The Hero by Ron Woods

Author:Ron Woods [Woods, Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-55670-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2002-01-04T05:00:00+00:00

I lay in my bed unmoving—not certain, for a time, that I was really awake. The line between sleep and wakeful-ness was thin this morning, and I had drifted across it at some point but couldn't remember just when.

My body felt drugged, as if I had no power to move a single limb. Even opening my eyelids was an effort. When I finally did force myself to do that, my room looked different and new and strange, even though I'd awakened in it every morning for years.

The square glass light cover, with its scalloped edges and sweeping floral design, stared down at me from the ceiling. In the corner, hanging on its bent rod, was the striped curtain Mom had sewn for my wooden wardrobe.

On top of the wardrobe sat my large, unfinished balsa model of a B-29 bomber, a dusty shell that I'd set aside last winter when I'd tired, finally and permanently, of the weeks of tedious cutting and gluing of the soft wood. I knew I would never finish the ribbed fuselage to the point of cementing on the silver paper skin. But I hadn't been able to throw it out; I'd put too much work into it.

I closed my eyes and remembered other things: My father's frightened face in the boat last night as we went over the dam toward him. Being tossed around under the heavy water. Bobbing up and going under again. The terror of choking. The slow fade into blackness.

These unbidden memories all appeared again and again in my mind, like a pack of mangy stray cats that showed up at our place one spring and wouldn't be driven away.

I remembered coming to, in the boat, in my father's arms, my head on his lap. His face was white as he called my name and rubbed my cheeks, gripping my hand like he'd never let go. I couldn't speak. I had to turn and vomit river water over the side.

I lay for a long time on my back in the bottom of the boat, weak, looking up at the sky—the surprising, wonderful sky that had never been so blue and so bright. Eventually, I noticed my ear was bleeding a little—probably from when the raft fell down on top of us.

As the motor raced, we were in sunlight, in shade, back in sunlight. It seemed odd, but I didn't have the energy to think about why it was happening. I didn't care about anything except being alive. But after a time, as I started to feel better, I asked why we weren't at the shore yet. We'd been moving for such a long time.

One of the men said, “We're looking for the Leeper boy, son.” I looked around. For the first time, I realized, with horror, that Dennis wasn't with us.

Shame washed over me like a wave. I hadn't even noticed.

I looked at Dad's ashen face as he searched the water. I wanted to help, but I had no strength and I was starting to shiver.

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