"Hey! Look at that!" Bernard said over his shoulder as they stepped off the ferry.
"How could I not? It's as long as the ferryboat almost!"
"Yeah, I know! I'm a little disappointed actually. I think it should be bigger."
"Keep it up, Mr. Bighead, and I'll switch to the other side!" Ann shoved him on the right shoulder just as he started up the steps at the end of the boarding platform. Bernard stumbled but caught himself on the railing with his right hand. His gym bag slipped off his other shoulder, making him fumble with that hand to catch it.
Ann didn't bother hiding her amusement at her brother's expense. She laughed loud enough that the three people that had shared the ride to the island turned around and looked back down the steps.
"Fine! Go ahead" Bernard said in mock anger. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a slim red phone. "And kill me too while you’re at it! Good thing that railing was there or I'd have fallen into the surf and been sucked away into the ocean and drowned!" He harrumphed loudly and spun on one heel.
Ann followed him up the steps, giggling. The ferry’s wake was still slapping the beach below. At most it was a two foot drop from the dock to the beach. "Drowned. Yeah, right. Whatever, Drama Boy. You’d have a better chance of knocking your brains out on a pebble down there than drowning."
“Hey, anything’s possible, traitor,” he said over his shoulder, still pretending to be mad. Then, he grinned. “Hey, I’m proof of that, right?”
The siblings had reached the top of the stairs now and were level with the parking lot. A white placard bolted to two concrete posts pointed to the North Hatton Island Visitor’s Center on their right. Dwarfing that sign, however, was what had caught their attention earlier. A long white vinyl banner, probably close to thirty feet long, was strung high between two of the parking lot’s light poles. On it was a message printed in blue block capital letters each three feet high: "THINK POSITIVE, ST. BERNARD! WE DO."
Bernard held up his cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures of the banner. Then, he turned and held the phone out backwards so that he could be in the foreground of the shots. After each click, he spun around and changed his facial expression into a different emotion. He went from happy to surprised to proud to dazed to nauseated in just a matter of a minute or so.
Laughing, Ann set down her bag and pulled out her digital camera. She started hamming it up with her brother. She alternated between taking backwards shots of herself with her brother’s welcoming banner in the background and snapping photos of her brother’s hilarious poses. When he jumped onto a bench and threw both his arms up directly beneath the ST., she shouted, “Work it, Miracle Boy!” like a runway photographer to a model. Bernard burst out laughing and fell onto the bench. Holding his sides, he waved her away as she kept taking more pictures.
“No, Sis,” he scolded, hugging his sides to try to stop laughing, “Don’t take pix when I’m down! It’ll ruin my image!”
“Ha ha! Can you say blackmail? extortion?” Ann cackled dramatically, still taking photos until he straightened and flipped his phone shut against his thigh. With his other hand, he also flipped her off, which to her delight she caught on camera. She danced around in a circle with the camera clutched to her chest. “Oooh! Pay dirt, brother! P-A-Y-dirt!”
Bernard jumped at her as though he were going to wrestle the camera away. Instinctively, she leaned forward and curled her body around it. All he did though was lock his right arm around her neck and rub his left knuckles briskly across her scalp. She squealed but didn’t drop the camera.
“Ha to you, Anna Banana!” He let her go and stuck his tongue out at her as he called her by the nickname he gave her that used to make her cry as a little girl. “The only thing you’ll get out of me will be more noogies!”
Ann was leaning on her knees laughing but still had her arms pulled close to her chest. She shuffled over to her bag like a crab guarding a morsel of food and stuffed her camera inside. Straightening, she grabbed her brother’s elbow and tugged him toward the weathered white building at the far end of the sidewalk.
“Come on, Mr. Saint Bernard, let’s stop playing and get to that Visitor Center. They’ll tell us how to get to this Cutie Pie Man you have to see.”
“Mercutio Pieta, Ann.” Bernard snorted. He fell into step behind her. “I am meeting with Cardinal Mercutio Pieta. Get it right. Cutie Pie Man makes him sound like some pedophile or goofy Pokemon collector.”
Ann raised an eyebrow and smirked, “There’s a difference?”
