and his cat slept upstairs in an open loft that looked down over the living room. The cat didn't like Ben or his morn, but Ben tried not to take it personally. This cat didn't like anyone except for Elvis and his partner, Joe Pike. Every time Ben walked into a room where that cat was, the cat would lower its ears and growl. This cat wouldn't run if you tried to shoo it, either; it would creep toward you sideways with its hair standing up. Ben was scared of it.
Ben worked his way to the head of the stairs, then peered over the top riser to make sure the cat wasn't sleeping on the bed.
The coast was clear.
No cat.
The water still ran.
Ben ran to the closet. He had already been in Elvis's closet a couple of times when Elvis showed his mom the gun safe, so he knew that the little room contained boxes on high shelves, Tupperware containers filled with mysterious shadows that might be pictures, stacks of old magazines, and other potentially cool stuff. Ben riffled through the magazines first, hoping for hot porn like his friend Billy Toman brought to school, but was disappointed by their content: mostly boring issues of Newsweek and the Los Angeles Times Magazine. Ben hoisted himself up to see what was on top of the gun safe, a huge steel box as tall as Ben that filled the end of the closet, but all he found were a few old baseball caps, a clock where time had stopped, a framed color picture of an old woman standing on a porch, and a second framed picture of Elvis and Ben's morn sitting in a restaurant. No handcuffs or nigger-knockers.
A high shelf stretched across the closet. The shelf was beyond Ben's reach, but he saw boots, some boxes, a sleeping bag, what looked like a shoe shine kit, and a black nylon gym bag. Ben thought that the gym bag might be worth checking out, but he would need to grow a couple of feet to reach it. Ben considered the safe. If he
pushed himself up, then sat on the safe, he could probably reach the gym bag. He carefully placed his hands on top of
the safe, heaved himself straight up, then hooked a knee or top and pushed himself up. He was crushing some of
the hats and had knocked over the picture of the old lady, but so far so good. He reached for the gym bag, stretching as far as he could, but couldn't quite reach it. He leaned farther, holding onto the shelf with one hand and reaching for the gym bag with the other, and that's when he lost his balarce. Ben tried to catch himself, but it was too late: He tumbled sideways and pulled the gym bag with him. He
hit the floor with a rain of shirts and pants.
'Crap!'
When Ben scooped up the clothes, he found the cigar box. It must have been sitting on top of the gym bag, and had fallen when he pulled the bag down. A few faded snapshots, some colorful cloth patches, and five blue plastic cases had spilled from the cigar box. Ben stared. He knew that the blue cases were special. They looked special. Each case was about seven inches long with a gold band running vertically down the left side and raised gold letters in the lower right corner that read UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
Ben pushed the clothes aside and sat cross-legge.d to examine his discovery.
The pictures showed soldiers in Army uniforms and helicopters. Some guy sat on a bunk, laughing, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. A word was tattooed high on his left arm. Ben had to look close to read it because the photograph was blurry: RANGER. Ben figured it was the man's name. Another picture showed five soldiers standing in front of a helicopter. They looked like hardcore badass dudes: Their faces were painted green and black; they were loaded with rucksacks, amino
packs, hand grenades, and black rifles. The second soldier from the left was holding a little sign with numbers on it. Their features were hard to see because of the paint, but the soldier on the far right looked like Elvis Cole. Wow.
Ben put down the pictures and opened a blue case. A red, white, and blue ribbon about an inch and a half long was pinned to gray felt. Beneath it was a red, white, and blue pin like a smaller version of the ribbon, and below that was a medal. The medallion was a gold five-pointed star hanging from another ribbon, and covered by a clear plastic bubble. In the center of the gold star was a tiny silver star. Ben closed the case, then opened the others. Each of the cases contained another medal.
He put the medals aside, then looked through the rest of the pictures: One showed a bunch of guys in black T- shirts standing around outside of a tent, drinking beer; another showed Elvis Cole sitting on sandbags with a rifle across his knees (he was shirtless and he looked really skinny!); the next picture showed a man with a painted face, a floppy hat, and a gun, standing in leaves so thick it looked like he was stepping out of a green wall. Ben had hit the mother lode! This was exactly the kind of cool stuff he had hoped to find! He concentrated so hard on the
pictures that he never heard Elvis approach.
Elvis said, ''Busted. ''
Ben jerked with surprise and felt himself flush.
Elvis stood in the door, thumbs hooked in his pockets, his raised eyebrows saying, What do we have here, sport?
Ben was mortified and ashamed. He thought Elvis would be mad, but Elvis sat on the floor next to him and stared at the pictures and little blue cases thoughtfully. Ben felt his eyes well and thought Elvis would probably hate him forever.
''I'm sorry I snooped in your stuff.'
33
It was all Ben could do not to cry. Elvis made a little faraway smile and rubbed Ben's head. 'It's okay, bud. I said you could look around while you were hereI just didn't think you'd go climbing in my closet. You don't have to sneak around. If you want to check out my things, all you have to do is ask. Okay? '' It was still hard to look Elvis in the eye, but Ben burned with curiosity. He held out the picture showing the five soldiers by the helicopter. 'Is that you, second from the end?' Elvis stared at the picture, but did not touch it. Ben showed him the picture of the guy on the bunk. 'Who's this guy, Ranger? '' 'His name was Ted Fields, not Ranger. A Ranger is a kind of soldier. Some guys were so proud of being Rangers they got the tattoo. Ted was proud.' 'What do Rangers do? '' 'Pushups.' Elvis took the photo from Ben and put it back into the cigar box. Ben grew worried that Elvis would stop answering his
