Things Seen from Above Read online

  I felt like passing out and throwing up at the same time.

  “I don’t want to do this,” I heard my voice say out loud as I took one small step forward.

  And that’s when the unexpected happened.

  Instead of laughing or making some smart comment, Tanner shrugged and said, “Okay, forget it. You can just get back in line and I’ll make up something for you.”

  What? I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.

  “Get back in line?” I repeated in this numb voice.

  “Sure,” Tanner said, scribbling something on his clipboard. “You’re fine. I’ve got you covered, April.”

  Usually I didn’t like the sound of my own name. Too weird. Too spring-ish. But when Tanner said it, my name actually sounded kind of normal and sweet—as if he said it all the time, as if we were good friends.

  Of course, a couple of the stupid girls who were milling around nearby started complaining about me getting a break. “Hey, we had to take our turns,” they whined, flicking their hair around. “Why didn’t April have to do anything?”

  Tanner shrugged. “Because Coach Dunner says I’m in charge of this group. Sue me if you don’t like it.” He smiled and the girls laughed as if this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

  I resisted rolling my eyes.

  “Thanks,” I whispered in Tanner’s direction before I headed toward the back of the group again.

  I had no clue why Tanner let me off the hook—maybe he remembered my climbing disaster of the past, maybe he was just being nice, or maybe he didn’t want my pathetic score to ruin our team’s chances of winning—but I went through the rest of gym class feeling like I was floating above everything.

  For the rest of the morning, I barely paid attention to anything. We were doing algebraic equations in math—that’s all I noticed. In language arts, we watched a movie. The rest of the time, I kept thinking about my new theories for Joey.

  Was it possible that he was making something on the playground—like a picture, or a pattern, or a message—as he wandered around? Did you have to see it from above to understand what it was? And how could I do that?

  (Okay, I’ll admit that my mind replayed the scene of Tanner saving my life in gym class a few times, too.)

  When lunchtime finally arrived, I was outside before Mrs. Zeff.

  Joey was easy to spot in the sea of Tigers shirts pouring through the playground doors from the cafeteria. Everyone else was dressed in orange and black. He was the only one wearing red. Red T-shirt. Red jacket. Faded red soccer pants. Green Crocs.

  As I watched Joey’s meandering path across the playground, a fourth-grade girl tapped my arm. “Hi, April. Do you want to make friendship bracelets with us today?”

  No, I didn’t.

  Two other girls stood beside her, looking hopeful with their plastic bags of beads and string. I glanced around for Veena. It was Friday, one of her assigned days to work. Where was she? I felt slightly annoyed that she was missing. What was the use of having a partner if she didn’t show up?

  “Sure, okay,” I reluctantly agreed.

  Taking a seat on the Buddy Bench, I tried to appear interested in whether to make a bracelet with“peace” or with “friendship” spelled out in beads while keeping an eye on Joey at the same time.

  He seemed to be making a large wavy circle around the edges of the playground.

  By the time Veena finally appeared, a whole crowd of fourth-grade girls were sprawled around the Buddy Bench. Sitting on the ground, they passed beads and colored string back and forth to each other.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Veena apologized in a rush. “We had a guest speaker today.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  As Veena sat down, I checked on Joey again. He had finished walking around the outside of the playground and he was working on two smaller circles nearby now.

  “Hey, I think I’m going to go over and try to talk to Joey a little,” I whispered to Veena. “Are you okay staying here for a few minutes without me?”

  Veena nodded. Her eyes darted toward Joey. As we watched, he pivoted like a soldier and dragged his foot in the dirt, making a short line near one of his circles. Veena half smiled and shook her head.

  Of course, the girls around us overheard Joey’s name and had to put in their two cents. “He’s such a traitor,” they said, making no attempt to hide their dislike of him. “Look. He’s wearing red. He did it on purpose, you know, so we’ll lose the game tonight. Red and white. That’s the Spartans’ colors.”

