The Secret of Ferrell Savage (12 page)

“WHAT HAPPENED? OH MY GOSH
 . . . You're where?” Mary ran to the window and looked out. “Well, we're nowhere near there yet. We haven't even seen a skating pond,” she lied. “You must have gotten way ahead of us. . . . I'll ask Ferrell what he thinks, and then we'll call you. . . . Yes, as soon as we can.”

She came back to the hearth, and I struggled to sit up. Mary was smiling big.

“You're never going to believe this. Come here, let me show you something.”

She stooped down, and I put my arm across her shoulders and hobbled with her to the window.

“Look way over there on the other side of the pond. See that big mound of snow near the edge? Underneath it is Littledood's Titanium Blade Runner, which apparently broke through the ice and got stuck. See that little wooden outhouse? Littledood's in there. Trapped by all the snow that fell in front of the door.”

We stood at the window, my arm across Mary's shoulders, looking at that outhouse. We laughed and laughed until something occurred to me: I was ravenous. There was no way I'd be able to find the energy to walk over there and help dig out Littledood, even with Mary's shoulder to lean on.

We hobbled back to the hearth, where I sat upright.

“Are you okay?” Mary asked.

“I'm definitely warmed up and a bit looser.” I rolled my shoulders and my neck. “I'm still achy but pretty much fine, except for one thing: I'm starving.”

Mary brought me the bucket of melting snow, and I drank with my cupped hands. I wished we had some Kool-Aid to pour into it. Water is so boring and useless without sugar.

My phone buzzed again, and Mary looked at its face. “It's Littledood again.” She handed the phone
to me. “Don't answer it. He'll just keep bugging us. You should turn off your ringer.”

I pressed the buttons to make the vibrating stop and stuck the cell phone back into my pocket.

“You're still pale, Ferrell. In fact, your face is gray,” Mary clarified.

“I don't feel so good. But we have to help him. The sooner we get him out, the sooner we can get this whole race over with. I'm sure people are already waiting for us at the bottom of the hill.”

“Well, they're going to have to be patient. We'll go when you're feeling better.”

But without food I was only going to feel a lot worse.

“You know, I've been thinking,” I said. “I can see how it could happen. They were lost, there was no food. They were all going to die. Alferd Packer ate everyone because he was hungry. What else could he do?”

Mary's eyes got big, and she scooted away from me.

“I'm pretty sure I'm not going to eat you, Mary.”

“Pretty sure? That's the best you can do?”

“Quite sure. Almost positive,” I tried to assure her. “If anything, I'd cut off my own arm and barbecue it for you.”

“Wow,” she said. “That is so sweet of you.” She shifted closer again. “I wonder why there are so many movies about vampires and none about cannibals. They're both gross, no matter how cute the guy is who's biting you.”

“True. Good point.” She squeezed her thigh through her snow pants. “There's some grade-A quality meat in there.”

“I've noticed that when people eat meat, they have to take small bites and chew a lot. But I bet you'd be tender. Easy to chew,” I said.

“Really? You think so?”

“Oh, I do. I've purposely never considered it until now, but yes. You know how people eat fried chicken right off the bone? That's how I'd eat your leg, Mary.”

“Why, thank you, Ferrell. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

I laughed. I always had the most fun with Mary, when she wasn't getting all fancy with her words and showing off how smart she is.

She reached deep into her coat pocket and pulled out four string cheese sticks and an opened bag of beef jerky. She held them out to me. “It wouldn't be the end of the world if you ate an animal product. Just this once,” she said.

I shook my head. “No. I can't. It's too risky. Especially right now, in the state of starvation I'm in.”

“If you're really starving, then this is the time to break your vegan rule. What are you afraid of?” she asked.

“I've never told anyone this before,” I said, “but whenever I smell a hamburger or watch my friends eat bologna in the cafeteria, my mouth starts to water in a serious way. I have to swallow a lot just to keep from drooling.”

“Sounds normal, although maybe a little extreme . . .”

“It can't be normal. I'm afraid if I try even a small bite, it could stir up some crazy monster in me. Even before I knew I was related to Alferd Packer, I've imagined that if I ate a chicken or a cow or an egg, I'd turn into a werewolf, go on a rampage, and eat the entire population of Golden Hill.”

“You wouldn't. Think about it: You're starving right now, and I basically just offered you my leg for a barbecue sandwich, but you didn't take it. You let yourself imagine it, but you didn't go all monster about it. You wouldn't do it, Ferrell.”

I thought for a moment. I reached for a piece of string cheese, then pulled my hand away.

“Wow, this is really difficult for you,” Mary said. “Okay, I have an idea.” She scooted back onto the hearth and pulled up her legs and crossed them. She sat up straight and held her hands palms up, with her middle finger touching her thumb. “My mom says when I'm feeling uptight or stressed out, I should try this.”

I crossed my legs, straightened my stiff back, and held my hands the way she had hers. I closed my eyes and sat there.

“Why are we doing this?” I asked.

“It will help clear your head,” she whispered.

“Are we meditating?”

“Yes,” she continued to whisper.

I waited.

“I don't get it.” I didn't know why, but now I was whispering too. “Is something supposed to happen?”

“Breathe in. And then breathe out,” she said.

“That's what I've been doing my whole life.”

“Let your thoughts go. Let your mind be blank.”

“Got it,” I said.

“Focus on the blank space between your thoughts.”

“That's easy. For me, it's harder to focus on the thoughts between the blank spaces,” I said. “I guess I've been meditating all along.”

