The Second Chance of Benjamin Waterfalls, page 20
“Life is a trip, isn’t it?”
“It’s a boot camp,” I reply.
She smiles. I smile back. We stare at each other, not as superheroes, but as boy and girl. As friends. As something more than friends.
I offer her my hand. She takes it. Our fingers intertwine like runaway vines. Our palms begin to sweat together. She’s nervous too. She pulls me closer as I pull her closer. Our bodies touch. I wonder if she can hear the marching band in my chest. Then our eyes close and … we kiss.
This is my first kiss. And it’s so real. Not like the fake kisses you see in movies. Or the kind teenagers brag about. They got it all wrong. This kiss is the first of its kind. There’s never been a kiss like this. It’s a superhero kiss.
Our faces separate. I still taste her on my lips. She smells like wild strawberries.
WAIT! Is this how my dad feels about Wendy? Is this how Wendy feels about food? I reach up and touch Niimi’s face, to make sure she’s real. To make sure I’m not dreaming. I remember the first time I saw her here. She walked into my life like she was dancing. I didn’t know it then, but that was the moment lightning struck. And it’s been striking me ever since.
“She Is Dancing. There Is Lightning.” I say her name.
“Benny the Bear. I’m glad I am the last person you stole from,” she says.
“I never stole from you,” I say.
“But you did,” she says and puts my hand over her heart. “From right under my nose.”
I smile. I can’t believe I love a superhero. I can’t believe a superhero loves me.
With one hand, she puts the mask back on. “Baby steps,” she says.
“As long as we keep taking ’em, we’ll get there. Wherever ‘there’ is,” I say.
“I should get going. I have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on,” she says, and walks toward the front door.
I need to say something. Even though she already knows I like her, our last words in person should be memorable.
“Miigwech,” I blurt out, remembering one of the first Ojibwe words my parents ever taught me. A very important word. Maybe the most important word … thank you.
She smiles. “Giga’waabamin,” she replies.
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
“Figure it out,” she says, and walks out of the store.
I watch her grab her bike out of the Jeep and ride off toward her house.
And the farther she gets from me, the more I feel a heavy pain in my heart. It’s not the hole in my heart I had when I first arrived. It’s the pain of my heart now being whole. It’s the pain of giving my heart to Niimi.
“That’s why it’s called a crush. Because it hurts,” my dad says from behind me.
I turn around and see him and Wendy standing there.
“Were you guys there the whole time?” I ask.
“Us? What? No. We were reading. In the back,” Wendy says.
“Yeah, we definitely did not see any kissing,” my dad adds.
“None. Whatsoever. But I am thrilled to hear that you love bookstores now,” Wendy says.
“You did see everything!” I say.
“Relax. Our first kiss was in this bookstore too. But we were in the next aisle over. The adult section,” Wendy says.
“No, it was in the last aisle. You wanted it to be near all the cookbooks,” my dad says.
“Oh, yeah. That’s right. Now I’m hungry,” she says.
I laugh … But after I do, the pain returns.
“I’ve never felt like this before. Does it get easier?”
“Easier? You kidding? It gets harder. But in the best way possible,” my dad says.
“I’m going to give you two some time to talk. Benny, this isn’t a goodbye hug, it’s an I’ll-see-you-soon hug. Got it?”
“Got it. And thanks for everything, Wendy,” I say.
“And who knows, maybe when you’re a bit older, there’s a summer job here waiting for you,” she says.
“I’d like that. I have a feeling I’ll be here every summer.”
“I do too,” Wendy says as she walks back toward her office.
My dad turns to me. There’s so much we need to say to each other … But neither of us know how to begin. I guess we are a lot alike, after all. We just stare at each other and nod. But I know the perfect way to get him talking.
“You got a joke? Maybe that will get my mind off her,” I ask.
He smiles. “How did the phone propose to his girlfriend?” he asks.
“How?”
“He gave her a ring,” he says.
I laugh … “I’m going to miss this place.”
“This place is going to miss you too.”
I smile. He nods. I have a happy dad again. He has a happy son again. It only took seven years to get here, but what can I say? We’re slow learners.
“I want you to take this book home with you,” he says, and wipes his eye as he walks over toward the back wall and plucks a book from the shelf.
Is he crying? “Which one?” I say, and start walking toward him.
He hands it to me. It’s a book on the Ojibwe language. And I don’t know how to explain it, but for some reason this book makes me so happy.
“I was hoping we could pick up where we left off. I was teaching you our language when you were young. I’d like to continue that, if you like?”
“I’d like that. Do I need to buy this? Because I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I put my shoplifting days behind me,” I say.
He laughs. “I bought it the day your mom called me and asked for help. It’s been waiting here for you,” he says.
I don’t know what to say. We need to say so much more to each other, but that’s okay, because now we have time. “We should get going if we want to make the bus.”
“I was hoping you’d let me take you home.”
“Really? You want to drive me all the way to Duluth?” I ask.
“I do.”
I smile. “That’s a lot of Beep Beep Jeep. You sure your arm can handle it?”
