Answers in the Pages Read online

  “Fine!” Rick cried, standing up. “I will go get us some marshmallows!” Then, before Oliver could say another word, he stormed off.

  Rick knew full well that what he’d just said didn’t make much sense. They were in the middle of the wilderness. Marshmallows did not grow on trees. And yet, here he was, skulking off into the woods. Because this was what often happened—when Oliver sulked, Rick skulked. Rick didn’t know any other way to handle it. While he was off, Oliver would begin the unsulking process. And then when Rick got back, Rick would do something to complete the process, like make a joke.

  In this particular case, he desperately wanted to find something in the woods that looked like a marshmallow. Or even something that could make a good marshmallow pun. Like marsh grass. If he could find some marsh grass and bend it into the shape of a duck, he could present it to Oliver as a marshmallard. Oliver would laugh and, together with Melody, they’d toast marshmallards over the fire.

  Did it matter that there wasn’t any marsh grass in this area? Not at all. Rick didn’t have any idea what marsh grass looked like, so he assumed Oliver didn’t either. Any old grass that was long enough to shape into a duck would do.

  Rick was careful not to venture too far into the woods—in the rush of his skulking, he’d forgotten to bring a flashlight, and the moon was laying a ghostly glare over the forest. He had leaned over to test out some grass around a boulder when he felt a presence on the other side of the boulder.

  He looked up…and found himself staring at a bear, no more than ten feet away.

  Rick knew that with grizzly bears, you were supposed to slowly edge back and play dead if they attacked. With black bears, you were supposed to hold your ground and scare them.

  It also helped to carry bear spray.

  Rick was not carrying bear spray.

  Nor could he tell in the dark whether this was a grizzly bear or a black bear.

  His first impulse was to scream. Since bears are afraid of sudden, loud noises, he decided to go for it.

  “BEAR!” he yelled in the loudest voice he could muster. “BEAEAEAEAEAR!”

  The bear decided to yell back.

  It came out as an angry roar.

  Stand your ground, Rick thought.

  RUN! he also thought.

  And: No, remember you’re not supposed to run!

  It was a boy-and-bear standoff…

  …until suddenly there was a clamor from behind Rick. A monstrous cacophony that made even the trees shake.

  CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

  The bear turned and ran.

  Rick wanted to follow…until Oliver and Melody ran up to him, pots and pans from the RV in hand. They’d crashed them together to make as much noise as possible.

  Oliver looked around. “Well, the good news is, I don’t see any more bears.”

  “And the bad news?” Rick asked, noticing that the sulking had been cured by a need for action.

  Oliver nodded to Melody, who said, “The bad news is that everyone in a twenty-mile radius probably just heard us.”

  It was time to get out of there.

  Mr. Howe’s classroom was very crowded on Monday morning.

  Principal Woodson was there at the front of the room, alongside Mr. Howe and Ms. Guy. Parents were there, too. Some parents wanted to turn in their child’s copy of The Adventurers themselves, as if they didn’t trust their child to let go of it when asked. I had no doubt my mom would have been one of them, if she hadn’t already confiscated mine and turned it in. Luckily this meant there wasn’t any need for her to be present.

  There were other parents, like Mr. and Mrs. Fitzhugh (Allison’s mom and dad) and Mrs. and Mrs. Pausacker (Kira’s moms), who were explaining that they were not turning in their child’s copy of the book, because they didn’t believe that parents like my mom should have the power to choose what their own children read or didn’t read.

  Principal Woodson looked overwhelmed. Mr. Howe looked sad. Ms. Guy reminded everyone of the proper procedure for a book challenge in our school system. Kira’s moms held hands as one of them pressed Principal Woodson to say what, exactly, was being objected to. None of the other parents, the ones who’d brought in their kids’ books, wanted to say it.

  It was an interesting scene, for sure.

  But some of us were in the back of the class, focused on something else.

  “It doesn’t matter whether they are or not…but Rick and Oliver are definitely gay,” Allison said.

  “It’s not definite,” Sean said. His parents had let him bring back the book himself.

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” Luther said. “But, yeah, by the end—so gay.”

  “But what about Melody?” Patience asked. “Don’t you think they’re both crushing on Melody?”

  “There’s a difference between flirting and crushing,” Kira said.

  “I think Rick loves her,” Tarah said quietly.

  “I think Rick loves Oliver,” Amelia countered.

  “I think the point of the book is that the Adventurers need to stop McAllister from unleashing his evil on the world through the Doomsday Code,” Jeffrey put in. “I don’t think Rick and Oliver are in love or not in love. I think they’re friends and, most importantly, Adventurers. You guys just don’t understand the Adventurers’ mission at all.”

  Allison and some others looked skeptical, so I said, “C’mon—you have to admit, Jeffrey has a point. If this were a week ago, we’d all be talking about the action scenes. And yes, Patience, maybe about which of the boys Melody liked more. The only reason we’re talking about whether or not Rick and Oliver are gay is because we were told that was a part of it before we had a chance to read it.”

