by Peter Cox
Suddenly I heard a twig snap behind me.
I whirled around and at the same instant Basset ran off in another direction, like he had picked up the scent of a squirrel.
I peered as hard as I could into the gloom, but at first I saw nothing. I knew I had heard something, and it sounded like something large, but my sweeping eyes didn’t see anything.
Then I saw them.
Eyes.
Chapter 7
THE EYES IN THE FOREST
Two curious eyes were looking right at me out of the darkness a good distance away.
I stumbled back a couple steps in my surprise, but the eyes didn’t move. Whatever it was was just curious.
My vision started to adjust a bit as I snuck closer, and that’s when I realized what, and who, it was.
Standing in the darkness, just looking at me, was a girl I had seen a couple of times in school, though I didn’t know her name. I’d never talked to her. In fact, I didn’t think I’d even heard her talk, not even once.
I could be forgiven for not noticing her at first in the forest. You don’t normally expect to see a girl as tall as a tree in the woods.
The girl was tall, and I mean massively tall. I knew she was about my age as I’d seen her walking around school sometimes, but she was definitely over six feet tall. That’s tall for a boy, but for a girl it’s practically unheard of. She had a kind face that I always thought was pretty, from what I could see from all the way down here, of course. She had extremely wide shoulders that she carried high, like she was always preparing to defend herself.
Her hair was shaggy but not very long, just kind of messy and cut unevenly, so in the darkness it looked almost like leaves fluttering in the breeze.
She kept looking at me like she couldn’t decide whether she should turn and leave or not, like she couldn’t decide if she liked me. Then Basset walked from around one of the trees behind me and came up to my side.
As soon as the girl saw him, she motioned for me to come over.
Now, I don’t usually approach tree-sized kids in abandoned woods. That’s a good way to lose your lunch money. Or a couple of teeth. Or both. Girls can be bullies too, you know, and while boys don’t usually admit to being scared of a girl, when they’re six feet tall you have to at least admit to being . . . cautious.
But for some reason I felt like I could trust her. I don’t know why, but maybe it was the fact that Basset immediately started to trot up to her. If Basset trusted her, so would I.
The closer I got, the more it seemed the girl wanted to turn and run. I didn’t get it. She was big enough to squash Basset and I with one swing of her hand, like two extremely unlucky spiders.
But her face looked tortured, like she wanted more than anything to run away or disappear, and for some reason she was convincing herself to stand still.
I knew the feeling. I got it often enough in school.
When I was a few feet away, the girl stammered out “Uh…um…hi…”
I stopped.
“Hi,” I responded. “My name’s Nate.” It was a weird place for an introduction, but I still had my manners, even in a forest.
“I know,” she responded, looking down at her feet for a second before looking back at my eyes. “I mean, I see you around school. What are you doing out in the woods?”
Before I could respond, she blurted out “Oh! I’m Sam by the way.”
I guess she remembered her manners too.
I didn’t really want to tell her what I was doing in the woods (talking dog, disappearing birds, all that), but I didn’t want to lie either. Not the best way to start off with a new person.
“You know my name, but you’ve never introduced yourself before? Why here in the woods?”
She looked at her feet again, her ratty size 11 boots shuffling in the leaves and making as much racket as a dancing Clydesdale (which is a thing, but that’s another story).
“I don’t talk much, I guess.”
“Me neither. I mean, I do, just not at school.”
We had an awkward silence for a couple of seconds. I wanted to find out more about her – where she lived, what she liked to do in this town, why such a tall girl would be so shy and quiet – but I wasn’t sure how to do that. It had been too long since I’d made new friends.
“So what were you doing in the woods?” she asked again. “It’s not that I mind, I’m just curious, you know.”
“Just exploring. What were you doing back here?”
She shrugged. “Same thing I guess.” Then she sighed, looking up at the trees. “Wondering where the birds got off to.”
“You noticed that too!” I said, before I could stop myself.
She didn’t seem to think it was strange at all.
“Of course I did. Who wouldn’t notice when all the birds suddenly disappear?”
“Most people, actually. My parents didn’t. Most people wouldn’t notice if the birds all changed color and were suddenly hot pink.”
She nodded. “Most people don’t look around themselves, I guess. Sleepwalking through life. I came back here to see if I could figure out what happened, where the birds went.”
“Me too,” I said.
She glanced down at Basset again.
“You can pet him and say hi if you want,” I said. “I know he’d like that. He loves new people.”
Basset turned and smiled at me.
“Sure do,” he whispered.
Sam hesitated. “I…I’d better not.”
“Why not? He won’t bite.”
“It’s not that…It’s just…I don’t have a dog. My parents won’t let me, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Well it’s real easy. Just stroke his fur back, and maybe give him a little scratch behind the ears.”
Sam slowly put out a hand the size of a frying pan, and gently rubbed Basset’s head. I’ve never seen anyone be that gentle with anything. It was like she was handling a million dollar comic book, and was afraid she’d rip the pages.
