by Ann Cameron
Huey got ready. He held our hands tighter.
“Wha-d’you-wan-f’yer-birthday?” All his words squirted out at once, like ink from an octopus.
Dad didn’t answer. He made a little groan and waved a hand in front of his face, like a whale flipper.
We didn’t even whisper. We waited two minutes.
“Try again, Huey,” I said softly.
Huey said, “No.”
“I’ll try,” Gloria whispered.
“Mr. Bates,” Gloria murmured, “what do you want for your birthday?”
Dad opened his lips. His grass stem fell on his shirt. His lips closed again.
“Maybe he’s not a real sleep talker,” she whispered. “Not everybody is.”
“Anyhow, I’ll try,” I said.
I moved up to the hammock. I was afraid Dad was too much asleep. I picked up the grass stem he had dropped. Very lightly, I brushed it against his arm.
I tried to make my voice serious—like mine, but coming from Mars.
“Are? You? Dreaming?” I asked.
Dad moved a little. The hammock rocked. We jumped back.
Dad’s lips opened. “Yes,” he said.
“Do? You? Know? Your? Birthday? Is? Coming?” I asked.
Dad’s foot twitched.
“Yes,” he said.
“What? Do? You? Want? For? Your? Birthday?” I asked.
Dad didn’t answer.
“For. Your. Birthday,” I repeated.
Dad didn’t answer.
I hoped he was thinking it over.
“Your dream,” I suggested. “Your. Biggest. DREAM.”
Dad made another tiny groan. His whale body swayed the hammock. He looked as if he were speaking underwater.
“Two snakes,” he said. “Big ones.”
Could it really be true?
“For your birthday,” I said. “What do you want more than anything?”
“Two snakes,” Dad said again. “Big ones.”
6.
Blue Fang’s Children
“Do you actually like snakes?” Gloria asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Of course, they don’t scare me. But they kind of make me nervous.”
Gloria, Huey, and I were walking in the park by the river.
We had on long pants and our strongest, toughest shoes. I had Dad’s hatchet and a piece of string. Huey carried an old pillowcase. Gloria had her jackknife and a book from the library, All About Snakes. We each had a long, curved stick for snake catching. We had practiced using the sticks for two days.
“Would you look at the map in the book again, Gloria?” I said. “The one that shows there are no poisonous snakes where we live?”
Gloria bent her head over the map. “It still says the same. Should I read you some more about snakes?”
“All right,” I said.
“ ‘Snakes have very poor eyesight. They do not taste with their tongues. Instead, they use their tongues to smell and to sense the vibrations of other animals’ movements.
“ ‘Snakes are shy. Snakes are friends of humankind. Snakes eat species that are our enemies, such as mosquitoes and rats.
“ ‘There is almost no reason for people to be afraid of snakes. Pythons in India may have eaten small babies—’ ”
“BABIES!” Huey said. He grabbed the handle of my hatchet.
“ ‘… but,’ ” Gloria continued, “ ‘this has never been proved. It is more likely that the babies were eaten by leopards.’ ”
“LEOPARDS!” Huey said. “I want to go home!”
I held Huey’s arm. “Huey,” I said, “we aren’t in India! That’s another country! And there aren’t any leopards in the park. Probably there aren’t even any snakes, either. We’re just making a try.”
“I want to go home,” Huey said.
“Just one little try,” I said. “One little try to make Dad really happy on his birthday.”
Huey was silent. Wild animals moved in the high tree branches. Huey looked up. “All right,” he said. “But I won’t stay unless I can carry the hatchet.”
I gave it to him. We started on down the trail. My right hand felt light and empty without the hatchet. I poked at the grass at the side of the trail with my snake-catching stick.
“Should I read some more?” Gloria asked.
“Okay,” I said.
“ ‘Very few snakes are poisonous. Snakes do not bite people unless they are cornered and have no way of escape. Of course, if you are trying to collect a snake to study at home, it will try to bite. So be careful!’
