Raisinheart

followed Dana, who knew exactly where she was going; a spot behind a big weeping willow and in front of a stand of blue spruce trees.

   

  "Help me dig", she commanded, which were the first words she spoke after a cursory greeting upon my arrival. She started in digging herself, and pointed at an area next to where she was working. I proceeded to match her output, shovel for shovel, as we dug out the soft red dirt and piled it next to the trees. I had to admit I was beginning to wonder. What were we digging for, and what did it have to do with Alan Belew? I thought if I asked her, though, it might make her mad, and then she wouldn't want to hang out with me anymore. That's how pathetic I was by that point. I was happy to be this girl's slave labor, if only because it made me feel needed. I knew the whole thing seemed crazy, but I think I was actually happy. I've always liked doing mindless, assembly line work, which maybe explains how I ended up doing pretty much that with most of my grown-up years.

  We dug for what seemed like an hour, in silence, and made a lot of progress, for what it was worth. We had dug out a coffin sized rectangle, about six feet long, maybe three feet deep. Dana leaned back on her shovel, wiping the sweat from her face on her sleeve.

   

  "It's going to be harder than I thought", she declared.

   

  "I wish I'd brought water", she added.

   

  "Maybe we could go up to your place for a drink", I suggested, but she shook her head.

   

  "My dad is in town", she informed me, as if that explained something.

   

  "What are we actually doing?” I finally asked her. She stared at me as if I was a complete imbecile for entirely forgetting the long involved talk that we'd had in her mind.

   

  "Like I told you?” she shook her head impatiently. "I want to have a make out chamber so when you bring Alan over, him and me can make out".

   

  Him and me? Making out? I did not understand at all what she said. I was going to bring Alan over? It was all beginning to make sense, in a weird sort of way. Of course I still didn't know what a "make out chamber" was, but I was suddenly interested. Dana described her design in more detail.

   

  "It's got to have a roof", she'd decided. "So it's got to be high enough for that, but then we don't have to stand up in it really. It's just got to have some floor kind of thing. I was thinking maybe a rug. I could get one. So maybe four feet? what do you think? And the steps to go down, over there".

   

  She scrambled around in the pit, gesturing at the various locations. Two steps would lead in from the front and go to the bottom, to the rug, which would be under a canopy of sorts. The pit would be half-roofed, half-open. I suggested it should be maybe six feet so you could stand up inside if you wanted, and she thought maybe so. But we weren't even half done the pit part, and she was already exhausted. I was tired too but didn't want to admit it.

   

  "It's probably lunch time", she told me. "I ought to get home so he doesn't get mad", and without another word, not even a 'thanks', she got up and left me there in the woods. I stood around for awhile, trying to admire our progress. It was really just a hole in the ground, but it gave me something to think about. Maybe I could have a make out chamber too. If I did, then who would I ever make out with? I thought I was lucky that Dana didn't ask me that question, but I didn't need to worry. Dana wasn't the least bit interested in me, in who I was, or what I liked, or anything. I was only two things to her - a body with a shovel, and the sole living friend of Alan Belew.

   

  It took two another Sunday to finish it. I was proud of the two steps I made, which turned out pretty nice, and we did get to five feet and change in the back. For the roof she found some old corrugated plastic from what must have been somebody's greenhouse somewhere. I didn't ask questions and she didn't give answers. Dana Sanderson hardly ever talked the whole time, at least not aloud. Her sole ambition, it seemed, was to get him and kiss him. Sometimes she blurted that out. She must have been thinking about it a lot. She found an old battered sheepskin that went perfectly with our decor; pine cones, needles and duff. I wanted to add some nice touches, a hand painted sign maybe, but she ruled it all out. It wasn't just a make out chamber, it was a secret make out chamber. Nobody should know what it was or who made it.

   

  I got used to the digging and sweating and waiting for orders. I figured she'd tell me what I was expected to do when the time came, so I wasn't surprised when she informed me that the following Saturday at precisely eleven a.m., I was to bring Alan Belew to the spot, and then go away and leave "him and her" all alone.

