Dockingboys

Chapter Eight

The boys met up at the truckyard at precisely eight the next morning. The other boys were all still asleep, except for a few early birds like Jose and Jamon who were hanging out at the tables and writing to each other. Leif was an odd one, and he got up every day at precisely seven thirty and stood on top of Crane Four for ten minutes before coming back down. But the others were all still in their bunk, which meant that the truckyard was entirely empty except for the three boys.

They settled on taking a smaller pickup to get to the city, with Rusty driving while Declan and Toland sat in the back. To get from any dock to Oakton, it would take at most fifteen minutes in a car. Rusty, a jazz fan, had cranked up the radio to its loudest point where the cars next to him were so annoyed that all open windows had been closed. Declan and Toland were okay with it, but sometimes, Declan thought that jazz was fairly repetitive and used the same instrument over and over again. But he didn't say anything.

After a fast drive of ten minutes, Rusty parked the truck in an underground parking lot two blocks away from Irene's home, and the three of them hopped out.

"Alright. Irene lives in a large townhouse. The number, I think, is 14 on her block," Declan told the other boys, walking in front.

"You don't even know your own sister's address?" Toland teased, poking him.

"It's not like we see each other every day. In fact, the last time I saw her was in July."

"Good point," Toland paused. "I'm still unsure whether she'll know the stuff we ask her or not."

"I'm willing to bet she does. But if she doesn't, we'll go to my other friend."

"Who is your other friend?" Rusty interrupted.

"A steeplejack named Billy. Has a sister named Akuma."

"Billy. I think I've heard of him."

"You might've. He's one of the best steeplejacks around. After me, of course," Declan pointed out.

Within a few minutes, the boys arrived at Irene's home. It was large and tall, made of a beautiful brick outer wall and a stylish rooftop. It had windows on three sides, outlooking the city square and a small park. Her personal garage was around back, with a limousine, a convertible, and a pickup truck that belonged to Declan when he was a steeplejack. It probably wasn't really used anymore.

"Wow. When you said rich, I didn't guess this rich." Toland stared in amazement.

"I mean, there's tons of people in the city this rich. Irene's just one of them," Declan said, stepping up the stairs and ringing the buzzer.

"Hey, what if she's not there?" Rusty asked after a few seconds of waiting.

Declan paused for a moment. He hadn't thought of that. "Believe me, she spends half her time sitting at home with her dog and parrots and reading a book."

After another minute, the door opened to the sight of a pretty girl with long black hair with the same red streaks and spots as Declan. She was wearing a simple shirt over a skirt and tights, and her eyes filled with excitement when she spotted Declan.

"Declan!" she shrieked, enclosing him in a tight hug.

"Hey, Irene," Declan choked out, then gestured to his friends. "These are my friends. Irene, meet Rusty and Toland. Guys, this is Irene."

"Hi guys!" she chirped like a six year old, grabbing Declan by his hand and leading him into her home while Rusty and Toland trailed behind.

The house was huge. The living room itself was probably the largest room in the house, and sitting on a small table to their left was a television. Television's were one of the newest things that Oakton had developed, and even with their black and white quality, everyone still thought that they were the coolest thing ever. And of course, only the richest could afford, and Declan immediately started checking it out from afar. It was rectangular in shape, and the dormant screen was currently black. Two antennae stuck out from the top of the television, and a small remote the length of a pen sat next to it.