Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8) (16 page)

             
“
Don
’
t take another step,
”
warned Grandfather, holding up one hand for them to stop.
“
And, Peter, you cover Henrik
’
s eyes. That
’
s right, stand right there.
”

             
Peter did as he was told, but Henrik tried to peek through Peter
’
s fingers.

             
“
No fair,
”
Peter told him.
“
You heard what Grandfather said.
”

             
“
What
’
s going on?
”
Henrik asked.

             
Elise disappeared into the boathouse while Peter and Henrik stood waiting just outside.

             
“
Can I look yet?
”
Henrik sounded like a child at a surprise party.

             
“
Not yet!
”
Elise yelled from inside.

             
A minute later, she and Grandfather emerged with what looked like a brand
-
new bike. It was shiny black, and Peter had to squint when he looked at the polished chrome wheels.

             
“
Whose birthday is it?
”
asked Peter.
“
Can I let go of his eyes? He
’
s kind of sweaty.
”

             
Grandfather laughed.
“
Let him see.
”

             
Henrik just stood and blinked for a moment. He looked suspiciously at Peter and Elise.

             
“
So, what is this?
”
he asked them.
“
Someone
’
s new bike? I don
’
t
—”

             
Grandfather took a step back from the bike.
“
It
’
s yours, Henrik.
”

             
“
Doesn
’
t look like mine,
”
Henrik whispered, walking carefully up to the bike as if he might frighten it away.
“
Where
’
s my old bike?
”

             
“
This is it,
”
replied Grandfather.

             
Peter stepped up to the bicycle with his friend, and Henrik ran his hand over the shiny back fender.

             
“
New wheels, new fenders, new paint job
...”
Henrik looked up at Grandfather Andersen.
“
How did you
—
I mean, why?
”

             
Grandfather just grinned.
“
It
’
s your going
-
away present. Otherwise, how would you be able to go on your trip?
”

             
“
My going
-
away present,
”
Henrik repeated softly. He ran his hand up and down the fender.

             
“
Careful,
”
warned Grandfather.
“
That paint is still a bit wet. I
’
ve been working on it all night, and now, if you
’
ll excuse me, I
’
m going home for a little nap.
”

             
Henrik looked up, his eyes moist with tears.
“
I don
’
t know how to thank you.
”

             
Grandfather just smiled and waved his hand. There was a smudge of black paint on his nose.
“
Just have a good time on your trip,
”
he told Henrik.
“
Only a few more days before you leave, right?
”

             
Henrik nodded, and they wheeled his
“
new
”
bike into the boathouse to finish drying. In the corner, Peter noticed a pile of bent wheels and the skeleton of another bicycle
—
Grandfather Andersen
’
s bike, which he had obviously used for parts.

             
“
That reminds me,
”
Henrik said as they left the boathouse.
“
I
’
ve got a few things to give you when we pack. Both of you.
”

9

S
omeone
’
s Watching

             
“
You don
’
t have to do this, Henrik.
”
Elise held up a book to the late
-
afternoon light coming in Henrik
’
s bedroom window.
“
This is your favorite book.
”

             
“
What am I going to do with a bird book in Palestine?
”
replied Henrik, sitting on his bed.
“
They probably don
’
t even have birds there. And besides, I told you I had some extra things.
”

             
“
That was a few days ago,
”
replied Elise.
“
I thought you would have changed your mind by now.
”

             
Henrik shook his head and reached under his bed.
“
I haven
’
t changed my mind.
”
He came up with a red cloth sack and held it out to Peter.

             
“
This is all I could think of to give you, Peter, besides my pigeon. And since we
’
re leaving tomorrow morning, I thought I
’
d give it to you now.
”

             
Peter, who was sitting backward on Henrik
’
s little desk chair, wasn
’
t sure about taking Henrik
’
s things, either. Somehow it made Henrik
’
s leaving seem too real, and the thought crossed his mind that maybe he could slow things down by saying no.

             
“
No,
”
Peter would tell him.
“
No, you
’
re not going to give me anything. No, you
’
re not going to get rid of all your furniture. No, you
’
re not going to move away.
”

             
But instead, Peter only took the sack and held it tightly. He knew what was inside.

             
“
You don
’
t have to give me anything,
”
Peter finally said as he looked inside the sack.
“
It
’
s taken you all your life to collect these bottle caps.
”

             
“
I can get more. Here, take my soccer ball, too. Mother said we
’
re going to be traveling light.
”

             
“
But you can
’
t just be giving away all your stuff,
”
protested Peter. He held the cloth sack and ball in his lap.
“
It doesn
’
t seem right.
”

             
Henrik shrugged.
“
Well, fact is, we
’
re hardly going to be able to bring anything with us on this ship.
”

             
“
Not even a trunk?
”
asked Elise.

             
Henrik shook his head.
“
Remember what Matthias said? The British won
’
t let too many Jews come back to Palestine. So at night we move in close to shore, and they let us off.
”

             
Peter whistled.
“
That
’
s why you
’
re giving away all your stuff?
”

             
Henrik didn
’
t answer right away.

