Chapter 3

A Chapter by Joey Calvo

Noah Rose, an 11-year-old girl has started off pretty rough. Her mom doesn't believe in her dream of being a sailor. Luckily, Milo is here to help. With the two of them together, anything is possible.

Chapter 3:

Dawn had come without warning. The bleakness of the morning sun was enough to make me unhappy about the start of today. My jeans were tattered from the swarms of attendees at the Day of Filia, but my mind was still unfamiliar to the idea that loads of love-filled people could be so overwhelming as to put a tear in one's jeans. I hadn't thought about yesterday much more than that, though. I was more focused on Mr. Hansons promise of a boating excursion at the docks today. What a good time I will have, I truly admire Eugene's willingness; not many people are enthusiastic about taking someone who isn't quite experienced in their craft under their wing; I know I wouldn't be. But despite the commonness of it, I still didn't understand that Eugene wasn't common and was gladly willing to set me up at the steering wheel.

It was still early morning when my mother walked in. She had taken off her pajama top, but not the bottoms. She said to me, "Noa, get up. You're going to miss school."

"Oh no!" I thought. I had forgotten about school today. It hadn't crossed my mind that It was Monday; perhaps because it didn't feel like one. It still felt like Sunday to me: I wasn't cranky this morning, nothing much had gone on yesterday (typical of my Saturday's), and I had something fun to do today. Whenever I dread any humdrum task in the morning, I can tell that it's Monday. I realized I hadn't told my mother about my outing with Mr. Hanson today, but as I thought about how I would bring it up to her, it had occurred to me that it was better not to tell her. I've never lied about not going to school and frankly, I don't think I've ever missed a day of school in my life; now that I think about it, the only time I've ever missed was when Milo and I went to The Rhom one night to go see the phillumenist from out of town; in the end, it wasn't all that exciting, although he did burn a hole through his trousers; that was amusing.

"Noa," she spoke, her voice still raspy from the morning. "I won't be home early tonight, I'm not going to get home until around twelve o'clock midnight. If you can't seem to make yourself supper, I'm sure Milo and his father would be delighted to have you join them for dinner."

"Why won't you be home?" I had a feeling I knew why but didn't want to ask her about it.

"It's," she was hesitant. "It's nothing, Noa. Just hurry up, I don't want you to be late for school."

My mother quickly went to her bedroom. I shrugged off her comments and made my way to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and hair, washed my face and continued to do all the routine things one does in the morning. I grabbed my bag and walked down the hall, passing my mother's bedroom. I glanced in quickly, being sure not to make contact with her eyes. She was just standing there casually folding her pajama pants and laying them in her bureau. As I made my way out the door and onto the devoid streets of Franq, I began to think about my mother. To me, it was obvious she was going to wherever she had gone yesterday night; I wish I knew where that may be. Last night I didn't think much of it, but now I'm getting a little more curious. What if she didn't want me to know she wasn't home last night? It was all too much to think about, and I had better things to be thinking about too--my chance at my lifelong goal! My first chance was going to be so surreal; I couldn't keep my excitement in, and I could not wait to tell Milo all about it. It took me long enough, but I reached the Christians just before my anticipation went over its capacity of staying inside my mouth.

Dubiously, I approached Milo's front door and pulled up and slammed down the faux-golden knocker. I stood for some time before I heard loud footsteps approaching the door; by the sound of that, I could tell Milo wasn't going to be answering my knock.

"What the hell do ya want!" Vernon shouted. His shirt was ripped open and his trousers were torn in a similar way mine were, but I don't think Vernon had gotten his trousers torn by a cluster of people in love.

"Umm...I'm just here to pick up Milo, for school--sir." I couldn't even look at him in the eye.

"Well," He put his hand over his large gut and clenched his nicotine-stained teeth. "Milo will not be goin' to school today, missy!" He slammed the door in my face and I jumped back in fear. The force at which he slammed it was so great, that it hurt to hear the wooden door clash with the wooden framework. I stood, in shock, for a minute or two at Vernons actions. All I could think of was nothing good, so I just decided to skip school.