Bernard chuckled. “Just call him Church Guy if you forget, okay.” Ann nodded, and they walked a few steps in silence. As they neared the building, they noticed that a large crowd of people had gathered on a big veranda on its far side. The sidewalk they were following looked like it led right up to the crowd. The building’s main entrance had to be there.
“Do you think he’s meeting us here?” Bernard asked quietly as they approached the crowd. “I figured you’d have to go to a church to talk to a canonization expert, but I see a whole lot of people up there.”
At about the same time that Ann noticed that signs bearing Bernard’s name stuck on poles and hanging from the building’s roof, the people on the veranda started cheering. The cheer was obviously heartfelt but a little ragged since probably three-fourths of the crowd was quite elderly. Ann sighed. Ever since her brother’s powers became obvious, she’d seen crowds like this one many times. Her heart still ached for how eager they were though.
“It’s just talk anyway, Little Brother. If this ‘expert’ is here or not, these people have brought some work for you to do here first, I think.” Ann jerked her chin toward the waiting people. Her brother nodded, his young face suddenly very composed. His exuberance and goofiness of only a few minutes before had gone somewhere deep within himself, and a look of intense sincerity and caring had taken its place.
They neared the veranda, and she started counting crutches, wheelchairs, walkers, and even a stretcher or two. A few people who were more mobile had canes they waved, and Ann counted them, too. The faces of the hopeful but obviously healthy she ignored.
“Looks like we’ll be maybe an hour or two,” Ann whispered. “Unless more show up, that is. And it’s possible. I mean, obviously, you’ve got quite a fan club going on here. Who knew. I thought this island was an out of the way place.”
A grin flitted across his face, showing that her brother was still her brother, no matter what wonderful things he might be able to do.
“Yeah, me too, Sis,” he whispered back. “You know, I was really hoping when I agreed to this canonization petition that it’d at least get us a trip to Rome. But no, we get to meet someone in an island in Maine. Ooooh! Whoopee!”
Ann had time to smother a laugh before they reached the end of the sidewalk. Then, arm in arm, the brother and sister stepped up onto the veranda into a sea of outstretched hands.
"How could I not? It's as long as the ferryboat almost!"
"Yeah, I know! I'm a little disappointed actually. I think it should be bigger."
"Keep it up, Mr. Bighead, and I'll switch to the other side!" Ann shoved him on the right shoulder just as he started up the steps at the end of the boarding platform. Bernard stumbled but caught himself on the railing with his right hand. His gym bag slipped off his other shoulder, making him fumble with that hand to catch it.
Ann didn't bother hiding her amusement at her brother's expense. She laughed loud enough that the three people that had shared the ride to the island turned around and looked back down the steps.
"Fine! Go ahead" Bernard said in mock anger. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a slim red phone. "And kill me too while you’re at it! Good thing that railing was there or I'd have fallen into the surf and been sucked away into the ocean and drowned!" He harrumphed loudly and spun on one heel.
Ann followed him up the steps, giggling. The ferry’s wake was still slapping the beach below. At most it was a two foot drop from the dock to the beach. "Drowned. Yeah, right. Whatever, Drama Boy. You’d have a better chance of knocking your brains out on a pebble down there than drowning."
“Hey, anything’s possible, traitor,” he said over his shoulder, still pretending to be mad. Then, he grinned. “Hey, I’m proof of that, right?”
The siblings had reached the top of the stairs now and were level with the parking lot. A white placard bolted to two concrete posts pointed to the North Hatton Island Visitor’s Center on their right. Dwarfing that sign, however, was what had caught their attention earlier. A long white vinyl banner, probably close to thirty feet long, was strung high between two of the parking lot’s light poles. On it was a message printed in blue block capital letters each three feet high: "THINK POSITIVE, ST. BERNARD! WE DO."
Bernard held up his cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures of the banner. Then, he turned and held the phone out backwards so that he could be in the foreground of the shots. After each click, he spun around and changed his facial expression into a different emotion. He went from happy to surprised to proud to dazed to nauseated in just a matter of a minute or so.
