Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Read online

  “Oh, by the way, could you wash the car for me before supper? It’ll still be a half hour before it’s ready.”

  “Today? Don’t you always want it done just before the weekend? You know, for church?”

  ‘‘Usually. But it’s absolutely filthy right now because I had to park over by that construction project near the school. I hate to drive it to work tomorrow looking like that. So, please?”

  “OK,” Bucky agreed, “but if you’d just parked the car on the driveway when you got home it would have gotten clean all by itself. Did you see that new water toy the Dixon kids have? I’ll do it right after I tease Rachel Marie for a sec.”

  He bounded up the stairs. Poking his head into Rachel Marie’s doorway, he let out a long whistle. “Check out the new clothes! What a hot babe!”

  His sister strutted proudly in front of the closet mirror. “Do you like ‘em?”

  “Totally awesome, of course,” Bucky assured her, giving her a pinch. “Perfect for a big girl going into nursery school this year.”

  “First grade, funny!” Rachel Marie corrected. “Not nursery school. And you know it.”

  “I guess I forgot,” he teased. “You’re getting so big I can never keep track of it anymore.”

  “And, and, I got these too,” the little girl bubbled, holding up a new pair of red tights.

  “Wow! Can I try them on?” Bucky asked with a very serious look on his face.

  “No! They’re for little kids. Girl kids.” Rachel Marie shook her blonde curls in disbelief that anybody should be so ignorant of modern fashion.

  Later that evening, after supper and dishes were done, Bucky and Rachel Marie settled by the fireplace for family worship. Rachel Marie held a nearly new copy of My Bible Friends in her hands, and Bucky noticed with amusement that she had selected “Baby Jesus” for the third time that month.”

  “Honey,” Mom called to the upstairs study, “we’re about to have worship. Do you want to join us?”

  “Not tonight,” Dad answered after a moment. “I’m right in the middle of these figures. You three go ahead.”

  Without saying anything, Mrs. Stone turned and sat down on the rocking chair, giving her lap a little pat. Eagerly, Rachel Marie hopped up and climbed aboard, handing her mother the colorful book.

  She pointed happily. “This one!”

  “You mean, ‘This one again,’” Mom laughed. “I think you know it by heart.”

  “I know, but it’s my favorite,” the little girl protested. “Bucky likes it too, don’t you, Bucky?’’

  “Uh huh,” he agreed affably. “It’s my number one favorite too.”

  Mom winked at him over Rachel Marie’s head and began reading the story aloud. “Clip-clop-clip-clop, went Small Donkey’s hoofs . . .”

  Bucky found himself enjoying the familiar tale in spite of himself. “OK, time for prayer,” Mom said. The three of them knelt and held hands during her short prayer for God’s blessing on the family.

  “Bath time,” she announced almost before Rachel Marie had risen to her feet. “One, two, three, go!”

  Rachel Marie, who had not forgotten a brand new pair of jammies that could be worn as soon as her bath was complete, seemed eager to comply, and soon the bath water was running into the tub upstairs. Mom sank back into her rocker and smiled at her son. The soft light from the window danced in her shoulder-length auburn hair. “What a nice blessing worship time is,” she mused. “I wonder how we ever got along without it. Back before . . .”

  “I have to admit that I kind of enjoy it now,” Bucky agreed. “It took a while to get used to, though.”

  “When you think how that seminar brochure has changed our lives . . .” Mrs. Stone’s voice trailed off. “Well, I’m just so grateful we didn’t throw it out.”

  Bucky remembered the colorful brochure that had arrived in their mailbox nearly two years earlier. It described a new, Bible-based series of principles for families to unlock their full potential. The workshop titles had intrigued the family, and, contrary to their usual stay-at-home pattern, they had decided to attend.

  “It’s at that same church where they did the cooking seminar I went to last year,” Mom reminded Dad. “I’d really like to hear what this is about, Phil.”

  From the very first evening, Bucky and his mom had been captivated by the clear Bible messages and positive picture that Pastor Jensen painted of a loving God. It was all new to them, and Bucky found himself intrigued by the way all the great themes in the Bible fit together, even though the different books had been written literally centuries apart.