“More?” Gloria said. She turned a page.
“ ‘To suck the blood out of a poisonous snake bite, first cut the bitten place with a jackknife. Then—’ ”
“BLOOD! Ugh! Don’t read that part!” I said.
Gloria closed the book. We all looked around.
We were farther into the park than we had ever gone before. Sometimes the tall grass swayed higher than our heads. In some places big boulders looked like a giant’s bowling game. As if he had been throwing them for fun, to knock trees down. Below the boulders gray, twisted tree stumps looked like broken arms climbing out of the river.
“Well,” Gloria said, “at least it’s a nice, bright, sunny—”
Something hissed.
We looked down. A snake was at our feet. It was thick and long. It was yellow, with bright red spots outlined in black. It moved like a bullet. It moved like an express train. In a second it had zoomed away.
“It had blue teeth!” Huey said.
“It did not have blue teeth!” Gloria said. “No snake has blue teeth. It went into its burrow, that’s all. And it’s a giant! Just the kind your dad wants for his birthday!”
Sometimes I wish Gloria was not so brave.
I looked at my snake-catching stick. It looked strong enough to stop a marshmallow at a marshmallow roast. If the marshmallow didn’t put up a fight.
“This snake-catching stick,” I said. “It doesn’t look strong enough to stop that snake.…”
“The-the-the hatchet couldn’t stop that snake!” Huey said.
“My dad doesn’t want chopped snake anyhow,” I said. “He wants live snakes.”
“He-he-he wants n-n-nice fr-fr-friendly snakes,” Huey said. “He-he-he doesn’t want—”
The grass rustled behind us. We jumped. We turned.
There were two snakes in the grass, spotted like Blue Fang, but smaller.
Probably with their bad eyesight they couldn’t see us. Probably they were waiting for the vibrations when we moved.
Silently, we crouched. Without a sound, just the way we had practiced, we lifted our snake-catching sticks. Faster than old Blue Fang had moved, Gloria and I brought our curved sticks down. Right behind the head, our sticks pinned the snakes to the ground.
“We’ve got them!” Gloria said.
The snakes raised their heads angrily and swayed them from side to side. Because of the sticks, they could only move their heads about an inch. Their red smeller-tongues flickered desperately. Their long, strong bodies writhed and coiled. It was scary to see them coil. But the back parts of their bodies couldn’t hurt us. And no matter how much they moved, they couldn’t escape. Our sticks held them tight to the ground.
“We—we did it!” Huey said.
“Right!” I said. “Now, hold the pillowcase open! Just leave a little narrow space at the top!”
Huey did. Quickly I reached down. With my thumb and my first finger I grabbed my snake between the stick and the front of its head. I let go of the stick and lifted the snake up. Then I took hold of its tail with my other hand and held the snake upside down. I guided its head into the opening in the pillowcase and let it slide down. It didn’t fight. It didn’t even act angry anymore. It just tumbled down into the bottom of the pillowcase and stayed there.
“Now Gloria’s,” I said.
Gloria grabbed her snake just the way I had grabbed mine. Soon hers was in the pillowcase too.
&n
bsp; Huey held up the bag and looked at the outlines of the snakes’ bodies through the cloth.
“Dad wants two big snakes,” Huey said. “But are you sure he wants them this big?”
“I’m sure,” I said.
I took the heavy bag from Huey and tied it shut with string. Then I lifted it and held it high.
“To the greatest birthday present ever!” I said.
“We really did it!” said Gloria.
“Of course!” I said.
But deep in my heart I was amazed, amazed, amazed. The way you are when you imagine doing something you are pretty sure you really can’t do, and then—unbelievable!—you succeed.
7.
The Prisoners and the
Party
When we got home, we moved the snakes into a new house—a big cardboard box with air holes in it. We hid the box in our room. (Actually, our room is so messy that as soon as you put anything in it, that thing is hidden.)
