I want thank people for the support and interest I’ve seen on twitter, and because of my gratitude, I am going to put up progress every day on my blog.
Day 2 progress of the novel:
Keene snatched the fat book from the standing hardwood book case in the den. He could reach the top shelf with his paw-hand, pulling down an assortment of books before he could find the right one. The titles had been: The Art of Air Gardening, Compost and Soil: Renewing the Non-renewable, Bees Bees BEES, and Programming with Python. Why there was a book on programming in this house, he hadn’t a clue, but after looking through everything, the fattest book with a hand-stitched leather binding seemed to be an odd compilation of several torn-up books on tools, wood working, laying a foundation and insulating a home.
Keene didn’t know what a lot of these words meant, so he scarfed down a banana and a slice of bread before tucking the book into a sack, exiting the back door, and heading to the city library.
His house was in the foothills of the mountains, and happened to be the part of town where the roads weren’t paved yet. The ground was a bit muddy, but hard enough not to slip. River birch trees flanked his sides and blackberry briars tangled up with one another on the sides, covered in angry prickles. Sometimes a stray branch would hang out like an outstretched hand on the side of the road, and Keene made a game of jumping over them. Once he had the misfortune of catching his tail on the end of one, but he just took that as a lesson to jump higher and run quicker the next time. Keene already knew he had a penchant for mischief, so he wouldn’t be quitting while he was ahead.
A big wooden bridge that forded the river separated the part of town that was paved from the part of town that was dirt road. Keene liked to think of this place as the passage into the underworld, except where he was from was the underworld and the place he was going was the land of the living. Sometimes teenagers came here to smoke or do what his mom called “what they’ll do, anyway.” He wanted to know what teenagers will do anyway. When he stopped by the gas station to buy a bottle of tea, he asked a Labrador named Misty working at the register, who was a teenager. She giggled, and said he’d find out in a few years. Dissatisfied with this answer since it seemed to be a massive secret, he had asked one of his neighbors, Mr. Dingledein, an owl who was perched on a rocking chair, “what teenagers will do anyway.”
The old owl stared back at Keene with yellow protuberant eyes; expression unchanged, he clacked his beak. “Be miserable about every aspect of life.” Keene thought that this didn’t seem right either, but he’d drop it for now, and maybe ask one of the librarians.
Bellsboro library was Keene’s favorite place in the city. It was quieter like his mother’s mill, but it had electricity and air conditioning, and they’d let you stay here without expecting you to pay money. He learned how to use a computer before learning to type in school. Keene was proud that his words-per-minute count was higher other kids he knew who had electricity and a household computer. The library even had a conference room away from the shelving aisles where people could talk, where Keene spent most of his time with his friend, Jack the rat.
Jack was in a grade higher than Keene, so the fox didn’t know him from school. Jack had a chipper voice, and most of his fur was black save his piebald face, which had streaks of white just above his left eye. His lip curled, forcing his oblong snout into a permanent smirk, which made it hard to tell when Jack was serious or not, made worse by his frequent sense of humor.
“I’m just gonna call you the vulpine tree master if you pull this off. I always wanted a lumberjack for a friend. Just picture the kind of things you could say to your classmates: Pick a tree, any tree! Just not that tree, ‘cos it’s mine!” He mimed a biting motion.
“I’m really going to need a lot of stuff and energy,” groaned Keene, thumbing through the book. “But I want to do this right the first time if I’m going to do it at all.”
“Building one room is at least an entire summer,” said Jack, scratching his chin pensively, which was a gesture that seemed to contradict the goofy looking smile plastered on his face. “At least if you’re doing it by yourself. Sometimes houses can take years to build.”
“It doesn’t have to be a nice room, it just has to be sturdy,” protested Keene. “And it needs to have power,” he mumbled.
