Todd the Spectacular Chp. 8 Stars

ChapterEight

Stars

I was back in the Lovingale. Henry was somewhere upstairs with Felix, and Claudia was with me. There wasn’t much furniture in the rooms, but in the small one I was in, there was a corner table, a lantern, and a square framed mirror hanging on the wall. I had to tip-toe a bit to see myself clearly. 

I let my hair fall out of the braid and took to brushing it gently. Claudia watched me quietly. Her curls were a mite frizzy, from the heat and air. She didn’t seem to care just then. Instead she looked admirably at me, but I had a feeling she was thinking about something else. Or someone else.

“Claudia?” I looked over my shoulder. “What did you do today?”

She blinked. “Oh. We just…explored. Artie met us again.”

“Really?”

She held up her chin and nodded. “He showed us almost every part of town. But then he had to leave to tend to his horses.” She smiled fully. “He is a nice gentleman, isn’t he?”

I sighed and shook my head, but laughter escaped my lips. 

“Look at Claudia, falling all over herself,” Felix jeered from the doorway. 

“You mean boy!” Claudia howled in anguish. “Shoo!” she waved her hands at him.

Felix rolled his eyes and left. 

“I met a peculiar boy today,” I said, to distract Claudia. 

She brightened up. “Really? What’s her name? How old is she? Is she my age? Because, oh, there’s no one to talk to in this lonely town!”

“I said a boy, Claudia.”

 Claudia flicked her hair. “Well, fine. But there is still no one to talk to. No one except Artie, that is.” She had the airs of some princess with a broken heart, the ones Mother read about.

“His name is Charlie. Charlie Ferguson. He’s a nice boy. He—”

“Did you say, Ferguson?”

I turned around and faced her. “Yes. I believe he’s Artie’s brother; it’s just that…well, Artie’s angry at me.” My shoulders slowly dropped. “Artie is angry at me. And Henry is, too.” 

I felt her eyes on me. 

“I just…I…I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I always seem to mess up everything. I’m cruel and mean and just an irritant.”

“Stop with those words, Ingrid,” Claudia forced me. “It isn’t true. You aren’t capable of meanness. And Artie can’t be really mad. We’ve only known him a day or so. And Henry—”

“I fear Henry despises me,” and I looked into the mirror again. It was dark. The lantern was running dim. 

“I don’t despise you.”

I turned to the doorway, where Felix had been a moment before. But my brother Henry took his place. He had one hand in his pocket and the other ran through his dark hair. He looked strained and tired. He sighed and rubbed his fingers into his forehead. 

Claudia left. 

“Ingrid.”

“Yes?” I set the brush down on the table. 

“Try to understand.”

“I want to.”

“I don’t despise you, I just—” he blinked a few times, all in a row. Maybe he was blinking back tears, tears he didn’t want me to see.

“You’ve lived without Mother easier than I have. You’ve moved on. But I won’t. You see, I can’t, Annabelle. I just—can’t.” 

“That’s why we must be there for each other,” I said softy. I walked over and touched his arm. “I’ll be there for you. And you’ll be there for me.”

Henry pulled away and wiped his eyes roughly. “Don’t tell Felix I cried. I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to be the leader.”

“Crying isn’t a sign of weakness,” I told him. “Look at it this way. Crying…” I searched for the right words. “Crying is a way your eyes speak, when your lips can’t really explain.”

“Explain?” Henry sniffled. 

“How broken your heart is,” I looked down. “I’m sorry, for always ruining everything with sentimental sayings.”

Henry surprised me with a smile and another sniffle. “You’d be a good poet.”

“I hope to be.” And then I did something I had not done in a long time. I pulled my brother close and gave him a hug. 

He didn’t pull away that time.

It was dark and late as we lay on the floor, and together we looked like a star. Felix and Claudia were asleep, and I think Henry was, too. I was having a hard time falling asleep, and it got even worse when I heard a faint knocking sound. I didn’t know what it was, so I ignored it and rolled away from the noise. But when I sat up and it became clearer, I realized that we couldn’t be alone. That someone was outside. I didn’t want to disturb anyone. And I knew in such a nice little town as this, there was hardly any room for danger. I stood to my feet, stepped over my brothers and sister, and took a glance out the window before I opened the door.

I couldn’t really tell who was there.

I opened the door cautiously. A boy turned around and faced me and I made out Artie’s face.

“Artie?” I whispered. “What are you doing?” The moonlight sliced the space between us. 

“Have you ever seen a shooting star?”

The question took me by surprise. The thought occured to me, that really, no. I’d never seen one.

“Never.”

He smirked at me. “Would you like to see one?”

My eyes shone. I knew because I could feel them shining even in the dark. 

I dashed back inside, taking care to be quiet, and knelt by Henry’s side at once. I nudged him back and forth until he woke. He stared at me confusedly. “What?” he whisper-shouted.