Every few minutes we would open the box a crack and look in. The snakes stayed completely still. Even though they must have sensed us, they did not move. Sometimes we reached in and touched them. They still did not move. Their skins were dry and smooth—black as ink, yellow as the sun, and red as red, red leaves in autumn. We called the longer one Son of Blue Fang and the shorter one Daughter of Blue Fang, but it was hard to tell them apart. They were both almost four feet long.
We didn’t take our rabbits, Jake and Beansprout, to meet them. We didn’t think the rabbits were ready for the shock.
But in the night, I got a shock myself. I woke up hearing a very strange sound. The snakes were moving, rubbing their big bodies against the sides of the box, looking for a way out.
I figured that by nature they were night hunters. Just like prisoners making a jail-break, they knew that they couldn’t get away safely in the day, when the sounds of people were all around them. They had waited until the house was quiet, until it was dark. Then they tested the box.
I was sure it was strong. But still I got up and put a few more pieces of tape on the lid, just in case.
Gloria’s book said that the snakes only ate once a week, so we didn’t give them food. But we did put a saucer of water in the box.
A second night passed; the morning of Dad’s birthday came. Mom knocked on our door. We shoved the box under the bed.
“I’ll be back just before five,” Mom said, “and Dad will be back just after. We can have the party then and give him his present. And it would be nice if you invited Gloria.”
“She already knows,” I said. “She wouldn’t want to miss it.”
Just after Mom left, Gloria came over.
When we finished checking on Dad’s snakes, we got out peanuts for the party and made lemonade. Then we decorated the house. We mixed food coloring and powdered sugar and drew a snake on Dad’s birthday cake with toothpicks. Then we drew snakes on some paper napkins, and we made a snake out of wire and crepe paper that we fastened to the kitchen cabinets and to the light on the living room ceiling. The big snake took two hours to make. It had a red, fringy tongue, and it stretched through two rooms. It was even bigger than old Blue Fang.
Then we put a bow on the snakes’ cardboard box and a little wrapping paper. They moved a lot. It was probably the first time they were ever wrapped. We were careful not to cover their breathing holes.
At 4:45 everything was ready. We carried the snakes’ box into the living room and hid it behind a chair. We set the cake and the napkins on the kitchen table.
Then we stood and looked around.
We were really proud. Our party was going to be perfect—the best party a dad could ever have. Especially if he secretly loved snakes, the way Dad did.
8.
Dream Delivery
“Julian! Huey! What are these decorations?”
It was Mom’s voice. She was not yelling, but she did sound perturbed.
Huey and Gloria and I went into the kitchen.
“We got a special present for Dad,” I said. “Also, we made special decorations.”
“Snake decorations?” Mom said. “And what is the present?”
“We’d like to keep it a surprise,” I said. “If you don’t mind.”
“But why snake decorations?” Mom said.
“Dad loves snakes,” I said.
My mother looked very surprised. “I never knew that! I never knew Dad even thought about snakes. How do you know Dad loves snakes?”
“He told us,” I said. I thought of telling Mom we had interrogated Dad while he was sleeping. I decided she might not approve of that. I decided not to tell her.
“Told you?” Mom said.
“Yes,” I said, “we asked him right straight out what he wanted more than anything, and he said, ‘Two big snakes.’ ”
My mom looked as if she didn’t believe me.
“You’re sure you really heard Dad right? You’re sure he didn’t say ‘Two thick shakes’? You know how Dad loves milk shakes.”
“It wasn’t shakes,” Huey said. “It was snakes.”
“I was there,” Gloria said. “He really said it. ‘Two big snakes.’ ”
Mom glanced at the clock. It was almost five.
“It’s hard to believe,” she said. “But if you all asked him, I suppose it must be true.
“I hear Dad,” she said. “Quick! Let’s put the candles in the cake!”
We did. We stuck in all thirty-five of them. And then Dad walked in the door.