Walking to the West side of Rivermere without Milo was equal parts boring and frightening. I was so used to just walking aimlessly around these parts, with Milo by my side. Some days we would go into deep conversations about our feelings on current political issues, domestic affairs, my family issues, his family issue, and countless other topics; ironically, it was those same days we would talk about nothing. We just walked down the lonely roads of Rivermere: passed the Christians, past Franq, through the Rhom, to the docks, and maybe even further, if we felt ambitious. But there was something missing when Milo wasn't with me. Not just his body, something more. An unseemingly pleasant warmth was nonexistent when I was alone, as was a general safe feeling inside me. All gone, just because of Milo's absence, and although I had been alone in this town on many occasions prior, this time, it just felt different. I was lonelier, I was more scared, I was more alone, and it was these same feelings that would intensify each new time I stepped foot out onto Rivermere's streets unaccompanied by Milo.

The mist, blown up onto the docks by those bothersome tidal winds, were radiating the same eerie sensation I felt this morning. Soothing and haunting, I let the beach breeze blow my hair back and I felt shivers down my spine. This kind of feeling (for me at least) was tolerable, almost comforting. But it was nothing like the eerie, frightening impression I received after my encounter with Vernon. I didn't want to think about what made him so enraged, but my mind wandered. I closed my eyes for a few moments:

I was afraid. My father had just struck me; once with his hand, twice with an old abacus he had snatched off my desk. Bam! Whack! "Shut up!" he yelled. "No more crying!" Hit! Smack! My screams must have been heard from miles away; they were so intense and distinctive. But by my state of hopelessness, I could just visualise them floating through the left ears of the Christians and out the right. Knock, knock! Could it be? Someone actually heard my prayers? "Shut up, and don't do anything you'll regret, shitface!" I huddled in the corner. ... No voices were heard. I was screwed. Helpless. Lonely. Afraid. Abandoned by the town I loved so dearly. Why; I can't seem to fathom it. Why?...

I woke up from my daydream, panting and screaming (although I think the screaming was just in my head). I couldn't bare to think about what Vernon might have done to him, so I left it alone. Besides, it was all just my imagination; most likely false.

I approached the docks, but Mr. Hanson wasn't in sight.

"Eugene!" I called. "I'm here for my boatin' lesson. You ready for me yet?"

I waited for a response; there was none. But in the distance, out there on that sparkly water, I could see his Zeta xProportion shining beautifully right in his docking spot. Oh, how badly I wanted to drive that vehicle. Most kids look forward to driving a car when they're older, not me. I would much rather have my hands behind the steering wheel of a sailboat than the wheel of a car, and I would get my first shot at that today! That is if Eugene showed up. I just couldn't take it any longer, though. I needed to ride that boat! Of course, I would do all the explaining to Mr. Hanson later but I couldn't give up my first and possibly last opportunity.

Reluctantly, I climbed in on the starboard side of the vessel and did so by using my hands to hoist myself onto the Z-shaped piece of wood. I began to do all the things I'd seen those professional sailors do. I checked the lines, making sure they were separated; I wasn't sure why they needed to be separated, I just knew that they had to be. I pulled all the lines out of their cleats and off their winches. I then made sure that my tilter was properly attached and it moved the rudder (as any good sailor would do). I began to feel a sense of professionalism setting in, and I really liked it; perhaps this was what it felt like to be older. I determined my wind direction; probably the hardest step for me. My "windex" or wind direction indicator was a little non-functional at the moment so I had to resort to a new way. I meddled and tampered as I went through the various chests and bins around the sailboat until I came across what I needed: an old cassette tape. I tied the cassette tape to the rigging cables that hold up the mast so that the strands of tape blew in the winds direction; I picked up that trick one night while listening to the boating channel on the nightly radio. Then came the easy stuff. I pointed my sails, hoisted them and took off.

