A smoky bar room…guitar music…me singing…
“Brindley?”
I looked up to see Mrs. Adams standing at the front of the classroom and all the students watching me, some smiling, probably expecting me to sink down in my chair and not say a word, like I always did.
“Yes, ma’am?” I said.
“I asked, who crossed the Alps to attack the Romans in two-sixteen BC?”
That’s a dumb question. Is she serious?
I just stared at her.
“That’s what I thought,” Mrs. Adams said. “Anyone?”
Several hands went up.
“Hannibal,” I said, then folded my arms.
“What?” the teacher asked.
“He took thirty-nine elephants and twenty-six thousand soldiers,” I said. “The army was divided into ten thousand cavalry and sixteen thousand foot soldiers. Probably a few hundred camp followers as well.”
“Huh?”
“Most of the elephants died in the cold in the higher elevations.” I glanced around at the other students. Ember’s mouth fell open, and the ones with their hands up, dropped them. “He also lost almost ten thousand troops.” I picked up my yellow pencil and twirled it in my fingers.
Mrs. Adams cleared her throat. “That’s the most you’ve said all semester.”
“Probably.” I opened my textbook and flipped pages, using the eraser on my pencil.
What was the name of that lake where Hannibal fought his third battle in Italy? I should know this.
I came across a picture of the Alps.
Zugspitze! The highest mountain in Bavaria.
I glanced out the window and watched an elm tree shudder in the wind.
There’s a gold-plated cross on the peak. Kabilis and I climbed up there. When? Who’s Kabilis?
“That’s not in the textbook.” Mrs. Adams came toward me, with the history textbook held against her ample breasts.
“What?”
“About the elephants dying in the cold.”
“But they did.”
“I know, but it’s not in the book.”
“Oh.”
“How did you know that?”
“I-I think I read it in the library.”
“Since when do you go to the library?”
“Um…during my lunch hour. Maybe it was in Levy or Herodotus.”
“Hmm…so you’ve read Herodotus’s Histories?”
I nodded.
“Where was Hannibal’s first battle after he crossed the Alps?”
“On the River Trebbia.”
“The second one?”
“Ticino.”
She opened her history book to where a slip of paper marked a page, then scanned down the sentences. “What was the biggest battle he fought in Italy?”
“Cannae. Fifty thousand Romans died in a single day.”
“Yes.” She looked from her book to me. “Yes, that’s true.” She turned to go back to the front of the class, but everyone still stared at me.
Bavaria. When was I in Bavaria? With Kabilis. We learned to ski that winter. He was a Tech Sergeant, U.S. Air Force. What the hell? He was fluent in German and Russian. I was a Master Sergeant. When…
The bell rang for lunchtime.
The others shuffled out. I didn’t move; couldn’t move. My head hurt from the intense pressure. So full of stuff. Jumbled. Swirling like the inside of a tornado.
“Charley.”
I jerked up my head. Mrs. Adams stood, watching me.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Class is over.”
“Oh, okay.”
I collected my books and stood, walking in a dream. My mind was mesmerized, dazed.
What’s going on?
In the hallway, I ignored the kids, but I knew they were watching me. I went mechanically to my locker, took my lunch, and went outside, then headed to the bleachers.
There, I saw Patsy and the disabled girl. I went to their side of the stadium.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked.
They looked up at me, wide-eyed.
“Um…sure,” Patsy said.
I sat and took out my sandwich.
The two girls continued to stare, not eating or speaking.
“What kind of sandwich do you have?” I asked.
The girls looked at each other.
“Peanut butter and jelly,” Patsy said.
“Me, too,” the other one said.
“I’ve got fried egg. My mom always cuts my sandwich into two triangles. Isosceles, I think.” This was the most I’d ever said to a girl, or any kid at school.
Both girls giggled.
“Mine, too,” the other girl said.
“You want to share?” I held out half my sandwich.
“Sure.”
We traded. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Melody.”
“Melody, like a song.”
“Yeah. My mom was a singer.”
“Really?”
She nodded and bit into the egg sandwich. “This is good.” She lifted the bread. “Your mom put mayonnaise, salt, and pepper on it.”
“You’re ‘Charley Brindley,’” Patsy said.
“Yes. Mom calls me ‘Charley Eye.’ You’re ‘Patsy McCarthy.’”