“Artie wants to show us something. Stars. Shooting stars. Hurry,” I pulled his arm and he scrambled to his feet and we went out the door.

Artie was on the other side of the gate and waved us on. 

Me and Henry and Artie and Charlie became friends so fast, looking back.

We followed him down the road, through a brief path in the forest, and out to a field. A wide, wide, field that had trees all around it. I had a feeling nobody knew about this place except for us. We were in a clearing. But I didn’t observe anything else around me because my head was up and my eyes went to the stars. I almost tripped as I kept backing up, again and again. “The stars,” I laughed. “There’s so many.” I stood awe struck and remembered what I had thought when we had first arrived, how there would be so many stars that you could barely see the blackness behind them.

And it was true. 

I wished Father could’ve been here right then. Could’ve experienced such a moment that felt so magical to me.

I supposed that Father, who used to be a sailor, had probably seen stars like this. But I hadn’t. And I loved them more than anything else I had seen since coming to America.

Charlie was standing in the distance, jumping on his toes and fiddling with a black spiny machine. He looked at me and hollered my name. “Annie! Annie, look!” He panted like an excited puppy, and he hollered my name like a small child might holler it.

I ran closer and then I knew it was a telescope. A black, shiny, telescope. It was so beautiful, I couldn’t help but wonder how they had gotten such a rare thing in their possession.

“I’ve never used one of these,” I said admirably, and ran my fingers down the side. “Father used to have one when he was young.”

Charlie grabbed my sleeve and told me to look into the glass. “Look,” he pushed me closer. “Look.”

“I will,” I laughed, and looked into the glass and up to the sky where I saw the stars.

“I want a turn,” and Henry stood in front of me. If it was Felix, he would have shoved me.

“Look at that,” Artie pointed to the sky and that was when I saw my first shooting star. It lasted only a second. But then more came. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said wondrously. “You love the stars, don’t you?” I asked Charlie. “Aren’t they spectacular?”

“Me and the stars, we’re friends,” he said. He leaned back and crossed his arms proudly. “They tell me things, I tell them things.” He grinned triumphantly as if he owned the stars, as if they were his great achievement. He stepped closer and then whispered in my ear, “I telled the stars about you. And do you know what they said?” That moment he was quite breathless and I could hear the twinkling of excitement in his voice. But he never told me. He simply spun around and played with himself and forgot all about it. I never brought it up again. 

He sounded like he was humming his own tune, as if he were his own hero of some sort.

I bit my lip and looked away. I was happy that it was so dark outside or else Henry would scorn me for blushing.

Artie laughed at me. “Oh, Charlie, talkin’ to stars. You’re not all there, are you, Charlie?”

“I like those stars,” he said defensively. “Sitting up there watchin’ us.” Then he gasped and pointed to an extra bright one in the sky. “Look! Look at how brighter she is than the others,” he shouted at the top of his lungs and pretended to be that “eagle” he always talked about.

“Brighter than you,” Artie added lightly.

“I like the stars more than you,” Charlie hollered. “The stars aren’t s-stupid.” He chuckled at himself. “Stupid. Stupid Artie!” He pointed at his brother and released breathy, full laughs.

“I know that,” Artie replied.

I sighed and stood next to the telescope while Henry had his turn. “I’ve talked to the stars before, but from my bedroom window. I’ve never seen them so bright and big. Does anyone else know about this field?”

“No,” Artie said, almost immediately. He looked nervous, like he was afraid I’d show the world this place. “I don’t show anyone my secret places.”

“‘Cept Robin May,” Charlie added in a sing-song voice.

“‘Cept, no one,” Artie fired at him. He sigehd and looked at me. “Like I said, as far as I know, no one knows about this place. And we’re keepin’ it that way. This is our secret.” He looked at Charlie and ruffled the boy’s hair. “This here’s our field.”

“Our field,” Charlie repeated and crossed his arms toughly. 

We played and ran like little children, and I had nearly forgotten that fine feeling. I didn’t worry about the others, or about my torn clothes and muddy feet. I didn’t think about Mother or Father.

As we got into the early hours of the morning, we grew tired, very tired, and we told ourselves we would stay up all night. But then we laid down on the grass, Henry, then me, and then Charlie and Artie, and we must’ve, sometime that morning, fall asleep. 

Todd the Spectacular Chp. 7 Averdeene

ChapterSeven

Averdeene

I came into town that day, Charlie pulling me around like I was his rag doll. It made me feel important and I admit that I enjoyed feeling so.

He called me Annie, and he was the only person in America who knew my true name, Annabelle. I hadn’t told anyone else.

He showed me almost everything. There wasn’t much to show, I admit, but I liked to see someone feel so excited. It was a simple, ordinary town. A few scattered houses, some buildings, and a stable. That’s where I saw Artie.

