“Damn my left arm…” Danny cried. “There’s no way I can pull myself up!”
Soaked in sweat, he yanked on the fiberglass swatch in anger. The batting broke free, pulling a scrap of wood across the attic mouth. Danny gripped the stud and smiled. The wood made the perfect crutch. He faced forward, wedged the wood into the rear corner and pried himself upward – feet leveraged against the back wall. Like a backward pole vault, he pried his body upwards taking meticulous care to prop his feet first. Relentless in battle, he fought every inch of the way to scale the wall. Against all odds, he soon found himself resting upon a roof truss inside the attic.
“I just want to sleep.” But, Danny knew he must stay awake at all costs. Gallons of sweat gushed down his back; a stinging sensation registered in his brain. Wounded, but …where? A bloodied shirt…huh? The brain identified the source of a burning – there! An abrasion across his chest. Snagged by a nail, no doubt. And, splinters in both hands, to boot. Danny ignored the pain.
The closet light cast its ghostly glow into the musty attic. He studied his surroundings. Twisted shadows wrapped around the crossbeams where Danny sat. In the far corner, splintered sunlight poked its fingers through the woodwork. In between, the rafters stood in silhouette. “It’s my only hope…”
He pushed on the makeshift flooring. Could it hold his weight? It did not budge. Danny pushed harder, and the sheetrock gave. “I better step on the beams.” The trusses were spaced further than Danny could stretch. “I’ll just have to chance it.” He held his breath, and took his first step. Pushing through a spider web, he lunged toward the neighboring rafter. But, his stride was too short. One foot pushed off the flooring. Skipped across, he felt the panel bow beneath him. Some nails popped. He hugged the rafter, gasping for air.
“One down,” Danny sighed. “Only a million more to go.”
Danny placed a foot on the attic floor. Again, he held his breath and lunged forward. Something creaked underfoot. His face broke through more cobwebs. He landed safely on the adjacent rafter. Stretched to the max, he sprang forward but misjudged. The flooring trembled. The frightened child staggered, fighting to keep his balance. “Guess I overdid it.” He shifted his weight and scooted to the next perch.
Wheezing, Danny’s lungs burned in the enveloping smoke. He tasted ashes in his mouth. “No air!” Danny cupped the birdie t-shirt over his mouth. “There’s no air!” The burning sensation began to subside. He started off again, landing without incident.
“How many rows now? …two beams? Maybe three.” Did it really matter? In a race for survival, he staggered toward the taunting shafts of daylight. The roof sloped sharply down upon him now. Hunched like a bell tower keeper, Danny pressed on – thump… thump… thump…
The daylight beckoned. With one last stutter step, Danny reached the far wall where the silvery light poured through an attic vent. He peeped through the louvers down to the street below. Blinding searchlights turned night into day. Fire trucks crammed the street, and a crowd of people had gathered. Fire hoses slithered across the yard like a pit of vipers.
He tugged on the grate with a lame grip, but it would not budge. His hands ached too much to be of any service to him now. Having come so far, his hopes of ending this nightmare were thwarted. There would be no escape from the terrifying reality. He trembled and wept into the birdie t-shirt; waves of countless memories crashed upon him like a shipwrecked sailor at the mercy of the sea.
An evening zephyr wafted through the grate. The cool night air soothed Danny’s burning chest. The soffit planks creaked and moaned beneath him. Startled, he dropped his makeshift birdie mask. The wheezing ragamuffin hovered beside the vent and drank up the fresh air when the rotted woodwork shredded like tissue paper. The boy penetrated the eaves and plummeted three stories. He landed on all fours and collapsed on the ground, matching limbs lay in pairs. The fall had knocked the wind out of him.
“He’s over here!” A stranger crouched beside the boy and thrust a bottle of smelling salts under his nose.
“Hey!” Danny lifted his head, squinting. “Can’t you let sleeping dogs lie?”
“You fell from the eaves,” the man laughed. “That makes you an eavesdropper!”
“And, that big red suit makes you a funny little man!”
“Today must be your lucky day.”
“Sure, I’m one lucky dog, all right.”