  I didn’t even realize the trap I’d walked into until Curtis said, “Yeah, Donovan. And whose fault is that? Who decided to pull the books out of our hands before any of us had a chance to read it?”

  “That’s not fair,” Allison said. “It’s not his fault that his mom…did what she did.”

  Curtis looked me in the eye. “How do we know it wasn’t you who went crying to your mommy, complaining that the book was going to make him gay?”

  “That’s not what happened,” I said quickly. “She took it off the kitchen counter and read the ending while I was watching TV.”

  Curtis looked satisfied by this explanation. Then he said, “Good. Because I happen to know that the author of this book must be gay, and Rick and Oliver must be gay too. Because I’m gay, and I know what he’s talking about.”

  This was news to all of us.

  “Oh wow,” Patience said.

  “That’s awesome,” Kira said.

  “Very cool,” Jeffrey added.

  Luther, who was one of Curtis’s best friends, looked surprised. “Dude,” he said, “I had no idea.”

  Ron, another of Curtis’s best friends, laughed and said, “Really?”

  He hugged Curtis, and then Luther piled on, followed by Allison and Sean. That got the attention of the adults in the front of the room.

  “What’s going on?” Principal Woodson asked.

  Someone said, “Nothing.” And a couple more kids also said, “Nothing.” And when the hug was over, Curtis grinned and said, “We’re talking about the book. And how cool it is that Rick and Oliver are gay.”

  A couple kids laughed at that…and a few others started to cheer. Like a big hooray for the fact that Rick and Oliver were gay. When what we really meant, of course, was a big hooray for the fact that Curtis was gay. And I say we here because I was definitely one of the kids cheering.

  Principal Woodson smiled—and at that moment I thought, Oh, she’s on our side after all.

  “All right,” she said, loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear. “I think we’ve disrupted this class long enough. If you have any copies of the book you’d like to deposit here on the table, to remain here pending the official review of the book challenge, please do so now. I suggest any parents who would like to discuss this with me further head down to the lounge next to my office. Mr. Howe, you have a very spirited group in this class—how refreshing to see youth so impassioned about literature.”

  A lot of the parents loved that line, and a few of them clearly didn’t. I was really glad my mom wasn’t in the room…though I was sure she’d hear about it later.

  Once everyone else had left the room, Mr. Howe called for some order. Kids were still patting Curtis on the back and giving him thumbs-up signs.

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Howe asked in Curtis’s general direction.

  “I’m gay, Mr. Howe,” Curtis replied.

  This was not the answer Mr. Howe was expecting, but he took it in stride.

  “I’m gay too,” he said. “Feels good to say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

  Curtis smiled. “It does, Mr. Howe.”

  “Okay, then,” Mr. Howe said. “If any of you want to talk about this some more, you know where to find me. But for now, it’s time for us to hear a few current events reports.”

  “But what about Rick and Oliver?” Allison asked. “Aren’t we going to talk about Rick and Oliver?”

  “Not right now,” Mr. Howe said. “As long as the books remain on this table, that means our discussion of the book is on pause. As Ms. Guy noted, there is a procedure in place for book challenges, and we are going to follow it. This week the review committee, which includes Principal Woodson and Ms. Guy, will read the book. Next Monday they will meet to discuss it, and on Wednesday they will provide their findings in an open school board meeting where a decision will be made, hopefully in line with the committee’s recommendation. I imagine many of your parents will be at that meeting.”

  “Can kids come too?” Allison asked, without waiting to be called on.

  “I believe so,” Mr. Howe said. Then he added, “But you’ll have to ask your parents. Are there any other questions before we move on?”

  “Has anyone contacted the author? Mr. Bright?” Patience asked.

  Mr. Howe looked momentarily surprised by the question. Then he said, “I’m not sure. I know Ms. Guy has been in touch with the National Coalition Against Censorship, an organization that helps defend free speech, and the American Library Association. But none of us have been in touch with Mr. Bright directly.”

  “We should write to him!” Allison said. “We don’t know anything about him.”

  “Yeah,” Luther agreed. “He’ll know if Rick and Oliver are gay.”

  Mr. Howe held up a hand. “While the meaning of a book may be informed by the author’s intentions, it isn’t defined by them. Meaning comes from the combination of what the author puts in and what the reader takes out. And, I’ll remind you, it doesn’t matter whether Rick and Oliver are romantically in love or in love as friends—either is completely acceptable for a story taught in this classroom.”

  There was wild agreement from us students about this, with more than a few glances thrown Curtis’s way. Mr. Howe began the current events reports, calling on Allison to start. We all pretended to listen…but I could tell that, like me, most of us were still thinking about Rick and Oliver and the mysterious Mr. Bright.

  * * *

  “We have to write to him,” Allison said as soon as we were gathered at recess, out of hearing range of the recess supervisor. “There has to be a way to email G. R. Bright.”

  “That’s not his real name, you know,” Kira said. “It’s there in his bio.”

