Lawrence Looks for Treasure

Part 2 - Chapter 11

11

My sleep was deep, and the morning had come and gone when I woke. For a moment, I forgot our plan. It felt like any other day, with something missing, that's all. Once I saw my knapsacks, however, I came to. Excitement tingled down. I couldn't believe it—my own Grand Adventure. I skipped out of bed and then out the door. No time to eat. I was already late.

I hurried to the side of the house to grab my bike, but I couldn't pull it from the wall. It was locked. I never locked my bike, but I was sure I knew the culprit. My dad. He was always telling me to lock the damn bike. I'd left it unlocked a thousand times though. It never got stolen.

I ran to the garage to get the key, but the key was gone. My Dad was up to no good. He does this stuff when he wants to 'have a talk'. One time, when I failed careers class, I avoided him all month. So he took my pillows, and wouldn't give them back until we 'had a talk'. He wasn't mad or anything. He just wanted to know what happened. He's one of those guys you can be honest with, and he'll be honest back. So I told him the truth. Careers class was useless and boring. What irony—a careers teacher teaching us how to find our dream job. He probably didn't even find his!

My dad understood. Thought it was pretty funny, actually. But he said that no matter what you do in life, you have to do things you don't like, in order to do the things you do like. Not even the person with the best job in the world gets to do good stuff all the time. He also has to do crappy stuff. Careers class is just part of the crappy stuff.

I told my dad I agreed, and that was that. I just don't like 'having talks'. Maybe part of me does, but not for long. So I didn't get around to telling him that I don't even know what the good stuff is. Everything in store for me seems pretty crappy. How can I push through the crappy stuff, if I don't see any good stuff on the other side? It's like a journey without treasure. Why go?

Anyway, I knew that I had to get the keys from my dad. But the guys were expecting me. And I needed to leave now if I wanted to arrive on time.

The lawnmower rumbled in the backyard. As usual, my Dad cutting the grass. I didn't want to go back there. It'd mark my end, I just knew it. That backyard was one big Lawrence trap.

'Da-ad,' I shouted.

No answer.

'Da-ad,' I shouted again.

No answer.

'DA-AD,' I shouted a third time.

The lawnmower turned off.

'Come here if you want to talk,' he shouted. 'I'm not going to yell back and forth.'

The lawnmower turned on again.

It was clever. He made it seem like a matter of politeness. Like I should treat him with respect, for heaven's sake. If I wanted to talk, I should go and talk. Like anyone with manners.

Of course, I didn't want to talk. I just wanted my damn bike. That he locked! I was trapped, alright.

'Da-aaad,' I shouted. 'Where are the keys to my bike? I'm in a hurry!'

It was useless. I knew it. But I wasn't going down without a fight. I always go down fighting. If I died and my gravestone read—Here Lies Lawrence, He Went Down Fighting—then I'd die happy. Honest.

He didn't answer. He went right on mowing.

That was it. I knew it. I walked to that backyard like I was walking to the chair. The verdict was reached. I was a goner.

I entered, and there was my dad, crouched over, fiddling with weeds or twigs or flowers or something. The lawnmower rumbled patiently nearby.

'Hi-Dad,' I said real quick. 'I'm-in-a-hurry-I-told-the-guys-I'd-be-over-an-hour-ago-we-have-a-big-week-planned-where-are-the-keys-to-my-bike-oh-and-by-the-way-I'm-gonna-sleep-over-at-Chris's-for-the-next-few-days.'

He looked up.

'Who are you?' he said, slowly, with this big smile. 'Lawrence, my son, is that you? Oh, it's been so long. How you've changed. Do you remember me? I'm your Pa!'

'Yes, dad. It's me.' I said. 'Cut it out, okay. Can I please have the keys?'

'Hold on, there,' he said. 'I'm a good father to you, aren't I? Feed you? Clothe you? Try not to bother you? Don't you think you owe it to your Pa to spend a couple minutes with him?'

'Yes, Dad. But—'

'Let's go on a little walk. Not too far. To the park and back.'

'The park? That's like a half hour walk. Besides, those flowers look like they really need your help. Or weeds, or twigs, or whatever. I'm not sure you can spare the time.'

'How about halfway to the park,' he said. 'The guys can wait ten minutes. I'm family, after all. If you really feel like we have to turn back sooner, we can.'

'Fine,' I said.

I made it seem like he was really putting me out. The truth was, though, I think I needed someone to talk to. And my dad is good at that stuff, as far as dads go.

Off we went. 

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