“I’ll say. It was risky, but when you hit the roof…”
“It was an accident!” Danny blurted. “She didn’t mean it…”
“Whoa! Take it easy!” the man insisted. “You feeling ok? You’re white as a sheet!”
“That’s my shiny, new coat. After all, it IS shedding season!”
“Can you stand up?” The man offered his hand, but Danny did not return the gesture.
“Why?” The boy eyed the man with suspicion. “Wanna squirt me in the face, or something?”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Aw, c’mon, you know! Birds gotta sing, fish gotta drink…hiding a seltzer bottle in your pants, I think?”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
“That’s a clever disguise, but it’ll never work.”
“Come again?”
“How long ya gonna peddle that dumb old fireman routine, anyhow?”
“Are you feeling ok? I’ll have my sergeant get you checked out right away…”
“Look, pal, I had all my shots!” Danny whined. “My nose is wet. I’m dewormed. And, as for fleas…”
“You know,” the man pointed. “The paramedics are waiting in that truck.”
“No foolin’? Say, how many of you can jump out of that thing, anyhow?”
“You talk funny.”
“Not as funny as you.”
“Quit clowning, son.”
“Ha, look who’s talkin’!”
“That was quite a spill. You oughta be checked out…
“Would you quit hounding me? I just want to chase a cat and go to bed,” Danny yawned. “I’m so doggone tired…”
“You having fun yet?”
“A tail-waggin’ good time.”
“Good. Then, humor me and see the medics.”
“I’m fine, I tell ya!” Danny took to his feet. “Ow, ow, OW!”
“That doesn’t sound fine to me. What’s the matter?”
“My leg! My leg! I can’t move my hind leg!”
“Your hind what…?” the man scratched his head. “Ok, son. You’ve been pulling mine long enough!”
“Sir? Oh, sir!” Mum tapped the man’s shoulder. “How’s me lad, Denny? Be he injured?”
“Can’t rightly tell, ma’am…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mr. Ormont dared to ask.
“Forgive me for saying so, mister, but…” The man rubbed his neck and swallowed hard.
“Well? For goodness sake man, speak!”
“Your son thinks…he thinks…well, he thinks he’s a dog.”
“You hear that, Aggie?” Mr. Ormont winked. “Our boy’s fit as a fiddle!”
“Saints be praised, ’tis grand news!” Mum gasped, wiping away the tears. “Bet his noggin took quite a nasty knock, that it did!”
“Yes, that’s why I told your son he really should have his head examined.”
“We’ll have him checked out right away, chief.”
“Ha, that’s funny. My dad actually called you chief!”
“Naturally. Who’d you think I was?”
“Gee…” Danny cheered. “All this time I thought you were just some clown!”
CHAPTER XXI
Your Sunday Best
Sunday morning, Danny arrived fifteen minutes early at the library. Still adapting to the crutches after Friday night’s fall, he did not want to keep Patti waiting.
“Thanks for the ride, Dad!” Danny called. “Don’t forget to pick me up around two!”
Watching his father drive off, he had a nagging suspicion that she might not even show. Clic
k, thump! Click, thump! Danny hobbled along. Clambering up the stairs outside the library, he tried to set his mind at ease.
With backpack slung over his shoulder, Danny managed to prop the heavy glass door open and slip inside. He took a right and headed towards the Adult section of the library. Countless racks jutted from the wall, tracing the perimeter. Two rows of conference tables filled the heart of the airy room. Danny grabbed the last empty table in front. Lowering his backpack to the floor, he collapsed into a chair and waited.
The library was buzzing, and Danny had a front row seat to observe the activity. A crowd of preschoolers toddled near. Carefree, they bubbled with excitement toward the Children’s section – oblivious to the commands from nervous maternal chaperones. It must be story time. Danny thought. Looking to his left, a herd of high school kids were corralled in one corner. “What if Stinger’s here?” Frantically, Danny scanned the teen crowd in search of a familiar face. “Yeah, right,” the boy laughed to himself. “The library is the last place he’d be found.”
