself hard. Up ahead he saw a barn set close to the road and thought he might find a spot there where he could recharge. He whipped off the road and pedaled to the side of the barn that faced away from the farmhouse so as not to be spotted, tucked his bike behind some rusted barrels, and squeezed through the barn doors to get inside. He found a convenient mound of hay, settled into it, and tried reading a couple of pages from the Ray Bradbury book his father loved so much that he’d thought to bring, but he wished his dad could be reading it to him. Soon enough.
And then he was asleep.
He guessed he had slept three or more hours. When he poked his head outside, the sun was at its highest point in the sky, so early afternoon. He drained the other half of his water bottle, slipped the backpack over his shoulder, and hit the road again.
Charlie was passing through a small town two hours later and his hunger pangs were getting pretty serious. He spotted a small park, sat down at a picnic table, and went into his bag for another bagel. The bagel was dry and stale, and, even with peanut butter on it, was not very appetizing.
A block ahead he saw a Denny’s sign towering over the sidewalk. He had some money in his pocket. He’d been sneaking a dollar or two a day out of his mother’s purse the last week, so he had enough for at least one good meal. Maybe he was closer to his destination than he thought. Maybe his dad was already preparing a meal for him for when he arrived, so if he spent all his money now on a restaurant meal, it wouldn’t matter.
He pitched the bagel and the container of peanut butter into a nearby trash can and got back on his bike, hiding it behind the Denny’s where it wouldn’t be stolen, then went around and in the front door, taking his backpack with him. He slipped into an empty booth.
After five minutes, a waitress approached and said, “You alone, kid?”
“No,” said Charlie. “My mom’s in the bathroom.”
“Okay,” she said skeptically. “Want some water?”
“Yes, please. A glass for me and a glass for my mom.”
The waitress disappeared for a moment and returned with two glasses of water. “Your mom still in the bathroom?”
Charlie nodded. “I think she’s constipated.”
The waitress nodded. “Well, that’s no fun. When she comes back I’ll take your or—”
“I know what she wants. She just wants coffee and some toast. She’s not a big eater. And I’ll have the Super Slam.”
“You can eat all that? It’s a lot of food.”
Charlie nodded. “And a chocolate shake.”
