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The Avocadonine and Spring Stone

Patrick Barnes




  Copyright

  2014 Patrick Barnes

  Praise for The Avocadonine and Spring Stone

  Five Stars.  The dialogue is quick-paced and interesting, as are the relationships between the characters, and there is plenty of action to hold your interest. Find out just how much a couple of kids can do when they set their minds to a problem!  Great story - appealing to teens and intriguing.  --  Readers Favorite

  Patrick Barnes did a great job in capturing young teens and the things going on in their lives and the way they handle those things.  The Avocadonine is an easy, enjoyable read. -- Authors Reading

  You are drawn in and follow along with the kids as they try to unravel the mystery, find out just who is involved, and how and ultimately try to stop the plot. It’s a great book and a unique story well worth taking your time checking out. – J. Armstrong

  This book is not at all what I was expecting. Instead, it was one of the best YA novels I have ever read. The plot of the book is absolutely crazy and intriguing at the same time, and it revolves around avocados. – Mint Tea

  The story is multilayered, taking into consideration the young reader's need to identify with character traits and confrontations that occur at this age, and still provides a fine little mystery that plays out very well. This is a solid YA novel by a fresh voice. He is an author to watch. – Grady Harp

 

  What is the first name of the horticulturist who named the Hass Avocado?

  Rey Naresh felt his body tremor as he inhaled. Was the basement cold?

  The new principal, Claudette Laurie, was going to announce the answers to the survey at the assembly for the entire ninth grade. Rey had answered the first six questions satisfactorily. But his chances of answering this one were less than winning the Russian lottery. He tapped the pencil against the desk. After staring at the last question on the survey for a minute more, he decided to leave the answer blank. Since when did incoming ninth graders have to take a survey? He slid the survey into an envelope addressed to Pemota Regional High School, mailed it, and walked to the soccer field to see Jet Mead, who always inspired him with his knowledge about how to get girls.

  ____

  Two Years Ago

  It was shortly before midnight on Labor Day that three bicycles sent gravel flying as they skidded to a stop in front of Stella’s. Stella’s was a popular store in Pemota that specialized in selling avocado products, everything from avocado dip to avocado lime salad. The bikes belonged to seventh graders Huxley Core, Der Kath, and Joe Chen. Der was riding Huxley’s sister’s old bike, which had tremendously embarrassing pink streamers coming from the handle bars. Joe refused to look at Huxley and Der, his gaze on the forest and empty pastures. He was not happy they had undertaken this late-night adventure.

  Stella's was named after proprietor Craig Hawk’s wife. The avocado orchard in back grew many varieties of avocados, including Hass, Bacon, Reed, Pinkerton, and Fuerte. Der was looking at Stella's, his eyes wistful, and his thick lips in a perpetual pout. Der and Huxley both knew one comment could stir Joe's depressive malaise into irritation or even anger. Huxley and Der had spent the afternoon at the Taste of Pemota, a local fair where restaurants and companies sold food and beverage at discounted prices. Huxley and Der had tried a drink called Hochus Mochus and could not stop talking about how gross it was. Der had said that he wanted to get an avocado from Stella’s even though it was midnight. To Joe, they seemed to be under some spell.

  Huxley gestured toward the full moon, “Looney's are out tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Joe responded, “This is crazy.”

  “Joe, we're just gonna take a few. You remember the golf cart don't you?” Huxley asked.

  Huxley, Der, and Joe visited Sunshine Plains Golf Course and drove a golf cart around the course. It was Huxley’s idea to steal a key to one of the golf carts from behind the desk when the clerks back was turned checking to see if they had any Calloway golf balls. They drove the cart through the woods behind the golf course, and onto the deserted dirt roads of South Pemota, racing it around Larks Pond after school for a few days. They dented it up and pushed it into the lake. It was found a month later by some kids who were snorkeling, and reported their find to Sunshine Plains.

  Marv Core, Huxley’s chief of police father, made sure no charges were brought against the boys. Marv could often be seen standing between the two big blue lit globes in front of the Pemota Police Station introducing himself to people and conversing with dozens of acquaintances. He would brag about Huxley often. “My boy,” he would say, “straight A’s on his report card.” Nonetheless, Marv and Huxley were haunted by the murder of Huxley's sister, Ashley, by a street gang called the Latin Hoods. Marv was brought up on charges of excessive force after getting rough with some gang members.

  Marv and Huxley found comfort in Marv’s popularity in Pemota, and Huxley’s popularity at Pemota High. Huxley was the best kick ball player in the school, and the outfield had to back up to Timbuktu every time he got to the plate. Just yesterday, when they had backed up as far as they could, he bunted, slid under the ball halfway between first and second, and then stole third. He believed it was his focus on the present moment no matter what that made him Huxley Core. If he was sitting on the bench daydreaming about being a league kick ball player before he got to the plate he might have been caught out instead.

  “Joe,” Huxley said, “You can go home if you want but we're staying.”