  After three evenings, Phil Stone announced to his wife that he had changed his mind and would just as soon stay home. “It’s fine with me if you want to keep going, Jennie,” he relented. “And Bucky too, if he wants. I think it’s good for people to know something about the Bible and religion. But I’m just too busy. Just don’t go joining up with anything; that’s all I ask.”

  Eight weeks later Bucky and his mother had been baptized. Now, two years later, the pair sat quietly, remembering the many changes: church school, paying a Bible tithe, family worship, praying before meals.

  Bucky broke the silence. “I guess we’ve really been lucky. Dad hasn’t ever given us a hard time about, you know, church and stuff. I know he doesn’t want to spring for me to go to Christ the King, and he hardly ever comes down for family worship, but at least he lets us believe the way we want to. I’ll bet there are a lot of families where a dad wouldn’t go along with it.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. Church every weekend; paying tithe. And our new - and - healthy diet.” She began to laugh. “I suppose that’s the ultimate sacrifice.”

  “And he let both of us kids go to Beecher Christian School,” Bucky reminded her, “even though Rachel Marie’s tuition is higher this year than we thought it would be. He told me he was glad she was going to such a good school.”

  “Yeah. You’re right,” Mom nodded. “And you know, God can bring something good from your going to high school. Maybe he has someone for you to reach there. Who knows?”

  Bucky was silent for a long moment as he stared down at his Nikes. “Boy,” he said at last, “maybe you’re right. But I sure can’t see how.” He paused. “You know something, I was actually thinking about that on the way home today, sharing my faith and all that.” His blue eyes were serious.

  “Worried about it?”

  Bucky nodded reluctantly. Then he looked up. “I’m really going to pray that God will help me find at least one other student for Jesus this year.” A look of resolution crossed his face.

  “Good for you,” Mom affirmed. “It’s surprising how God can create opportunities for us to share his love if we ask him to.” She paused for a moment, then glanced at her watch. “Oh, heavens. Look at the time! I better go see how Rachel Marie’s bath is progressing.” She reached out her hand. “Help me up.”

  Bucky climbed out of his overstuffed chair and pulled his mother to her feet.

  “Thanks.” She looked up at him. “You look more like your dad every day.”

  The lanky freshman smiled. “I guess that’s a compliment.”

  “Yup. Sure is. You may have noticed that I kinda love that big guy. And I’m somewhat partial to you, too,” she teased, standing up on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the forehead.

  Later that night, lying in bed waiting for drowsiness to set in, Bucky remembered a sleepy morning a few months after his baptism. For some reason – he couldn’t remember now what it had been – he had been so tired that morning that he’d opted to skip church for an extra hour of sleep. Dad had quietly slipped into his room and said matter-of-factly, “Get up, son, and get ready for church. Your mom is nearly ready to go.”

  “But why, Dad?” Bucky had objected. “You aren’t going.”

  His father sat down on a chair and looked right at him. “Buck,” he said thoughtfully after a moment’s pause, “you joined this church; I didn’t. But I’ll
tell you something. Joining a church means something. It means you belong. You take part. You don’t skip out just because you don’t feel like it some weekend. If you do that, then the whole thing doesn’t count for a whole lot. At least as far as I’m concerned.”

  Bucky had shifted uncomfortably in bed as his dad continued. “I’ve never told you this before, but I’ve been real proud of you for the way you’ve committed yourself to your new Christian beliefs. Your mom, too. Now, not all of that stuff’s for me. Not now, anyway. But you stick with it.”

  And Bucky had. Now, as he lay awake in the quiet of the late evening, he wondered. Would he still be able to stick with it this coming year as a bonafide student of Hampton Beach High School?

  Chapter Three: First Day of School

  “In sports, the Giants took both ends of a rare double-header at AT&T Park yesterday afternoon, beating the Reds 8-2 and 3-1. Giants are now just two and a half games out. The A’s lost to Tampa Bay again, seven-zip. That’s five in a row for them, and they’re still in third place.

  “The weather today should be cooler after our long, hot Labor Day weekend. Good news, kids! It’s going to be a great first day of school for Hampton Beach High . . .”

