Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga (6 page)

As oppressive as the heat was, it was a refreshing change from the floods the year before. Much of the Bonaparte area had been underwater when the Des Moines River flooded.

“Hot, Pop?” Alex said.

Alan nodded. “To heck with this. Let’s go to town and get a soda before our haircuts.”

“What about the rocks?”

Alan pushed his wheelbarrow toward the pickup. “We’ll finish tomorrow.”

Alex fell into step beside his father with his own load of rocks. “Tomorrow’s the Fourth.”

“So?”

“So…” Alex grinned. “Tomorrow’s the day I celebrate my independence from slave labor.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s so,” said Alex, his grin widening.

Alan stopped pushing and pointed at his chest. “You calling me a slave driver?”

Alex paused and furrowed his brow. “Well… Yeah.”

“Why you little—” Alan grinned and lunged at his son. “C’mere, you!”

Alex pushed his wheelbarrow with all the speed he could muster as his father chased after him. Rocky hopped up and bounded along beside his humans, barking and nipping playfully at Alan’s heels.

*****

Alex was beginning to regret his choice in haircut. The back of his neck was on fire, both from sunburn and the tiny hair trimmings clinging to his skin. Delmar, a sixty-year-old marathon runner, was relaying the tale of his latest race to Alan as he waited his turn. Finally Delmar removed the apron and shook Alex’s shorn hair onto the speckled linoleum.

“There you are, young man.” Delmar lowered the chair for Alex. “Bet that’s a weight off your mind.”

Alex scratched his neck, not nearly as hard as he’d like. He studied his reflection in the mirror beside the chair. Good Lord, did his ears
really
stick out that far?

Alan put down his magazine and walked over to the chair. He rubbed Alex’s head and looked down at the pile of ginger hair on the floor. “Boy, Delmar, there’s enough here to make you a helluva rug.”

Delmar laughed and rubbed his bald head. “No, sir. I find this much easier to manage.”

Alex sat in the waiting area at the front of the shop and flipped through the stack of backdated issues of
People
and
Popular Mechanics
. Finding nothing of interest, he stared out the window at the playground across the street and watched the little kids on the merry-go-round. His eyes widened and his heart jumped as he caught a glimpse of blond hair. Crystal Hammond, a girl from his class, was pushing her little sister on the swing set.

She was almost as tall as Alex, with dazzling blue eyes and long, straw-colored hair. Alex smiled. He’d had a crush on Crystal ever since the fourth grade when her family moved to the area from somewhere out east. New York? New Hampshire? Someplace “New.” Unfortunately he had never worked up the courage to tell her how he felt about her.

As the adults’ conversation turned to hog prices, Alex decided to escape the boring, air-conditioned barbershop and brave the heat.

“Hey, Pop?”

“Yeah, Alex?” called Alan as Delmar leaned the chair back to the sink to wash his hair.

“I’m going to go over to the park for a bit.”

“Okay.”

As Alex stepped outside, a heavy breeze picked up and sent a chill down his spine, tickling his sunburn. He took a moment to rub his freshly buzzed head and slipped on a red Bonaparte Indians baseball cap. To his left, on a bench in front of the grocery store, sat an old man wearing a blue windbreaker in spite of the summer heat. He looked at Alex and said in a toothless voice, “Wind smells like rain.”

“Uh huh,” Alex replied automatically, not really listening as he watched Crystal.

“Could be a wet Fourth again this year.”

“Yeah. Could be.”

Crystal was laughing, and Alex couldn’t help but smile. She looked up, and their eyes met. Alex stiffened as his heart leapt in his chest.

This was it; now or never. His smile faded, however, as a red Ford pickup turned into the parking space directly in front of him, blocking his path.

::Move.::

Alex deftly sidestepped to the right as the truck jumped the curb and rocketed past him. The gust of wind left in the truck’s wake blew the hat from his head. The old timer wailed in terror and dove out of the way just before the truck crushed the bench and crashed through the grocery store window in a cacophony of exploding mortar and tinkling glass.

As the truck lurched to a halt, the driver immediately jumped out and ran to Alex’s side. “Are you all right? Oh my God, I don’t know what — My brakes — Are you okay?”