“Expecting someone else?” a scratchy voice asked.
“Huh? Oh, no! I was just…” Danny rubbed his eyes. There stood the epitome of elegance in denim and lace. Patti’s unbuttoned jean jacket barely hid her low cut, party dress. Soft flowing, burgundy curls caressed her shoulders enchanting the enamored boy.
“Weeeeeeeeell???” Patti rolled her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Danny blushed, offering her a chair. “Can I take your coat?”
“No, that’s ok,” The girl’s hoarse voice faded in and out. “I, uh, I think I’m catching a cold.”
“I’m glad you came.”
“Let’s get started. I can’t stay too long.”
Slamming her notebook on the table, she took a seat next to Danny. The girl noticed Danny’s crutches, but she did not bother to ask.
“You’re all dressed up. You look so, so…glamorous.
“Naturally,” she gloated. “Especially today. It’s my Dad’s birth— Hey, you feelin’ ok?”
“Oh, sure…never better.”
“Math’s impossible,” Patti groaned, shuffled through her papers. “I bet you’re a real math whiz, huh?” The girl flashed her illuminating smile.
Thunderstruck, the hopeless romantic drowned in her cocoa brown eyes.
“…Something wrong?”
Danny swooned, enamored by her radiance. Sequin freckles danced with her smile; dimples pinched each cheek. “Oh, you’re perfect…”
“Then, help me with this assignment,” Patti demanded, scooting closer.
“Let’s see. Percents aren’t too hard…”
“Oh, I can’t do percents,” Patti groaned. “But, I’m sure you can teach me!” She latched onto her tutor’s arm, and the startled boy’s heart raced.
“Well, uh, you see,” Danny stuttered. “First, we need to change the per—”
“Say! Did you hear about that fire Friday night?”
“I’ll say! I—”
“I heard a fire truck had to come,” Patti laughed. “Can you believe that one?”
“It’s not funny, I had—”
“I’m sorry I missed that dog and pony show!”
Danny’s jaw dropped. “What did you just say?”
“I said, it must’ve been a real dog and pony show!”
Holy waters! …Just like in my dream!
“Such a fuss!” Patti rolled her eyes. “A real riot, I bet.”
“Don’t you know?”
“Sh!”
“I’m sure it would have just burnt itself out...”
“Are you crazy?” Danny snorted. “It was real serious, you see…”
“Sh!” the librarian hissed. “Quiet, please!”
“Heck, it’s not like anyone got hurt, right?”
Danny’s jaw and stomach slammed the ground simultaneously. “No one got hurt, huh?”
The librarian approached the two children. “Lower your voices.”
“We’re sorry,” the boy said. “We’ll be quieter…”
“That would be nice...”
“If only the place weren’t so packed. You know a library is always booked!”
The woman turned up her nose and walked away in disgust.
“Patti!” Danny continued, pointing to his bad leg. “I almost got killed in that fire!”
“Oh, you say the silliest things!”
Danny relayed his story, but the disinterested girl turned up her collar, tossed her head, and poofed her hair.
“That’s all very nice.” Patti stroked her curls in place. “What time is it?”
Danny glanced at his watch. “It’s quarter after…why?”
“Oh, boy! I really gotta run.”
“So soon?”
“…Uh, to the bathroom, of course.”
Anticipating her return, the eager youth solved the first few math problems. The homework was lengthy – a mix of percents, decimals, and fractions.
I wish she’d hurry! The jittery boy pushed his text aside and bit his thumb. Repeatedly, he dropped his eraser onto the table to see how far it might bounce. She’ll be mad if I work ahead.
“Danny?” a familiar voice called. “What in the world happened to you?”
“Oh, hi, Andy!” The boy ceased his personal source of amusement. “You mean the crutches?”
“Did your Dad break both your legs?”
“No, nothing like that…”
“I thought you were studying with Patti.”
“Oh, but I am!” Danny cheered. “She’ll be right back.”
“That’s funny...” Andy confessed. “I just waved goodbye to her as she climbed into a van!”
