The Cow-Pie Chronicles

by James L. Butler

  * * *

  On the morning of moving day, the entire family sat quietly at the breakfast table, eating pastries and drinking milk.

  “I’ll never get used to this store-bought milk,” Tim said.

  “You’ll forget all about this place after a few months in town,” Dad said.

  “I don’t think so,” Tim said.

  When they finished eating, Mom rinsed off the dishes and placed them into a box.

  “Time to go,” Dad said.

  “I’ll get Skipper,” Tim said.

  When Tim stepped out the front door in search of the dog, he found Skipper lying in the corner of the porch with his back to him. Normally, Skipper would happily greet whoever opened the door, hoping to be let into the house. Today, the dog didn’t budge. It was then that Tim knew Skipper wouldn’t be moving with the family. Skipper had died.

  Tim stared at his lifeless pet and a tear ran down his cheek. He wiped it off, took a deep breath and went back inside. He quietly told Dad the news, making sure Dana couldn’t hear him.

  “I’m sorry, Tim. Let’s get the family to town and then I’ll come back and take care of Skipper,” Dad said.

  Tim nodded. He helped load up the car and as the family drove away, Tim looked back and saw Skipper on the porch. Deep down inside, Tim felt as if a part of him had died, too, having to leave the only home and life he had ever known.

  * * *

  When Mr. Slinger pulled into the driveway of their new home, Dana and Tim plastered their faces against the car windows to get a better look. Their “new house” wasn’t a newly built house, but the white-frame building was a lot newer than the stack of unpainted boards they had been living in on the farm.

  Tim and Dana jumped out of the car the instant it stopped and raced to be the first to get inside. Tim easily beat Dana to the front door. He grabbed the door handle and gave it a yank. But nothing happened. “Hey! It won’t open!” he said.

  Dana shoved Tim aside. “Let me try.” She, too, struggled with the handle. “The door’s broken,” Dana said to her mother, who was holding baby Matt on one hip.

  “It’s not broken. It’s locked,” Mom said. She took a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

  “Locked? Why?” Tim asked. He couldn’t remember if the farmhouse even had a lock on the door. If it did, they had never used it.

  “So people we don’t know can’t go inside when we’re gone,” Mom said.

  Dana and Tim gave each other the same puzzled looks. Why would strangers want to go in our house when we’re not home? Tim wondered.

  Mom unlocked the door. “What’re you waiting for?” she asked, holding the door wide open. “Either go in or get out of the way!”

  Dana pushed Tim through the door and together they explored their new home. The house had many more rooms than their farm house had. There was a front room, a living room, a den, a dining room and a kitchen. And they hadn’t even found the bedrooms yet.

  “Where’s my room?” Tim asked.

  “Upstairs on the right. Dana’s is on the left,” Mom said.

  They both ran up the stairs, shoving each other side to side as they went. Dana ran into her room and stood right in the middle of it. Tim glanced through the door at his sister’s room for a moment—it looked pretty small.

  Oh, no! My room has to be bigger than hers! Tim worried. He slowly walked down the hall a few steps, found the door to his new room and went inside. The room was so huge! It had three windows and two doors! It was time to brag! “My room’s bigger!” he yelled to his sister.

  Dana came running through Tim’s door an instant later. She stopped after two steps, staring at the huge space now under Tim’s control. His bed was at the far end under one of the windows. His dresser was against a wall between the other two windows. And in the other end of the room, near the second door, was Matt’s crib!

  “Oh, what’s that, Tim?” Dana asked in her devilish tone.

  Tim stared at the piece of furniture, absolutely confused. Then his heart sank to his stomach. “Mom, what’s Matt’s crib doing in my room?!” Tim yelled.

  “You have to share,” Mom called back from downstairs.

  The biggest smile Tim had ever seen spread across Dana’s face. “I’m going back to my very own room,” she said as she triumphantly walked out.

  Tim ran downstairs to plead his case to his mom. “But he cries all night!”

  “He does not,” Mom said. “Only when he’s hungry.”

  “He’s always hungry.”

  “Well, if it bothers you that much, you can learn to get up and feed him,” Mom said.

  “What?!” Tim couldn’t believe it. They had only been in town less than half an hour and Tim had already lost his privacy and his freedom.

  His stomach was feeling a little queasy. Tim needed some fresh air. “I’m going outside to look around.”

  “Good idea, but stay on the block,” Mom said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You can go anywhere you want as long as you don’t cross a street,” Mom said. That sounded reasonable to Tim. Back on the farm, he could go a mile in almost any direction without crossing a road.

  Tim went outside and stood on the sidewalk in front of the new house, deciding which way to go—left or right? He picked the right and took off running. He ran for about 10 seconds, turned right and ran for 15 seconds, turned right again and ran for another 15 seconds, turned right again and ran for 20 seconds, turned right one last time and stopped. In all of 60 seconds, he was standing back in front of his house.

  “Mom! This isn’t going to work!”

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  Chapter 18

  A few days after moving into town, Tim noticed there was a girl about his age living next door. Since his cousin Roxy had been his best friend while growing up, Tim figured he could be friends with the neighbor girl, too.

