his hand with the hankie in it, revealing the cut on his cheek. He said hi and stammered a moment, before asking, “Restroom?”
The woman pointed and Will scurried past, thanking her. He took giant steps sideways, his back to the wall all the way to the restroom. At the door, he never turned, just stumbled backward. Inside, he locked himself in a stall, sat, and put his head in his hands.
A few minutes later, Scoop yelled, “You in here?”
Will came out.
“These are the best I could find.” Scoop laid the pants on the counter. “I think they belong to Dickson, so you’ll have to tighten your belt and pull up your socks. You won’t have to worry about wading any streams on your way home.”
Will thanked him and held up the pants. They wouldn’t cover his ankles, but they didn’t have any rips, either.
“Dickson came out looking for you. I told him you had a little emergency on the way here. A flat tire, right?”
Will shook his head. “He saw me early this morning already, right before I headed up the mountain. He’ll know it’s a lie.”
“Well, you’ll just have to tell him the truth, if he asks.”
Will nodded and pulled his belt. “Thanks, Scoop.”
The pants were about four inches too big at the waist and four inches too short at the ankle, and for a moment, Will debated about going back out. He looked in the mirror, brushed his hair, blotted blood from the cut, and tried to scratch away a new pimple. He cinched his belt one more time before walking out, muttering, “Damn ravens.”
The young woman was serving ice cream, so Will slipped by, hoping she didn’t see. At the door, he looked back. She smiled, her lips closed, and he couldn’t tell if she saw his pants or not.
Outside, Dickson seemed to be in a good mood. “Well, Mr. Will, looks like you grew a few inches.” They all looked at his ankles, the white socks barely hiding his white shins. “And I thought those were new shoes. I expect them to look better tomorrow. Say, how’d you get that cut?”
“Got too close to some briars,” Will replied.
“Did you have a good trip up that mountain?”
Will shrugged. “I found a raven’s nest, for what that’s worth.”
“Do any reading up there?”
Will shook his head. “Ran out of time.” He was glad when a Dodge pulled in.
After lunch, Dickson went home, replaced by Johnny Hilton as the shift boss. He was a tall man with a crew cut, a barrel chest, and a high-pitched voice that surprised Will. Hilton also liked to smoke, which meant he leaned against the restaurant’s wall, in the one spot of shade, and watched the other men work. He came to help pump gas only after he finished his cigarette, not any sooner.
“Dickson might be a dickhead,” Woody said under his breath. He’d come on the same shift as Hilton. “But at least he works.”
“Yeah, but Hilton leaves you alone,” Dino added.
“I’ll say. Alone to do all the work.”
Will just listened and moved from car to car. He liked this work, so far, at least. He liked the ebb and flow of traffic, the orderliness of tasks, the quickness of seeing a rush of traffic disappear. He liked the other guys, too. Most of them anyway. They were like brothers and uncles he’d never had.
After finishing a windshield, Will started balancing the squeegee in his hand. The traffic had slowed, and the other men leaned against the pump, trading jokes. Will placed the tip of the handle in his palm so that the squeegee formed a “T” in the air. He moved his hand left and right, keeping the tool upright, watching the top. Then he switched his hands, the squeegee staying upright.
“Look at you,” Woody said. The other men watched.
Will had an audience now. A family in a nearby car watched, including the teenage girl. He popped the squeegee into the air and caught it on the tip of his index finger. The tool wobbled, so Will steadied it with his other hand. He kept at it. Soon, he had the tip of the handle moving from one finger to the next. He shuffled to keep the top balanced.
“I think she likes it,” one of the men said. Will glanced at the car. Sure enough, the whole family watched, and this made him drop the squeegee. Dino clapped too loudly.
“You might get some tips if you balance it on your nose like they do in the circus,” Woody said.
Will shrugged and put the squeegee up in the air again. The car had pulled out, and the men had moved to the other island to fill two cars. He was not needed, so he kept messing with the stick. It was as if he defied gravity for this one concentrated moment. High above, one of the ravens soared, and not for the first time, Will wondered what it would be like to fly.
“What other tricks you got?” Dino asked when they all gathered back around a pump, four men trying to huddle in the shade of the tiny roof.
Will heard the raven. He leaned back, cupped his hands to his mouth, and let out a loud, guttural cronk, cronk.
“What the hell is that?” Woody asked.
“He’s talking to the raven.” Scoop smiled. “They ever talk back?”
Will cawed again, and this time the raven answered.
“The man is just full of wonders,” Dino said.
Will saw Aunt Amanda watching him from the bathroom window. He waved and did his raven call again, but the raven had flown away.
Will looked back and saw someone else with his aunt. He waved again, halfheartedly. The other woman he recognized as the ice cream scooper. Will wondered what kind of a fool he’d just made of himself with his too-short pants and his crazy calling into the sky.
“They’re watching you,” one of the men said, and then three cars pulled in.
Will glanced back, but the woman and his aunt were gone.
ON the drive home that evening, Aunt Amanda asked about his pants, and Will told her about the steep climb, the ravens chasing off the owl, and at last finding the nest.
“And your pants, Mr. William?”
“Well, I kind of ripped them sliding down the mountain.” Will paused, admiring the huge cumulus clouds before them. “Think you could mend them, Aunt Amanda?”
“Leave them at the house and I’ll see what I can do.”
Will steered the Plymouth westward toward the huge buildup of thunderheads. “Looks like that storm’s coming tonight, don’t you think?”
“Maybe sooner.”
They fell quiet as they approached the double tunnels. To Will, the mountain looked like a massive wall, the pike hitting a giant gate. And in the bottom, a little mouse hole swallowed all the traffic.
For forty miles, the turnpike cut a long, straight ribbon across Cumberland Valley. Then here just west of Hopewell, four lanes narrowed to two, and the traffic slowed to scurry through the end-to-end tunnels.
First was Blue Mountain. Will sucked in air, and the thunderheads disappeared in the artificial lights of the tunnel. Tractor-trailer headlights flashed by and blinded him for a moment.
Aunt Amanda shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
Will just grinned and didn’t breathe. Ever since he could remember, he had held his breath through these tunnels, seeing if he could outlast the mountain. He counted off seconds in his head and imagined he was an osprey diving for fish.
“Twenty-nine, thirty.” Will exhaled with a gush when they entered Gunter Valley. But this was only a narrow gorge between the two mountains, so Will sucked in another huge breath, as they entered Kittatinny Tunnel.
“You’re