The story so far ... Ben feels that only in checking out the clothesline again will he know if there are really messages. He wants to ride without Nate so he can take his time and study the shirts more carefully. The first morning he sets out on his bike, Jack Lehman, his neighbor snags him to help with the hay. The second time, Ben is disappointed because there are no clothes on the line. The third time, it is raining. In addition, his Mom reminds him that the family is leaving for a vacation in St. Louis. So it is more than a week later that Ben finally thinks about a return trip to the clothesline.



Nate was glad I was home and anxious to get together. The next morning, we decided to take a bike ride. I forgot that I wanted to ride alone to study the clothesline without interruption. We talked the whole way, catching up on stuff from our week apart. "Soccer practice starts next week." He rode up next to me as we came up to the side road that went past the clothesline. "Can't wait."

"Me neither. But it also means school starts and no more freedom. Still, it'll be fun to see everyone after the summer."

The grazing horses looked up and watched us ride by as we reached the farm. They looked like statues. I was relieved to see a full line of clothes swinging in the breeze and slowed down.

Nate passed me, saying, "We only got two weeks of practice before the tryouts."

I stopped to study the clothes while Nate continued riding. There were skirts and several girl shirts in front as well as a bunch of the man's jeans and shirts.

Nate looked back and saw that I had stopped. He circled back. "Who cares about these stupid clothes." He pulled up next to me. "I'm thinking about soccer coming up and the tryouts for the traveling team."

"Sure, that's because you are a star." I paused, still searching the shirts. "I just feel like I know these guys from seeing their clothes hanging on the line. Like... they're giving me hints about their lives."

Nate looked at me. "Let's go. You're getting weird about this place. It's just a bunch of clothes drying. Same as your mom and mine do at home."

"But look," I had to buy some time, "never any kids clothes. They must not have any children."

"Who cares? This is ridiculous." I could tell Nate was irritated. I ignored him, now desperate to see a new message.

Nate sighed and calmed down. "Yeah, I get it. You're pretty good at this detective work." And he put his foot on the pedal, ready to take off. "But I'm leaving."

"Wait, me too." But I paused, still searching back and forth across the line, hoping that some words from one of the shirts would jump out at me. I had waited so long to have this chance, nearly two weeks. But nothing stood out. I guess I was mistaken. There were no messages. It was just my imagination.

"Come on." Nate said angrily.

I slowly got ready to pedal. Looking back at the clothesline one more time, my eyes stopped at one of the girl's shirts. It was pink and across the front was written in bold, black print: Kanga's Gym. Underneath it said, Join yoga and stand tall. Was that the new message: Stand tall?

"Yoga..." Nate said, seeing my eyes locked on the pink shirt. "That's just for girls.

"Not according to Mr. Jacobs." He was our gym teacher. "He says it's a life exercise and good for boys too. It makes your body more agile and improves posture. He said it helps even with soccer." I kept my eyes on the T-shirt. "Maybe I'll join a yoga class."

"What?" Nate said in amazement. "You don't want to be the only boy in the class."

"Sure, if it gets me on the traveling soccer team." I grinned over at him.

"Now I know you're fooling with me."

Just then, the door of the house opened and a big man in baggy jeans and a dirty white T-shirt walked out and looked hard at us. He had stubble on his chin and messy hair. "Hey, what you kids staring at?" He walked towards us. "You up to some trouble?" He asked suspiciously.

"No, just out for a bike ride," I replied, trying not to show any fear. "We were just taking a rest." I couldn't tell him that I was getting messages from his clothesline. Nor could I say anything in front of Nate.

I had considered telling Nate. I played it out in my mind... "Hey, Nate, guess what? The clothesline is talking to me? I'm getting messages about what to do." He'd look at me like I was nuts. Or else he'd laugh his head off and tell me to go pour cold water over myself. I just couldn't tell him.

"Let's go," Nate interrupted my thoughts. "I don't trust the guy," he added in a low voice. Nate turned and took off.

The man stared straight at me, with his arms folded across his chest. He started walking closer. The look on his face scared me. "Get going kid. I don't like gawkers."

I quickly jumped on my bike and pedaled hard to catch up to Nate.

"What a jerk." Nate spit out as I pulled up next to him. "I hate people who think all kids are up to no good."

"Yeah, I thought he might suddenly sprint and grab me. His clothesline wasn't that interesting." I settled into a slower pace.

We rode home in silence. Nate cut off to his house with a quick wave. My mind wandered back to the words I'd seen... or not seen: Stand tall... Was that the new message? And if it was, what did it mean? I rode up the driveway, still wondering whether or not I'd received a message. Stand tall? Was it about my posture? Mom said I always slumped, and she'd take her hands and straighten my back. I didn't think that was an important message.