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CHAPTER 2
From that moment on, Carl and Ellie were best friends. When they were nineteen, they got married. They moved into Ellie’s clubhouse and had fun fixing it up. Ellie hammered shingles onto the roof. Carl put up a new weather vane. Ellie pulled out her old adventure book, and Carl painted the house so that it looked exactly like the clubhouse in Ellie’s drawing.
One day, Carl leaned against the mailbox, admiring Ellie’s work as she painted their names on the side. But when he pulled back, he gasped. He’d left a handprint in the paint! Ellie smiled and put her hand in the paint, too. When she pulled it away, it looked as if their prints were holding hands.
They worked on the house every day, and the days turned into weeks. Sometimes they took a break. They would sit in two comfy chairs that were placed side by side in the living room. Other times they would climb to the top of their favorite hill and have a picnic. They liked to lie in the grass, stare up at the sky, and watch the clouds transform into different shapes, like turtles and elephants.
Ellie got a job at the local zoo, taking care of the animals in the South America House. Carl worked at the zoo, too. He sold balloons from a cart. Sometimes Carl had so many balloons, the cart would rise right off the ground!
The weeks turned into months. Ellie and Carl looked through her adventure book and dreamed of traveling to Paradise Falls. Ellie painted a lovely picture of their house atop the tepui. They hung the picture over the fireplace. Carl added a poster of South America. Ellie put up a hand-woven rug, a piece of pottery, and a figurine of a tropical bird.
For the finishing touch, Carl placed a toy blimp on the mantel and a glass jar on the table. A label on the jar read PARADISE FALLS. Carl and Ellie tossed their spare change into the jar whenever they could.
But they never had much money. And they always seemed to need to spend the money they had—a new tire for the car, a cast for Carl’s broken leg, a new roof for the house. But Carl and Ellie didn’t worry. They knew they would get to South America someday.
The months turned into years.
Carl sold his balloons, and Ellie cared for the zoo animals. At night, they danced in the living room. They always had fun together.
One day, when they had been married more than thirty years, Carl realized that they had been waiting long enough. He decided to surprise Ellie. He bought two plane tickets to South America and tucked them into a picnic basket. But when they were on the way up their favorite hill, Ellie fell down.
Ellie went to the hospital, and for a while it looked as if she might get better. But she didn’t. Instead, Carl went to her funeral with a bouquet of blue balloons.
Then he went home. For the first time since he was eight years old, Carl was completely alone.
The alarm clock buzzed, and Carl searched for his glasses. He sat up in bed, rubbing his face. He was an old man now. Waking up isn’t as easy as it used to be, he thought as he stretched. His bones creaked and cracked. He grabbed his cane, which had tennis balls stuck to the bottom prongs for traction, and rode his elderly-assistance chair down the staircase. It took Carl a long, long time to get downstairs.
Carl ate breakfast, then puttered around the house. He dusted the mantel above the fireplace, where he and Ellie had collected all their special adventure items. Carl made sure to carefully replace the tropical-bird figurine next to the pair of binoculars and a framed photo of Ellie as a young girl. Then he slowly walked to the front door, put on his hat, and adjusted the grape-soda pin on his lapel. He paused to check his reflection in the mirror before he unlocked all the locks on the front door and walked out to the porch.
The neighborhood had changed over the years. In fact, it wasn’t much of a neighborhood anymore. Every other house on the block had been torn down. A construction crew was building new high-rise apartments.
“Quite a sight, huh, Ellie?” Carl said as he watched the bulldozers crawl over the dirt. Carl knew that Ellie was no longer there to hear him. But he still liked to talk to her sometimes. After all, the house was filled with things they had made together. Everything about it reminded him of her.
Carl’s eyes fell on the mailbox. It hadn’t changed since the day Ellie had painted it. It still had both their names—and their handprints. A few letters poked from its door.
“Mail’s here!” Carl announced. He tottered to the box and pulled out a brochure. Good-looking elderly people smiled up at him from the bright pamphlet. “Shady Oaks Retirement. Oh, brother.” Carl noticed that the mailbox was covered with dust. Frowning, he picked up a leaf blower and blew the dust away.
“Hey! Morning, Mr. Fredricksen!” a construction worker named Tom called over to him. “Need any help there?”
“Yes. Tell your boss over there that you boys are ruining our house,” Carl growled , glancing over at a businessman talking on his cell phone. “Well, just to let you know, my boss would be happy to take this old place off your hands, and for double his last offer,” Tom replied. “What do you say to that?”
In answer, Carl blasted Tom with the leaf blower.
“Uh, I’ll take that as a no, then,” Tom said.
“I believe I made my position to your boss quite clear,” Carl said.
“You poured prune juice in his gas tank,” Tom replied.
Carl chuckled. “Oh, yeah, that was good.”
“This is serious,” Tom said, frowning. “He’s out to get your house.”
Carl turned and went back up his front steps.“Tell your boss he can have our house,” he called back over his shoulder. “When I’m dead!” He slammed the door.