  He spotted her a few steps ahead of him, walking to the corner store with a girlfriend. He walked a little faster until he was close enough to hear them talking.

  “Who’s that boy who moved in next door?” her friend asked.

  “You mean ‘skunk perfume’?” the neighbor girl said, giggling.

  Tim had no idea why she would call him “skunk perfume.” But the way she said it made Tim realize that is wasn’t a compliment—she was calling him a mean name.

  “Well, have you ever smelled a skunk?” Tim asked.

  The two girls spun around and saw Tim. But they weren’t the least bit interested or embarrassed. They turned back around and kept walking and talking.

  “You think a skunk smells bad? Trust me—if you compare that smell to the smell of a dead chicken baking in the sun for three days, you’ll realize a skunk smell is just like fancy perfume!” Tim said.

  “Eeuuw, yuck!” the girls said in unison. They took off running, leaving Tim standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Hmmm. Maybe they have smelled a dead chicken before,” Tim said aloud, wondering if he should have picked a different way to introduce himself.

  Tim walked back home feeling confused and wondering if he had done something wrong. He had spent his whole life around farm kids or relatives, none of whom had rejected him for any reason.

  When he entered his house, he saw Dana playing with a new doll. He sat down on the floor next to her.

  “Want to play dolls?” Dana asked.

  “No. I want to ask you a question.”

  “What?”

  “Has anybody in town called you ‘skunk perfume’?”

  Dana gave Tim a disgusted look. “Of course not. Only boys are called ‘skunk perfume.’ ”

  “How would you know?”

  “My new friend Cindy told me all about it.”

  “What did she say?” Tim asked.

  “When the farm boys come to town with their dads to pick up supplies or deliver something, they smell like the farm. The only thing close to town that smells bad are the skunks that
get hit by cars along the road.”

  “What’s that got to do with me? I haven’t smelled like the farm since we sold the cows.”

  Dana put her doll down. “I know. But now, ‘skunk perfume’ is a nickname for all farm boys.”

  “That’s not fair,” Tim said. “What’d they call farm girls?”

  “Cute,” Dana said.

  Tim got up. “Thanks for nothing, Dee-Dee.”

  “They think you’re stupid, too,” Dana said.

  * * *

  A few days later, Tim met some neighborhood boys. Since he was new to town and didn’t know anyone, the boys talked him into trying out for Little League. Tim thought that was a good idea because it would give him a chance to meet some new kids before school started.

  But there was a problem. Tim didn’t own a single piece of baseball equipment. He rode his bike to his grandparents’ house, went up to their junk room and dug out his dad’s old baseball glove from the 1940s. It was one of those gloves that looked like five stiff sausages glued to a doughnut.

  When Tim walked onto the tryout field and put on his glove, everyone laughed, including the coaches.

  “Where did you get that thing?” a boy asked.

  “It was my dad’s,” Tim said.

  “You better go tell your dad to get you a new glove then come back tomorrow so you don’t get hurt,” one of the coaches said.

  Embarrassed, Tim left. He went home to talk with his dad, but learned he would be out of town the rest of the week. Tim didn’t want to wait, so he hopped on his bike and returned to his grandparents’ house.

  When Grandpa got home from work, Tim didn’t even let him get out of the car before telling him what had happened at tryouts. Tim’s grandpa listened then shook his head.

  “Well, get in. We gotta go shopping!” Grandpa said.

  Tim ran around the car and jumped in. They went to the store and Grandpa bought Tim the best glove they had.

  The next day at Little League tryouts, no one laughed at Tim’s new glove. They laughed because Tim couldn’t throw, catch or hit the ball. Frustrated, Tim didn’t know what to do. What genius thought it was a good idea to invent a game that required a batter to hit a round ball with a round stick? Tim thought as he rode his bike home after tryouts.

  There was one thing Tim could do better than any of them though—he could run the bases. And that’s what got him onto the team. All those years of chasing his sister and running away from his dad were finally paying off.

  The only problem with being a great base runner was that you had to get on base. Tim had only made it to first base two times the entire season. The first time was from a walk. Tim was terrified to swing, so he just stood there. Lucky for Tim, the pitcher wasn’t very good. After four pitches that weren’t strikes, Tim got to go to first base. But the next batter struck out, as did the next and the next. Tim never got to second base.

  The second time Tim actually made it safe to first base was during the very last game of the season. There was one inning left in the game, his team was one run behind and the coach put Tim in the game. His coach had an everyone-plays policy, but the rest of the team thought winning was more important than Tim playing.

  “We’ll lose for sure if he gets up to bat,” one of the boys said.

  Tim was tired of being laughed at. I’ll show them.

  All the pitchers in the league knew Tim was afraid of the ball. Whenever he got up to bat, they always threw their first pitch in really close, if not right at him. Tim always jumped out of the way, but it made him scared of the remaining pitches, even if they didn’t come really close to him.

  But this time Tim stood there and refused to move. The pitcher wound up and threw the ball. Tim watched it flying straight at him and he let it hit him in the ribs. It stung, but wasn’t nearly as bad as a cow kick. The umpire told Tim to take his base. Why have I been afraid of that stupid little thing? Tim thought as he trotted to first base.