“I guess everyone knows me because I’m so fat.”
“I knew you because you’re in my science class. Do you read a lot?”
“I love to read.”
“Me, too,” I said. “This grape jelly is really sweet. I like it.”
My brain seemed to warm as it hummed. It was very pleasant, watching it fill with memories. But it was also disturbing.
Where is all this coming from? Has it been there all along and I just couldn’t find it?
“Is your mind full of memories?” I asked Melody.
“Sure,” she said. “I can remember everything back to when I was about two. Nothing before that.”
“I’m the same,” Patsy said. “I wonder why we can’t remember things from when we were babies?”
My memories seemed to be of the future, rather than the past.
Things yet to happen? How can that be?
“Do you have memories, like, from your future self?” I asked.
“I daydream a lot,” Patsy said. “About things I want to do after high school.”
“We better go,” Melody said. “It’s almost class time.”
We walked together toward the building, going slow because of Melody’s braces.
Inside the school, we were met with a chorus of ‘Pee Waldy Patsy.’
“Hey,” I whispered to the two girls, “let’s throw it back at them.”
I told them what we should do. They smiled and nodded.
“Ember and Justin, sitting in a tree,” we chanted, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Ember with a baby carriage.”
It was a silly childhood ditty, but it had the desired effect. Several kids laughed.
Ember was stunned for a moment. “Pee Waldy…”
We sang the kissing song again and advanced on the four girls.
Ember stopped, swallowed her next words, then turned to hurry away. Her three friends followed.
“Good job,” I said to Patsy and Melody.
“That felt good,” Patsy said.
“Yes, it did,” I said. “Lunch tomorrow?”
“Heck, yeah,” they said together.
* * * * *
P.E. was the last class of the day. I hated it. I was almost six feet tall, strong, my muscles well-toned from working on the farm. But I didn’t know what to do with my strength.
Sometimes we ran the track or did side-straddle-hops; anything for exercise.
This time, we went to the gym to practice basketball.
I sat on the bleachers, still trying to sort my stampeding thoughts. I was in a war, in a jungle, but it wasn’t World War II, the one that had just ended. This was unlike anything I’d seen in the newsreels. The uniforms were different; some were just flak jackets over green tees and fatigue trousers. And the weapons. They, or we, didn’t carry heavy M-1 rifles…they were smaller, lightweight.
M-16s!
An aircraft flew over us, low, just above the jungle canopy. Very fast. It dropped napalm on an enemy position ahead of us.
That’s an Navy F-4 jet fighter plane. What the heck is happening to me?
“Brindley!” Coach Jameson shouted. “Care to join us?”
“Yes, sir.” I jumped up and ran onto the court.
The coach was a great guy. He always treated me like a regular kid, even though I was awkward and clumsy.
Coach tossed the basketball to me. I caught it and turned it in my hands.
I’ve done this before. Where? When? Vietnam…Da Nang. What the heck?
I spun the ball, then dribbled it.
Crammer came to stand in front of me. He took a defensive stance.
I watched his eyes as I bounced the ball.
He grinned, then went for the ball.
I stepped to the side. He followed my movement. I faked to the right, then went left, still dribbling. He was off-balance. I took a jump shot. The ball swished through the hoop.
Everyone stopped to stare at me.
I ran to get the ball, then dribbled it away from the hoop, turned, and made another jump shot. Perfect.
Crammer ran for the ball, dribbled it out to mid-court.
I ran for him.
He grinned and started toward the hoop.
I swatted the ball away from him, dribbled around two other players, and made a layup.
When the ball came down from the hoop, I grabbed it and passed it to another player.
Playing on a dirt court at the military camp in Vietnam. Very hot. Kabilis and I had cut our camo trousers into shorts. Six GIs on the court. Three of us had pulled off our regulation issue green tees and tossed them aside. Shirts and skins, we called the two teams.
The boy I’d passed the ball to, dribbled, took a jump shot, and missed.
I got the rebound, then threw the ball one-handed, bouncing it off the backboard. It ringed the hoop, then fell through.
The Marine commander gave us two weeks’ furlough. Kabilis and I went to Bangkok. We met…
Crammer bent his knees, raised the ball for a jump shot. Just as he released the ball, I jumped to take it out of the air, then dribbled out and made the shot he tried to make.
