Eli Arnold and the Keys to Forever Book One: It's About Time Page 2
May 28,2012 3:35 p.m.
Smoke poured from the rear wheel-wells of my brother’s 1969 Ford Mach I Mustang. The car slid sideways out of my middle school’s parking lot. Brady laughed and snatched the shifter into second gear. More smoke and a tire-screeching wail ensued. The car found a straight line and roared away from the school. One more stop and I could put the sixth grade behind me and enjoy my summer vacation. If my brother didn’t kill us first.
“Why do you do that, Brady?” I asked.
“Did you see the look on Mr. McGee’s face?” he responded, still laughing.
Mr. McGee, my gym teacher, sprinted toward the car waving his arms and yelling something unintelligible. I heard him yell “Eli Arnold” but little else. The screeching tires and honking horns had drowned the rest out. His whistle fluttered out behind him as he ran while his coach’s shorts rode up even higher on his legs. I swear the man must be immune to wedgies. He walks around with one all the time.
I’d like to assume Coach McGee was wishing me a good summer vacation or something like that. I knew, however, that he was furious and ordering my brother to stop. I didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know he was angry. He was too far away for an accurate reading anyway.
“You know he’s gonna call mom and dad, right?”
My brother continued to laugh, making a left and heading toward APL, the Applied Physics Laboratory, where our parents worked.
“McGee was already thinking about something else when we turned the corner,” Brady said. “You really have to practice your mind reading skills, Eli. Use it or lose it.”
My brother and I spent some time with our uncle in a traveling circus when we were younger. Our parents moved around a lot giving lectures and symposiums in their field of quantum physics. I don’t practice like I should but consider myself a novice mind reader. Brady is much more proficient. I also swallow swords and breathe fire, although after an unfortunate incident at a pep rally last year, I’m really not supposed to do either — just kidding.
“I’m just saying you shouldn’t antagonize the guy. Every time you get into trouble, we end up getting punished,” I griped.
“Some of the best experiences we’ve had came out of us getting punished, Eli. Stop being such a baby.”
Brady really knew how to push my buttons. I hate it when he calls me a baby. I turned and saw him grinning.
“Remember when mom and dad made us clean up their lab at home? What happened, Eli?”
“We accidentally fixed their invisibility device,” I responded.
“And?”
“And spent an entire week messing with the housekeeper, Ms. Henderson.” I smiled thinking about scaring the poor woman and making her believe our house was haunted.
“And?” Brady pressed.
“And we got to keep the invisibility device.”
“Exactly,” Brady smirked. “So stop worrying.”
Brady and I learned a lot from our parents. Watching the Science Channel and a subscription to Popular Mechanics didn’t hurt either. They insisted that we study all the time. “You can never know too much, Eli,” my Dad always told me. Everything from physics to martial arts. Mind and body, our parents made sure that Brady and I were well rounded.
Maybe my brother was right. Maybe I should stop worrying about every little thing. The invisibility device had been fun. Unfortunately, I left it on and can’t find it ... because it’s invisible. I figure as soon as the battery runs out, I’m back in business, which should be any day now. Unless my parents used a nuclear power source, which I’m pretty sure they did.
“Tell you what,” Brady said, “I’ll make it up to you. After we get our bags from Mom and Dad, we’ll stop at Nu-Way for some chili dogs.”
Another of my weaknesses — chili dogs. My brother knows me too well.
“Awesome! Throw in some fries and you’ve got a deal.”
“Done!”
Nu-Way Weiners is the greatest hot dog eatery in the world. I started to say “in the universe,” but I like to be accurate and at this point in time can only make representations as to the world. I’m something of a chili dog connoisseur. Trust me.
Brady made another left and switched on the radio. He roamed through the stations looking for the perfect song to start our summer vacation. I tried to get comfortable but couldn’t get my mind off losing that invisibility device. I knew it was going to drive me crazy. My Mom is always telling me to put my stuff up.
“Eli, turn your invisibility device off and put it where it goes. Your father tripped over it last night and nearly fell down the stairs. At least he thinks he tripped over it. He couldn’t see it, of course ... it’s invisible.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will, Mom. Sorry.”
“That’s okay, honey. I just don’t want you to lose it.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Why don’t I listen? Crap! If I can’t find it, I’m going to have to build another one - Invisibility Device Version 2.0. Maybe I’ll give this one a beeping feature that can be activated if the device gets lost ... and a much cooler name.
Okay, I’m definitely doing it. I’m definitely building another “Light Ray Bending Machine.” Kind of a wordy name but fitting because the device basically bends light around the user making him seem to disappear. On second thought, “Invisibility Device Version 2.0” might be easier to explain. I rule at science fairs.
Brady pulled into a parking spot in front of our parents’ building. Mom and Dad waited just inside the door.
“You boys all set to spend the summer in Florida?” my Dad asked.
“Yes sir,” we responded in unison.
My Mom hugged us both and said, “Be careful. Brady, look out for Eli. Eli look out for Brady. There have been a lot of strange astronomical sightings in the past few days. Probably nothing but be alert.”
Clearly I got my worrying from my mom. I rolled my eyes. Mistake.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, young man?” My Mom was not a fan of the eye roll. “Because we can make other arrangements for your summer vacation. Your father and I were just discussing how the lab needs a good cleaning. I’m sure Grams and Pops would understand.”
This year my folks had agreed to let Brady and me spend the entire summer with my grandparents, Grams and Pops. Grams and Pops retired to Florida a few years ago. They bought a house right on the beach and instantly became our favorite grandparents. Beaches, alligators, Disney, ocean, fun. The best summer ever imaginable waited only for our arrival. And I was teetering on messing it up.
“No ma’am. Sorry, Mom. We’ll be careful.”
“That’s better,” my Mom said with a smile. “I don’t want you boys to get into any trouble.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the young fella, mom,” Brady joked tousling my hair. We all laughed.
“You boys grab your suitcases and get going. I don’t want you on the road too late.” My Dad winked. He knew we were ready to go.
“Yes sir,” we replied, again in unison.
After a quick change from school uniforms to jeans and t-shirts, Brady and I threw our bags in the car and hit the road. I retrieved my Cleveland Indians hat out of my backpack and pulled it on my head. I’ve always been a fan of the Indians — no idea why. We live in Macon, Georgia. I’ve never even been to Cleveland but they’ve always been my team.
As promised, Brady stopped at Nu-Way and we fueled up on chili dogs and fries. With everything now in order, we hit the road and roared into our summer. “It’s the End of the World as We Know It and I feel fine ...” by R.E.M. belted out of the car’s speakers.
Brady and I relished in the beautiful day and headed toward our much needed and well-deserved vacation. We had been driving for several hours when we decided to stop at Stuckey’s and load up on supplies.
Stuckey’s is an American tradition. It’s a road trip superstore. Gas, food, t-shirts, souvenirs, maps, fireworks, cassette tapes—you name it, Stuckey’s has got it (usually for under a doll
ar).
After a quick chili dog (which was fantastic-not Nu-Way fantastic but really good), a slushie (grape), and a pecan log (a Stuckey’s staple), I stowed the rest of my purchases in my backpack and we headed south once again.
“You sure you bought enough fireworks, Eli?” Brady laughed.
“Never know when you might need to blow something up,” I responded with a grin.
“And Dude, another chilidog? Where are you putting all that food, bro?”
“There’s never been a time that I didn’t have room for a chili dog,” I explained.
We both laughed and settled back in for the drive. I pulled my hat down low over my eyes and listened to the song the tires played on the road.