Alex stared at the truck and nodded, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Alex!”

He turned to see Crystal running across the street, tugging her sister behind her. She ran up onto the sidewalk beside him. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

Alex nodded, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“Oh my God,” Crystal repeated, her breathing labored from the running. “You could have been crushed!”

“Alex!”

The teens turned to see Mr. Walker and Delmar exiting the barbershop, the latter still gripping a comb and scissors in his trembling hands. Despite his concern, Alan looked ridiculous with the black barber’s apron still tied around his neck. Alan wrapped his son in his arms. “Alex! Are you all right?”

“I’m okay, Pop. Honest.”

Alan whirled on the driver of the truck and slammed him into the side of the wrecked pickup. “You
idiot
! You could have killed my boy!”

“I’m sorry! I—” the driver tried to explain.

“Not yet, you’re not.” Alan raised his fist to punch the driver.

“Pop, it wasn’t his fault,” said Alex. “His brakes—”

But Alan wasn’t listening. The driver of the pickup closed his eyes and prepared for the strike.

Alex stepped forward. “Dad,
no
!”

Alan’s fist surged toward the driver’s nose, but stopped suddenly in mid-air. Despite his efforts, it simply would not move another inch, backward or forward. Alan turned to look at his son, who was glaring at the suspended fist with an iron stare.

Crystal slipped her hand into Alex’s and squeezed. Startled, Alex looked down at her hand and his anger subsided. The invisible hold on Alan’s fist faded and he stumbled forward as his balance shifted.

The driver fell to his knees and sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” Alan helped the man to his feet. “
I’m
sorry. There was nothing you could have done.”

The distant wail of a police siren grew as a crowd began to gather. News travels fast in small towns.

“Crystal! Megan!” cried Mrs. Hammond as she exited the demolished grocery store and ran to her two daughters.

She dropped her bags and fussed over them, checking them for cuts and bruises as if they had been in danger instead of Alex. After finally hearing the full story from various members of the growing crowd — most of the accounts over-dramatized by those who hadn’t seen it — Crystal’s mother ushered the girls away toward her car.

Crystal reluctantly turned to follow her mother and sister. “Bye, Alex.”

Alex raised his hand in a half wave. “Bye.”

He watched her go and cursed under his breath. His big chance to finally say something —
anything
— to her, and he blew it!

::Go after her, you idiot!::

Alex steeled his resolve and jogged after her. “Crystal!”

Crystal turned as he came skidding to a halt beside her. Before he could stop himself, the words seemed to explode out of him,
“Wannawatchthefireworkswithmetomorrownight?”

Crystal blinked. “Sorry?”

“I mean…” Alex cleared his throat. “Would you like to come watch the fireworks with me tomorrow night?”

Crystal nodded. “Okay!”

“Really?” Alex gawked, then shook his head. “I mean, great! Umm, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then?”

Crystal giggled. “I guess so.”

“Crystal,” called Mrs. Hammond from the car. “Let’s go!”

“I’ve gotta go,” Crystal said. She turned and gave him a final wave. “Bye, Alex.”

“Bye.”

He watched the car until it disappeared down a side street.

Alex punched the air triumphantly.
“Yes!”

::There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?::

“No,” said Alex. “That wasn’t too bad at—”

Alex turned and looked around him, trying to find the source of the question, but there was no one within fifty feet of him. He shrugged and walked back to the barber shop.

Chapter Seven

July 4th

Alex stared at his reflection in the mirror. His buzzed head reminded him of the fuzz on a peach… a very red peach. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it looked ridiculous. He pulled on his baseball cap and tugged it low over his eyes. Instant fix.

“Alex,” his mother called from the kitchen, “come on. Your father wants to get there early and pick a good spot.”

“For a change!” Alan added.

“Coming, Mom.”

As he entered the kitchen, his mother shook her head. “Honestly, Alex, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You must have tried on ten shirts.”

“Eight,” Alex muttered as he collected his folding chair from the hall closet.

“Just who are you trying to impress?”

“Alex has a date with the Hammond girl,” said Alan as he passed through the room holding a picnic basket, a folded blanket, and a case of beer. “Can you open the door for me, Janny?”

