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Same Planet - Different World PREVIEW EDITION (The First 12 Chapters)

Page 13

by Ben Clabaugh

David stood on the lowest, largest branch of the oak tree in the front yard of the house in Indianapolis. With one hand braced against the trunk, he gazed outward. Instead of the immense boughs and the house across the street beyond, he saw the azure blue of Caribbean waters and tall, billowing, grey-on-white, anvil-topped clouds off to the west—harbingers of rough sailing ahead. Just as the cry of “Ship ahoy!” came down from the crow’s nest one hundred feet above, he spotted the dark outline of a galleon emerging from the leeward side of the nearby tropical island. Through his spyglass Captain David could just make out the flag—a skeleton on a field of black, an hourglass in one hand, a spear pointing toward a heart dripping blood in the other. Blackbeard. Captain David loosened the saber in his belt. The crown was running from this scum no longer.

  “Hard a-port, prepare the cannon. Time for some action, Mates,” Captain David bellowed.

  “Watch me, Davie, watch me!”

  His attention wrenched from the sea, David looked down from the branches of the oak tree with annoyance at his little sister Janie.

  “Ya watchin’?” she cried. She stood in the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street under the wide boughs of the tree. He glanced briefly at her as she tried some inexplicable feat of gymnastics, somewhere between a cart-wheel and crawling on all fours, he couldn’t tell which.

  He shifted his stance on the largest low branch of the tree and gazed outward. His vision shimmered and the quiet, tree-lined suburban street became, once again, the shining azure of the Caribbean.

  Puffs of smoke appeared down the length of the Blackbeard’s ship, followed seconds later by great gouts of water torn from the sea fifty yards from the hull of David’s ship. They were still too far away, but not for long. He would wait until they got closer so his cannon would be more effective.

  “Davie!” Janie wailed then crunched her face into an eerie imitation of their mother’s sternest look. She put her hands on her hips and waggled a tiny finger at him.

  “Mommy said for you to watch me, I heard it, and you’re not watching me! Now, watch, see what I can do?” Resignedly, he sat down on the branch.

  “Fine, go ahead,” he said.

  She tried her cartwheel/crawl again, only this time got her feet higher than normal. Her little-girl skirt dropped down over her head and her elbows buckled. With a squeal, she went down hard on her shoulder and side. It looked painful. If she hurt herself, he would be in big trouble. Expecting an ear shattering wail—usually a precursor to long bouts of dishwashing, leaf raking, driveway sealing (depending on the season) as punishment for some dereliction of responsibility or something—David leapt down and ran over to her. As he got to her side, she sat up, brushed the hair from her face, primly pushed her skirt back down over her legs, then thrust her arms triumphantly into the air and cried, “Ta Daaaa!”

  “Dammit Janie, you’re gonna get me in trouble,” Davie exclaimed. “Now cut it out.”

  Janie’s eyes became round and huge. She extended her pointer finger toward him as she noisily sucked in a big breath, “Ummmmmm.… You said bad word. Mommy’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap.… You said a bad word…. Ummmmmm!”

  David stifled a grin, too late. Janie saw it and giggled. Then a sly look crept across her face. She looked toward the house, blurted, “Dammit!” and collapsed to the ground, giggling.

  David spun around making sure no one had seen or heard. He looked down at his little sister as she rolled on the ground clutching her stomach, her face alight with unrepressed glee.

  “Come on,” he said half-heartedly. “You really are gonna get me in trouble.”

  He wanted to be mad at her, knew he should be mad at her. Despite himself he felt a grin building behind his cheeks and turned to hide it from her. Her high pitched, tinkling laughter always had that effect on him. To him, it was the happiest sound in the world.

  “Keep trying. I’ll watch from up here,” he said, trying to sound authoritative.

  He stomped back to the tree, still pretending to be mad. Sure, she always wanted to tag along with him and his friends, and she was incapable of being quiet—if she was around, he knew he could forget about getting away with anything. But he was, after all, her big brother, and it was his job to watch out for her.

  He reached up over his head, grabbed the lowest branch and hoisted himself back onto his perch, ready to spring the trap on the enemy.

  No, this is wrong, he thought. He remembered, now. He had to get out of the tree, and knew he would not be able to in time.

  He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut, muttering, “Wake up. Wake up!”

  He opened his eyes to see Janie step-skipping across an imaginary hopscotch grid. She got to the far side of the driveway, landed on two feet, and threw her arms into the air with a breathless, “TA DAAAA.”

  He opened his mouth to call her back, but his voice was drowned out by the screech of tires on asphalt and the roar of an engine.

  No, David thought, panic building inside him. Not again. No!

  He tried to yell, but no sound came from his throat. He tried to jump down from the tree, but his feet would not move.

  Wake up! He pleaded. He couldn’t take watching it, yet again. WAKE UP!

 

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