Driftwood Page 8

  “Good,” I said. I decided not to mention the milkshakes after all. “We got a bunch of candles.”

  “Perfect,” she said, dipping her brush in her water jar. “Any luck finding driftwood?”

  I was telling her about the piece Dad found when a head appeared over the edge of the bank. It was Nevin, and he was carrying a canvas. He threw me a quick glare but as soon as he looked at my mom his face broke into a smile.

  “I did what you said,” he told her.

  “And how did it go?”

  “It felt a bit strange, but only at first,” he said. “After that it was awesome.”

  Then he turned his canvas around for Mom to see what he’d painted. I don’t know what she was expecting, but I thought it would be a scene from the shore, where he’d been painting. It wasn’t.

  “What is it?” I blurted.

  “It’s an abstract,” Mom explained.

  Nevin looked embarrassed. He started to turn the canvas away.

  “It’s really cool,” I said. It was true—I liked it a lot. I stepped closer for a better look.

  Nevin seemed suspicious but he stopped trying to hide the painting. Mom looked it over slowly, nodding and saying things about central colours and flow and other stuff that didn’t mean a thing to me.

  Nevin sure seemed to find Mom’s comments interesting, judging by the expression on his face. He was hanging onto every word, asking questions and listening to her answers like she was giving him directions to buried treasure. But then she asked him a question.

  “Are you planning to study art after you finish high school?”

  All the light went out of Nevin’s face. His head dropped and he mumbled, “My parents are against it. They don’t think you can make a good living with art.”

  “There are a lot of misconceptions about that,” Mom said. “Maybe your parents don’t know all the careers an artist can have. You can do as well in some of them as in any other field.”

  “Really?” Nevin said.

  “Absolutely. If they’re against the idea, then it’s up to you to learn what kind of jobs are possible and take that information to them. They’re more likely to listen if you can prove what you’re talking about.”

  “I will,” Nevin promised. His smile was back.

  “And if it doesn’t change their mind—well then, you have to decide how much you want it. Lots of young people work part time and take student loans—if it matters enough, you’ll find a way.”

  “If I have enough talent,” he said.

  “I think you do,” I blurted, which made both of them turn and look at me in surprise.

  Then Nevin laughed, and said, “That’s en-couraging, coming from someone who helped feed me a worm.”

  That got Mom’s attention and I thought I’d be in trouble, but he laughed again and said, “It was nothing. Just an inside joke.”

  Nevin wasn’t turning out to be so bad after all. In fact, the more I thought about it, he was like the opposite of the coyote in the story Theo had told. I had a feeling that the mean side of Nevin was an act and, for some reason, he was hiding a pretty okay guy underneath it.

  The next morning he showed up at our door right after breakfast. He helped carry Mom’s supplies and they headed off to the field to spend the morning painting.

  Dad was back to work on his laptop so I headed over to cabin four, hoping for better news than I’d gotten the last time I was there. Mackenzie answered my knock.

  “Are you better?” she asked before I could open my mouth.

  “Me?”

  “Yes. We went to get you the other day and your mom said you were awful sick.”

  “Oh, right.” I’d almost forgotten my own day in bed. I told her I was fine and she told me she was fine, too, and then Makayla announced from behind her that she wouldn’t mind being able to get out the door if Mackenzie could get her butt out of the way.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Makayla asked as soon as we’d cleared out of her way.

  I saw that she was staring at the piece of driftwood I’d brought along. “My dad found it yesterday,”

  I said.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Makayla practically yelled. “Let’s go see Theo!”

  I was a bit nervous about walking past Nevin with them but I didn’t have anything to worry about. They marched by him with little more than a glance, and didn’t even notice the slight nod he gave me. I thought he looked like he felt sorry for me, but I might have imagined that.

  The girls talked so much on the way to Theo’s that it’s a wonder they had time to breathe. I guess they were making up for the quiet day they’d just had, but I could hardly keep up with what they were saying.

  It was their usual recital of interesting facts. Stories and numbers and bits of trivia floated into the air and right by me as we walked along. The only thing I remembered by the end of it all was that most dust is actually dead skin cells that fall off people and their pets. That one was gross enough for me to want to remember to tell people back home. I was thinking I’d trick one of the guys into licking something dusty, and then let him know what he’d just eaten.

  We got to Theo’s place in no time, and before we knew it, he was holding the piece of driftwood and telling us all about it.

  THE BAOBAB TREE

  This limb is from a tree that is thousands of years old. It is known as the baobab, although some call it the boab tree. Surprisingly, in spite of its age, the tree from which this branch was taken is still alive. It can be found in Senegal, which is a country on the west coast of Northern Africa.

  The baobab is unusual because its trunk can grow to be enormous. In time, it becomes hollow inside. Some baobab trees are even large enough to live in. This particular tree had not grown quite that big, although its trunk was very large compared to trees we see around here.

  On the beautiful coast of Senegal, there was a peaceful village where everybody lived in harmony. You could often hear the people of the village singing as they went about their work. Even though they did not have much, they were content with what they did have, and for this reason they were happy.