             
“
It still doesn
’
t seem right,
”
Elise said.

             
“
Why not?
”
answered Henrik, nodding toward the kitchen, where his mother was talking with Peter and Elise
’
s mother.
“
We
’
re leaving on our bike trip tomorrow morning. We
’
re practically packed. My mother is getting rid of all our furniture.
”

             
No one said anything for a minute while Henrik sorted through his little desk. Peter tried to think of something he could give his friend in return.

             
I don
’
t collect anything neat, like bottle caps
, he thought.
I can
’
t give him my cat. And I don
’
t have any money to buy something
.

             
Peter looked around Henrik
’
s room as they sat listening to the adults talking out in the kitchen. During the past few days, Henrik had pulled things off the walls and out of the closet, and he had filled his room with paper sacks full of old papers to throw out, things he had been saving for years. Peter picked up one, a picture of an airplane he remembered Henrik drawing when they were younger. A bear on a bicycle
—
their teacher had drawn a big star on that one. A drawing of all three of them. They looked like stick figures, but Peter swallowed hard.

             
“
If you
’
re going to throw this away
...”
Peter began, and Henrik waved his hand.

             
“
It
’
s ugly.
”

             
“
No, it
’
s not,
”
Peter argued

             
“
Not like Elise
’
s drawings,
”
apologized Henrik. He jumped off his bed and scooped up a letter from his desk, then paused and looked at Peter.
“
You remember this letter?
”

             
Peter nodded.
“
The one from your grandfather to your dad?
”

             
Henrik looked uncertainly from Peter to Elise, then he sighed and handed the letter to Elise.
“
Here, read it out loud, Elise. Whenever you read something, it always makes a lot more sense.
”

             
Peter wondered what his friend was thinking, but Elise unfolded the letter as Henrik paced around the room.

             
“
‘
It
’
s hard
...’ ”
she began reading, then cleared her throat.
“
‘
It
’
s hard to admit when you
’
ve been so wrong for so long....
’ ”

             
Henrik looked out his window, reciting the first line while Elise kept reading.
“
‘
And as a Jew, I
’
ve lived my whole life not knowing the Messiah. But last year, I read a book by an American rabbi. He had a lot to say about Palestine, and how the people of God were returning to Jerusalem.
’ ”

             
“
You
’
ve got this letter memorized?
”
Peter looked over Elise
’
s shoulder to check the words. Every word was exactly as Henrik had recited.

             
Henrik crossed his arms and avoided looking at the twins.
“
You know, you read something a few times, it sticks in your mind. The next part is the part I don
’
t quite get.
”

             
Peter remembered then what the rest of the letter said.

             
Henrik closed his eyes, and his lips moved as Elise softly read the words.
“
‘
He showed me that our Messiah had already come. He introduced me to the Messiah, the one he calls
Yeshua
. Jesus. Please don
’
t wait, as I have. I want to show you how the Scriptures come true in Yeshua.
’ ”

             
Elise paused before she read the last line of the letter.
“
‘
Then you can introduce my grandchildren to Him someday, too.
’ ”

             
Peter held his breath, waiting for Henrik to open his eyes.
This is my chance to say something to Henrik. A perfect chance to tell him what we believe
.

             
Henrik opened his eyes and looked at Peter.
“
You think I
’
m weird?
”

             
Peter laughed nervously.
“
‘
Course not. Why would I?
”

             
“
You
’
re not weird,
”
Elise answered quickly.
“
There
’
s nothing weird
—”

             
“
Yeah, but how many kids do you know who memorize letters from their grandfather?
”
interrupted Henrik.
“
It seems every time I close my eyes, I can see the words.
”

             
Peter looked at his friend closely.
“
You never told us this before.
”

             
“
Of course I
’
ve never told you this before!
”
Henrik threw up his hands.
“
If I did, you
’
d think I was crazy.
”

             
“
No, I wouldn
’
t,
”
Peter replied quietly.

             
“
Wouldn
’
t you?
”

             
“
I said I wouldn
’
t.
”

             
“
Why not? You think it makes sense?
”

             
Peter nodded but looked down at the floor.
“
It
’
s what I believe,
”
he mumbled.

             
“
What did you say?
”

             
Peter looked up, straight into Henrik
’
s eyes.
“
I said, it
’
s what I believe. About Jesus. The Messiah.
”

             
Henrik looked at his friend for a moment, almost suspiciously, and his dark eyes flickered.
“
That
’
s what I thought you said. But you act like you
’
re telling me about a pimple. If it
’
s so important, why didn
’
t you tell me this before?
”

             
The question stung Peter, and he felt his face turning red from embarrassment.
“
I
’
ve
...
uh,
tried, but
...”

             
Peter didn
’
t know how to finish the sentence, and the ticking of Henrik
’
s alarm clock was the only sound in the room for several long moments. Peter thought of ten things to say, but each one seemed sillier than the last.

             
“
Maybe Peter means that God is just trying to get your attention now,
”
Elise finally volunteered.