Jack tilted his head and waggled a finger. “Well, you have to pay monthly for power, plus you have to pay more for the amount you use. I know this because my dad yells at my brother for opening the refrigerator and drooling indecisively.” He clasped his paws and smiled. “You could always go for solar power but the batteries are expensive, I think. Wait, doesn’t your mom have a water mill on the river? Why don’t you use that?”
“Because we use it for grinding flour,” said Keene. “I don’t know if we could use it for electricity, too.”
“Yeah. You’d have to make a smaller turbine for rapid water, which means the solar panels would be much easier.” The rat sighed, slumping onto the table. “I think it’s pretty cool that your mom is letting you just build a room though.”
“You think it’s pretty cool until you have to collect river water for your baths,” said Keene, sharply. “Or feel like you’re always behind all of your friends because your mom just doesn’t believe in using electricity. I know she can afford it, too. She just doesn’t want it!”
Jack shrugged. “Still, that’s more freedom than my parents give me. We aren’t allowed to leave the house past nine, and we have to ask permission to use the microwave or the stove. I’ve missed lunch at a reasonable time just because the folks weren’t home, and my brother said he’d tell if I messed up the spice organizers. Wait, did you say river water for showers?”
Keene nodded grimly. “Every morning: collect it in a pail, let the pail boil, let the pail cool, then funnel it into a shower bag. Hang the bag, squeeze the bag, let the shower head just drizzle on you.”
“So it’s like a built in stress ball!” joked Jack, sitting up straight with his disk ears perked. Keene shot him a withering looking, and the rat slumped, whiskers drooping, letting out a one-note laugh. “Sorry. That was impolite.”
“Trust me—you wouldn’t want to trade your life for mine, even if it sounds cool,” said Keene, and he sighed. A peculiar feeling of discomfort washed over him that moment, something unpleasant, making the fur on his neck prickle. Out of the corner of his eye, through the window, he saw a long-tailed weasel staring at him with dark, glossy eyes, almost black as coal. The weasel looked tired, and there were bags under his eyes, but he was young—probably close to their age. Keene didn’t make eye contact for more than a split second, but it was clear that he was being watched.
“Don’t turn around, Jack, but somebody’s staring at me.”
“Oh yeah?” said Jack, turning around, seeing the weasel, and then waving at him. The weasel frowned, picked up his book and scampered out of his seat, leaving quite quickly. “Peculiar kid. He peeks at everybody. I think that’s just his way of getting used to strangers. I believe he will make an excellent ninja someday.”
Keene’s face was in his hands, but he couldn’t help but crack up. “You are really weird.”
“I am really useful,” Jack corrected. “I also don’t use a bag to take showers. I use the tears of my enemies.”
“You have enemies?” Keene scoffed, laying his head on his hands.
“I hear they’re easy to make.” Jack shrugged. “But since I’m such an obvious asset to you, I want to strike a deal.”
“I’m listening.”
“I get to stay at your place whenever I want if I help you build it.”
Keene’s ears swiveled up and he sat straight. “You’re going to help me do this?”
“I’m going to help you do this,” echoed Jack, pounding the table. “I can rope some others into helping, too.”
“Wait, wait, I don’t want a bunch of people knowing about this, or knowing about my life in general.”
“Don’t worry about it! Quality kids only. I’ll be picky too, and it’s not like everybody who helps us even has to see what we’re doing. Science projects can get really elaborate these days, and… well, this seems like a big science project to me, right?” His brown eyes blinked quickly.
Keene was struggling to keep up with the conversation, and couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had. He felt as if the weasel were still watching him, and that his privacy was violated in a way that he wasn’t used to, but the feeling eventually abated, and he snapped back to reality.
“Uh, Jack, could we get out of here? I’m feeling a little cold. Also, uh, could I have a hug?”
Jack looked surprised. “Uh, sure. Feeling okay?” Keene reached his arm over the rat’s neck and gave him a quick squeeze.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Keene, pulling away. He felt his pace slow down and his fur relaxed. “Just felt a little bit spooked for some reason.”
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