Chapter 3--Theodore Stevens a.ka. Tadpole
My best friend in the entire world, Theodore Stevens, commonly known as Tadpole, stared at me with wide, gray eyes and shifted his fishing hat to the back of his head. A few dusty, blonde curls poked out at the bottom. He always wore a hat, generally a different hat for everyday.
I marched over and started picking up the pieces of broken plate. Tadpole easily obliged and pitched in. I think that was how he got his nickname--he was always on the move, quick to jump into anything that was going on. He gave me a crooked smile. “So, what did you have against this plate anyway? It looks harmless enough.”
I felt some of my frustration begin to fade. Tadpole’s easygoing way soothed me when nothing else could. He’d been my best friend since we were in diapers and always would be. I threw away the dish and folded the dish towel before turning to look at him. “I’m sorry, Tad. My mother just makes me so mad.”
Tad’s shoulder bumped my arm. He was eleven and hadn’t quite caught up to my stretched-out state, though I often assured him he’d tower over me one day. “Come on, spill it. What happened?” He insisted while helping himself to homemade cookies from the cookie jar.
I threw my hands in the air and stormed out to the living room, heaving myself on the couch. “They’re off for a romantic walk after he came to dinner…again!”
Tadpole nodded in understanding, his eyes glowing with mischief. “What should we do to them? Water balloons? Stink bombs? Moon them on our bikes?” He was always helping me scheme but I’d only chicken out. After all, I did have a healthy respect for my life, no matter how miserable it had become.
I sat up and pushed hair out my eyes. “No, we can’t do that. I want to live to be thirteen.” At least, most of the time.
Tad plunked himself down next to me and straightened his hat. “How about a Star Wars adventure?” He asked hopefully.
Whenever possible, Tad loved to bring us into the world of Star Wars or Indiana Jones, whether we used legos, action figures or transformed ourselves into a character. I had joined him wholeheartedly on many escapades. However, I hadn’t done anything wholeheartedly in a long time. I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
Tad stood up and paced the living room, listing options until he suddenly stopped and stared at me, eyes bright with excitement. “I know! Acorn attack!”
His plan was simple--take cover in the woods with a stash of acorns and let them fly as cars went by. My mother had always said I had no common sense and at that moment it must have been true. Against my better judgment and because I was still steamed at my mother, I agreed with the latest in a long line of spontaneous, possibly dangerous schemes cooked up by my partner in crime.
While Tadpole collected acorns, I found a ratty, green and blue checkered blanket for our protective screen. We shot off through our neighbors’ yards. Everyone’s yard in our neighborhood was free game except for Old Mrs. Butler’s. We crossed the street into the woods that bordered the road and secured our blanket between two trees. We were both giggling uncontrollably after a rocky start to the evening. It was funny; my feelings were like a rollercoaster, down in the dumps one moment, carefree and silly like a kid the next. We made some test throws, launching acorns across the road. Tad could throw the farthest and had the best aim, probably from more experience, but I wasn’t too bad. Our road was very quiet, with few cars going by. Even when one did pass, we both missed. Tad teased me about my terrible aim every time.
Suddenly a Bronco headed in our direction. It was slowing down. I grabbed a handful of acorns, determined to show Tad I could do it. He held up a hand in warning. “Christy! Wait, not this one!”
It came too late as I let one fly and heard a loud ping as it bounced off the roof of the truck. “I told you I could do it!” I shouted happily.
My excitement quickly came to an end as I realized I had just hit the neighbor, Randy Jones, who lived directly across the street from our hiding place. I realized our “camouflage” stood out like a bull’s eye. My life flashed before my eyes as Randy slammed on his brakes, jammed the gas pedal down and shot backward toward our blanket. Tadpole and I both stood rooted to the spot as he came within inches of our blanket before stopping. My heart was hammering in my chest as Randy yanked his door open and jumped out. At six-feet-two inches, Randy towered over our blanket, his dark beard and eyes a scary combination. “If ever I catch you chucking rocks again, my Bronco won’t stop!” He got back in his truck and went back across the street.
Tadpole hightailed it through the woods and down the dirt lane that led to his house. I could practically see the dust flying from underneath his feet. Why did things always happen this way? He’d disappear and I would take the rap. With shaking hands, I took down the blanket. Rather than go home, I went deeper into the woods. If the lake was my best friend in nature, the forest came in at a close second. It was quiet, cooler and dim. My footsteps were muffled by the bed of fallen pine needles on the ground. I walked a good ways, at least a mile, until I found a tree that had fallen and created a perfect nook for me to hide. I wrapped up tightly in my blanket. Some protection! I covered my head, curled up into a little ball, and wished I could disappear. Things like this happened to me all the time. “Look before you leap” should have been my motto, but I usually took the plunge first and regretted it later.
What should I do? Go home and face my mother? The thought of making her even angrier was not a welcome idea. Go beat up Tadpole for having this brilliant idea in the first place? I knew I couldn’t actually hurt Tad. Besides, I needed all the friends I could get. Run away into the woods and live like a hermit? Daddy would have gone with me. Once we had seen a movie called “Mountain Family Robinson,” where a family went to live in the Alaskan wilderness. They had a little cabin with no modern goodies and had all kinds of adventures. Daddy and I had been all for it but Mother said absolutely not.
I sat and fantasized about the last choice for a while, picturing that Daddy came back to me and he and I could stay in the forest forever. But I just couldn’t really make the dream work because I knew Daddy couldn’t come back.
Finally, my Jiminy Cricket conscience, the voice in my head that told me to do the right thing, but usually too late, sent me with dragging feet to Randy Jones’ house. I poked my blanket behind a tree and slouched across the road, shoulders slumped. My hope that Randy had moved to Mexico was squashed. He was outside, tinkering with his truck, stretched out on a creeper underneath. I came to a stop next to his feet and dug my toe in the dirt. I cleared my throat and hoped a hole would open in the ground a swallow me up. Rotten luck today--there were not mysterious holes to be found. “Randy, could I talk to you please?” I said in not much more than a whisper.
Randy pushed out from under his Bronco. When he saw who it was, a smile broke out and brightened his face and his eyes became soft in the way most people’s eyes did when they saw me. He stood up and wiped the grease off his hands. “Hey, Christina! I haven’t seen you in a long time. What can I do for you, honey?”
My chin shot up and I squared my shoulders. I prepared to face the bear of a man I had seen earlier. “I…wanted to say sssorry for hitting your truck with an acorn. I hope I didn’t hurt anything.”
Randy tipped his head back and started laughing. “So that’s what that was. I thought it was rocks. No harm done, Christy. Just don’t do it again. You could scare someone and cause an accident.”
My cheeks turned bright red with shame and my eyes filled with tears. “I really am sorry. I never thought about that.”
Randy reached out, touched my chin and tipped my face up to look into my eyes. “It’s all right, honey.” His voice and eyes were soft as he patted me gently on the back. “I told you, no harm done. Don’t worry. This is settled. Now, why don’t you go see my mother? She misses you.”
I nodded with a smile an
d gave him a hug. For just a moment, he felt like Daddy did before he got sick. He was nothing to be afraid of. Magic lesson learned: There are good surprises hidden inside the bad if we just open our eyes.
LakeSide Magic Page 2
