STORY SO FAR: It’s 1972. Ed Goddard, a former parachutist, plans to steal a bag of money from an airplane and make his escape by parachute. But down below, Jamie Peters is watching the sky.

CHAPTER THREE

Three Who Watch



Jamie parked his bike near his grandfather’s pickup truck and made his way to the Luries’ barn. Mr. Lurie was a dairy farmer with fifty head of cows on mostly rocky pasture. Todd, the Luries’ son, was in his teens. Alice was the family baby, and Gillian was a girl about Jamie’s age, twelve. Grandma was always suggesting Jamie hang out with her, but Jamie wasn’t so sure he wanted a friend who was a girl. Besides, she would probably end up making fun of himjust like everyone else.

“Grandpa!” Jamie called.

Grandpa Thornton stuck his head out of the barn. “Jamie? Got the wrench? Good boy!”

Mr. Lurie, hands and face streaked with grease, was on his knees beside a large pump. “Hey, Jamie, nice to see you again.”

“You too,” said Jamie as he stood watching. Then, losing interest, he announced, “I’m going outside.”

“That you, Jamie?” called Mrs. Lurie from the porch.

“Hi, Mrs. Lurie.”

“You’re so big I almost didn’t recognize you. How’re your folks?”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go on out back? Todd’s working on his car. I think Gillian is with him.”

Sure enough, Todd was bending over his 1961 Ford pickup, which he had bought from a junk dealer. For the past two years, he had been trying to get it to go.

Gillian was there too. Only a bit taller than Jamie, her long ponytail made her seem bigger. Her round, tan face never appeared to smile, and the way she looked at Jamie made him feel uncomfortable. It was as if she were trying to find something out.

“Hi, Jamie,” Todd said, looking around. “What’s happening?”

“Not much. Get it to work yet?”

“Keep the faith, baby.”

“What if you don’t?” “Hey, dude, I will. What you been doing?”

Jamie shrugged.

No one spoke for a few moments, until Gillian said, “Up for a while?”

“Whole month.”

“Hey,” said Todd with a grin, “you still staring at the sky?”

Feeling his face become hot and wishing he had never come, Jamie mumbled, “What do you mean?”

“Your grandmother said some folks read books, but you read clouds. That true?”

“Maybe,” said Jamie, concentrating on his untied shoelace.

“Said you go to special classes,” said Todd. “What you do there, skywriting?”

Jamie started to walk away.

“Hey,” Todd called after him. “Be cool!”

Jamie headed back to the barn. “Grandpa, I’m going to bike home,” he said.

“I won’t be long,” his grandpa said. “I can drive you.”

“I’d rather bike.”

“Okay. See you at home.”

Jamie went to get his bike, only to find that Gillian had followed him. “Don’t let Todd bother you,” she said.

“He doesn’t,” Jamie said, wanting to leave more than ever now. He tied his lace, straddled his bike, and pushed back on the kickstand.

“He’s a dork,” said Gillian. “Ask him what his grades are.”

“I told you, he doesn’t bother me.”

“I bet his grades are a lot worse than yours,” said Gillian.

“Right,” Jamie murmured, pressing onto the pedals. “See you,” he called.

When Jamie got home, Mrs. Thornton was sitting on the porch chair reading the newspaper.

“Didn’t you want to wait for Grandpa?” she asked.

“Didn’t feel like it,” he said.

“Want to hear what President Nixon said about Vietnam?”

“Later.” Jamie started to walk off.

“Jamiesomething happen at the Luries’?”

“No. Just going up the hill.”

“Watching some clouds?” she asked.

“I guess,” he said. That was exactly what he was going to dothat and keep away from people who bothered him, like the Luries.

Ed Goddard had emptied his apartment of everything that could be traced to him. All that was left was what he was taking with himincluding his map. He studied it again, not to learn anythinghe knew it all by heartbut to test his memory. He flipped a coin in the air and let it fall anywhere along the route the airplane would take. Then, without looking at the map, he wrote out complete directions to the nearest big town. In doing so, he noted every road he would use, every road he would pass. He checked to see if he was right. Over and over he flipped the coin in the air. No matter where it fell, his memory proved correct.

He turned on his radio and listened to the National Weather Service bulletins. The report was good: Fair and hot. Only a chance of storms.

At six o’clock in the evening, he went down to the basement and knocked on the superintendent’s door.

“Ah, Mr. Alowski,” said the super to Ed Goddard. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m going on vacation tomorrow,” said Ed. “Just wanted to give you my rent in advance.” He handed the super a cash-filled envelope.

“Traveling?” asked the super.

“Visiting my family.”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” said the super. “Flying?”

“Not me,” replied Ed. “I hate to fly.”

“Hey, right. You might fall down.”

Back in his apartment, Ed Goddard folded his parachute. He did it once. He did it twice. He did it ten times. Only when he was completely satisfied did he pack it away in its bag and lay it softly on a chair like the precious object it was.

In the bathroom, he dyed his hair black.

Ed was ready. Tomorrow, he thought to himself. Tomorrow I’ll be in the sky.