  In this village lived a girl who was called Binata. Binata was fourteen years old and the daughter of a fisherman. She was a lovely girl, slim and graceful, with skin like polished ebony and eyes as dark as a moonless night.

  Each day, Binata would spend the morning helping her mother. After that she would make her way through the village to the water’s edge, waiting for the fishermen to come with their catch. As her bare feet padded softly on the dusty ground, villagers would call out greetings, which she answered with good cheer and a smile.

  Often, Binata would fish at the water’s edge as she watched for the boats. As she did so, she sang a song,

  Come fish, flick your tail

  Come to the land

  Come with your rainbow scale

  Come to my hand.

  Later, the fishermen and some of the village women worked together, gutting and cleaning the day’s catch. The days passed simply and happily for Binata and her village. But that was all about to change.

  The change came because the rain stopped falling on the land to the east. This brought a drought to villages that were only two days’ walk from Binata’s beautiful coastal home. In the place without rain, there was not enough water. There was not enough food. People began to die. At first, it was the sickly and feeble, but they knew it was only a matter of time before the healthy would follow. Fear gripped the hearts of the people in those other villages. They watched the sky and prayed for clouds but day after day the sky was blue and clear, and the blazing sun mocked their growing thirst.

  The people in those villages gathered around their leaders demanding that something be done. If you do not act, we will all die, they said with one voice. The land they possessed had turned against them. And so, a plan was formed. They must seek a new place to live.

  Scouts were sent out to help the leaders choose the right path
. They returned with news that there was a large and prosperous town that could be reached on foot in several days. This town, they reported, was too strong for them to overtake, but south of that town was a village that would be easy for their warriors to defeat.

  And so it was. This was how it came to pass that Binata’s happy village became enslaved. They were forced to give their homes and all that they possessed to strangers. Each day when the fishermen returned with their catch, they had to watch with empty bellies as the intruders satisfied their hunger. The villagers had to make do with the scraps that were left over.

  Things went on this way for some time. Then, one morning, Binata’s father and two other men from her village managed to slip away and go to the larger town to the north of their village. There, they asked what it would cost to hire the town’s warriors to help them. It was with heavy hearts that they returned with the news that the amount was much greater than the village could possibly pay. The situation seemed hopeless.

  One day, Binata was at her usual place, fishing while she waited for the boats. As she lifted one fish from the water, she was startled to hear it speak.

  “Wait, friend!” the fish said.

  “You are no friend to me,” Binata answered.

  “Let me go,” said the fish, “and I will prove it.”

  “I cannot let you go,” Binata answered. “There is little enough food to feed the waiting mouths.” She raised her knife.

  “Wait!” cried the fish. “If you let me go, I will make you wealthy.”

  Binata smiled to herself. She knew that talking fish could be very tricky. Still, it would be interesting to hear what this fish had to say.

  “Not so very far from here is a sunken ship,” the fish told her. “In that ship, there are trunks filled with gold pieces. Let me go, and I will bring you a piece of gold every day until you have everything that your heart desires.”

  Binata laughed. “You are a sly one,” she said. Again she made ready to put her knife to the fish but something stopped her.

  “That is the first time I have laughed since the intruders came,” she said. “And for that, you shall have your freedom.”

  With that, she leaned forward and let the fish slip away into the cool, blue water.

  But the fish had not tricked Binata. The very next day it was there, waiting in the shallow water. It caught her eye with a flick of its tail and when she reached down, it spit a gold piece into her hand.

  Binata hid the gold piece in the folds of her garment but she knew she must find a safer place. If the intruders discovered it, they would take it from her. Binata’s eyes swept the land around her and settled on an old baobab tree. It had been there for hundreds of years, and its fat trunk had grown hollow. Binata hurried to the tree and slipped her hand into an opening near the bottom. She reached back as far as she could and dropped the gold piece.

  Each day the fish returned with more gold and each day Binata made another deposit into the baobab’s trunk. This continued for weeks, and finally there was enough. Binata told her father of the hidden treasure, and once again a party was sent to the northern town. This time, they were able to meet the warriors’ price and, with their help, the intruders were easily driven off.

  Happiness and harmony were restored to the village. And Binata never saw the fish again.

  I was starting to notice that Theo’s driftwood stories ended before you wanted them to. Every one of them left me wondering things, and there was no way to get answers.

  That’s what was going through my head when Mackenzie said, “Imagine if Binata hadn’t let the fish go!”

  “Their village would never have been freed,” Makayla said.

  “And she didn’t even think the fish was telling the truth,” Mackenzie said with a faraway look on her face. “She must have been so surprised when it showed up the next day.”

  “I wonder why the fish stopped coming,” Makayla said. “Binata could have been rich!”

  “That’s right!” Makenzie said. “Didn’t he promise her she would have everything she wanted, Theo?”

  “Yes,” Theo said. “That was his promise.”

  “Then why didn’t he keep it?” I asked.

  “But he did.” Theo said. He smiled, but it was a serious smile so we knew he wasn’t kidding. There was quiet for a few minutes, while we thought about what he meant.