  Bucky groped sleepily for the off button. “I’m awake, I’m awake,” he grumbled as the radio announcer’s voice faded into silence. “Cooler weather,” he muttered. “It’s about time.”

  Tossing back the covers, he climbed out of bed and began fumbling through the clutter on his dresser until he found the youth devotional book he’d been reading. Settling down in a corner of the room by the window, he leaned back for a few minutes of quiet time.

  His eyes fell briefly on the message penned inside the front cover. “I’m so thrilled, Bucky, with your decision to serve Jesus,” it read. “God bless you in your daily walk with him. Spend a few minutes with God every morning – and healthy doses from this book will be a real blessing to you. It has some heavy ideas in it for a young man your age, but God will expand your appreciation for his truth as you grapple with these great and beautiful concepts. Your friend in Jesus, Pastor Jensen.”

  Bucky smiled, remembering how Pastor Jensen had encouraged him to make building a relationship with God a priority. “That’s your number one responsibility as a Christian,” he emphasized more than once as Bucky and his mom had prepared for baptism. “Get acquainted with Jesus daily and battles with sin will simply fade away.”

  Now, as he sat in the early morning sunlight in his pajamas, Bucky bowed his head and asked God to guide his thoughts as he read. Quickly leafing through the book until he found his bookmark – a faded copy of last year’s 49ers football schedule – he read the words silently, carefully sorting out the ideas on each page. He studied for several minutes, yawning once or twice despite the crisp, even humorous, style of writing.

  Toward the end of the section, one idea suddenly leaped off the page. Without taking his eyes off the book, Bucky reached up and fumbled around on his cluttered desk for a pen.

  “Pretty good,” he mumbled to himself, marking the illustration with a big star. “I’ll have to tell Pastor I now know where he got his sermon on the Christian’s devotional life – he stole it from here!” He grinned. That thief!

  After finishing the chapter, Bucky closed his eyes and prayed for a couple minutes, committing his life again to God and asking for wisdom in sharing Christ in his new school. “Lead me to someone this year who needs to know you. Help me to find at least one high school student for Jesus.”

  He opened his eyes, then closed them again. “And be with Rachel Marie,” he added. “This is a big day for her, too. And one more thing – Christian academy. I’d still like to go, Lord, but it’s in your hands. Amen.”

  Later, around the cheerful hubbub of the breakfast table, Dad proudly inspected the family, “Everyone looks pretty good for the first day of school. You ready, son?”

  “I guess so.” Bucky poured a bowl of cereal and reached a long arm across the table for the milk.

  “Band today?” Dad wanted to know.

  “Uh huh. Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

  “And you can lug everything on your bike?”

  “Oh, sure. With that oversize backpack, it’s easy to get everything in. Don’t worry, Dad.”

  “How ‘bout you, squirt?” Dad grinned at his daughter. “You set for fir-r-r-rst gra-a-a-a-a-ade?”

  “Yup!” She bounced eagerly on her chair, her pigtails bobbing.

  “Well, I expect you to get all A’s in first grade.” Dad looked serious. “Especially in trigonometry. Promise me you’ll get A’s in trigonometry.” To Bucky he added: “Sine, cosine, and tangent – my three favorites.”

  “OK,” the little girl agreed. “ ‘Cept I don’t know what it is. Mommy, do I have trigometry in first grade?” Her face wrinkled with worry.

  Mom laughed. “Your daddy’s teasing you, sweetie. You won’t have trigonometry for a long time. I don’t think even Bucky has it yet.”

  “Nope. Not this year,” Bucky told her, carrying his dishes to the sink. “I gotta go, everybody.”

  Before scurrying out the door, the family members bowed and prayed together – even Dad – asking for God’s blessing for the day.

  “‘Bye, Mom. ‘Bye, Dad. ‘Bye, Rachel Marie. Have fun at school.” Bucky grabbed his trumpet case and headed for the garage.

  The big clock on the front of the administration building indicated that he had seven minutes to spare as he wheeled into the busy parking lot at the high school. Carefully threading his way through the traffic of cars, bikes, skateboard passengers, and walking students, he headed for the long blue bicycle rack at the far end of the lot.

