“Don’t worry about the window, Brix. We’ll get it fixed on the day of the ceremony,” mentioned Sonu at dinner.
“It doesn’t bother me. I like the breeze that comes in.”
“You say that now, but wait until gusts of freezing cold wind come barreling through. You won’t say that then.”
“Won’t it look obvious if we try and cover up a tree growing through our house? I mean, do you think they’ll notice?”
“The Fatals only see what they want to see. We did get lucky though that your room is in the back and off the street.”
“That’s true.”
“Plus that old tree has been there for so many years, you can’t even tell that it goes through the building. They’ll never notice a few missing branches.”
“Once again, very true. But why the day of the ceremony? What makes that day so special?”
“If we do it then, everybody will be so frantic at the library, they won’t pay any attention to someone hanging outside the building putting in a window.”
“Do you even know how to put in a window?”
“No, but you forget. I too read. I can figure it out easily enough. It’s getting the supplies that will be the harder part. Besides,” she took a bite of fresh lettuce from the garden and cheese from a woman she traded with, “I have an idea.”
“Well, we’ve only got two days to do it.” He knew by now not to question Sonu’s ideas. Even if he did, she’d do them anyway.
“Good thing we finished ahead of schedule. I don’t think I could carry another book. Let alone another load of them.”
“And you made sure to grab all of the good ones?”
“Yes, Brixton. I had to leave a lot behind so they wouldn’t be too suspicious, but I made sure to grab all your favorites. The ceremony is supposed to be a book burning. How are they to do that when there aren’t any books?” she laughed.
“I still don’t see why you never let me make a trip.”
“I couldn’t sit here and wait for you to get back if I let you do it. I would have worried way too much. I’m faster anyway,” she said the last part under her breath with a smile.
“Oh please,” he smiled back. “But I am old enough to take care of myself. I would’ve been fine.”
“Well, it’s over and done with. Your carpentry skills are impeccable too by the way. I’m very impressed with the window seat.”
As Brixton took a bite of broccoli and carrots, an even bigger smile drew across his face. He did do a pretty good job. With few supplies and even fewer bits of hardware, Brixton managed to take a rusted neon “O” from the junkyard down the street and bolt it in front of the window seat. The “O” had an outside ring and then a smaller ring lined the inside of it. This made a perfect place to store books. Once in place, he established sections for the books. Brixton and Sonu both were amazed that the bulkiness of books could flow so gracefully within the “O”. It brought the room together.
“You can let me go to an old landfill packed with all sorts of dangers that could get me into trouble but not to a safe library where the most that could happen to me would be a paper cut?”
“There’s a difference and you know it, Brix. Everybody takes things from the dump. The Fatals don’t care about garbage. They would care if they saw a teenage boy making multiple trips to the library with loads of books in his hands each time.”
“Yeh well, I could’ve done it.”
They ate the rest of their dinner in quiet peacefulness. Their home invited a new feeling for them both. Warmth surrounded and covered them like all the wool blankets they had tucked away in an old cedar crate. Brixton sunk into his bed that night with great relief.
No more decorating. Tomorrow is also Monday.
He put his hands behind his head and watched the leaves trickle down like golden rain. If he listened close enough, their rustling actually did sound like a gentle creek flowing through his room.
“Tomorrow will be great,” he said with a sigh.
Chapter Three: The Man in the Lighthouse
Every Monday morning, he visited a friend of theirs. Brixton anticipated this particular trip more than any other. He couldn’t wait to tell Walt about the apartment makeover. Even though Sonu told him not to tell anybody, Walter wasn’t anybody . His mom knew that too. She wouldn’t mind. Walter was the only other person they could really, truly trust.
Brixton wished he could tell Walt the whole story; from the beginning when she heard about The Burning Ceremony. He wanted to explain every detail. Besides, Walter loved details. But he knew Sonu would never say how she found out. Not even to him. So even if he wanted to tell Walt the details, he would never be able to tell him the entire thing. Only the reading of her penny would explain the stewing mind of Sonuta Bex.
As he walked along the beach, the slight misty breeze from the rumbling ocean reminded Brixton of the first time he met Walter. His mother had set up a weekly visit to see the wise, old man.
“You could learn a thing or two from him,” she explained as they walked down the street.
At the time he was only five. How much could he learn? He didn’t care anyway. It wouldn’t bother him if he didn’t learn a single thing. It was Walter’s house that he wanted to investigate. All the kids in the Court wanted to. Every single one of them yearned for a chance to see what was up in the old man’s house that still went about lighting up the ocean at night.
Walter was a man who kept to himself. That made the lighthouse even more mysterious and desirable for everyone; big or small. To be the lucky individual to get the opportunity to see inside it was what convinced Brixton to go along with his mother on the weekly trips.
Children watched with envious scowls as they passed by. Brixton had made sure not to leave a single kid out when he let them all know what he was doing. He made the announcement at school the week before. He thought that gave them plenty of time to spread the word he’d be taking lessons from the man in the lighthouse. And did the word ever spread. He felt almost as if he and his mother were in a parade. Not only children but their parents stood on the sidewalk in great anticipation to watch them go by. Some called out to Brixton.
”Good luck! You’re going to need it!”
“I heard he eats kids. That’s why your mom’s taking you.”
“Be careful!”
Once they turned the corner and headed for the sandy shore, the crowd died down and they were alone again.
From their house to Walter’s, it took close to twenty minutes to walk. To go through town and stay on the street it was even less, but Sonu loved to sink her feet into the sand and feel its warm embrace.
Whatever that time was, they had to add about ten more minutes on because she enjoyed tossing up the sand and hunting for seashells washed ashore. She liked to think of stories about their travels and how they tumbled onto the beach. Were they hundreds of years old? Had they been buried at the bottom of the ocean all this time? What finally broke them free? She included all this in her tales she told Brixton each night before he went to sleep.
Walter’s house set firmly at the very tip of a small cove on the island. Not a single house surrounded him; only sand and sea.
“I wish we could live here,” Brixton said to Sonu as they came to the doorstep.