  They had been riding for under ten minutes, and Joe would have a twenty minute ride back to his home in South Pemota. But as Huxley and Der walked their bikes toward the orchard, Joe made up his mind and went racing off. Huxley rolled his eyes and looked at Der who smiled strangely. It wasn’t as if they had anything better to do, they had said. As Joe rode into the distance, Huxley and Der were jumping up to bring a few Hass Avocados down from a tree.

  ----

  Rey was living in a dreamland. Life had been surreal since fourth grade when he first noticed the light-brown haired, button-nosed, Christy Lane. Christy had Ms. Geneve and Rey had spotted her one day from the loft, a raised platform accessed by a ladder in Ms. Trudy’s class, from where one could see over the dividers and spy on the other two classes. Christy was perfect. He loved the cuddly sweaters she wore during the winter, the way she furrowed her eyebrows when she didn’t understand what Ms. Geneve was teaching about.

  When he was engaged in these acts of spying from the loft, he would often see Ms. Geneve glance over at him, at which point he would blush and return to the book he was pretending to be interested in. Ms. Trudy told the class the loft was not for spying. But that didn’t stop Rey from staring at her across the playing field at recess, or in the cafeteria. Rey wanted to hold on to this crush. He would make mental pictures of Christy like water color paintings and recall them when a romantic song was playing on the radio. He felt adults couldn’t feel this way. They were too worn out.

  This belief stemmed from the blow the death of his father had on, his mother, Isabel. Isabel told him his father was a famous politician in Mexico. She was studying journalism in her spare time and interviewing him. He was shot and killed a few months later at a rally by a political zealot. She’d moved to Southern California, in attempt to leave the memories of him behind. Since then, she’d saved up enough money for college and was now working as a bartender and studying journalism at Striar College at night. Between her classes and her job she hardly had any time for Rey; a situation that would hopefully change when she graduated.

  As Rey and Isabel made their way up Mount Monadnock to see a psychic Rey had asked to be taken to, Isabel was
talking about an interview she had at The Pemota Gazette upon her graduation from Striar College. If she got the job she told him it would mean better Christmas presents and better school clothes. Rey was thinking about the birth certificate he found and didn’t bring in to school. It was a secret he was guarding closely and to the best of his knowledge Isabel was unaware. Just as prevalent in his mind was Huxley, Der, and Joe’s visit to Stella’s at the beginning of the school year. And of course, he was thinking about Christy Lane.

  Christy had her own share of family drama. Everyone in the school knew Christy hated her sister, Brianna Lane, who was famous for her beauty and for a prank she pulled when she was in sixth grade. She had a friend draw caricatures of some teachers that she didn’t like. She then pasted these caricatures on the teacher’s maps when they were out at recess. It was excruciatingly embarrassing for the lot when they pulled down their map of America, or Pemota, or the World, in front of the class. When Brianna reached ninth grade – Christy in sixth, attending an elementary school assembly -- Brianna stood in the back of the room and announced that her sister had just had her period. She waited for everyone to turn around and register that it was indeed her, Brianna Lane, and then she walked out. Christy saw Brianna in the hallway later that day and attacked her with her fingernails screaming, “I hate you.”

  Rey witnessed the fight and was thinking about it now, as he watched the hordes of Douglas Fir Trees, common to Pemota, which to Rey seemed to hover like curious, watchful, participants in this expedition. The only change in the “Psychic Advisor” sign since that quiet day two months ago when the class had taken a field trip to test their knowledge of compasses and coordinates was that it was blowing in the breeze. He half expected it to no longer be there. So when he saw the sign his heart beat fast and a smile crept up his face.

  “I take it this is the place?” Isabel asked.

  Rey nodded.

  Isabel turned the Saturn Ion into the driveway, carefully avoiding the ditches on either side, and began driving uphill. The trees hid whatever waited at the top of the hill. There was no grass on either side and patches of dirt were visible in between the pine needles and leaves. When they saw the home, Rey thought it looked as though the entire house was made of plywood. He wondered if the home was simply plywood boards erected and placed side by side, but it was probably just an unfinished exterior. There were two windows in front, one on each side of a brand new red painted door. The right window had a few laps of Christmas lights going around it although it was only September. There was a chimney on the left side of the home which let loose a steady stream of smoke. Rey glanced at Isabel and could tell she was having hesitations.

  “I’ll wave to you from the door,” he said, “when I’m sure it’s all right.”

  Isabel looked ambivalent but nodded just the same.

  Rey got out of the car and felt the leaves crunch under his New Balance basketball shoes. He made his way to the door feeling a little light on his feet, hesitated, knocked several times. The door opened and Rey couldn’t help his eyes from widening. He looked back at his Mom uncertainly. The woman had a big face, thin lips, and blue eyes with bags underneath them. She had stringy, haphazard light brown hair. She wore something resembling hippie attire, a red patterned shirt that came down just before the knee and a lot of beads. Isabel was out of the car.

  Rey pointed at Isabel. “That’s my Mom.”

  “Would you like a reading?” The woman asked.

  “Okay,” Rey said.

  Isabel was now next to Rey. “This is my son,” she said. “How much for a consultation?”

  “Ten dollars,” the woman said.

