His friends were stumped, but the problem actually felt good in Christopher’s brain. Kind of like a combination of a long stretch in the morning and a back scratch. As he thought of solutions, he realized that for the last two minutes, his head wasn’t hurting. He actually had an idea.
A sleepover.
Of course.
They could bring sleeping bags and have a sleepover at the tree house. If they each told their parents they were staying with the other, they could work Saturday night all the way through Sunday. It was a risk. The moms would call to check on them. But with cell phones, maybe they could get away with it. Either way, they could work for almost two whole days without interruption.
Mike loved the idea. Matt seemed scared to be in the woods, but he didn’t dare say anything in front of his brother. So, he agreed.
“Can I be in charge of the food?” Special Ed asked.
“Sure, Eddie.”
With the plan settled, Christopher sat back and looked at his friends, giddy and loud with excitement. But to Christopher, the room was almost silent as the pain quietly crawled back into his mind. He didn’t mind the headache. He was getting used to them by now. He was just relieved that his friends were helping him build the tree house because without them, he knew he couldn’t have finished it in time.
“Come on, Chris,” Special Ed exclaimed.
Christopher snapped out of it and realized they were waiting for him, their drinks hoisted and ready for the toast. Christopher raised his drink, and Special Ed’s Yoo-hoo came together with three little milk cartons to toast the glory of the tree house. As he drank the cold milk, Christopher looked at the picture of the missing girl on the carton.
Emily Bertovich.
Her name was so easy to read now.
Christopher was so excited about the tree house, he barely paid attention when he got on the school bus to take him home. He didn’t know any of the kids on his new bus route or neighborhood. Except one.
Jenny Hertzog.
“Floods! Floods!” she teased, even though Christopher’s mom got him new longer pants from the outlet mall.
Their bus stop sat at the end of a long street, next to an old house on the corner. Jenny ran into her house next door with the aluminum siding. Christopher walked down to his cul-de-sac. He looked at the log cabin across the street and the Mission Street Woods that surrounded all of them.
The woods where they would build the tree house.
Christopher felt bad that he didn’t tell his friends everything. But he didn’t want them to think he was crazy. Like his dad. He also didn’t want to frighten them. But there were other things the nice man had told Christopher as they stayed up all night, talking. Most of them were confusing. Some of them were scary.
But Christopher trusted the nice man. There was something about his voice. A kindness. A warmth. And even when Christopher was skeptical, everything the nice man told him was true. As it turned out, Special Ed’s father did have a garage full of tools. Mike and Matt did help their uncle George build things. Christopher was taken out of Mrs. Henderson’s remedial reading class that day. Jenny Hertzog was at his bus stop.
And he had to finish the tree house before Christmas.
“But what’s the hurry? What does the tree house do?” he asked.
you’d never believe me. you’ll have to see it for yourself.
Chapter 21
They began on a Saturday.
It was freezing, late November, and the trees blocked out whatever sun the clouds had spared. But the boys were too excited to care. The week could not have gone any better. The M&M’s found the place where the Collins Construction Company stored building supplies. And the team figured out a way to move everything to the clearing.
“You ever heard of a wheel barrel?” Special Ed said in CCD.
“You mean a wheelbarrow?” Christopher said.
“I know what I meant,” Special Ed said with a huff.
What he lacked in vocabulary, Special Ed made up for in business savvy. He had raided his father’s tool chests and found two dirty magazines to boot (great for resale value!).
On Saturday morning, Christopher woke up early and got out his favorite backpack. The special one with Bad Cat asking, “Do you have any food in here?” He went downstairs and sat next to his mom on the couch. She was as warm as her coffee and smelled even better.
“Where are you off to so early?” she asked.
Ever since Christopher had gone missing for a week, his mother was extra protective of him leaving.
“I’m hanging out with Eddie and the M&M’s,” he said. “We’re meeting at Eddie’s house. We were going to play all day. Maybe have a sleepover.”
“Does his mother know that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
And sure enough, a text chirped through almost on cue.
Kate. Eddie is bugging me for a sleepover. Virginia and Sage already said yes. OK with you?
Christopher’s mom had no idea that Special Ed was the one typing and then immediately erasing the texts at precisely 8:30 a.m. Nor did she suspect that the M&M’s had already done the same thing on their end to free Special Ed for the night. The boys didn’t know how kids got away with anything when people actually talked to each other. But their texting plan worked like a charm. Christopher’s mom typed back.
Sure, Betty. I’ll grab an extra shift at work now. Thanks.
Phew.
“Keep your phone on,” she said as she dropped him off at Special Ed’s house. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten sharp.”
“Mom, please—”
“Fine then. Nine thirty.”
“Okay. Ten. No problem!” he said before things went south.
“You be careful,” she said. “No leaving Eddie’s house. No wandering off. No kidding.”
“Yes, Mom,” he said.
She put him out of the car with a hug.
Christopher found the boys in the garage, where Special Ed’s father stored all of the camping gear that his family had used exactly zero times. Eddie was proudly showing the M&M’s his Playboy-funded windows stacked on the wheelbarrow.
“I told you my dad had a wheel barrel,” he said.
With that, they set to work.
The boys grabbed flashlights, lanterns, and old sleeping bags that Special Ed’s mother was too lazy to remember to make their housekeeper throw out. They stuffed one of the bags with bread and peanut butter and chipped ham. They threw paper plates and plastic spoons on top with milk and Froot Loops. And of course, two bags of Oreos. The sleeping bag looked like a lumpy cigar.
There was barely enough room in their backpacks for the tools.
So, as Special Ed’s mother slept off her “bridge night,” the boys walked to the Collins Construction entrance to the Mission Street Woods. As luck would have it, the guard was making his rounds and the workers were too busy excavating a nearby site, so the boys had their pick of the woodpile. They filled their arms with 2x4s and headed to the fence. They pushed their cart under the wire and hopped over, making a small path through the field. Past the COLLINS CONSTRUCTION COMPANY sign.
Right to the edge of the Mission Street Woods.
They stopped. Cautious and silent. Like Hansel and Gretel in their old bedtime stories. When they believed in such things as witches and wolves.