A New Beginning

5

Not much of a town, Liz thought as the tow truck approached Stonewall. They traveled along Main Street, which looked like a smaller version of the small New Mexico main streets she had seen in little towns near home. Maybe less of a Mexi- can influence in the architecture, but the same basic run- down appearance.

Maria made a face that said, We left Roswellfor this? Liz saw a place called Bell's Diner and said, "Could you drop us here?”

Gomer brought the truck to a stop and said, "Johnny's Garage is at the end of the street.”

"We'll come by when the guys get here," Liz said as Isabel and Maria hopped out of the truck. "Thank you," she added as she jumped out last.

"It's not the Crashdown," Isabel said, giving the store- front an appraising stare.

It certainly was not, Liz had to agree. The paint in the front was cracked and peeling.

"Hey Liz, look. Opportunity," Maria said, pointing to a help wanted sign taped to the inside of the window. Liz smiled at Maria. One thing was certain: They hadn't left Roswell to become waitresses again… not in a place like this.

Reaching for the door, Liz was stopped by another sign. This one was written in a childish scrawl and read, have you seen my sister? Then there was a photocopied picture of a teenage girl and a phone number.

Liz felt a chill as she looked at a yearbook picture of a girl about her own age.

Maria and Isabel gently nudged her into the diner. As they stepped inside, Liz saw ancient linoleum on the floor and some well-worn tables and booths. Her parents' restaurant, the Crashdown, was fancy by comparison. Whoever ran Bell's Diner was not particularly meticulous, On the other hand, Liz was sure that there was less money going around in Stonewall than in Roswell.

"Sit wherever you like," an older woman with graying hair was pouring coffee behind the counter. Though she wasn't wearing a uniform, Liz assumed she was a waitress. Liz chose a booth by the window, where they could see Main Street. That way, they could see when the guys showed up.

Maria threw herself into the booth and said, "I am starving.”

The waitress dropped menus off without a word. Maria and Isabel immediately opened theirs, but Liz waited a moment. "Maybe we should wait for the guys.”

"Liz…," Maria said. "Starving won't help them. Trust me, Max would want you to eat.”

Liz thought about if for a moment. Maria was probably right. Still…

The waitress arrived, interrupting her thought. Without hesitation, Isabel looked up and said, "I'll have a cheeseburger deluxe and a Coke." Well, that settles it, Liz thought.

The faded and chipped sign read welcome to stonewall.

"See, they said welcome, they must be friendly," Michael said.

Kyle stumbled, and Max immediately held out his hand to grasp his arm. "Are you okay, do you want to take a break?" Though it was just about eighty degrees out, the sun had been blasting them for the whole trip. And because of Michael's pushing, they had not stopped once. "Football has conditioned my body," Kyle said. "And walking Buddha's Middle Way has conditioned my spirit." "What the hell does that mean!?" Michael asked, mak- ing a face.

"I'm good," Kyle said.

They approached the town, and Max felt the begin- nings of relief. He would feel even better when they had the van fixed and were back on the road. The farther they traveled from Roswell, the harder they would be to track. They passed a Laundromat, which was the first store on Main Street. There were three women outside who stared at the boys as they came closer.

"Look, some of Stonewalls friendly citizens," Michael said. Then he raised his hand and waved to the women.

"Afternoon," he said as the strangers quickly looked away.

"Michael," Max said softly. "We are trying to avoid attracting attention.”

"Maxwell, I think the arrival of the morning paper attracts attention in this town. I get the feeling that we're the most excitement they've seen in years.”

Michael was right, Max knew. The Main Street was nearly empty of people. As strangers in such a small town, they couldn't help attracting attention. But that didn't mean they had to go out of their way to alert people to their presence.

Up ahead, they saw a sign for Bell's Diner.

"There we are," Michael said, "pointing to the sign. Let's eat," Michael said.

"Wait," Max said. "I'll feel better when we have money in our pockets, and it wouldn't hurt to make sure the garage has gotten started on the van.”

"Max, we left aliens and conspiracies hundreds of miles back there," Kyle said, pointing back the way they had come. "You can relax a little. We all can.”