How exhilarating it felt to be sailing a boat for the first time! My mother said that I could never learn anything from the television, but I wish she could've seen me. My hair flew back with more intensity than before, but It felt so good. I could feel the cool ocean breeze and smell the incredible smell off the oceans salt. I was liberated, emancipated, exonerated; I was free. Free from the everlasting boundaries my mother had set upon me. At that moment, all my life was washed away, boating was the only thing that now consumed it. My eyes widened as I sailed in a small circle, being sure not to stray too far from the dock, but even if I did stray, I wouldn't care all too much. I was sailing a sailboat, following my dream, being myself, and all those adages that Milo had told me before, unsurprisingly, proved themselves to be true.

I didn't want Eugene to see me on the boat without his permission, and as the hours went by, I knew I should get off before he arrived. I began racking my brain for the correct docking procedures, but I couldn't seem to remember them. I knew panicking would get me nowhere, but panic set in. I scrambled around the boat, trying to work backward from the way I got the boat ready. The winches clamped, the sails were being tilted left and right, the cassette tape was flying, and my head was spinning. I tilted the rudder to the left and the sails the opposite way. My hoisting skills weren't that excellent, but I attempted to close the sail as I approached the dock. Accidentally, I opened the sail more, allowing more wind to blow me right into the dock. Water was rushing in the port side of the vessel. I tried jumping out but at the same time I didn't want to lose his ship. But then, a man came running down the docks. He flung his body onto the boat quickly went into a small yellow chest near the bow. He took out the tools and began patching up the hole in the ship while instructing me to take buckets and throw out the water.

Time went by and we had successfully docked the ship. By now, I had found out the man was indeed Eugene and now that his boat is saved, I couldn't hep but think about the scolding I was about to receive.

"Noa," he said. "What were you thinkin'?"

I conjured up my best pleading voice, "I'm so sorry Mr. Hanson, I really am. You see, I was jus' tryn'a ride your sailboat because you promised we would today and you were runnin' a little late. I'm sorry..." My head hung low. I winced as if Eugene was going to strike me, but I don't know why. He seemed puzzled by it too, but he said, "Don't worry 'bout it. And I don't quite remember offerin' you lessons; it must'a been in the thick'f things. But I'd be more than happy to offer you some."

"Well of course, Mr. Hanson." I smiled and we hugged. "I'm just not sure if my mom would condone it."

"Well," he smirked. "If you're up to it, and I your mom approves, stop by here anytime you wish. I'd be hapy to set you up with some sails; and it seems like you already have an advantage."

My response was only a smile, but it quickly turn into a frown just in time for a crying Milo to come rushing down the dock.

"Oh no!" said Eugene. "What's wrong, Milo? Everythin' alright?"

I knew why Milo was crying, of course; Vernon. I didn't want to believe that absurdity, because it was too horrible to be true. But by the crying looks on Milo's face, I could tell it was his father that was up to no good.

"Well," Milo began to speak. I wondered if he was about to admit it. "I'm crying tears of joy! I just found a wonderful lady, Ms. Elsie Brooks. She lives in the Rhom, and she is a fantastic artisan! Not as fantastic as you, of course, Mr. Hanson, but she might just be the second best artisan in all of Rivermere! And she was kind enough to agree to tutor me over the summer to become an artisan!" Milo smiled one of the biggest smiles I've seen him wear in a while.

"Wow," I said. "That's great. Good job."

"Thank you! So, what are you guys up to?"

I thought of the quickest way to exit this depressing situation. "Well, I have to go, but you can stay here and talk ti Eugene, Milo. I can walk home alone."

I didn't wait for a response from him. Instead, I took my somber heart and tread down the street, heading back to Franq. Of course, I was happy for him; why wouldn't I be happy for my best friend? But I can't stand to see him get a grand opportunity like this one. I tried to not be selfish about it. I know Mr. Hanson is giving me a great opportunity as well, but for some strange reason I feel as if Milo and Ms. Brooks' sessions will be more informative than mine and Eugene's. I guess I could just chock it all up to one feeling; jealousy.

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