by Raymond Bean
The amount of food on the table was amazing. It was also kind of gross because everyone was eating with their hands and wiping them on the tablecloth. Mrs. Cliff told us that it was all right because that was the way they did it at the first Thanksgiving. They didn’t worry too much about manners or being neat when they ate.
I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if the whole thing broke out into the greatest food fight in the history of the world. I imagined what I would do first if it started. I decided I would throw a lobster at Cameron for getting me in trouble around Halloween. He’d probably retaliate with the whole fish that was resting in front of him. From there the entire room would explode into a wild food disaster. It would be awesome.
I was snapped out of my fantasy by May. “Who’s that?” she said, pointing to the window.
Someone was standing at the window looking in. He was soaking wet and carrying a crate by a handle. Lightning cracked, and the flash made the person at the window look like something out of a monster movie.
17
The True Meaning
Mrs. Cliff went to the window. “You have to go around to the front if you are trying to get in the school,” she called over the sound of the rain.
I heard the person at the window say, “I’m Justin’s cousin Darwin. He said I could come to the feast.”
The noise from the feast was so loud that it was hard to hear. “Mom, I think that’s Darwin,” I said.
“Mrs. Cliff,” I said, “it’s my cousin Darwin. He’s visiting from Florida.”
Mrs. Cliff opened the door and let him in. He set his crate, which was covered by a blanket, on the floor. He was soaking wet and looked like he’d just taken a ride down a flume. I went to the closet and got him my coat to warm up.
“Hey, why’d you walk here in this crazy rain?” I asked.
“You invited me. I didn’t want to be rude.”
I noticed a few of the kids whispering and pointing toward Darwin. He noticed it too.
“Is it all right that I’m here?” he asked.
“Of course it is,” Mrs. Cliff said. “The more the merrier.” I could see that Mrs. Cliff had gotten a whiff of his breath because she made a face and waved a bit at the air. She also smiled uncomfortably when she saw his massive case of poison ivy.
May waved me over. I walked over to her and leaned in. “What?” I asked.
“What’s wrong with his face? He looks like a monster or something.”
“He has poison ivy. It’s fine.”
“I don’t want to get poison ivy,” Karen said, overhearing me.
I walked to the front of the room and stood with Darwin. “Everyone,” I announced, “this is my cousin Darwin. He’s covered from head to toe with the worst poison ivy I’ve ever seen, but he walked all the way up here to come to our feast. I hope you’ll make him feel welcome.”
Mrs. Cliff clapped her hands and looked as though she might cry. “Justin, I didn’t think you were learning anything in my class this year,” she said.
“I’m not,” I said.
“Very funny. But I see that by inviting your cousin to join our feast, you opened yourself to the true meaning of Thanksgiving. It’s about sharing and welcoming new people who might be very different from you.”
That’s when a turkey sound came from the crate on the floor. “I brought Turkey Sandwich,” Darwin said. “Is that cool?”
“You brought a turkey sandwich?” Mrs. Cliff asked.
“No,” I said. “He brought a real turkey. Its name is Turkey Sandwich.”
“Justin said you guys were celebrating an old-time Thanksgiving. Back then, guests would have brought a turkey. So I brought a turkey. Plus, it was raining like crazy, and I felt bad for the little guy.”
Mrs. Cliff peeked under the blanket and looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Well, I see you did. You shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t have. But I guess it’s all right if we leave him in the crate. The kids can take turns taking a look at a turkey before it’s cooked.”
I could tell Mrs. Cliff was struggling to make a connection to learning so the turkey could stay. She told the class they could take a look at Turkey Sandwich as long as they kept their hands out of the crate. She made me promise not to let him out under any circumstance. I promised.
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday,” Darwin interrupted. “Does the true meaning of Thanksgiving also include me eating something?”
“Of course, please sit down and help yourself,” Mrs. Cliff insisted.
18
A Thanksgiving Miracle
The feast was awesome. Mrs. Cliff even invited Mrs. Fiesta’s class to join us. They were in costumes too, and the whole scene was pretty amazing. Darwin was so hungry that he kept eating and eating. I couldn’t believe how much he was putting back, but he hadn’t eaten in a whole day because he’d been so uncomfortable the day before.
Mom nudged me. “It was really nice of you to include your cousin,” she said.
“Thanks. He’s really cool, if you can get past the breath thing. I don’t mind if he sleeps in my bed. I’m sorry I was giving you a hard time about that the other day.”