* * *
“Hi-ho, D-D-D-Daddy-o!” Patti giggled. “Now ya see me; now ya don’t!” The dizzy dame stood on her father’s front porch playing a game of peekaboo with the man.
“Christ, Patti! Is this your idea of a joke?”
“Speaking of jokes, I know a good one.” Patti latched onto a pole and swung herself around the column.
“Does your mother know?”
“No, she’s hasn’t heard this joke yet.”
“You’ve been drinking!”
“I was very thirsty! …Anyway, do you know why ketchup pours so slow?”
“Wait until your mother hears—”
“Because it falls behind!” Patti laughed, hysterically. “No, that’s not right...”
“Come inside…” A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder.
“Wait, don’t tell me!” Patti insisted, pushing him away. “Why do they serve ketchup?”
“Get in the house, NOW!” her father bossed.
“Because it pours so slow!” Patti cackled. “Isn’t that so cute? …Just like Danny.”
“Danny?” he growled. “So, that the hood’s name, huh? I am not amused…”
“It was funnier when Danny told it. Guess you had to be there!”
“Did he get you drunk? You know how much I worry about you…”
“Relax!” Patti shouted, plugging her ears. “I was learning about percents!”
“Percents?” Her father plucked away her fingers.
Patti tugged on her father’s chin. “To know the proof of my alcohol, stupid!”
“Get in the house!”
Patti stumbled across the threshold. Her father punched a number into the telephone, watching his daughter collapse on the threadbare couch.
“Miranda! What the hell is this?”
“What is what, dear?” A sugary voice replied.
“Don’t play dumb with me!”
“Why, Fred, I don’t have the foggiest…”
“When I said I wanted to see my daughter,” he began. “I presumed she’d be sober!”
“For your information,” Miranda insisted. “Your daughter spent the day at the library.”
“Oh? Does she find her lessons intoxicating?”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Not me! Your darling daughter’s more tank
ed up than my car!”
Miranda sighed. “Put her on the phone…”
“I’d love—” His words were interrupted by violent gagging and a toilet’s flush. “Unfortunately,” Fred shouted. “She’s too busy puking her guts out!”
“What can I say? She’s growing up.”
“Really, Miranda! And, who is this Danny boy? Some hood?”
“Danny? …There’s no Danny.”
“First, this Danny boy gets her drunk, and next this Danny boy will be getting her…”
“Big deal!” Miranda snapped. “She has to learn some time.”
“Well, I certainly hope you’re satisfied. You and Tim should be proud.”
“It’s Rick, and we’re doing just fine.”
“Oh, so it’s Rick now, is it? I’m surprised you can recall their names!”
“That what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“Look, you can do whatever you please, but when it concerns our daughter…”
“Hey, she can make her own decisions.”
“Is that all you have to say? Aren’t you the least bit concerned?”
“Concerned? Of course, I am concerned!” Miranda huffed. “I just hope she remembered not to mix her alcohol!”
CHAPTER XXII
The Gemini Promise
“L-l-looks l-l-like we’re a hit!” Andy shivered. His words faded away in a frozen cloud.
“Yup, I’d say so!” Danny leaned on his crutches and ogled the crowd in amazement. The compatriots enjoyed a most rewarding sight. All along the boys’ line, yo-yos of every color took to flight – spinning, rocketing, dancing on command.
“Could this be the end of kickball come spring?”
“It’s a start,” Andy shouted with pride. “Give me ten!” Danny leaned on his crutches and congratulated his partner, exchanging awkward hand slaps. “Ok…guess I’ll settle for five.”
They squirmed in place, struggling to keep warm in the frigid air. Would the bell ever ring?
Andy revealed his yo-yo and performed a few stunts to pass the time. “So, you never told me what happened to your leg.”
“Didn’t you hear about the fire?”
“What fire?”
“You mean you really don’t know?”
“So, sue me! What the heck are you talking about?”
“I broke my leg escaping a big fire at my house!”
“Really? How did the fire start?”
“Well, I saw…” Danny clammed up. “They haven’t a clue.”
“Say, was that the same fire on Devonshire’s farm?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yeah, there was something about it on the news.”