The trolley had one bad wheel, and everyone on the launch field knew it.
那辆手推车有一只坏轮子，起飞场地上人人都知道。
It sat at the front on the left side, and it squeaked at every turn. It was a thin, high noise, like a mouse singing in a cupboard. He pushed the trolley across the grass in the early light. The wheel announced him to the whole field before he arrived.
它在前面左侧，每次转弯都吱吱作响。那声音又细又高，像一只老鼠在橱柜里唱歌。清晨的光里，他推着车穿过草地，那只轮子赶在他到来之前，就向整片场地通报了他的到来。
He was fifteen, and this was his first summer job. Every morning he reached the field at four o'clock, when the sky was still dark blue. His work was simple. He loaded the trolley with baskets, burner pipes and folded fabric. Then he wheeled it from the van to the launch line. Then he waited for the next load.
他十五岁，这是他的第一份暑期工。每天早上四点，他就到场地上，那时天空还是深蓝色。他的活儿很简单：把吊篮、燃烧器管子和叠好的布料装上推车，从货车推到起飞线，然后等下一批货。
The balloon pilots arrived in twos and threes, drinking coffee from paper cups. They were friendly, but they never used his name. They said, "Hey, trolley boy," or, "Where is the trolley?" or just, "You." Ferran had told them his name on the first day. Two weeks later, he was still waiting for someone to use it.
热气球飞行员们三三两两地到来，用纸杯喝着咖啡。他们很友好，但从不叫他的名字。他们说：“嘿，推车小子”，或者“推车在哪儿？”，或者干脆就是“你”。第一天，费兰就告诉过他们自己的名字。两个星期过去了，他还在等着有人叫它。
It was a small thing, and it mattered more every day.
这是一件小事，却一天比一天更要紧。
On a quiet Thursday, he stood at the edge of the field. He watched the first balloon fill with warm air. The fabric rose slowly from the grass, round and glowing. It looked like a lamp the size of a house. A young woman in a green jacket stood beside the basket, checking a line of small flags. This was Yelena. She was the youngest pilot on the field. She was also the only one who ever said thank you.
一个安静的星期四，他站在场地边上，看着第一只气球充满热空气。布料慢慢从草地上升起，圆圆的，发着光，像一盏房子那么大的灯。一个穿绿夹克的年轻女人站在吊篮旁，检查一排小旗子。她叫叶连娜，是场地上最年轻的飞行员，也是唯一说过谢谢的人。
"Good morning," she called. "Is that your trolley making all that noise?"
“早上好，”她喊道，“那是你的推车在吵吵嚷嚷吗？”
"Yes," Ferran said. He felt his shoulders go stiff. "I'm sorry. I've tried to fix it. It won't stop."
“是的，”费兰说。他觉得肩膀绷紧了。“对不起。我试过修，可它停不下来。”
"Don't be sorry. I can hear you coming from the other side of the field." She smiled at him. "It's useful."
“别道歉。我在场地另一头就能听到你来了。”她朝他笑了笑。“这很有用。”
"I wish somebody would just say my name," Ferran said. He did not mean to say it aloud. The words simply fell out of his mouth.
“我真希望有人能叫我的名字，”费兰说。他本来没想说出口，话就这样自己掉出了嘴。
Yelena tilted her head. "What is your name?"
叶连娜歪了歪头。“你叫什么？”
"Ferran."
“费兰。”
"Ferran," she repeated, slowly, as if she were tasting it. "That's a good name. But I think I can do better than that."
“费兰，”她慢慢重复了一遍，像是在品尝它。“是个好名字。不过我觉得我能想出更好的。”
"Better?"
“更好的？”
"A name that people will remember." She grinned. "Leave it with me."
“一个大家都会记住的名字。”她咧嘴一笑。“交给我吧。”
Ferran did not know what that meant, so he decided to forget it.
费兰不明白这是什么意思，便决定忘掉它。
The next day, he arrived at the field and heard the news before he saw anyone. A voice was shouting across the grass.
第二天，他一到场地，还没看到人，就先听到了消息。有个声音在草地上喊着。
"Squeak! Hey, Squeak! Over here!"