Janice did her best impression of the Cheshire Cat. “
Crystal
Hammond?”

“Mom.” Alex felt his ears suddenly growing very hot. “It’s no big deal. We’re just watching the fireworks together.”

“Honey,” said Alan. “The door, please.”

Janice adjusted Alex’s cap. “Well, I think you two would make a cute couple.”

“Earth to Janice!”

“Mom,” Alex whined.

“This door isn’t going to open itself.” Alan tapped it with his toe.

Alex whirled toward the door. “
I’ll
get it!”

With a soft click, the door slowly swung open on its own. Alex’s eyes widened.

“Huh,” said Alan. “Never mind.”

Alex shook his head.
Surely
he hadn’t just opened the door just by thinking about it, had he? No, that was crazy. He followed his father outside, hands clamped over his ears to block out his mother’s constant ribbing about Crystal.

“It’s
not
a date!”

*****

The Bonaparte city park sat on the northern bank of the Des Moines River. Every year, hundreds of people crammed themselves onto the grass, playground equipment, and even the bridge crossing to the south bank to watch the fireworks. There had been no display the year before due to the incessant rains, and this unfortunate fact bolstered this year’s attendance.

The ground was already covered with blankets and folding chairs when the Walkers arrived. As his parents waded through the sea of people, Alex craned his neck and stood on tiptoe, searching for any sign of Crystal’s family. He was about to give up and join his parents when he felt a light tap on his left shoulder. He looked but saw no one there. When he heard the soft feminine giggle, he turned to his right and saw Crystal smiling at him.

“Hi!”

“H-hi,” Alex stammered.

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the back of the park. “I saved us a spot by the big tree.”

“Oooohhh,” said a scathing voice behind them. “How
womantic
!”

The teens turned to see the local bully Baxter Franklin, the only eighth grader in the state of Iowa with a driver’s license, and three of his high school cronies sitting on a wooden fence. Baxter hopped down from his perch and made sloppy kissing noises at them.

::Grow up, jerkoff.::

“Yeah,” said Alex. “Grow up.”

Baxter blinked, confused by the outburst.

Crystal glowered at the bully. “Let’s go, Alex.”

Crystal led him to a red blanket spread out underneath an old oak tree.

Alex looked around nervously. “So, where are your parents sitting?”

“On the other side of the park.” Crystal winked.

“Oh.” Alex propped his chair against the tree and sat on the blanket next to Crystal.

Alex’s eyes darted back and forth from Crystal to the blanket, trying to find the right words, but he knew everything he thought of would make him sound like a gibbering idiot. Finally, to his relief, Crystal broke the ice. “I still can’t get over what happened yesterday.”

“Yeah, that was pretty bizarre.”

Crystal hugged her knees. “I had nightmares about it all night. I was afraid to go back to sleep.”

“Funny,” said Alex. “It really didn’t bother me at all. It just — I don’t know — happened.”

Crystal laid a hand on top of his. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

Alex felt his ears getting warm again. “Yeah.”

The whistle of an ascending rocket saved Alex from having to come up with something clever to say, and they looked up just in time to see the brilliant red and green explosion of the evening’s opening fireworks. Alex reclined to better watch the display, and his stomach turned a somersault when Crystal did the same, resting her head on his shoulder. He prayed that the deafening booms of the exploding fireworks would be loud enough to drown out the thunderous beating of his heart. After a few moments, he began to relax, letting his hand slowly slip into hers.

The flowery scent of her hair found his nostrils and he breathed deep. She smelled wonderful. Like… spring.

Just then, a raindrop splattered right between Alex’s eyes and the words of the old man from the day before echoed in his mind.

Could be a wet Fourth again this year.

A deafening thunderclap filled the air. If not for the rain, Alex would have thought it was part of the show, but the drops continued to fall and grow in intensity, sending hundreds of people running for shelter. Alex and Crystal scrambled to cover themselves with the blanket. Once underneath, Crystal began to laugh.

Her laugh was so infectious that Alex couldn’t help but join in. He laughed so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks. Slowly the laughter faded and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized Crystal was staring at him. Alex’s heart jumped into his throat when she closed her eyes and slowly inched her face toward his.