“Happy birthday!” we said, all together.
“Thank you!” Dad said. He got a big smile on his face and gave us all hugs. Then he felt the fringy tongue of our crepe paper snake in his hair and looked up.
“My,” he said, “what an interesting birthday decoration. A very well made—snake.” He moved so he wasn’t standing under it.
“We knew you’d like it!” I said.
“Have some lemonade,” Mom said.
“Thanks!” Dad said.
She poured us all lemonade.
My dad put a napkin around his glass.
“A toast to my wonderful family,” he said, “and to Gloria, a wonderful girl.”
He smiled and raised his glass, and so did we.
My dad looked harder at his napkin, and then at ours.
He raised his eyebrows. “Snakes again!” he said. “My, what an interesting—party theme.”
He looked at the napkin again.
“Blue fangs on this one!” he said. “How—special.” He gulped all his lemonade at once and choked on it a little.
“Excuse me,” he said.
He set his glass on the table. The tongue of the crepe paper snake caught his hair.
Dad shook his head to get loose.
“It’s so nice to come home to a surprise party! And such a surprising surprise party!”
He looked up at the crepe paper snake again.
“How far does this thing go?” he asked.
“Look and see!” Huey said.
We all followed it through the living room to its other end.
“What an unusual birthday!” Dad said.
“Would you like your first present?” Mom said. She went to the closet and got the box with the bowling ball.
Dad opened it.
“Wonderful!” Dad said. He lifted it and felt its weight. He moved as if he were going to throw it. “I’m sure this will improve my game,” he said.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Bates,” Gloria said. She handed Dad a tiny box.
He opened it. It had a seashell inside.
“I found it on my vacation,” Gloria said. “I thought you’d like it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Dad said. “I’ll keep it on my desk at the shop.”
“There’s one last present,” I said.
Gently, we carried the big cardboard box out from behind the chair.
“Here it is!” Huey said. “From me, and from Julian, and from Gloria.”
“Hmm,” said my dad. “Hmm, what a nice red
ribbon! What a big box.”
He lifted the cover.
“It’s your dream,” I said.
Dad looked at me.
Dad’s arm jerked. The cover of the box flew up in the air and hit the living room ceiling. Son of Blue Fang raised his head and slithered out of the box. He started crawling for an open kitchen cabinet.
“Ugh! Snakes! Horrible!” Dad howled.
He rushed out of the living room and through the kitchen with his hands in the air.
“Snakes! Ugh! SNAKES!!!”
He disappeared out the kitchen door.
I closed the kitchen cabinet on Son of Blue Fang.
I closed the box on Daughter of Blue Fang. She (or he) looked a little surprised, for a snake.
“Julian,” my mother said, “I think there’s been a very big mistake.”
We all moved toward the kitchen door, where Dad had disappeared.
9.
The End of a Dream
Dad was in the front yard, standing braced against a tree.
He looked up at us, but he didn’t smile at all. He looked as if he didn’t want to talk. He was sweating, even though it wasn’t very hot. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead. Then he looked at us and frowned.
“My thirty-fifth birthday! It’s a good-sized birthday—an important birthday. And what do I get?”
“Snakes!” shouted Huey.
Dad shook his head. “I suppose it must mean something. But I don’t know what.” He kept on looking at us.
We didn’t know what to say.
He put his handkerchief away and hunched up as if he were cold.
“I don’t understand it. HOW did I get SNAKES for my birthday!”
“Ralph,” my mother said soothingly, “the children say you told them it’s what you wanted.”
“I told them?” My dad wiped his brow again.
“In the hammock,” I said. “Last Saturday. You were sleeping. We sneaked up—Gloria and Huey and me. We asked you what you wanted for your birthday. I asked you your biggest dream.
“You answered in your sleep. You said, ‘Two snakes. Big ones.’
“And I asked you again what you wanted for your birthday, and you repeated it, word for word.”
