But Ricky did not call.
The sun is almost down, it should still be light enough to see for another hour but a cool breeze is blowing from the west. I’m sitting on our front grass with my back up against the house, waiting. A kid with a wagon and a big white dog makes their way toward my house on the concrete sidewalk that runs across the front yards of the row of houses, as the wagon gets closer I can see it is piled with papers. Without asking I know Ricky’s plan and go to meet him.
“Good idea,” I say as soon as we are close enough together to talk. Sally runs up and gives me her wet nose greeting. I wipe my hand on my shorts.
Ricky looks dead serious, “I don’t know what anyone might be after so I pretty much brought everything!” He didn’t have to tell me, I can see. We skip the house and walk through the carport to the back yard. Without any instruction I climb up into the tree house as Rick starts putting papers, flash drives, bug samples and binders into our bucket on a rope. As soon as the bucket is full I pull it up and when empty I send it back down. It just takes three buckets to empty the wagon. We spend the rest of the evening lining one wall of the tree house with the stuff from Ricky’s basement, trying to put thing into some sort of order. It’s hard to organize because we don’t really know what is what. Ricky and Sally head back down the street just as the sun completely sets.