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Authors: Kimberly Willis Holt

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BOOK: When Zachary Beaver Came to Town

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More than half the days in July are crossed off my calendar. Wayne will return in 224 days. Cal hasn't mentioned another letter from Wayne, so I figure he doesn't know about the one I wrote yet.

Today Cal and I stand on my unmade bed, throwing darts at the dartboard on the wall. Paulie Rankin left eight days ago, and Cal can't stop talking about Zachary Beaver and thinking of ways to get him out of the trailer. Now he wants to take Zachary to the Sands drive-in theater.

I aim toward the bull's-eye and miss. “Zachary will never go for it.”

“Sure, he will.”

“Cal, he's not going to go to the drive-in with us. For starters, how's he going to fit in a car?”

“We'll take the pickup. He can ride in back.”

“And how is he going to get into the back of the truck?”

“Haven't figured that out yet.” Cal jumps off the bed. “Hey, how about a ramp?”

“He's too heavy. He'd never make it down without falling.”

Cal gathers the darts on the board and picks a couple off the dresser. “Are you playing with these soldiers?” He holds one up.

“Nah, I just had them out.” I yank the soldier out of his hand and put it back on the dresser.

Cal shrugs. “We could back the truck up to Zachary's door.”

“It's too low.” I don't know why I'm talking about it. I don't want to go anywhere with Zachary. He's grumpy and rude and I don't like him. I grab a dart that Cal missed off the dresser and discover another letter from Mom. Dad must have placed it there last night. I'm not opening this one. I don't want to hear her claim she hasn't left me when she lives thousands of miles away. I try to forget about her by concentrating on the dartboard. It doesn't work. So I decide to join Cal in planning a way to get Zachary in the truck.

“We gotta think of something,” Cal says.

My dart hits the center. “Bull's-eye!” Sinking to the floor, I try to sound bored with the whole matter. “We
could make some steps for him. Dad's got wood out in the back that he's been keeping forever.”

Cal grins, holding up his hand. “Good idea!”

Without enthusiasm, I slap his palm. “But even if we make the steps, who's going to drive us?”

Cal hunches his shoulders and begins singing “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.”

“No!”

“It's the only way!”

“No, Cal. Not Kate.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, I'd like to live to see my fourteenth birthday.”

“Oh, come on. She's got her license. And as long as she doesn't have to parallel park.”

“Forget it.”

Cal slumps to the floor, acting like a kicked dog.

“All right,” I say. “But time's running out. We better start making the steps now. And we still have to convince Kate.”
And Zachary Beaver.

After measuring the distance from the ground to the back of the pickup, we grab Dad's tools and start to work. An average person wouldn't need to have wide steps, but we triple the width for Zachary. We don't need any accidents waiting to happen.

Halfway through the job I say, “You sure Kate's going to go for this?”

“It's not like she has a date or anything.”

He's right. When other girls Kate's age started going to the movies with guys, Kate stayed home. She made some of her friends' prom dresses, but she didn't go.

I always liked shop, and it feels good to make something with my hands. I love the smell of freshly cut wood and how smooth the grain feels after going over it with sandpaper.

The afternoon sun beats down on us as we work, and we sweat enough to fill a bucket. After banging our thumbs with a hammer a couple of times, we decide to make sure we aren't doing this for nothing.

At the McKnights' kitchen table, Kate is busy sewing. The sound track of
My Fair Lady
plays from the stereo. She's wearing bell-bottom jeans and a blue knit top, the same kind of clothes that Scarlett wears. Only they don't do for Kate what they do for Scarlett.

When we ask Kate about taking us, she stares at Cal and me like we asked her to drive the getaway car in a bank robbery. “Absolutely not! If you think I'm going to have any part in making fun of that poor boy, you're dead wrong.”

“We're not making fun of him,” I tell her.

“Yeah, right.” Her foot stomps the sewing machine foot pedal, and the needle races over the fabric.

“We're not, Kate. Honest.” Cal sounds sincere.

Kate ignores him, her head bent over the sewing machine, as she sings with the song on the stereo. “I could have danced all night! I could have danced all night!”

“Oh, come on, Toby,” Cal says, yanking at my shirt. “Let's forget it. Some people are too important to help out a lonely guy. Zachary will probably have to go to juvenile hall any day now.”

We turn and move slowly toward the door. Kate stops singing. “What are you talking about?”

Together we face her, but this time I speak. “The sheriff said if Paulie Rankin didn't come back by the end of the week Zachary would have to go to juvenile hall or a foster home.”

“Come on, Toby.” I follow Cal out of the house and into my backyard.

I know what's going to happen next. If I had a million dollars, I'd bet it. We slowly pick up the tools. The McKnights' sliding glass door opens, and out of the corner of my eye I see Kate's lanky shadow on her porch. I wink at Cal and say, “Yeah, I guess we might as well stop making these steps.”

Cal knows she's there too because he shouts, “Yeah, no use making anything for Zachary. What a waste, man.”

I'm afraid he's overdone it, but Kate pokes her head over the link fence, her glasses resting on top of her head. “Are you really making those steps for him?”

We look up, trying to act surprised, and together say, “Yeah.”

“And you aren't going to be mean to him?”

Cal rolls his eyes like he'd never think of such a thing. “No, Kate.”

She checks her watch. “There's a John Wayne movie that starts at eight-thirty. Can you finish those steps by seven-thirty?”