  I had no idea if this was true or not. I didn’t even know for sure who our football team was playing. That’s how much I cared about football.

  Veena attempted to change the subject. “Okay, okay, back to the bracelets.” Reaching into her pocket, she brought out a handful of beads that didn’t look like the usual cheap plastic. They were brightly colored ceramic beads, with silver and gold ones mixed in.

  The diversion worked. The girls lost interest in Joey, and I took off without being noticed.

  The rest of the playground was mostly empty. There was a small group of boys sitting next to the slide, trading cards. Two girls talked on the swings, but everyone else was out on the sports fields.

  “Hey, Joey,” I called out as I approached. “What are you making today?”

  He stopped in midstep.

  “What?” He glanced toward me.

  “I was just wondering what you’re making on the playground today.” I pointed at the cluster of lines he’d just finished nearby. “Is it supposed to be a picture or something?”

  “No, it’s my tracing.” Joey’s voice sounded annoyed.

  “What do you mean by your tracing?” I wanted to keep the fourth grader talking. “Could you explain what you mean?”

  Joey ducked his head down. “It’s what I make. That’s all.”

  Then he pivoted away from me and walked stubbornly in the opposite direction.

  Sighing, I glanced toward our school’s old jungle gym and considered whether or not to climb it. The rusty, beehive-shaped structure was pretty much my only option (other than the roof of the school) if I wanted to see anything useful. Although it was the tallest thing on the playground, it was so old that the little kids didn’t even play on it anymore. I hadn’t set foot on the thing in years.

  As I strolled over to the metal structure, my biggest fear was that someone in the sixth grade (Tanner Torchman, for instance) would spot me from the cafeteria. The windows at the far end of the lunch room faced the playground. I knew if someone saw me, I’d never live it down. Hey, did you know April Boxler actually plays on the old jungle gym at recess? Ha ha ha ha.

  Normally, the sixth graders wouldn’t notice anything outside the cafeteria during lunch. They were too wrapped up in their own little worlds. But I was still afraid of being spotted by accident, so I knew I needed to be fast.

  I stepped onto one of the lower metal bars. As I reached for the next one, a powder of orange rust came off on my palms.

  Great.

  Trying not to get completely covered in rust-orange, I skipped about half the rungs as I scrambled awkwardly upward. At the peak, I held on to the top bar with one hand and turned around carefully to survey the playground.

  The view was disappointing.

  I could see most of the lines Joey had made. In the middle of the playground, there were two perfect circles with a clump of diagonal lines near each one. A faint, wavy circle went around the perimeter of the playground. A lot of random squiggles seemed to go nowhere.

  But the jungle gym wasn’t high enough for me to figure out if the marks were part of any bigger plan or design. Plus, Joey had stopped working and was now lying in the middle of his lines—arms angled out slightly from his sides, eyes closed—pretending to be dead again. (As usual, I worried that maybe he
was.)

  Then the recess bell rang.

  From my perch, I watched the stampede toward the doors. Soccer players, flag football teams, kickball kids, friendship-bracelet groups—all streamed toward the school like a migrating herd of orange and black. It was an interesting perspective to have. I felt both invisible and important, powerful and powerless, at the same time. Was this the way Joey saw the world? I wondered.

  As the last couple of girls picked up their bracelet stuff and left, Veena kept glancing toward the jungle gym as if she wasn’t sure what to do next. She took a few steps closer to Joey, and I think she must have told him that recess was over. He finally got up, shook the wood chips out of his hair, and ambled slowly inside.

  By then, I was almost alone on the playground—nearly everyone else had disappeared inside except Veena and Mrs. Zeff, who was standing by the playground door impatiently.

  I started to scramble down the metal rungs—there really was no graceful way to do it—when a slight movement on the roof of the school caught my eye.

  Glancing upward, I was convinced I saw the shadow of a person duck down—or at least, it looked like someone was on the roof, and then they weren’t.