“Only one way to find out. Let’s go,” he says, and walks toward the front door.
I carry my book with me as I step outside and walk toward the Jeep.
I take one last look at the bookstore. The scene of the kiss. This place feels like home to me now. Maybe not the home where I’ll live most of the time, but my home away from home.
I climb into the passenger side and realize that I just didn’t get my dad back, but I pretty much just gained an entire family.
We don’t say much on the drive to Duluth. I guess we we’re both taking in everything that happened. Maybe we’re both afraid if one of us opens our mouths to speak, it will release the dam and we’ll spend the entire drive crying. Dad turns on the radio, and it is still on the R&B station. We must listen to fifty love ballads. This time we both laugh.
As we enter Duluth and pull up to my street, he reaches over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Benny.”
I don’t know why, but those five words nearly erupt me in tears. They are simple words. Nice words. Words that shouldn’t make someone cry, but the moment I hear them come out of my dad’s mouth, they hit me like those were the five most important words that I’ll ever need to hear. He’s proud of me. My dad is proud of me. And the truth is, I am proud of him too.
“I forgive you, Dad.”
He nods. It’s something I thought I’d never say to him, but by his glistening eyes, I can tell it is something he has dreamt of hearing for the last seven years.
As the Jeep idles, he points to two crows sitting together atop a telephone wire. “You know what they call two crows that are always together like that?” he asks. “Velcros.”
I laugh. That was one of his better ones. Even he’s laughing.
I reach over and hug him, and as I’m in his arms, we both let it out to get it out. Not a loud dramatic cry, but a good cry. A goodbye cry. A cry so many parents and children share on the curbs when being dropped off.
“Give your mother my best,” he says after finally releasing me.
“You don’t want to come in and say hi?” I ask.
“Baby steps. I’m still a work in progress.”
“I get it,” I say, wiping my eyes and exiting the Jeep. “Maybe next time I’m up there, we can go see that really old cedar tree?”
He smiles. “I do believe you’re ready for that. Oh, and say hi to that handsome judge for me,” he says as I pull my suitcase out of the back.
“I don’t plan on seeing him again,” I say.
My dad laughs. “Oh, you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”
What! Oh … no. It can’t be …
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, after your court date with him, your mother had her own. Then another one,” he says.
“Mom is dating the judge?” I say in disbelief.
“Guilty,” he says, laughing.
He reaches under his seat and pulls out something wrapped in newsprint. “This is for you, but don’t open it until you’re in your room,” he says, and hands it to me. “Oh, and before I go, I need to tell you a secret,” he says.
Is this the advice that I’ll take with me for the rest of my life? Is this wisdom passed down from an Ojibwe father to his son? I lean in and await his words.
He whispers in my ear, “Beep Beep Jeep,” and punches me in the shoulder and points to another Jeep parked across the street.
Ouch! As I pull back, he laughs and speeds off.
I smile and rub my shoulder. For a changed man, some things about him haven’t changed at all. And I hope they never will.
I walk toward our apartment and it kind of feels like I’m walking on clouds. So much has happened here. I became a superhero. Of course I am going to make mistakes and not be perfect, but I know I won’t steal anymore. No matter what that villainous voice in my head says. Those days are behind me. It won’t always be easy, but that’s okay. Nothing worth anything ever is. But the best part about this trip is … I have a girlfriend now. My mom is going to flip out when I tell her. We’ve never once talked about girls. And I predict I now won’t be able to shut up about her. I can’t wait for them to meet one day. Niimi needs a mom in her life. And I have a great one.
I enter my apartment and head toward my room. My mom is still at work. And even though this place is much smaller than my dad’s house, it feels so good to be home. I sit on my bed and place my Ojibwe book on my pillow. I look at the present my dad got me. I smile and peel back the corners of the paper and tear it open. I wonder what it is.
It is a ceramic bear, painted to look exactly like the stuffed bear that sent me here. The same bear my dad left for me so many years ago. A note is taped to it: Thanks for Bearing with me—Dad.
He made this for me. And I’m in bed, in my room, exactly where I was when I was given the stuffed bear seven years ago. But this time, I’m not tearing up the note and throwing the bear away. Instead, I set it on my bedside table, where it will stand proudly.
CHAPTER 23
SUPERHERO SIGN-UP
I’ve been back at North Duluth Middle School for one week now. Things are going pretty well. It’s still unusual for me to actually attend class, but I’ll get used to it. I told all my teachers that I’d like a second chance, and to bear with me, and surprisingly, they all agreed to give me one.
I still get the urge to steal sometimes. It’s not like it’s going to magically go away overnight, but I’ve learned to ignore it. I don’t want to hurt people anymore. I’d rather do another four-letter word that begins with H: I’d rather help people. And I’m studying Ojibwe again. Niimi even quizzes me on words. Did you know that the word help in Ojibwe is wiiji? And the word for friend is niiji. They rhyme. Pretty cool, huh? My mom says if you ever want to make a niiji, all you got to do is wiiji a stranger. And it’s true. Everyone in Grand Portage helped me, and I consider them all my friends now.