  Isabel reached into her purse and pulled out a ten. She smiled at the woman. “I’ll be in the car,” Isabel said. She gave the woman’s face a once over and decided she was benevolent.

  The woman motioned Rey inside. The inside of the home had a red-brown mercantile tapestry on every wall, a round dark wood waxed table in the center, with two similar chairs, a fair amount of comfortable-looking furnishings all light blue, and a white, oriental rug on the floor. The small kitchen was visible from the living room and there was a closed door next to the kitchen which must have been a bedroom.

  The woman closed the door and said, “I’ve been expecting you Rey Naresh.”

  Rey turned to her frightened. “How did you know my name?”

  The woman pointed to his chest. “It’s on your name tag.”

  It was true. The new substitute math teacher had to learn names so everyone was required to wear name tags. Ms. Dritch was moving back to New England.

  “Oh,” Rey said, rubbing his name tag.

  “My names Aba,” the woman said.

  “Hey Aba.” Rey began to relax.

  Aba picked up a fish bowl from a bookcase next to the door. It contained a gold fish, a bunch of rocks at the bottom, and a green plastic decoration, like you get in Japanese restaurants. She placed the fish bowl on the table and took a seat. She motioned with an upturned hand for Rey to join her. He did.

  “So tell me about yourself young Rey. What brings you here today?”

  “A bunch of things, I guess.”

  “Name one.”

  “My mom ...”

  “Yes?” A silence stretched. “Isabel?”

  Rey decided to skip that thought punctuating it with, “...is in the car and I’m not sure how much time we have really.”

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Aba said.

  “I want to be an inventor.”

  “Wish on one star every night. Pick a star in the sky and wish on it. Because ‘hope is the thing with feathers.’ Do you know who said that?”

  “Emily Dickinson?”

  “Very good.” Aba was impressed.

  Rey was stunned. He had only done a report on one poem all year so far and it had been that one. What were the odds? He felt happy and proud. But he didn’t come here to play Trivial Pursuit.

  As if reading his mind Aba said, “What’s really troubling you?”

  He wanted to talk about Christy but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Grownups thought a kid talking about girls was silly, that the kid would get over it in a few weeks. He didn’t want to hold Christy up to that kind of judgment. So he said, “Huxley Core?”

  “Someone in your class?”

  “He and his friend Der Kath went to Stella's. That's an avocado orchard. Well, it's a store with an avocado orchard in back. And they went at midnight at the beginning of the school year. Joe said they were acting weird and that they wanted an avocado for some reason. So Joe just left them there.”

  “What did they do there?”

  “They wrote ‘A Hass Avocado’ on the parking lot with tree branches they snapped off the trees. The weird thing is Joe called me a few days later and said none of the avocados were on the trees except a couple.”

  “Maybe they weren’t in season.”

  “Joe said there was a van parked in the woods behind the trees and some guys with big plastic bags had taken the avocados.”

  “So what did Huxley and Der do?”

  “Huxley broke into the store and then for no reason, Huxley told Joe, Der started trying to put avocados back on the trees. He put them in a basket and just started trying to put them back.”

  “What’s going to happen to Huxley Core?”

  “Nothing. His Dad is the chief of police. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Aba reached across the table and put her hands on his. “Cheer up,” she said. “Don’t worry about Huxley. This secret will make you stronger. By the time you reach ninth grade you’re going to be like an ox.”

  “What’s so special about ninth grade?”

  Aba’s eyes widened. “The Avocadites.”

  “The Avocadites?” Rey was bewildered. “Are you crazy?”

  “That’s for me to know,” Aba smiled as if there was a happy mys
tery to what was being said, “and for you to find out.” With that she reached into the fish bowl. “The Avocadites don’t care about ...” She dropped the gold fish on the table. It lay there frantically beating its tail fin against the wood. “...what makes us human.” It was dying! “What’s still left for us in the garden.”

  Rey scooped it up with both hands and put it back in the bowl. “What are you doing?” He screamed. He watched it return to breathing normally once in the fish bowl.

  “You have a kind and caring heart. You are not one of the Avocadites. And as long as you stay away from being an Avocadite you will achieve great things. A great destiny awaits you.”

  “Are you really psychic?” Rey asked.

  “Book number ninety eight. That’s when it starts. Now, that’s all we have to talk about. You can be on your way.” She reached down by her foot and emerged with a bottle. She turned it to face him and placed it on the table. It was a bottle of avocado juice. Looza Avocado Juice. Rey looked at her bewildered. He didn’t think crazy people were like this. There was something in her smile so sane and good natured. “I hope you like it,” she said.

  Rey picked up the avocado juice and Aba stood up. As soon as he was out of the door he felt great. Better than great. He couldn’t remember feeling so alive. So happy. He opened the avocado juice, making sure to hear the pop indicating it had not already been opened, and let the sugary liquid flow down his throat as he walked to the car.

  A sign above the mailbox down by the end of the driveway caught Rey’s attention for the first time. It read “Brule.” Rey took small sips of his new favorite drink as he tried to get through the car ride without letting his Mom know he had just had the strangest encounter of his life.