  My heart pounded. Why was someone hiding on our school roof? I wondered. Were they watching the playground? Or us?

  It made me feel both curious and creeped out at the same time.

  Who was watching our playground—and why?

  Veena hadn’t noticed anything unusual. When I asked her if she saw anyone on the roof at the end of recess, she said she didn’t even look in that direction.

  “I’m sorry. I was too busy helping the girls pick up all their beads. I should have been more observant,” she apologized.

  “No, no. That’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m not even sure what I saw.”

  But the whole thing bothered me so much that I decided we should talk to Mr. Ulysses, the janitor, before we went back to class—just to let him know. He was the resident expert on almost anything at our school. He was also the easiest adult to find, since his office was closest to the playground and the cafeteria. I pointed out his door to Veena, once we got inside. It said Boiler Room on it.

  “That’s an office?” she said, looking doubtful.

  “Yep. You’ll see.”

  I knocked, and a distant voice boomed, “Hullo! It’s open. Come on in!”

  I pulled on the heavy door. Behind me, Veena took a quick step backward as a blast of pungent, steamy air poured out. Marshallville Elementary had been built before World War II. It was still heated with ancient water boilers and rattling steam pipes, but Mr. Ulysses didn’t seem to mind the noise and the heat.

  He sat in his usual spot—an old wooden desk in the far corner of the cluttered and badly lit room. He was a stout, grandfatherly man with a short gray beard and these cheerfully bright eyes that never seemed to look annoyed by anything. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but he’d been at Marshallville for years.

  “Hi, Mr. Ulysses,” I said.

  “April!” Smiling, the janitor got up from his sagging office chair and wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag. “You caught me fixing a motor from one of my pesky lawn mowers.”

  Mr. Ulysses was always working on something. His desk was a fascinating symphony of stuff—parts and pieces of things in need of repair—along with newspapers, junk mail, fast food wrappers, and drawings from kids. Above his desk, there were literally layers of kids’ artwork and a homemade plaque with MR. ULYSSES spelled out in soda pop tabs.

  I was probably the only student who knew the real story behind the janitor’s unusual name.

  Last year, he’d told me how his dad had been a high school teacher who loved Greek and Roman history. Apparently, Ulysses (also called Odysseus) was a legendary Greek king and hero, and so that’s why his dad had named him Ulysses. Although it was actually his first name, he used it as a last name at school as a way to honor his dad, which I thought was really cool.

  I had read more about Odysseus later on and I discovered that he was also known for his ingenuity and inventiveness. (He was the creator of the Trojan Horse.) I thought this was a pretty surprising coincidence since our Mr. Ulysses could also fix virtually any problem. The teachers were always calling him for help.

  I swear Mr. Ulysses even looked like some of the illustrations I found of Odysseus: Short beard. Curly hair. Sloping nose. Was our janitor a Greek hero in disguise?

  The idea always made me smile.

  “Everything okay, April?” Mr. Ulysses squinted at me. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy,” I replied, feeling guilty that I hadn’t stopped by the Boiler Room once to say hello. I silently vowed to make more of an effort.

  “I wanted to introduce you to someone new. This is”— I pointed toward Veena.

  “Wait, don’t tell me,” the janitor interrupted. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “New student. Fifth grade. Parveena…” He opened his eyes. “Am I right?”

  In addition to being able to fix anything, he could recall the first name and grade level of every student in the school. All eight hundred of them.

  Looking surprised, the fifth grader reached out her hand. “Yes, thank you. You can call me Veena. Nice to meet you.”

  “Veena.” Mr. Ulysses smiled, shaking her hand. “Got it.”

  “We just have one quick question,” I continued, trying to make it sound minor.

  “Okay, go ahead.” Mr. Ulysses sat down again.

  “Well, Veena and I are both helping with the Buddy Bench this year,” I said. “And it’s probably no big deal—but I thought I might have seen someone on the roof today during the fourth-grade recess. It could have been a shadow, or my eyes, or something, but I thought we should stop by and mention it.”