   

  My next problem was how to do it. Alan never took orders from me. He never even took my suggestions. It was always whatever HE wanted to do, and I'd go along or else I'd get slugged. That was how I ended up stealing baseball cards from Mr. Henley at the drugstore. It was how I put a board with nails sticking up on old lady Magnusson's driveway. It was how I found myself dashing across the tracks just before the train came. I was pretty sure that Alan Belew was sent by the Devil to kill me, and the way things were going, I was hoping he would.

   

  Well, not really. Dana Sanderson was going to be my salvation. All the other kids in the class were suddenly into making out whenever they could. I already told you the pairs, and you'd catch them at recess, in places where they knew they were not allowed to be. The boys would be "copping a feel" and the girls would be "letting" them. There were a whole lot of baseball metaphors flying about, but Alan and I hadn't gotten there yet. I figured he'd be closer than me, seeing as he was so much bigger and all. In my mind, size mattered, meaning height. The taller guys had the prettier girls, and yet Alan was tallest of all and had none. I wanted to bring up the subject but didn't know how, and at the same time I didn't want to jinx my only chance to get rid of him. I figured that the moment Dana "got him and kissed him", I'd be totally free.

   

  On that Saturday he was waiting as usual and this time I jumped out of bed and ran out there to join him.

   

  "What do you want to do?" I cheerfully asked. He looked at me carefully. This was certainly not my usual behavior.

   

  "I don't know", he replied, and I saw my chance.

   

  "I could show you something you wouldn't believe", I teased him.

   

  "Oh yeah, like what?” he retorted.

   

  "Come on, down the hill, and I'll show you", I said. I was doing my best to seem confident and brave. Maybe if I led, he would follow, I reasoned, and it turned out for once I was right. I started walking and he decided to join me. We walked down the street, around the corner past his house, and then down the steep hill to the Lakeview apartments. I was just hoping we weren't too early. Dana was very specific.

   

  "So what is this thing", he kept asking me every ten paces, but I was keeping my secret.

   

  "You'll see", I promised. "It's not far away."

   

  "Where is it?” he prompted.

   

  "Not far", I replied. I was practically skipping by then. The very idea - freedom! - was ringing in my head like a bell. All it would take was a kiss, and the toad that I was would still be a toad, but at least he would be a happier one.

   

  We entered the long road to the apartment building parking lot, and Alan began to hang back.

   

  "Are we going in there?” he asked.

  "Nope", I assured him, "not inside. Over there", and I pointed at the dirt mounds. He was still leery until I veered away from the building. He really had a phobia about people's front doors, it turned out. It wasn't just mine.

   

  When we got the mounds I leaped up and scrambled along the top of their ridge. I knew he would like that. Dirt, speed and height were a great co
mbination for him. He ran up the side and blew by me in giant strides. I hopped off toward the chamber and called out.

   

  "Over here!” I shouted, and he came running back and jumped down in a leap. As we entered the woods I put my finger up to my lips and shushed him.

   

  "We have to be quiet", I whispered. "It's a secret."

   

  I think that I had him intrigued. We tiptoed very gently around the lean trees, and tried not to make any sounds. When we brushed past the willow I slowed the pace down even more. Come on, I was wishing as hard as I could. Be here, Dana. You'd better be here! We came to the clearing, and then there she was.

   

  Dana Sanderson was dressed up, I think, as never before. She was wearing cut off jean shorts, a yellow tank top, high heels and lipstick. She stood in what must have been her idea of seductive, with one hand on a hip, and the other hand bent away from her body, backhand sort of, and twitching. I was impressed. She looked pretty good, and she even had almost a smile on her face.

   

  Alan Belew burst out laughing.

   

  "Looks like somebody found out your secret!” he shouted, and punched me in the shoulder, knocking me down to the ground.

   

  "You look pretty dumb!” he told Dana. "What are you doing out here in those shoes?"

   

  "Come here and I'll show you", she challenged him.

   

  He wasn't used to being told what to do. I could tell he was very resistant. I expected him then to say no and run off. I was surprised when instead he said,

   

  "Sure, if you want", and took a few steps closer to her.

   

  "Come here", she repeated, using her bent hand to wave him