  Because he had never got past first base all season, none of the players on the other team knew Tim could run. They didn’t even look at Tim as he stood on first base. The pitcher threw the next pitch and the instant it crossed home plate, Tim sprinted for second. The catcher was so shocked to see Tim heading for second that he couldn’t get the ball out of his glove before Tim stepped on second base. That was easy!

  Tim looked at the third-base coach, who was moving his hands around in strange motions, all excited. The catcher looked at Tim once, but not too seriously. Nobody ever tried to steal third base.

  Tim watched the next pitch whiz across home plate then sprinted to third base. The catcher jumped up in a panic and threw the ball to the third baseman. It was too late. Tim was standing on third before the ball got there.

  “What are you doing? I was signaling to you a hit-and-run play,” the third-base coach said to Tim.

  “What’s that?” Tim asked.

  “Never mind, good job. We’ve got two batters left to get you home. With your speed, you should be able to score on a sacrifice play.”

  “A sacrifice play?” Tim asked. The base coach just shook his head.

  Tim crouched on third, ready for action. He was going to get to home plate and win the game, he just knew it! He stared down the catcher then focused on the pitcher. The pitcher glanced at him, held up his glove and the pitch was away! Tim watched the ball, and the moment it crossed the plate he took off, streaking toward home. Instantly, everyone began screaming and yelling things he had never before heard.

  The catcher took his eye off the ball for a second to look at Tim, and that’s when he dropped the ball. The catcher was picking it up when Tim put his shoulder down and charged into him at top speed.

  People in the stands screamed and groaned as bones crunched, helmets flew and the two boys spun off each other then hit the ground hard, landing in the dust. The ball went rolling down the first-base line as the crowd and Tim’s team cheered wildly.

  As Tim’s teammates spilled out of the dugout to congratulate Tim and celebrate their victory, the other team’s first baseman picked up the ball, walked over to Tim and touched him with it.

  “You’re out!” the umpire said.

  Tim glared at the umpire and shouted, “What?! He dropped the ball!”

  The umpire took off his mask and put one hand on Tim’s shoulder to calm him down. “You never touched home plate, son. Sorry.”

  Tim’s team sulked back to the dugout, leaving Tim alone. The other team and their fans cheered wildly.

  Covered with dirt and blood running from his nose, Tim was in shock at what had happened. Mrs. Slinger walked out from behind the backstop and gave her son a tissue for his nose. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Tim said.

  His mom put her arm around her son’s shoulders and walked off the field with him.

  Dana came down from the stands to join them. As they headed home, Dana asked, “Using your bloody nose trick again?”

  “It’s not a trick, Dee-Dee.”

  “Poop Slinger.”

  “I wish,” Tim said quietly so no one would hear him.

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  Chapter 19

  For the remainder of the summer, Tim spent as much time as he could at his grandparents’ home. Their house was at the edge of town, next to an old apple orchard and a swamp overgrown with brush.

  Walking through the trees and brush with his grandfather’s dog, Bounce, almost felt like being on a farm. But being there all the time meant he didn’t make any friends in town. Tim wasn’t looking forward to going to a new school when summer ended.

  On the first day of school, Tim walked along the tree-lined street by himself. All the other kids walked together in groups and some of the younger kids walked with parents. Tim realized that this was the first time he had ever walked to school in his entire life. As much as he had hated riding the school bus every day, at least he had been with people he knew.

  Tim was entering the sixth grade
, which had its classrooms in the same building as the junior high school. But unlike the seventh and eighth graders who were on a rotating bell schedule—they went from class to class every time the bell rang—the sixth graders stayed in the same classroom the entire day.

  Tim sat quietly near the back of the room as the teacher introduced herself and talked about what they would be doing during the school year. Later, after lunch, each of the students had to stand up and introduce themselves. Many shared a lot of information about who they were and where they lived, which made Tim uncomfortable. There was no way he was going to tell everyone he grew up on a farm.

  When it was Tim’s turn, he stood and said, “I’m Tim Slinger. I live on Southeast Street.” Then he quickly sat down.

  That’s when he noticed a cute girl with curly brown hair in the front row. She was wearing a fancy yellow dress. She looked back at him several times after his introduction, which made Tim suspicious. He wondered if she were planning a skunk-perfume episode.

  At the end of the day, Tim waited until all of the other students had left before he walked out. But the girl surprised Tim—she was standing outside the door.

  “Hi,” she said.

  Tim thought about ignoring her, but she stood right in front of him, making it impossible for him to pass without having to push her out of the way. He braced himself for the worst and said, “Hi.”

  “I saw you at the Slinger farm auction last year. Was it your farm?” she asked.

  Tim stared at her for a moment before responding, wondering how she knew anything about the auction. “Yeah, why?”

  “We bought your cows,” she said.

  “What?!” Tim asked, confused. He couldn’t believe that the cute girl in his class would know anything about farming, much less anything about cows. “I don’t understand. Who are you?”