  Turning around, Mr. Ulysses squinted at the clock hanging on the wall above his desk. “Well, as a matter of fact, I was on the roof today. About ten minutes ago.”

  I felt a rush of relief. “Oh, then it must have been you.”

  “But while I was up there today,” Mr. Ulysses continued with a sly smile, “I just happened to notice that you were standing on top of the old jungle gym for some reason. And you seemed to be very interested in the work of our good friend Joey Byrd too.”

  Although Mr. Ulysses often noticed the little things that nobody else did—different haircuts, new glasses, lost lunches, jammed lockers—his words still took me by surprise.

  “So you already know about Joey?”

  The janitor chuckled. “Well, let’s say I’m trying…”

  Behind me, Veena spoke up. “We keep watching him. But we don’t understand what he is doing at recess every day.”

  Mr. Ulysses thunked his work boots on top of the piles on his desk. “So let’s hear it.” Smiling, he gave us a curious look. “What’s your best theory about him?”

  Veena glanced uncertainly toward me.

  In my head, I ran through all the different Joey possibilities: Autistic kid. Daydreamer. Aspiring YouTube dancer. Or (most bizarre of all) pretending to be a bird.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied cautiously. “It just seems like there’s a purpose to what he’s doing, but we haven’t figured out what it is yet….” My voice trailed away.

  “Go on,” Mr. Ulysses prompted. “Explain what you mean.”

  “Well, the most recent idea I had”—I started out hesitantly, unsure of how much to reveal—“I know it probably sounds crazy, but it came to me during gym class this morning. We were doing rope climbing and Tanner Torchman climbed to the top of the gym—”

  “Isn’t he unbelievable?” The janitor smiled and shook his head. “Mark my words—that kid is going to be a big football star someday.”

  “Well, seeing Tanner at the top of the gym gave me anot
her idea,” I continued. “I started thinking about how we look at things. For instance, maybe Joey doesn’t see things the way we do. Maybe you have to look at what he’s doing from above. You know…like a bird’s-eye view.” I gestured vaguely toward the pipe-filled ceiling of the boiler room. “So that’s what I was trying to figure out today. If there was any pattern or design on the playground….”

  “Go on…,” Mr. Ulysses said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m with you.”

  “But I couldn’t see anything, really.” I shrugged and shook my head. “At least nothing that I recognized. It was all just random lines and circles. So now I’m totally out of ideas.”

  “Hmm…” Mr. Ulysses gazed at the ceiling as if he was thinking.

  Standing up, he gestured toward a metal ladder in the far corner of the boiler room. It was attached to the back wall. I’ll admit I’d never noticed the ladder before—or the square trapdoor above it, which had to lead to the roof, I guessed.

  “Follow me,” the janitor said mysteriously.

  Despite his age—and a lot of years of eating birthday treats from kids—Mr. Ulysses ascended the narrow ladder quickly. At the top, he grunted as he turned a handle and pushed the trapdoor upward, sending a sudden blaze of sunlight into the gloomy room. After he crawled through the open space, he called down to us.

  “Okay, come on up, April and Veena.” His bearded face loomed large in the square above us. Maybe it was my imagination, but the sunlight behind him almost made it look as if he was wearing a crown. It made me think of the Greek hero Odysseus again.

  “Your turn now. Be careful,” Mr. Ulysses said.

  Reaching for the sides of the metal ladder, I felt slightly more courageous than I’d been with the rope in gym class. At the same time, I couldn’t help worrying about how this was making us really late to class, and I knew I should probably tell Mr. Ulysses that we needed to leave. I didn’t want to get Veena into any trouble.

  But it turned out to be a pretty quick climb. Mr. Ulysses steadied my arm as I scrambled through the opening and emerged on the warm black-tar roof, feeling victorious. I gave Veena a hand behind me. Her tiny fingers felt like a bundle of sticks.