Laughing, Ann set down her bag and pulled out her digital camera. She started hamming it up with her brother. She alternated between taking backwards shots of herself with her brother’s welcoming banner in the background and snapping photos of her brother’s hilarious poses. When he jumped onto a bench and threw both his arms up directly beneath the ST., she shouted, “Work it, Miracle Boy!” like a runway photographer to a model. Bernard burst out laughing and fell onto the bench. Holding his sides, he waved her away as she kept taking more pictures.
“No, Sis,” he scolded, hugging his sides to try to stop laughing, “Don’t take pix when I’m down! It’ll ruin my image!”
“Ha ha! Can you say blackmail? extortion?” Ann cackled dramatically, still taking photos until he straightened and flipped his phone shut against his thigh. With his other hand, he also flipped her off, which to her delight she caught on camera. She danced around in a circle with the camera clutched to her chest. “Oooh! Pay dirt, brother! P-A-Y-dirt!”
Bernard jumped at her as though he were going to wrestle the camera away. Instinctively, she leaned forward and curled her body around it. All he did though was lock his right arm around her neck and rub his left knuckles briskly across her scalp. She squealed but didn’t drop the camera.
“Ha to you, Anna Banana!” He let her go and stuck his tongue out at her as he called her by the nickname he gave her that used to make her cry as a little girl. “The only thing you’ll get out of me will be more noogies!”
Ann was leaning on her knees laughing but still had her arms pulled close to her chest. She shuffled over to her bag like a crab guarding a morsel of food and stuffed her camera inside. Straightening, she grabbed her brother’s elbow and tugged him toward the weathered white building at the far end of the sidewalk.
“Come on, Mr. Saint Bernard, let’s stop playing and get to that Visitor Center. They’ll tell us how to get to this Cutie Pie Man you have to see.”
“Mercutio Pieta, Ann.” Bernard snorted. He fell into step behind her. “I am meeting with Cardinal Mercutio Pieta. Get it right. Cutie Pie Man makes him sound like some pedophile or goofy Pokemon collector.”
Ann raised an eyebrow and smirked, “There’s a difference?”
Bernard chuckled. “Just call him Church Guy if you forget, okay.” Ann nodded, and they walked a few steps in silence. As they neared the building, they noticed that a large crowd of people had gathered on a big veranda on its far side. The sidewalk they were following looked like it led right up to the crowd. The building’s main entrance had to be there.
“Do you think he’s meeting us here?” Bernard asked quietly as they approached the crowd. “I figured you’d have to go to a church to talk to a canonization expert, but I see a whole lot of people up there.”
At about the same time that Ann noticed that signs bearing Bernard’s name stuck on poles and hanging from the building’s roof, the people on the veranda started cheering. The cheer was obviously heartfelt but a little ragged since probably three-fourths of the crowd was quite elderly. Ann sighed. Ever since her brother’s powers became obvious, she’d seen crowds like this one many times. Her heart still ached for how eager they were though.
“It’s just talk anyway, Little Brother. If this ‘expert’ is here or not, these people have brought some work for you to do here first, I think.” Ann jerked her chin toward the waiting people. Her brother nodded, his young face suddenly very composed. His exuberance and goofiness of only a few minutes before had gone somewhere deep within himself, and a look of intense sincerity and caring had taken its place.
They neared the veranda, and she started counting crutches, wheelchairs, walkers, and even a stretcher or two. A few people who were more mobile had canes they waved, and Ann counted them, too. The faces of the hopeful but obviously healthy she ignored.
“Looks like we’ll be maybe an hour or two,” Ann whispered. “Unless more show up, that is. And it’s possible. I mean, obviously, you’ve got quite a fan club going on here. Who knew. I thought this island was an out of the way place.”
A grin flitted across his face, showing that her brother was still her brother, no matter what wonderful things he might be able to do.
“Yeah, me too, Sis,” he whispered back. “You know, I was really hoping when I agreed to this canonization petition that it’d at least get us a trip to Rome. But no, we get to meet someone in an island in Maine. Ooooh! Whoopee!”
Ann had time to smother a laugh before they reached the end of the sidewalk. Then, arm in arm, the brother and sister stepped up onto the veranda into a sea of outstretched hands.
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