That was it, Max realized. Kyle was relaxing.

Max wasn't there yet. And for a moment, he wondered if he would ever be. But he was done taking charge of every situation. "Okay, but let's stop and turn this into cash," Max said, patting the pocket that held the gold.

"And how are we going to do that in this town?" Kyle said.

"We're going to have to if we want to get the van fixed and get out of here," Max said.

"There you go, Maxwell," Michael said, pointing out a storefront that said simply, pawn.

Max nodded. "We won't get the best price here, but it doesn't look like the town has a jewelry store.”

Actually a pawnshop was the perfect place to sell their gold. From what he understood, pawnshops operated on just this side of the law… often dealing in stolen merchan- dise. There would likely be fewer questions here than any- where else.

Of course, everything he knew about pawnshops came from television and the movies, he realized as the three boys headed for the door. Taped to the outside was a homemade flyer that said missing and had a photocopied picture of an adult woman.

Max didn't stop to read the flyer. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. To his surprise, the shop looked just like what he had imagined. Stereo equipment and musical instruments sat on shelves on the walls, and jew- elry sat in a glass case near the counter.

A white-haired older man with at least four days' worth.of whiskers on his face sat behind the counter smoking a cigar. He had looked up from his paper when the boys walked in, and was eyeing them with the same suspicious glance they had now seen three times from people in Stonewall.

The man didn't say anything as the boys stepped for- ward.

Max wasn't sure how to begin.

Kyle broke the silence. "We were just a few miles down the road and our van broke down," he said. "And we were… ”

"You're in the wrong place," the man said, finally speaking.

"The wrong place?" Max said.

"Johnny's Garage is down the street," the man said. "I can't help you with your van.”

Max shook his head and held out the gold. "We'd like to sell these, to pay the garage for the repairs," he said, putting the two bars down on the counter.

The gold got the man's attention. He was looking at them with interest. "Where did you get these?" he asked.

"My father got them overseas," Max said, determined to keep his story short.

The man nodded and seemed satisfied. He picked up the bars, testing their weight. "I can't give you market value, you know. This is a pawnshop. You'll have to go to Pueblo if you want anywhere near market price," he said.

"What can you give us?" Max said.

The man sized the three boys up and said, "Let see what you've got here. He reached under the counter and came up with a bottle and a small glass jar. "Do you know the karat count?" he asked.

"I don't know," Max said honestly. He knew that gold's purity was measured in karats, but he wasn't sure how his homemade gold would measure. "It's pure, as far as I know," he said.

The man dipped the brush into the bottle and ran it across the surface of one of the bars. "Well, it's pure all right. Pure garbage," he said as he sneered and passed the bars back to Max.

"What do you mean?" Max asked.

"I mean, whatever they are, they are not gold," the man said.

"There must be a mistake," Max said.

"Yeah, and you made it, coming in here and trying to pass off your phony crap on me," the man replied.

The man stood up and gave the three boys a menacing look. "Now, we can do this two ways: You can either get the hell out of my store, or we can let the police handle this.”

"No need to get nasty," Michael said from behind Max.

Looking into the man's eyes, Max realized that the older man was scared. It made sense. Three teenagers in a town that didn't normally get visitors. Backing away, he said, "No need for that. I'm sorry. This was a mistake.”

"If I see you again, I'll call the police," the man said.

Turning to Michael and Kyle, he saw the look on Michael's face and thought the man might be right to be scared. Michael didn't respond well to threats. On the other hand, Max knew that his best friend was too smart to do something that would get them into trouble. Shak- ing his head, he said to his friends, "Come on, let's go.”

A moment later, they were on the sidewalk outside. Max felt like he had just had the wind knocked out of him. They had narrowly avoided a run-in with the police, but they were far from okay Michael started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, while Kyle wore the same stunned expression that Max knew was on his own face.

What was he going to tell Liz and the others? And how were they going to get out of Stonewall with just a few dol- lars to their name? We're in trouble, he thought. It took him a moment to realize that he had spoken out loud.