The more time she spent petting Basset, the easier it seemed to get for her, until she was smiling a little.
“Why won’t your parents let you have a dog?” I asked while she started to scratch Basset behind the ears.
She hesitated. “They just…they won’t, that’s all.”
I knew not to push it.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She looked up from Basset after a few more seconds. “Look, I’m sorry I never introduced myself to you before. I know you’re new and noticed no one seemed to talk to you but…I figured you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”
I was surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”
“Well no one else does. I’m tall.”
“I noticed,” I laughed. Sam blushed a bright crimson. “I’m sorry. It’s just…why would that make me not want to talk to you?”
“I’m big and I’m clumsy. People are either afraid of me, or they tease me because I’m always knocking into stuff. I can’t even fit in my desk and have to sit on the floor in the back. Besides, everyone thinks it’s weird for a girl to be this tall.”
I smiled. “Kids don’t want to talk to me because I’m small. I always wished I was bigger. Guess kids will be mean either way.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like it is. Because I’m so big, no one can push me around. But you… well I’ve seen what Guster Liberman and his guys do to you.”
I shrugged. “Still not your fault. But if you wanted to stop it, why didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said.
“It’s okay. Really. Those kids are just jerks.”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Jerks.”
At that moment Basset pricked his ears up again and cocked his head to the side.
“What is it boy?” I asked. “Is it that sound again?”
When I tur
ned to look at Sam, she had the oddest look on her face. It was like she was studying me.
I slipped up. I knew I shouldn’t have talked to Basset like he could talk back. But there was no way Sam could have figured out that Basset could talk to me; not from such a small comment. It was a weird thing to say, sure, but I shouldn’t worry about it. That would just be paranoid. Who would jump to the conclusion that my dog talks to me?
Sam sighed.
“Look, I notice things, okay? Don’t freak out, but I’m pretty good at picking up on stuff, even subtle, little stuff. It’s gotten me in more trouble than I like to think about so I usually keep my mouth shut but… can your dog talk to you?”
Chapter 8
THE FORT
My mouth hung open and I just stared at her.
“Yeah, I thought so,” she continued. “See, this is a good example. Most people see you with your mouth hanging open and think ‘he thinks I’m crazy for asking that question. He’s shocked by my stupidity.’ But no. You’re shocked because I know.”
I snapped my mouth closed, but still didn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay, really. I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”
I swallowed hard.
“If I told anyone I thought my dog was talking to me, they’d think I was crazy, or a really bad liar. But you believe he can talk to me without any convincing?”
She shrugged. “There’s a lot in this world we don’t know about. Who am I to say talking animals can’t happen?”
“That’s the first conclusion you jump to though?”
“Not usually. This is the first time anything weird like this has happened in my life too. I don’t believe in aliens or ghosts or anything like that. I’ve never jumped to a conclusion like this in my life. But don’t you see? I saw it in your face.”
“But I could be lying to you.”
“With your face? I don’t think so. Besides why would you? You want people to think you’re crazy or something?”
“Good point.”
“That would be a stupid lie. So if you aren’t lying and you aren’t crazy, it has to be true.” She shrugged her wide shoulders again. Must be a favorite mannerism. “So I guess it’s true.”
She was taking this a bit easier than I did at first, that’s for sure. And I had the benefit of actually hearing the animals.
“Look, you seem nicer than most kids in school,” she continued. “You haven’t teased me about my size, and you haven’t even mentioned my lisp,” to be honest, I hadn’t even noticed it, it was so slight it was hardly noticeable, but to Sam I’m sure it was all she heard when she talked “and I’m really curious about this talking dog thing. Do you think….” And then she trailed off.
It was like she couldn’t force the words out of her mouth, like they were stuck in her head. I understood completely. Sometimes you’re too scared of being disappointed, so scared you don’t even risk trying. But all you get by not trying is guaranteed disappointment.
“Sure, we can hang out,” I said, like she had asked.
She was trying not to show it, but she was clearly excited. She didn’t want to seem desperate, I guess, and kids our age don’t want to look vulnerable by getting too excited or emotional, but you could tell. Her eyes were smiling.
Besides, I felt the same way. I hadn’t talked to a kid my own age outside of school since my first day here in town. They talked to me, but teasing doesn’t really count as conversation, does it?
“We can’t go to my place,” I continued. “My parents don’t know you, and they’re already at work. They won’t like me bringing a stranger over.”
She nodded, not even asking why I didn’t just lie to my parents. “Look, my old man would kill me if I brought a friend over, but I’ve got a little fort back in the woods. Want to check it out?”
I nodded.
I followed Sam deeper into the woods, not following any path that I could see, but she clearly knew where she was going. She lumbered along like a giant, stomping through the leaves and smaller shrubs, but she was fast. She didn’t stop or pause to look for landmarks like familiar stones or bent trees. It was like she’d lived out here her whole life.