  “Watch it, dude!” a student shouted out the window of his Ford as he gunned past Bucky and into a nearby parking spot. The driver lurched to a halt, switched off the motor, and climbed out of the car, snapping an oath Bucky’s way as he jogged in the opposite direction toward the main building.

  “Sorry,” Bucky offered with a trace of resentment, not quite sure what to be sorry about, and realizing at the same moment that no one was listening anyway. The impatient driver was already out of earshot. Bucky shook his head as he parked and locked his bike before heading toward the classroom complex himself.

  The day passed quickly in a blur of confusion. He was relieved to notice that he wasn’t the only one struggling to get oriented.

  “I’ve been there three times already. I’m telling you, there is no Room 12 in that whole building!” a new student protested to her companion. Similar complaints filled the busy hallways during each break and at lunchtime.

  At band trials, Bucky took his turn with the other trumpet players, playing a complicated series of exercises used to rank the various musicians. After a brief calculation by Mr. Walter, he was assigned to a spot on the second level of trumpets.

  “No practice today, guys,” Mr. Walter grinned. “We just want to get settled and decide who gets to sit in the hot seats on the front row. Thursday we start to rock and roll around here.”

  Bucky hesitated for a moment; he was determined to ask the director when performances were, but he decided to wait until Thursday. Besides, Mr. Walter was already busy with a group of woodwind players.

  It was on his way out to the parking lot after his final class that Bucky noticed a large poster hanging over a desk in the hallway. “SKI CLUB,” proclaimed the large block letters. A short young man with a scruffy goatee was seated at the desk visiting animatedly with a small group of students. He wore a name tag identifying him as the president of the club.

  Bucky wandered over and finally got up his courage to break into the conversation. “What’s this about?”

  The older boy greeted him enthusiastically. “Hey, man. Are you a skier? Or snowboarder?”

  “Well, skier. Sort of,” Bucky said cautiously. “I’ve only been a few times. What does the ski club do?”

  “Two ski trips, for one thing,” explained the diminutive club preside
nt. “Heavenly Valley and Sierra Ski Ranch. Up at Tahoe. And we get a couple of extreme-sport ski movies in here for the club to watch. ESPN highlight DVDs – stuff like that. Oh, before I forget, I’m Don Jackson. What’s your name?”

  “Bucky Stone. What’s all this cost?”

  Don handed him a crudely-made brochure that had obviously come through crooked on a computer printer. “It’s just fifteen bucks. That gets you discounts for both ski trips – you know, lift tickets – and you can see the movies for two bucks. Anybody else pays, like, five. Not bad, huh? Our first trip’s in January.”

  “Let me think about it,” Bucky nodded. “See what my folks say.”

  “Sure,” Don agreed affably.

  “See ya ‘round.”

  “OK, Ricky. See ya.”

  “Bucky,” he corrected, but Don was already visiting with another student. He did nod at him, though, as if to say, “Sorry, I won’t forget it again.”

  Making his way over to his locker, Bucky opened it easily on the first try and loaded his books onto the top shelf. No homework tonight. Typical for a first day, he decided.

  Chapter Four: Church or Band

  Bucky yawned sleepily as he squinted at the clock over the classroom doorway. Still fifteen minutes to go before lunch period. Why is math always the class just before lunch? he wondered to himself as he doodled aimlessly on his note pad. On the front row, a girl in oversized sunglasses wasn’t getting the hang of exponential factors. So Mrs. Bishop launched into another in a series of seemingly endless examples.

  Bucky sighed in irritation. Something poked him in the arm. He jerked his head around and noticed that a slim hand was passing him a note. Carefully, he unfolded the small slip of paper. “Wake up,” it scolded in dainty, feminine handwriting. A tiny cartoon figure in the corner was dozing over a pile of school books, a trail of Zs curling above its head.

  He twisted around in his seat to see Lisa, the attractive girl from registration day, smiling at him. “Sorry,” he mouthed, noticing with interest how her blue sweater vest brought out the color in her cheeks.