“吱吱！嘿，吱吱！这边！”
It was the oldest pilot, a tall man with a moustache. He waved both arms. Another pilot came running with a coffee in each hand.
那是年纪最大的飞行员，一个留着胡子的高个子。他双臂挥舞着。另一个飞行员两手各拿一杯咖啡跑了过来。
"Squeak, can you bring the big basket? Please?"
“吱吱，能把大吊篮推过来吗？拜托了？”
"Squeak, where is the spare burner?"
“吱吱，备用燃烧器在哪儿？”
Ferran stood in the middle of the field and stared at them. Behind a balloon, Yelena was trying very hard not to laugh.
费兰站在场地中央，盯着他们。一只气球后面，叶连娜正拼命忍着不笑。
"You told them to call me that," he said.
“是你让他们这样叫我的，”他说。
"I told them it was your name," she said. "Pilot's honour."
“我告诉他们这是你的名字，”她说，“以飞行员的名誉担保。”
"It's not my name! It's the sound of a broken wheel."
“这不是我的名字！这是坏轮子的声音。”
"It's a nickname. They are different things." Yelena put a hand on his shoulder. "Nobody forgets a nickname. Besides, it is much better than trolley boy."
“这是绰号。两者不一样。”叶连娜把一只手放在他的肩上。“绰号没人会忘。再说，这比推车小子好多了。”
Ferran wanted to be angry. He looked at her face and then at the pilots waving at him. He could not find the anger anywhere. Something warm sat in his chest instead, and it felt a little bit like being at home.
费兰想生气。他看看她的脸，又看看朝他挥手的飞行员们。他怎么也找不到那份怒气。胸口反倒有一种暖暖的东西，感觉有点像回到了家。
"I wished for a name," he said finally. "I didn't wish for that one."
“我是想要一个名字，”他终于说，“可我没想要那一个。”
"Wishes never come in the shape you expect," Yelena said. "That's how you know they are real."
“愿望从来不会以你期待的样子到来，”叶连娜说，“这就是你知道它们是真的的原因。”
For the next week, everybody on the field used the word. Ferran got used to it. He began to answer to it without thinking, the way a dog answers to its own name.
接下来的一个星期，场地上人人都用这个词。费兰习惯了。他开始不假思索地答应，就像狗答应自己的名字一样。
Then came Saturday.
然后星期六到了。
It was the biggest morning of the summer. Seven balloons lifted off together, and the sky filled with colour. Ferran stood at the launch line with a hot cup in his hands. He watched them climb, one after another, into the pink morning light. Yelena's balloon was the last. It was white and gold, and it rose without a sound.
那是整个夏天最盛大的一个早晨。七只气球一同升空，天空里充满了色彩。费兰站在起飞线上，手里捧着一杯热饮。他看着它们一只接一只，爬进粉红色的晨光里。叶连娜的气球是最后一只。它是白色和金色的，无声无息地升了起来。
Normally the pilots landed within a few miles, and the chase crew drove out to collect them. But that morning the air carried Yelena a very long way. She drifted past the river and over the low hills. At last she came down in a huge field of tall maize, far from any road.
通常飞行员们会在几英里之内降落，追踪小组会开车去接他们。可那天早上，风把叶连娜带得很远。她飘过了河，飘过了低矮的山丘，最后降落在一大片高高的玉米地里，离任何道路都很远。
Ferran heard the news ten minutes later, when the chase driver called the field on the radio.
十分钟后，费兰听到了消息：追踪车司机用无线电呼叫场地。
"We can't find her," the driver said. His voice was tight. "The maize is taller than a man. We can see the balloon from the road, but there is no track to it. We have driven round the whole field twice, and she has no signal on her phone."
“我们找不到她，”司机说，声音紧绷，“玉米比人还高。我们从公路上能看到气球，可是没有路通过去。整片地我们绕了两圈，她的手机也没有信号。”
The crew chief frowned. "Send the trolley," he said. "We need someone on foot with the equipment bags. Squeak, can you go with the second van?"