“You live around here?” I asked as we walked.
“Yeah. In a tiny house on Maple Avenue,” she jerked her head in the direction we had come from. “Been there ever since I was born. It’s cramped, even though it’s just me and Dad most of the time, so I spend a lot of time out here. Even in winter.”
I smiled. It was nice to finally meet someone else in this town who liked the outdoors as much as I did, even though it seemed she spent most of her time out here because she had to.
Most kids were too busy on video games.
“I like it out here,” she continued. “It’s quiet. Nothing bad happens out in the woods, no other people to deal with. Just the animals, and most of them are friendly enough.” She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible smile to Basset.
I turned and looked at my dog, giving him a look that said “She seem alright to you, boy?”
“She’s a nice kid,” Basset whispered. “I’ve seen her around the neighborhood before. She feeds birds and sometimes even the squirrels. She could pick her friends better, but it’s nice just the same.”
I chuckled to myself. Basset just couldn’t get over anyone liking squirrels.
“Did he say something?” Sam asked, kind of worried, like she’d had people talking behind her back more than enough. “What’d he say?”
“He likes you.”
Sam didn’t say anything, but her eyes were smiling again.
Before long we came to a thick hedge, probably eight feet tall, that went deep into the woods on both sides. The hedge was covered in thorns long enough to break through the skin and cause some serious bleeding. There was no way around.
Sam just kept walking.
She disappeared into the hedge (with way less rustling than I had expected, and no bloodcurdling scream either), and a second later her head popped out.
It looked intact.
“I scraped all the thorns off and left only the smaller branches in this spot,” for the first time she really smiled, and she looked as proud as I did when I’d shown off some of Basset’s tricks to my friends back home.
My old home, I mean.
“You can walk right through without getting hurt, and the branches just slap back into place. Perfect hiding spot.”
I didn’t ask what she was hiding from. Sometimes we all need someplace.
Someplace that’s just ours.
I stepped forward, still a little nervous that I’d get pricked by a hundred wooden needles, but I came out the other side without a scratch or mark on me.
Just a few leaves in my hair.
Basset followed, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging to be exploring a new spot.
I was surprised he didn’t immediately start sniffing around, but I think he was too curious to hear more about Sam.
Sniffing could wait.
I looked up from my dog, and my jaw dropped.
Again.
Sam had called this a “little fort.”
Sure. Little. The same way Sam was short. The same way an elephant would be “a cute pet.”
The hedge went all the way around a small clearing, about three times the size of my bedroom, and most of the space was taken up by a building.
Not a fort. I said a building, and that’s what it was.
Sam had constructed it out of plywood and old boards, either tied together with string or hammered with rusty nails, but she had done some amazing work. The roof was seven feet off the ground, and the walls looked sturdy enough to hold up for years, even through the nastiest storms. It had a few windows covered in wax paper to let light in, and even had a massive oak front door with three bolt locks on it.
“You like it?” Sam asked, looking at her feet again nervously.
“It’s amazing! How did you do it?”
Sam looked a little embarra
ssed at my praise, but she was clearly proud too.
“It took a long time, but I know a thing or two about building stuff. My dad works construction when he can find the jobs, and he showed me a bit when I was little. The rest I picked up just by trying. I’ll show you around.”
The fort had clearly been built in sections. The first part, with the door, looked like the oldest: the walls were a little crooked and sagged here and there, but the further back you went down the long, skinny building the better it got.
“I found this old door back in the woods a few years ago, just tossed out here by someone who was done with it, and that’s what gave me the idea to build this place.”
She gestured at the building like it was the easiest thing in the world.
She approached the door, and to my surprise she didn’t reach for the latch.
She reached to the other side of the door, and flipped the hinges up. Hidden underneath the hinges were three bolt locks. She slid those to the side, and the door opened.
“There’s hinges on the inside,” she said. “You can’t see them from out here. It’s a little security system I came up with.” She looked embarrassed again. “It’s kinda silly, I know. There’s nothing in here to steal. But it makes me feel safer.”
“It’s brilliant!” I said, without even thinking. Her blush deepened. “But it is! No one could get in, and I’d never have thought of it.”
She led me in through the door, into a large room with lots of used furniture that Sam had clearly fixed up.
There was a dining room table with a broken leg repaired with an old railroad tie, a few chairs with rusty stop signs for seats, a potbelly wood stove, and – my favorite – a rowboat she had turned into a bookcase.
It was loaded with some of my favorite books, but they were all tattered paperbacks or moldy copies that the library had thrown away.
“You like to read?” I asked.
“Sure, of course,” she shrugged again. “Takes my mind off things, I guess.”
I went over for a closer look. I know I should have been inspecting her impressive “fort,” but my first instinct was to take a look at her books.
There were all the classics, from C.S. Lewis to Tolkien to Douglas Adams, and six of the Harry Potter books. She even had Dean Koontz.