“You bet,” I say. “I got an A in shop last year.”

“Me too,” adds Cal.

“Your
only
A!” she says before disappearing into the house.

A couple of hours later, we finish making the steps. But we still have our biggest task aheadâconvincing Zachary.

Cal and I decide not to ask Zachary ahead of time. If we show up ready to go, maybe he'll feel more pressure. Of course, we don't tell that to Kate; she'd never go for it.

At eight we load the steps into the back of the pickup and head toward Zachary's. As we get closer, light from the setting sun bounces off the yellow trailer, casting a haze around it like something in a dream.

Kate pulls up in front of the trailer and slams on the brakes. Our bodies jerk forward, and we nearly hit our heads on the dashboard.

“Sorry about that,” she says. Before Cal can make a wisecrack, I nudge him in the ribs.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Stay here, Kate,” I say. “We'll be back soon.”

We knock and, as usual, we wait.

“Let's bring up the subject slowly,” I say. Cal nods. Finally the doorknob turns. Zachary's hair sticks up on one side like he's been sleeping. Inside the trailer is dark, and the TV blares from the corner.

Cal blurts out, “We came by to take you to the drive-in theater.”

Zachary frowns. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Have you ever been to a drive-in?” I ask.

“No, Cowboy. Why would I want to do that?”

“It's another thing you can add to your list of adventures,” Cal says.

“Yeah,” I say, “when you're talking to people about the Eiffel Tower in Paris or being at the top of the Statue of Liberty in New York, now you can add seeing
a drive-in movie in Texas. Besides, you've been wanting to see a cowboy. Here's your chance. It's a John Wayne movie.”

Zachary snorts.

Since I figure he's too embarrassed to admit he can't fit into a car, I say, “We brought the truck. We can all ride in the back.”

“We even made steps for you,” Cal says.

Zachary's eyes grow wide, then quickly narrow. I wonder if he thinks we're up to something, so I part the curtains. Kate has managed to get the steps out by herself and put them in place. “See.”

Zachary leans to look out the window. “You shouldn't have bothered.”

There's a knock at the door.
Great
. One more minute and I would have convinced him.

From behind the door, Kate calls out, “Cal, we better hurry.”

“Just a minute,” Cal calls back.

“Is there a problem?” she asks.

“Who's that?” asks Zachary.

There's only one thing left to try. I head to the door and open it. “Kate, meet Zachary. Zachary, Kate.”

“Hi.” Kate holds out her hand, smiling. Her eyes soft, she looks at Zachary like she's seeing something more than fat. And for a second, the way Kate stands
there with her hand out, smiling, she almost looks pretty.

Zachary stares at Kate's hand, and I just know he's going to snub her. But he accepts it, shakes, and smiles. A really big smile. It's the first time I've seen his teeth. They are perfectâwhite and straight. No gaps. Scarlett would be jealous.

“You ready?” Kate asks.

“Yeah,” Zachary says. “Give me a second.” He wobbles to the back of the trailer and disappears behind the drape. We hear water running and a minute later he returns, his hair wet down and combed.

To get through the front door, Zachary must squeeze sideways. He makes me think of Winnie-the-Pooh getting stuck in Rabbit's hole. But Zachary's belly presses against the door frame, and he jiggles his way through. Even though the sun is setting, Zachary squints and shadows his eyes with his hand. I guess he hasn't been outside in weeks. Maybe months.

Even though Kate parked close to the trailer, Zachary takes a while to make it up the steps. As he moves, the fat beneath his loose shirt causes the fabric to ripple. Each step, he stops and rests. Drops of sweat cover his upper lip, and he pants like a Saint Bernard after a run. Finally he makes it to the bed of the
pickup. He lands with a loud thump, and we feel the bed move. Cal and I have to step over his legs because there is no way he can scoot to the front.

“How's the foot?” I ask.

“Fine,” Zachary says. He looks around, taking in the world through narrowed eyes.

The road is empty except for us. We pass a farm with a tractor left out in the field, and in the distance a dust whirlwind blows near a ranch house. And even though my bruised thumb still throbs from hitting it, the cool breeze feels crisp smacking my face and I'm feeling good because of what we're doing for Zachary.

After a few minutes Zachary says, “It reminds me of the sea.”

“What?” I ask.

“The plains. It's like an ocean. See.” He points to a windmill standing against the sunset. “There's a lighthouse. And look at the rows of cotton. When you pass them, they look like waves.”

“You think?” Cal asks, his eyes scoping the cotton fields.

“I don't see it,” I say.

Zachary smirks. “You don't know how to look. You have to really look at something.”

I've looked at cotton fields all my life and never once did they remind me of an ocean.

A couple of miles outside of Antler, more cars appear. Kate drives as slow as a little old lady and people honk or pass us, shaking their fists. A carload of older kids ride by, their window rolled down. Two of the jerks hang out, making obscene gestures and yelling, “Lard butt!” We look like we're hauling Buddha across Texas. Suddenly I'm kind of wishing that I hadn't listened to Cal and I hadn't suggested making the steps.

Zachary stares at the side of the road. I wonder how he visited all those places he claims he has. How did he fit in the elevator at the Louvre? How did he handle the stares and the insults?

At the drive-in's entrance, Kate stops the truck to pay the ticket guy. “Hey, Billy's sister, right? You can go in free.”

“You sure that's okay?” Kate asks.

BOOK: When Zachary Beaver Came to Town

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