“It’s all right,” Mom said. “Justin, I hope you’re starting to realize that one of the biggest reasons you hate school so much is your attitude about it, not Mrs. Cliff. Today, you have a great attitude, and you’re having a great day. You should try this every day, and who knows? Maybe school won’t be such a nightmare for you.”
“You make some interesting points,” I said. “But on most days, it’s not me. School really is a nightmare.”
“Let’s agree to disagree. Why don’t you do me a favor and get me a piece of the pumpkin pie I brought. It’s in a box on your desk. This stuff isn’t doing it for me.”
“Okay,” I said, slowly getting up to go get the pie. As soon as I was out of the seat, I heard everyone react to something. I turned back over my shoulder to see that Darwin had thrown up all over my chair. I mean he exploded! If I hadn’t stood up, I would have been covered. Mom was shocked but fine. Somehow Darwin had managed not to barf on anyone. The room fell completely silent, and everyone kind of looked at each other, processing what had happened.
Darwin spoke first. “That was me. That was totally on me. Sorry, everyone. I’m not used to eating so much deer meat.”
It was one of the strangest things I’d ever seen, but it was also one of the most magical. It was a miracle that I didn’t get hit. It was truly a Thanksgiving miracle.
19
Be Free
By the time the real Thanksgiving rolled around on Thursday, Darwin’s poison ivy was much better. For the first time in my life, I was actually excited about Thanksgiving. I kind of understood what Mrs. Cliff was talking about. Thanksgiving is one of those holidays it’s hard to really understand until you sit down with a bunch of people you wouldn’t normally eat with and you have a good time.
Looking back on the weeks leading up to Halloween and Thanksgiving, I wasn’t sure why I’d gotten in so much trouble. Mom said the reason school was such a problem for me was because of my attitude. I couldn’t help thinking about what she said. I didn’t think she was right, but I’d keep thinking about it.
The Thanksgiving meal we shared with Darwin and his Mom was great—not $3,000 great, but still great. After dinner, we all went outside to set Turkey Sandwich free.
I carried him to the edge of our property where the fence opens to the woods. “I’d like to say a few words about my good friend Turkey Sandwich.”
“Come on,” Becky said.
“It’s freezing out here,” Mindy said.
“Go ahead,” Dad said.
“A few weeks ago, I didn’t really appreciate Thanksgiving or my cousin Darwin,” I began. “I even called him Yuck Mouth behind his back. Sorry, cousin, but your breath is really bad. You have to start brushing your teeth, or they’re going to fall out by the time you’re in middle school.”
“Justin!” Mom sa
id.
“It’s all right,” Darwin said. “He’s right. My dentist told me the same thing. He’s just being honest. That’s what Thanksgiving is all about.”
“No, it’s not,” Becky said.
“Either way,” I said, “a few weeks ago, I didn’t appreciate Thanksgiving. I also didn’t realize what a fun cousin I had. If it wasn’t for this turkey, Turkey Sandwich, we probably wouldn’t have had such a great couple of days. And so, on this Thanksgiving, while the rest of America eats turkey by the forkful, we release one back into the wild.”
“This is ridiculous,” Mindy said.
“No, it’s not,” Darwin said. “This little turkey is a magical little bird. I think we should release him and then go catch him again tomorrow.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” We threw open the gate to the backyard. “Be free!” I shouted, but Turkey Sandwich walked back toward the house and away from the woods. I picked him up and carried him out of the yard again. I placed him down at the edge of the woods. We all laughed when he walked back through the fence and into the yard.
“Great,” Becky said.
“Now this crazy bird doesn’t want to go?” Mindy added.
“Can I keep him?” I asked Mom.
“Leave the gate open, and he’ll probably be gone in the morning. I’m going inside. It’s freezing,” she said. The rest of the family went back inside too.
“Thanks,” Darwin said. “This was the best Thanksgiving ever.”
“It totally was,” I agreed.
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Raymond Bean
Raymond Bean is a dad, a teacher, and the Amazon best-selling author of the Sweet Farts and School Is A Nightmare series. His books have ranked #1 in Children's Humor, Humorous Series, and Fantasy and Adventure. They often rank among Amazon's top 100 books for children.
Translations of his books are available in Germany, Italy and Korea. Editions for Brazil and Turkey are on their way. He writes for kids who claim they don't like reading.
Email at [email protected]
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www.raymondbean.com
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Raymond Bean’s Amazon Author Central Page
