Do Not Resuscitate. Charley Brindley

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Do Not Resuscitate - Charley Brindley


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have to start the change to green energy—wind and solar.’

      I’m just a kid. What can I do?

      ‘You’re only fourteen years old, but you have all the knowledge of mankind at your fingertips. All you have to do is design a wind turbine and solar panel.’

      Yeah, right. Any teenager could do that.

      ‘And lastly, don’t forget to wash your hands.’

      That’s it? All I have to do is stay alive and invent technology from fifty years in the future?

      Polio. Wow, I forgot about that. When I was little, I saw lots of kids in leg braces. I wonder how old Dr. Salk is in 1945. He has to get to work on his polio vaccine.

      I don’t want to end up in an iron lung.

      I clicked on the tab for Wikipedia.

      And Albert Einstein. I need to talk to him, too.

      I read about obesity and polio. One link led to another. Cause and effect. History of research. Treatment and cures. Polio is caused by a virus, obesity caused by many things. Polio is highly contagious.

      Before I knew it, an hour had passed.

      “Charley Eye! Where are you?”

      Oh, no! Mom. The eggs!

      “Coming, Mom.”

      “What are you doing up there?”

      I clicked off the iPad, put it in the box, and covered it with hay.

      “Looking for eggs.”

      “The chickens can’t get up there.”

      I climbed down the ladder. “Sometimes they fly up there.”

      “Yeah? Let’s gather some so I can finish supper. Your dad will be home soon.”

* * * * *

      During lunch in the bleachers, Patsy, Melody and I talked about the classes we shared. Melody and I had English together. All three of us were in the same history and Spanish classes. Patsy and I had science.

      “Can we study history together,” I said, “after school?”

      “Sure.” Melody pulled her coat collar tight against the cold wind. “It would be much easier with the three of us working together.”

      “I know,” Patsy said. “I’m always running into words I don’t understand.”

      “Okay,” I said. “Where?”

      “Me and Patsy live next door to each other, so maybe at one of our houses?”

      “That works for me,” I said.

      “I’ll ask Mom if we can study at my house,” Patsy said. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay.”

      “Cool.” I folded my empty brown bag and shoved it into my hip pocket.

      “Cool?” Melody asked.

      “Yeah, fine, good, cool.”

      “Okay, cool.”

      “We better go,” I said. “Lunch hour is almost over.”

      As we walked toward the school building, I said. “Hey, watch this.”

      I ran for the flagpole, grabbed it with my left hand, swung around in the air, then gripped higher up with my right hand. I then air-walked up, moving my feet as if they were going up a wall. When I was vertical, I air-walked back down, then back-flipped to the ground.

      “Wow!” Patsy said. “How’d you learn that?”

      I noticed a few other kids had stopped to watch. “Um…it’s just something I learned in our backyard.”

      “That was really…cool,” Melody said.

      “So cool, it was almost cold,” Patsy said.

      We laughed, then hurried for the doors as the bell rang.

* * * * *

      The next day at lunch, I sat with Patsy and Melody in the bleachers.

      “Mom said we can study at my house,” Patsy said. “She wants you and Melody to come to supper tomorrow night, then we can use the dining room to study.”

      “Awesome,” I said. “How about you, Melody?”

      “Yeah, I’ll be there. Can we work on Spanish, too?”

      “Sure. What’s your address, Patsy?’ I asked. “I’ll tell my dad to come pick me up around nine tomorrow night. How’s that?”

      She gave me her address, and I wrote it on my lunch bag.

      “You want to walk home with us tomorrow?” Patsy asked.

      I thought about that for a moment as I studied her address. I didn’t mind walking, but it seemed a shame since the school bus went right by her house.

      “Okay.”

* * * * *

      The next day after school, the three of us started down the street, walking toward Patsy’s house.

      “Wait a minute,” I said.

      Patsy and Melody stopped, turning toward me.

      “We’re taking bus number three.”

      “No,” Patsy said. “I’d rather walk.”

      “If you walk home every day, Ember wins. You know that.”

      “I don’t care if she wins. I hate that song.”

      “We can sing, too,” I said.

      Melody smiled and nodded.

      “I don’t—” Patsy began.

      “How about if we sing a different song?”

      “What song?”

      I told them what I was thinking of. We then joined the line waiting for bus number three. Ember was ahead of us, talking and laughing with her friends. She didn’t notice us.

      The bus pulled up, and the kids filed on. We were the last ones.

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