We played hard for thirty minutes.
The other players slowly dropped out, sitting on the floor, catching their breath.
Crammer continued to dog me, trying to get the ball.
I ran for the hoop, bouncing the ball. He tripped me from behind. I went down hard but held onto the ball.
Gunfire, mortar exploding all around us.
I stood, still holding the ball under my arm.
We were cut off in the jungle. I was a medic, working on a wounded soldier. More gunfire from the edge of the clearing, Kabilis went down, bleeding bad.
“Brindley!” Crammer said. “Come on.” He tried to swat the ball from my arm.
I passed it behind myself, to my other hand.
We fought the Viet Cong all night, losing three of our men, plus six wounded. What happened to Kabilis?
I tossed the ball to Crammer and went toward the bleachers, where I sat with my head in my hands.
“Charley.” The coach sat beside me. “You okay?”
No, something’s wrong with me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Johnson,” the coach said. “Bring that exercise pad. I think Charley better lie down for a few minutes.”
Pad? iPad! That blue doctor, in the hospital, said there was an iPad in the loft of a round barn.
The bell rang for the end of the class. The school day was over.
“You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m good, Coach.” I stood. “Don’t worry. I was just…um…thinking about my Spanish assignment.”
On the sidewalk, I waited for the bus, trying to sort out my thoughts.
So many weird things. Some guy in a hospital room, dressed in a light blue suit. He’s the one who told me about the iPad in the loft of the round barn. An iPad is a computer. What’s a computer?
Someone came to stand behind me. I glanced around; Crammer.
I hope he starts something about his place in line. This time, he’ll be the one on the ground.
“Where did you learn to play basketball?”
In the Marines, I wanted to say. Wait a minute; I was a Master Sergeant in the Air Force. How did I get in the Marines, and in Vietnam? Where the heck is Vietnam? Oh, yeah. Southeast Asia.
“Um, I’ve got four brothers. We play ball in the backyard.”
“You going out for the team?”
“I don’t know.”
I saw Patsy and Melody come out the double doors of the school building. I waved to them. They waved back, smiling.
Crammer turned that way. “Friends of yours?”His expression looked like he’d just gotten a whiff of something rotten.
“Yeah,” I said. “They are.” I walked toward the girls. “You can have my place in line,” I said over my shoulder.
“Hey,” Patsy said.
“Hi. Which bus do you girls ride?”
“Um…three,” Melody said. “But we walk home.”
“How far is it?” I asked.
“About two miles.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“Better than riding the bus,” Patsy said.
I looked toward the place where bus number three would pull up. Ember stood in line, talking to Henry Witt.
“Let me guess,” I said, “Ember and her gang like to serenade you on the bus?”
Patsy nodded.
The four school buses pulled up, and the kids began to file on.
“I’ve got to get home to start on my chores,” I said.
“Don’t forget lunch,” Melody said.
“Right. See you two in the bleachers tomorrow.”
* * * * *
I found Mom in the kitchen, working on supper. I kissed her cheek.
“How was school today?”
“Good. Very good.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “I’m going to start on chores. I have a lot of homework tonight.”
“I thought you hated homework?”
“I have some interesting assignments. History and poetry.”
She stared at me for a moment, then smiled. “Can you gather some eggs for me?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed the egg basket and headed outside. On the porch steps, I stopped to look across the backyard, past the clothesline and beyond the blacksmith shop. There stood our barn. It was huge because Dad stored a lot of hay for the winter. It was also different than most barns; it was round.
How’d that blue doctor know about our round barn? And if there really is an iPad in the loft, everything just got a lot weirder.
In the barn, I climbed the ladder.
Wow, tons of hay.
I glanced around the huge loft.
Surely, they left me a clue; otherwise, I’ll never find it.
Lots of old harnesses hung on the walls. Cobwebs everywhere.
Spiders have been at work here for decades.
An old coal oil lantern, broken doubletree, leather mule collar stuffed with straw…all covered in dust and cobwebs.
Wait a minute.
I waded through the hay to the lantern. It was perfectly clean; no dust, no spider webs.
That hasn’t been here very long. A lantern lighting the way?
I cleared the hay, down to the floorboards–and there it was: A cardboard box, just about the right size. And two more boxes.
Inside the first one, I found an iPad.
