The Blue Between the Clouds by Stephen Wunderli

up. His chin was kinda tremblin’. He raked his hand through his dirty hair and stared out at the water. Me and Two Moons baited our hooks and sat on the car. It was a beautiful day. The sun was gettin’ hot for the first time that spring. The water was smooth and clear, and the sky stretched out like a blue field. It was as if we were standin’ between two worlds. The fish in the lake dodged and swam like they were callin’ us, while the clouds were like one huge open door. I wished right then that the three of us could fly away, roll and loop, dive deep into the water, then turn around and burst into the sky and be lost in it forever.
    We caught seven small fish that day, just enough for lunch. Old Simmons fried ’em right there beside the car. We stayed there until the sun started to set. We skipped rocks and even went skinny-dippin’ with the old man. Funny, though, he never really swam. He just walked out until the water was up to his waist and splashed himself. He says he does it every Sunday except when the water is froze.
    â€œYou know how to swim?” I shouted to him.
    â€œNo,” he shouted back. “No, I never learned. I never learned Eldon either. I wish I had. I wish…”
    I couldn’t hear the rest of what he was sayin’, but by the look on his face I knew the story. The old man was there when his son drowned. Wasn’t nothin’ he could do about it. Maybe he blamed himself. Maybe he’d been waitin’ for his son to come back to forgive him.
    He didn’t say much the rest of the day. Just kinda looked at the sky a lot. By the time we got back to his place it was dark. He walked with us to the pond and we stood under the sycamore tree.
    â€œWouldn’t be a bother if you stopped by again,” Old Simmons said.
    â€œI think I’d like to wander by sometime,” I said. “How ’bout you, Two Moons?”
    â€œSure,” he said. “Kinda like it up here.”
    The old man smiled so big you could see his black teeth, what he had left of ’em. Then he turned and walked through the tunnel of trees toward his dark little house.

7
    MAN WITH NO EYES
    All the way home I thought about old Simmons. He was trapped, tethered to this town like an old dog. He spent every day layin’ in the sun, waitin’ for his boy to come back and lead him away. I just had to find a way to get into the air, fly away from this place.
    Anyway, it was awful dark when we got home. No moon that night, and some storm clouds rolled in so there weren’t any stars, either. You could hardly see your hand in front of your face. When we got back to the house, the bats were out. More than we had ever seen. They were flyin’ all around the barn and down by the holdin’ pond. Now, me and Two Moons love to play baseball. And with the weather turned the way it was we should’ve been playin’ every evenin’ after school. But we got to thinkin’ about flyin’, and we had us a plane, so we didn’t even consider some baseball. That is, until we saw the bats.
    â€œTwo Moons,” I said. “Be a good night for some hittin’ practice, don’t you think?”
    Two Moons smiled. He knows a good idea when he hears one.
    â€œI’ll go fetch a lantern,” I said. “You go find a good board.”
    It wasn’t long before we were standin’ on the bank of the holdin’ pond. I stood ready with the board, like a batter waitin’ for a pitch. Two Moons was ready with a handful of pebbles.
    â€œOkay,” I said. “Give me the first pitch.”
    Two Moons lobbed a pebble toward me. A small bat swooped down and went after the pebble like it was a box elder bug. I swung madly, but the bat was too high.
    â€œStrike one,” Two Moons said.
    I tapped the side of my shoe with the board, waiting for the next pitch.
    Two Moons eyed me, then lobbed another pebble. A bat swooped down and I swung