Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,55

to her recitals. It was only fair.

“Okay, so my solo goes something like this,” she said. Rosie pointed one of her pink sneakered feet at the windshield and swooped her arms around. “I’m this pretty white bird like a dove or something, who escapes from its cage and has to learn how to fly all over again because she forgot how, get it?”

“Got it.”

The dance school was only about ten minutes away by car. All you needed to do was take a left turn out of our neighborhood, drive to the light at a major intersection, and go straight through it and over the hill into downtown Naperville.

The light turned red just as we approached the intersection. I pressed down on the brake, like I’d done hundreds of times. Only this time, nothing happened. My foot on the brake met no resistance, and the pedal went straight to the floor. The car didn’t even slow down. It barreled into the intersection, way too fast, after the crossing traffic had already begun to accelerate. A big gray truck headed straight for us.

Icy snow had scraped the hell out of the bottom of the car the night before. Metal on ice. Sharp smell in the garage—brake fluid draining. The twirling ballerina from the music box broke off, a terrible red wave crashed before my eyes, behind my eyes, everywhere.

No more, says the beast now at Walden Pond, the beast who has become my friend in spite of myself. My protector. Enough, he says.

Red turns to black, total eclipse, and I collapse behind a lichen-covered rock, far from home in the silent forest of Concord, Massachusetts.

13

Thomas is sitting on the front landing of the library, waiting for me. I’m sure I look like crap, with dirt on my clothes, a sweat-stained shirt, and red eyes, but Thomas doesn’t say a word about my appearance. Slowly, I climb the stairs to the concrete landing and collapse next to him, every muscle in my body on fire. We sit in silence, just watching the residents of Concord walk or jog by, generally enjoying the day. I envy them. So much.

“So, I suppose this is where you tell me you’re not actually Thoreau reincarnated.” Thomas says at last.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say.

“It’s okay. It was a crazy idea anyway. Would’ve been cool though.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Thomas offers his water bottle to me, and I take a deep swig. The water is cold and feels good going down my dry throat.

“My name is Daniel,” I tell him. “I live in Naperville, Illinois.”

“Illinois? Wow, you’re a long way from home.” Thomas nods, salutes me with his water. “Pleased to meet you, Daniel.”

I shake my head, and a dead maple leaf falls into my lap. “Well, you shouldn’t be. I’m a really horrible person as it turns out.”

Thomas considers this. “Try me.”

I run my fingers through my hair, pull out pine needles, a dead moth. Then I turn to Thomas. My face is heavy and I feel about a hundred years old.

“My name is Daniel,” I repeat. “I live in Illinois. And I think I killed my little sister.”

Thomas pulls hard on his water bottle to mask his shock and swallows. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what you found out.”

But I can’t speak. My head slumps forward and I’m afraid I’m going to start blubbering, right in front of Thomas.

“Hank,” Thomas says. “Come on, let’s find someplace more private to talk.” He takes me to the side of the library, to a park bench partly hidden from the street by shrubs. We sit on the bench, and I lean over, stare at the ground, watch an ant carry off a breadcrumb. I wish I were an ant…or a breadcrumb.

“Hank, look at me,” Thomas says.

So I do.

“Tell me about Daniel, but do me a favor, and tell me as Hank. Daniel is some kid I don’t know, who had something bad happen to him, far away from here. I’d like to hear my friend Hank tell the story. Okay?”

I nod, wipe my stupid drippy nose with the palm of my hand.

“So there was this kid, Danny Henderson,” I begin. My voice comes out all wobbly, so I clear my throat, take a deep breath, then continue. “He was one of those kids who just did what he was supposed to do, you know? He did his homework, ran track, pretty much did what his parents said and tried not to make trouble for anybody. I mean,