  It was Theo who broke the silence. “Would anyone like a bird’s nest cookie?”

  A cookie made out of a bird’s nest didn’t sound too appealing to me. Of course, I knew that Theo’s snacks were hardly ever what you expected them to be. So I said I’d try one. And the girls both said, “Yes,” right away.

  Let me tell you, when I sank my teeth into that cookie I was sure glad I hadn’t turned it down. It was the best cookie I’d ever had, covered in coconut, with raspberry filling in a dent in the centre of it. It didn’t take me long to reach out when Theo passed the plate around a second time.

  “It does me good to have youngsters dropping by,” Theo said.

  “And we love coming here,” Makayla told him.

  “But this will be our last visit,” Mackenzie added. “We’re going home tomorrow.”

  “I thought you were staying for two weeks,” I said.

  “We did, silly,” said Makayla.

  “Don’t you mean sweetie?” Mackenzie asked. They both giggled.

  I could hardly believe that two weeks had gone by already. Making new friends like Joey and the twins was great, but then having them leave and not knowing if I’d ever see them again wasn’t so hot.

  That night I had a dream. When it started, I was walking on the shore with the girls and Joey. We were on our way to Theo’s place but after we’d gone a short distance, I spotted something on the ground and stopped to investigate. It seemed to be a piece of driftwood, but when I got closer, I saw instead that it was a large fish. I looked around to tell the others, but they had vanished. That was when the fish gasped and spoke.

  “Help me back into the water, friend,” it cried.

  I knelt and was startled to see that the fish had Billy’s face. But when I reached my hand out to help it, I discovered that my arm was covered in grey hair. Fear raced through my veins as I understood what this meant.

  I was the coyote.

  I jolted awake and lay there with my heart thumping in my chest. It slowed to normal after a few minutes, but my thoughts didn’t settle so quickly. By the time I’d sorted through them I knew what I had to do.

  Sliding out of bed, I tiptoed to the other room, where I’d left my iPod. There was a message I needed to send.

  ...

  When I got up the next morning I was glad to see that cabin four wasn’t empty yet. When Joey’s family left so early it had felt strange that I never had a chance to say goodbye. At least I’d be able to do that with Mackenzie and Makayla.

  They were all taking things out to the car when I got there so I pitched in and helped. Then I noticed that Nevin and his folks had just finished packing their car too. I ran over as Nevin was about to get into the back seat. He was back to wearing his sullen face and I was glad I had seen the other side of him.

  “I have to tell you something,” I said.

  He looked about as interested as a rock.

  “You never ate a worm,” I said. “It was a trick. The piece you saw was rubber.”

  For a second I saw anger flare in his eyes. He looked across at the twins, who were standing, staring at me. Then he relaxed and kind of grinned a bit. He said, “Good enough then,” and gave me a feeble punch on the shoulder.

  “What was that about?” Mackenzie asked when I got back to their place.

  “Just something between guys,” I said.

  She looked annoyed but she didn’t pester me about it, and when they were ready to leave she surprised me with a quick hug.

  I watched their car drive off and wondered if the next batch of campers would bring anyone interesting. With nothing else to do, I mad
e up my mind to hang around and see.

  It didn’t look too promising. I spent part of the morning and most of the afternoon watching. Not all of the cabins got new people—there were two besides ours whose campers were staying on. One was a young couple that seemed to divide their time evenly between arguing and making up. The other was a pair of old ladies who were sisters. Mom said they were spinsters. That’s what my Great-aunt Marilyn is too, so I knew it meant they’d never gotten married.

  It seemed that mostly everyone who came to Schooner Point was friendly, but it was still going to be boring if none of the new batch of renters had kids. My age, that is. Two of the cabins that filled up the day after the twins left were couples with toddlers.

  I don’t care for little kids. They’re always wailing or yelling about something or other. When they run, they never look where they’re going. Instead, they turn their heads and look sideways—and keep looking sideways until they bang into something. But if one of them crashes into you and falls over, it’s somehow your fault. And, their noses seem to run about eighty percent of the time, which is gross.

  At supper, Mom commented that if there was no one my age around this week, I might be able to make a few bucks doing some babysitting. “You’re almost old enough, and I’m sure it would be fine, since your father and I are right here,” she said. Then she gave me one of her ‘great idea, huh?’ smiles.

  I don’t think the look I gave back left her with any doubts about what I thought of that plan.

  “The boy looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon, June,” Dad said.

  Mom shrugged. “It was just a thought.”

  I hoped that was the end of it. Mom has been known to bring something up again after you thought it was settled. She tries to sneak it in front of you in a new way, like you won’t notice it’s a recycled idea.

  Dad and I did the dishes after supper and then I wandered down to the shore. By now, it felt familiar, like it was a part of my world. I skipped a few stones out into the water and kept my eyes open for any new driftwood that might have come in on the tide, but there was nothing. I sat on a big stone and watched the waves lap the shore for a while. If you’ve ever spent time staring out at a river or lake, you probably know how peaceful that made me feel.