I opened my eyes and reached for a string cheese stick. Mary opened her eyes too when she heard the plastic crackle as I peeled it apart. I bit into the cheese.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” I said with my mouth full.

“No problem. It's a pleasure to serve you,” she said.

“And I hope to have a chance to serve you, Mary Vittles.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Serving Merry Vittles. It sounds like a cookbook.”

“SO, WHAT DID YOU THINK
of the cheese?” Mary asked.

“Chewy. Salty. Pretty good stuff.” I patted my stomach. “I feel kind of full. But you know what would really taste good right now? A bag of Skittles.”

“You eat too much junk food, that's your problem. You're in a constant state of a sugar crash.”

I stood up and stretched my arms and legs. “I'm actually feeling really good now. Maybe we should get a move on.”

We stepped outside with the Pollypry. Mary
bent over and gently tidied up the frayed feather pieces, trying to get it to stand up straight.

“The rachis is broken,” she said sadly.

“The what's broken?” I asked.

“It's the shaft in the middle of the feather. This is a flight feather, probably from a swan,” she added.

Wow, Mary Vittles might just be the smartest girl in the world. I was proud to be stuck in the snow with her.

She tried one more time to straighten the feather, but it bent back down. “Oh, well. I think we should leave it attached to the Pollypry, anyway.”

The clouds were splitting up, and patches of blue were showing. It was like a whole different day from when I'd been dragged on the sled, lying flat on my back. Now I wanted to beat on my chest and yell like Tarzan. Instead, I simply breathed in the fresh air.

The skating pond was wide, but from where we stood, we could see that the mound of snow covering the Titanium Blade Runner was still there. And the door to the outhouse was still shut. As we made our way through the deep snow around the pond, my mind began to wander.

“Speaking of outhouses . . . ,” I said.

“Who was speaking of them?” Mary asked.

“Well, we're walking to one, so that's kind of the same as speaking of it, don't you think?”

“No. But go ahead. What about them?”

“Well, I was just wondering. Back in the olden days, what would people say if a kid went to the bathroom in his pants? Would they say, ‘Hey, that kid just went to the outhouse in his pants'?”

“That's disgusting,” Mary said.

“It's kind of a weird thing to say, anyway,” I continued. “I mean, if a kid poops in his pants, he obviously didn't ever go into a bathroom at all. Right?”

“I guess that's true,” Mary admitted. “People should be more accurate in what they're trying to say.”

“You're here! Finally!” A voice came from the crescent moon window in the outhouse door. “Did you all stop at Disneyland on the way down or what?”

“Poor Littledood. Aren't you having fun in there?” I asked.

“Start digging. Get this door open! I'm about to pass out from the smell in here!” he yelled.

“How ungracious. We're here to help you. You could at least say ‘please,' ” Mary said.

A big brown eye appeared in the middle of the moon window. “I've been in here since the beginning
of that squall. That was two and a half hours ago! I'm not saying ‘please.' ” Littledood banged on the door. “Just open it!”

Beyond the trees, past the outhouse, I could see a clearing all the way from the top of the mountain. “Hey! There's a perfect sled run right there!”

The eye in the moon disappeared, and it was suddenly very still and quiet in the outhouse. And then it dawned on me. We'd been duped by the little dude!

“Hey, you lied to us. You led us down the wrong hill. You didn't go back to look for a bottle of oil you'd dropped. You waited for us to go first, so you could go down the real hill! You cheated!” I shouted.

Silence for a few seconds and then finally Littledood said, “Okay. Yes. I cheated.”

I picked up a snowball and threw it against the outhouse door. “Can you believe this guy?” I asked Mary. “We hit all those trees for nothing. We could have been finished with this whole crazy race hours ago.”

I scooped up another snowball, and just before I threw it, Mary put her hand on my arm and squeezed my jacket through her mitten. “Ferrell?” Her face was serious. “It wasn't all that bad, was it?”

My hand opened up and let the snowball fall
back to the ground. I knew exactly what she meant. “I guess it wasn't my worst day ever,” I said.

I turned back to the outhouse door. “So, Littledood,” I said more calmly this time. “Tell me, if we let you out, what would happen next?”

“We'll call off the whole thing. I'll never tell your secret. Please! Just get this door open!”

“What do you think, Mary? Should we call it off and just go home?”

“I don't know. We've come this far,” she said.

“True,” I said. “And, well, who knows? We could still win. Weirder things have happened.”

“Let's finish it,” Mary said.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“All righty.” To Littledood I yelled, “Looks like we're going to finish the race. But all of us on the real hill this time, starting from here. No cheating, Littledood. Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

Mary was never one to give up on anything. And as much as I couldn't wait to get home and have a root-beer-and-frozen-coconut-milk float, I did not want to be a quitter either.

We dug and dug the snow away from in front of
the outhouse until we worked up enough heat that we had to unzip our jackets and take off our hats. When we finally cleared the last bit, the door burst open, and Littledood fell to the ground at our feet.

I looked down at his face. It was a little green. I guess that's what happens when you spend so many hours closed up in an outhouse.

“Mary and I will go find a starting spot. You dig out your sled.”

Mary and I walked out toward the slope—the
real
slope meant for sledding and skiing, that is. Mary stopped suddenly and looked down.

“Whoa, it's steep here,” she said.

“Naw, it just looks steep because there aren't any trees,” I said. But the truth was, it did look like quite a drop; not quite like the Tower of Doom ride at Elitch Gardens, but almost. Luckily, at the bottom, just before coming to a road, the slope leveled out. I was pretty sure it was all safe. Or at least safe enough . . . pretty much. Okay, I was a little nervous.