  This was true. G. R. Bright’s “About the Author” read:

  G. R. Bright is the pen name for a writer who lives outside Denver with his family. He is also the author of a number of books of adult nonfiction under his real name, none of which would be of any interest to readers of this novel. He is currently working on his second novel and is afraid he has jinxed himself to never finish it by admitting it in this bio. For not that much more information about G. R. Bright, you can check out the website below.

  “His website probably has an email address,” Sean offered.

  Since phones were strictly forbidden during recess, none of us could check.

  “I think Donovan should write to him,” Luther said. “Since he’s the best writer in our class and because his mom started it all.”

  I thought someone would disagree. But instead everyone looked at me for a response.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  “I can look up interviews with him,” Kira said.

  “I’ll see if he has any YouTube videos,” Patience offered.

  It was a plan. Sort of. We had no idea whether it would lead to any answers, or if those answers would help Mr. Howe at all. But it was something to do instead of sitting and waiting for the grown-ups to decide.

  * * *

  I had a computer class after school at the Y, and my dad picked me up when it was through.

  “How was school today?” he asked once we’d been driving for a minute or two and I’d been silent.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “What did you do?”

  I didn’t really think he wanted me to give details, so I just said, “I did…school.”

  He sighed. “I mean…are the kids being mean to you?”

  At first I didn’t get it. Then I did.

  “Because of what Mom’s doing?”

  “That’s not the way I’d say it…but yes.”

  “The kids are fine. But I don’t understand why Mom is doing it. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  Dad sighed again. “Your mother cares a lot about you. This is coming from a caring place.”

  “Maybe if she cared about me she wouldn’t be attacking my favorite teacher or a good book.”

  Now Dad looked irritated. I remembered too late that my parents didn’t know I’d actually read the book.

  Lucky for me, that wasn’t the part of the sentence that had irritated him.

  “Your mother and all the other parents are not attacking anyone or anything. Your mother simply disagrees with your teacher’s choice of reading material, which is her right to do as a parent. And, again, she is doing that because she cares about you, and because that book may contain things that you are not ready to read at your age. I don’t think she’d have any objection to you reading it in high school. Just not now.”

  I honestly wanted to laugh. But then I would have had to explain why I was laughing, which I didn’t think would go over very well. And I also couldn’t say, There’s nothing in that book that’s bad for me, or that I’m not ready for. Because then he’d really know I’d read the book.

  So I just stayed quiet. And he stayed quiet. And we didn’t talk about it again for the rest of the ride home.

  * * *

  Dad went into his home office after we got inside, and I went to my room to do homework. But of course the biggest assignment I had was to try to contact Bright…which was going to be hard to do while my parents were around. My mom conducted “spot checks” on my phone—she understood why I had to have one, but the condition was that she could ask for it at any time to see who I’d been calling or what I’d been looking up on the internet.

  They didn’t check my computer history as much. But the rule was that if I was on my laptop in my room, I had to keep the door open. They didn’t want me going onto sites they didn’t approve of…even though they’d never actually told me what those sites were.

  I had to imagine that Bright’s website counted as one of them right now.

  I crept by the door to my dad’s office, and it sounded like he was on the phone. That was a good sign. His work calls were usually long, and Mom wouldn’t be home for another half hour at least.

  As soon as the screen welcomed me, I typed in Bright’s website address. There weren’t any photos of him, just a drawing. I couldn’t really tell how old he was—just that he wore glasses.

  There was a page called “Frequently Asked Questions.” Stuff like did he have a dog (no), did he ever go on adventures (yes, but without bad guys chasing him), what was his favorite color (green). I’d been hoping people had frequently asked about Rick and Oliver, but it didn’t look like they had.

  There was a button that said Contact. At first, I hesitated to click it, as if clicking it would dial his phone and suddenly I’d be talking to him. I looked instead at the page for The Adventurers, hoping I’d find some answers there. But all I got were some reviews, most of which called Rick and Oliver “friends” or “chums.” The book description on the page also called them “friends”—was that my answer? I could see myself printing out this page and waving it around in class tomorrow, proclaiming to everyone that Rick and Oliver were friends, that’s all. Then my mother would have to say she was wrong, and the whole challenge would be canceled, and we could all go back to reading the book.

  I liked the idea of that.

  But then I imagined going into class, sharing my discovery…and having Mr. Howe point out that Rick and Oliver could be friends and gay. Mr. Howe would say that he was friends with his husband. Kira would point out that her moms were friends. And who knew what Curtis would say?

  I sighed, took a deep breath, and clicked on Contact.

  No phone was dialed. No chat box popped up. Instead, there was an email address.

  At that moment, I heard footsteps in the hall, followed by my dad calling my name and telling me Mom was home.

  I quickly closed the window on the computer and loaded up some homework. By the time my father was in my doorway, saying maybe we’d go out to dinner tonight, everything was safe.

  I hadn’t been caught.

  And I also hadn’t had to think of what I was going to say to G. R. Bright.

  Over the course of the week, Gideon and Roberto continued to pass the notebook back and forth, sharing new facts about themselves.