My dad gave me an update yesterday. He said that George placed a note in the bottle the other night. I hope he’s ready to experience the wildest time of his life. Boot camps up in Grand Portage are no joke. I can’t wait to hear about what he goes through. Hopefully, when he defeats his villain and conquers his fear, he can go bike riding with Niimi and me when I’m up there.
I’ve spoken to Niimi nearly every night. She’s basically the only person my age that I talk to, since all of my friends here in Duluth ditched me now that I’m done with stealing. And without friends, I will admit, middle school is a really lonely place … So, Niimi gave me a great idea. A brilliant plan to not only make new friends but to also make Duluth a better place. In the library, a place where I’ve never set foot in before but now go to every day, there is a bulletin post for students to tack flyers onto. Most of them are for study groups, after-school sports, tutoring, or music lessons … But what I posted on it is something no school has ever seen before.
DO YOU WANT TO BE A SUPERHERO?
LEAVE YOUR NAME & NUMBER BELOW:
I left room on the sheet for ten names and thought it would be completely full by lunchtime, but when I checked it, only one person had signed up. Someone named Collin The Brave.
But you know what they say, if you can reach one person, you can reach a million.
Oh, and my mom and I are closer than ever before … She can’t wait to meet Niimi. She basically hears about her every single day. She said she brags to her clients at work that her son is dating a superhero. And yes, she’s still going out with Judge Mason. His first name is Zachary, but sometimes I still call him the judge. When I do that, he calls me case number 83-212. It’s kind of an inside joke we have together. And okay, I’ll finally admit it, he is pretty good-looking.
And like Niimi says, giga’waabamin.
If you want to know what that means, I’ll tell you what she told me.
Figure it out.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chi-Miigwech to Robert DesJarlait of Red Lake Ojibwe for walking beside me on this book’s journey and helping me with all the Anishinaabemowin. You are a great mentor, artist, and niiji. If you never stop teaching, I will never stop learning.
Miigwech to all of the members of Grand Portage Ojibwe for supporting me and encouraging me to continue my path as a storyteller. I will forever strive to make you proud.
Miigwech to my agent and friend Rosemary Stimola, who loves books more than anyone I have ever known. Thank you for always having my back. Miigwech to my editor and friend Liz Szabla, who makes me a stronger writer, chapter by chapter, book by book. Miigwech to Jean Feiwel and everyone at Feiwel & Friends for continuing to believe in me. Miigwech to everyone at Macmillan for making me a part of your family.
Miigwech to Native artist, Steph Littlebird, for illustrating such a beautiful book cover. Thank you to creative director, Rich Deas, for designing the cover. Thank you to my production editors, Starr Baer and Helen Seachrist, and the production manager, Kim Waymer. And thank you once again, to the associate publicist, Madison Furr.
Miigwech to the wonderful authors in my life who endlessly inspire me and are always rooting for me; Adriana Mather, Nic Stone, Jennifer Niven, Nikita Remi, A.S. King, and Emily Henry.
Miigwech to my dear friends and family for pulling me back down to earth when my head was too busy exploring new unwritten worlds. Miigwech to Sasa, the Hexum family, Tantoo Cardinal, Graham Greene, Michael Greyeyes, Susan James, James Vukelich, all the teachers and librarians, and everyone at FAMB for all your support.
Miigwech to all my fellow Native American authors and artists for continuing to tell our stories so the next generation of readers can learn from our words and create new worlds of their own.
Thank you to my animals, Von, Princess, Tu, and Banana for reminding me every day what happiness is. And to my best friend, Smeagle: travel well, have fun. I love you.
And most importantly, Chi-Miigwech to my beautiful son, Wolf. I wrote this for you. Everything I do is for you. You teach me how to live life every day. I am the man I am because of the man you are. I will never stop dancing with you. I love you.
Thank you for reading this Feiwel & Friends book. The friends who made The Second Chance of Benjamin Waterfalls possible are:
Jean Feiwel, Publisher
Liz Szabla, Associate Publisher
Rich Deas, Senior Creative Director
Holly West, Senior Editor
Anna Roberto, Senior Editor
Kat Brzozowski, Senior Editor
Dawn Ryan, Executive Managing Editor
Kim Waymer, Senior Production Manager
Erin Siu, Associate Editor
Emily Settle, Associate Editor
Foyinsi Adegbonmire, Associate Editor
Rachel Diebel, Assistant Editor
Angela Jun, Designer
Starr Baer, Associate Copy Chief
Helen Seachrist, Senior Production Editor
Follow us on Facebook or visit us online at mackids.com. Our books are friends for life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Bird’s debut middle-grade novel, The Brave, was a Book Riot Best Book of 2020 and praised as “an amazing debut full of heart, authenticity, and courage” by School Library Journal in a starred review. He is also a screenwriter and director at the independent film company Zombot Pictures. A California native of Ojibwe descent, he now lives in Massachusetts, with his wife, the author and actor Adriana Mather, and their son. You can sign up for email updates here.