地勤主管皱起眉头。“把推车派出去，”他说，“我们需要一个带着设备包徒步的人。吱吱，你能跟第二辆车去吗？”
"I can," Ferran said.
“能，”费兰说。
He loaded the empty envelope bags and climbed into the van beside the driver. Twenty minutes later, they stood at the edge of the maize. The stalks made a green wall in front of them.
他装上空的气球包，爬进货车，坐在司机旁边。二十分钟后，他们站在玉米地边缘。一根根玉米秆在他们面前形成一堵绿墙。
"She's in there somewhere," the driver said. "But I can't drive through it, and I can't hear her."
“她就在里面某个地方，”司机说，“可我开不进去，也听不到她。”
Ferran looked at the wall of maize. He looked at the trolley in the back of the van, with its one bad wheel. Then he had an idea. It came so fast that he did not dare to say it aloud.
费兰看着那堵玉米墙。他看了看货车后面那辆有一只坏轮子的推车。然后他有了一个主意。它来得那么快，他都不敢说出口。
He lifted the trolley down onto the track. He took hold of the handle. He began to push it slowly along the edge of the field, back and forth, back and forth.
他把推车搬下来，放到小路上。他握住把手，开始沿着田边慢慢地推，来来回回，来来回回。
Squeak, went the wheel, again and again.
吱——，轮子一遍又一遍地响。
The sound was thin and high, and it carried across the maize like the call of a bird.
那声音又细又高，像鸟叫一样飘过玉米地。
"What are you doing?" the driver asked.
“你在干什么？”司机问。
"Wait," Ferran said. "She told me she could hear me from the other side of the field."
“等一等，”费兰说，“她跟我说过，她在场地另一头都能听到我。”
They stood in silence. Ferran pushed the trolley another ten steps, and then another ten. His arms were beginning to ache.
他们静静地站着。费兰又往前推了十步，再十步。他的手臂开始发酸。
Then, far inside the maize, a voice rose.
然后，在玉米地深处，一个声音响了起来。
"Squeak!"
“吱吱！”
Ferran stopped. His heart jumped.
费兰停住了。他的心猛地一跳。
"Is that you? I can hear you! Keep going!"
“是你吗？我听到你了！继续！”
"She's to the left," the driver said. "Past that tall tree!"
“她在左边，”司机说，“过了那棵高树！”
Ferran pushed harder. He turned the trolley, and the wheel sang out loudly, and the voice answered from a little closer. The driver found a narrow gap between the stalks and started cutting a path. Ferran followed with the trolley, step after step. The voice grew nearer until he could hear laughing in it.
费兰推得更使劲了。他转了方向，轮子响亮地唱着，那个声音从更近的地方回应了。司机在玉米秆之间找到一道窄缝，开始砍出一条路。费兰推着车跟在后面，一步又一步。那声音越来越近，近到他已经能听出里面的笑意。
Then the stalks parted, and there she was. Yelena stood in a small clearing beside her fallen balloon. Her jacket was covered in leaves, and her hair was full of pollen. She looked tired and very glad to see him.
接着玉米秆分开了，她就在那里。叶连娜站在一小块空地上，旁边是她倒下的气球。她的夹克上全是叶子，头发里满是花粉。她看上去很累，却很高兴见到他。
"I knew it," she said. "I told them. Nobody could lose a trolley with a wheel like that."
“我就知道，”她说，“我跟他们说过。有那样一只轮子，谁也不会弄丢一辆推车。”
Ferran laughed. He could not help it. He stood in the middle of the maize. The balloon lay spread beside him like a great gold flower. He laughed until his eyes were wet.
费兰笑了。他忍不住。他站在玉米地中央，气球像一朵巨大的金色花朵铺展在他身旁。他笑得眼睛都湿了。
"Thank you, Squeak," Yelena said.
“谢谢你，吱吱，”叶连娜说。
"You're welcome," said Ferran.
“不客气，”费兰说。
He took the trolley's handle again. The wheel turned once, and spoke for him.
他又握住了推车的把手。轮子转了一圈，替他开了口。
Squeak.
吱。