Tom raised his eyebrows. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
Inside the house, Carl sat down in his chair and turned on the television.
“If you order right now,” said the man on the screen, “you’re gonna get the camera. You’re gonna get the printer. You’re gonna get the …”
Carl’s eyelids felt heavy. His head started to nod.
Just then, someone knocked at the door. Carl got up and shuffled over to answer it.
A boy in a Junior Wilderness Explorer uniform was standing on Carl’s porch. He wore a sash covered in badges, and he was holding a Wilderness Explorer handbook. “Good afternoon,” the boy read from his handbook, “my name is Russell, and I am a Wilderness Explorer in Tribe Fifty-four, Sweat Lodge Twelve. Are you in need of any assistance today, sir?”
“No,” Carl said.
“I could help you cross the street,” Russell suggested.
“No.”
“I could help you cross your yard.”
“No.”
“I could help you cross your porch.”
“No.”
“Well, I’ve got to help you cross something,” Russell insisted.
“Uh, no,” Carl said. “I’m doing fine.” He shut the door in Russell’s face.
Carl stood in the hallway, listening. But he didn’t hear Russell’s footsteps walking away. After a moment, he yanked open the door.
“Good afternoon, my name is Russell,” Russell repeated, “and I am a Wilderness Explorer in Tribe Fifty-four, Sweat Lodge Twelve. Are you in need of any assistance today, sir?”
“Thank you, but I don’t need any help.” Carl tried to shut the door, but Russell jammed his hiking boot into the doorframe, blocking it.
“Ow!” Russell winced.
With a sigh, Carl opened the door. Clearly, this kid wasn’t going to give up. “Proceed.”
“Good afternoon,” said Russell, starting over.
“But skip to the end!” Carl snapped.
Russell pointed to his sash. Many colorful patches had been sewn onto it. There was only one space left on the whole sash. “See these?” he asked. “They are my Wilderness Explorer badges. You may notice, one is missing. It’s my Assisting the Elderly badge. If I get it, I will become a Senior Wilderness Explorer. The wilderness must be explored!” Russell made his hands into a W. He flapped his hands and squawked like a bird. “Caw-caw!” Then Russell’s hands became claws as he growled like a bear. “Rarr!”
Carl’s hearing aid shrieked in his ear.
“It’s going to be great,” Russell went on. “There’s a big ceremony, and all the dads come, and they pin on our badges.”
“So you want to assist an old person?” Carl asked.
“Yep! Then I will be a Senior Wilderness Explorer!” Russell grinned.
Carl looked left, then right. Then he leaned in to whisper, “You ever heard of a snipe?”
“Snipe?” Russell shook his head.
“Bird. Beady eyes. Every night, it sneaks into my yard and gobbles my poor azaleas. I’m elderly and infirm; I can’t catch it. If only someone could help me.”
“Me!” Russell bounced up and down with excitement. “Me! I’ll do it!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Carl said doubtfully, “it’s awfully crafty. You’d have to clap your hands three times to lure it in.”
“I’ll find it, Mr. Fredricksen!” Russell promised.
“I think its burrow is two blocks down. If you go past—”
But Russell was already on the case. “Two blocks down! Got it!” He hurried away, clapping and calling, “Sni-i-i-pe. Here, snipey, snipey!”
“Bring it back here when you find it!” Carl shouted.
That should keep him busy for a while, Carl thought. He knew something that Russell didn’t: There was no snipe. He’d made it up.
Carl started to close his door, but the beeping sound of a large truck backing up caught his attention. One of the construction workers was directing the truck—and it was headed right toward Carl’s mailbox!
Crunch!
“Hey!” Moving faster than he had in years, Carl picked up his cane and hurried toward the mailbox. “Hey, you!” he hollered at the construction worker. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I am so sorry, sir.” The worker really did look sorry. He bent over to try to fix the mailbox.
“Don’t touch that!” Carl barked, reaching for it.
“No, no, no,” the worker said. “Let me take care of that for you.”
Carl struggled to keep his grip on the box.The construction worker didn’t understand. To him, it was just a mailbox. But to Carl, it was Ellie’s mailbox. The one she had painted. The one with their handprints. “Get away from our mailbox!” Carl warned.
“Hey, sir, I—”
“I don’t want you to touch it!” Carl cried. He batted at the construction worker with his cane.
“Ow!” The worker fell to the ground, holding his head.
Carl cradled the mailbox in his arms and retreated to the house. His heart was thudding in his chest. He hadn’t realized that he was still strong enough to hurt another person. People had gathered around to make sure the construction worker was okay. A few glanced nervously at Carl.
Quickly, Carl went inside the house and shut the front door. He also closed the curtains, but kept one open a little so he could peek out. He saw a police car roll up beside the crowd of people. The real estate boss was there, too, and he was staring right at Carl. Scared, Carl pulled away from the window. He knew he’d made a mistake. A big mistake.