The Lost Celt. A. E. Conran
she says next and lowers herself down so we’re on the same level. Mom does this when she thinks she’s going to say something important, so I lean in. “You see, we’ve been dealing with this for years now,” Mariko whispers.
“You have? You’ve seen more guys like him?”
“Yes, and a few come back again and again. Especially on certain nights, when there’s a natural disaster or something. That’s when we see more activity.”
“Activity? You do? But how come we don’t all know about it? I mean this is huge!”
Mariko gives me a sad smile. “That’s one way to put it, Mikey. It is huge, and you know, I wish more people did know about it. Sometimes I think they don’t want to know. It’s like this…this…big secret!”
I can hardly believe what she’s telling me. Maybe the shock shows on my face because she suddenly drops her voice and says, “Oh Mikey, I can’t tell you any more about this guy. It’s against the rules. But we’ll look after him. He’ll be OK. Really, he will. I mean, once you’ve experienced certain things they never quite go away. But people do get better. We’ll help him. Don’t let this worry you, OK?”
Wow! What does she mean, worry me? This is the best night of my life!
I look into Mariko’s face. She seems really concerned. I’m not sure what I should say or do, so in the end I just nod and agree that I’ll talk to her if I need to.
I must have said the right thing because she smiles and straightens up. “Good. Come on, let’s go find Marty.”
She acts as if our whole incredible time-traveling Celt conversation never happened. But I was there. I saw him. Awesome doesn’t get any bigger than this.
I can’t wait to tell Kyler tomorrow!
Grandpa and I hardly get any sleep. Most of the night we spend in the ER. The rest I spend at home looking at time-travel videos online. How can I sleep when I’ve just seen a real live Celt?
The more I watch, the more I play back that conversation with Mariko in my head. Was she trying to tell me that there’s a conspiracy, just like the videos say? That time travel is happening all the time, but it’s a big secret and somehow she’s involved? It gives me goose bumps just thinking about it. Can a secret that big stay a secret? I pull my military history book from the shelf by my bed. Wars are full of secrets, even our battles in Romanii: Northern Borders.
The proof is there in black and white. During the Second World War, no one knew the Allies were making the atomic bomb, especially not the “general public,” even though whole “secret” towns were built where the bombs were made. And no one knew they had broken the Enigma code years before the war ended. Not even the Allied armies knew that the intelligence people had broken the code. Throughout history there have been secrets—massive secrets. This must be another one. Kyler’s gonna love this!
I must have fallen asleep because I wake up, what seems like five minutes later, with the book still open on my bed and my alarm blaring as loudly as a fire engine. I roll over groaning and hit the snooze. It’s only on the fourth burst of ringing that the memory of the Celt blows me clean out of bed like an electric shock.
Grandpa’s already downstairs packing my lunch. He slides a bowl of cereal across the table as I sit down. Cereal without milk, just how I like it.
“How are you, Grandpa?” I ask.
“Sore. Pretty sore. But we had an adventure, Mikey Boy, didn’t we? Heh, heh, heh.”
I nod and shovel cereal into my mouth as quickly as I can.
“You’re running late this morning,” Grandpa says. “I was gonna let you sleep in. I already texted Dave to say you wouldn’t be walking with Kyler, but now that you’re up…can you hustle?”
“Sure! Maybe I can catch up with him.”
I finish my cereal in record time, and I’m just putting my lunch box in my backpack by the door when Mom comes in from her shift. She makes me even later by doing what Grandpa calls one of her “Spanish Inquisitions.” This means she goes ballistic and asks lots of questions that neither Grandpa nor I get the chance to answer before she’s on to the next. You can bet Mariko’s already texted the details, but Mom insists on hearing them again from us.
“Poker night, Dad? On Sunday night? When Mikey has school the next day?” Mom speaks really fast when she does the Spanish Inquisition.
“It was the only night all the guys could make this month—”
“And you go down unlit steps?”
“There was dog poop in the—”
“You could’ve broken your arm, or leg, or both.”
“It’s just a strain, and a few stitches—”
“Were you drinking?”
“I had two or—”
“You go down unlit steps when you’ve been drinking?” Mom slaps her forehead like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.
“There was a plastic bag of dog—”
“And you couldn’t leave it ‘til morning?”
“Yeah I shoulda—”
“And Mikey was still up? On a school night?”
“He was in his bed—”
“Who called the ambulance?”
“Dave drove us—”
“And you let Mikey stay in the emergency room?”
“Dr. Curtis was—”
“He couldn’t have stayed with Dave?”
It goes on and on until she’s just shaking her head saying, “I don’t believe it, Dad. I just don’t believe it. I come home from work, and I’m still at work. What can I say? What am I going to do with you?”
She slugs back black coffee even though she never drinks coffee after a shift. While her mouth is around the cup, I make a dash for the door. “Don’t forget your phone, Mikey,” she calls. Grandpa limps after me.
“Don’t worry, Mikey. I’ll set her straight,” Grandpa says. “Mom’s not mad at you, but I’m in the dog house for sure. Throw me a bone next time you see me, heh, heh, heh.”
I make it to school with half a minute until the bell. Probably because I’m late, Kyler’s playing with the “tetherball kids” in the yard. The tetherball kids are always out there right up to the bell.
“Kyler!” I yell from the far side of the blacktop. “You’ll never guess what I saw last night!” I run to meet him, my tin lunch box clanking in my “mom-disapproved” camouflage backpack, but before I can reach him the bell rings.
“Come on, you’ll be late,” he yells as he joins the last kids racing headlong for class.
There’s no time to talk as we stuff our backpacks into our cubbies and sit down at our table for roll call, but the minute Miss O’Brien gets behind her computer to email our class numbers to the office, Kyler says, “What happened? You left the game!”
“Oh man, did you put it on pause? Did I win? Did I miss my entire victory?” I can hardly believe myself. I have the most super-amazing news in the world, and this is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.
“No,” Kyler says. “You didn’t miss anything. I put it on pause.” He shakes his head as if he knows he’s the best friend ever and kind of wishes he wasn’t right now.