I was across the street from him. I stood underneath a tree that was planted in an island of mulch at the heart of Averdeene. This tree represented the founding of their village, forty-eight years ago. I wasn’t sure if Charlie was even allowed to climb it, but he did it without hesitation. I thought he must be familiar to this tree. I watched him press his face to the tree and breathe in it and against it. 

“How does the tree smell?” I asked, amused.

He sighed dreamily and hugged his branch, falling upside down like a monkey. He looked at me while he hung in front of me, our faces within a palm of each other. With one hand he brushed away the fine hair that fell in his eyes.

“You’ll have to show me your tricks,” I begged.

He grinned with all of his teeth. Then he looked up at the top of the trunk. “The tree smells delicious. Don’t you ever smell trees?” he faltered on the word ‘delicious’.

“Not really, no.”

“Do it. It smells delicious. You’ll think it too, if you try. You’ll see.”

I believed him and put my nose against it. I breathed it in. “It does. It really does.” I closed my eyes and dreamed about lovely things for a moment. When I opened my eyes, I glanced across the street and met gaze with Artie who appeared aggravated by me. He simply scowled and turned away his face. I supposed he was not the type for smelling trees.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Charlie, and, making my way across the street which was not busy, not really, I left him hanging there smelling the tree and walked into the stable. 

Artie fed two horses and looked to be working quite diligently.

“You’re so good with them. Are these horses yours?” I wondered as I stroked the acorn-colored one.

“No. I take care of them so I can eat.” He brushed the dark one as he fed oats out of his hand. He brought his head to the mare’s and planted a soft kiss on its forehead. He rubbed her muzzle warmly.

“This one’s Glory,” he said quietly. 

“Is she your favorite?”

“No. I just know her the best. And she knows me.” He glanced at the acorn colored horse in the next stall. “That’s Springy.”

“Springy?” I stepped closer to the horses.

“He’s afraid of most things. But he loves the spring.”

“I do, too,” I chuckled. I looked farther down the row and spotted a darker horse all alone at the end. “Oh. I hadn’t even noticed that one,” I pointed. “What’s his name?”

“Her, you mean?” he cocked his head in the direction of the black horse. “That’s Lightning. She’s the fastest.” He chuckled against his better judgement. “Lightning will be the death of me.”

I approached the young horse. I ran my hand down her side and she let me. She was very graceful. My fingers felt her silky coat of ebony bliss. 

“Lightning. How,” I looked at Artie, “enlightening.”

That earned me a small smile.

I heard distant shouting and I looked out into the town where Charlie played by the tree. He hollered my name.

“Annie, look. You can’t do it!” he hung upside down again.

I shook my head and laughed. “I’m jealous, Charlie,” I hollered back to him. I caught Artie glaring at me again. “I met a new friend today, by the river.”

“Really? Who?” he asked, pretending to be clueless.

“His name’s Charlie Ferguson. Isn’t that neat? I didn’t know you had a brother, and there I just ran into him.” After an awkward pause, I realized that maybe I was wrong. “I apologize if I have incorrectly assumed.”

He blinked, taken aback, and shrugged. “I don’t have a brother. I told you, I’m alone.” 

His acting was good, I’ll admit, but I knew he was faking. For what reason, I was not quite sure. “No brother?” I glanced back at Charlie. “A cousin, perhaps? He looks just like you. I couldn’t help but notice.”

Artie moaned at me and I realized I had irritated him. “Just don’t worry about him, alright? He’s just the village idiot. Leave him alone.”

He pushed past me and down another stall.

“But,” I began. “I don’t understand. He—” 

“He doesn’t even know my name.” Artie looked at the boy playing alone in the distance. 

“Artie!” Charlie screamed with excitement and waved. Artie rolled his eyes and walked out of the stable.

“Arther,” I said, and I sounded like a scolding mother. “I mean—Artie, I’m sorry. It’s just that Charlie seems to—”

“Charlie’s no one.”

I didn’t know what to say. He looked so angry at me. I didn’t know whether to continue or to walk away. “But I—”

“It’s painful to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yes, but—” I stopped trying to speak. 

Artie scoffed at me. “But then, what would you know of pain?” And he walked away.

Todd the Spectacular Chp. 6 Charlie

ChapterSix

The Lovingale

I woke up at my most favorite time to wake up. But the colors I saw this morning were far brighter than the colors I often saw through my window back home. These colors—painted by a fair Artist’s hand—they were colors I had not seen for quite some time. They reminded me of things I hadn’t really thought about. Little things that should be thought about daily and appreciated. 

Brilliant shades of pink and gold and crimson. Wonderful colors that left me in awe. I felt the sunlight come through the windows to me. It touched my skin and I loved it immensely.

My back was a mite sore from the night spent on the floor, but I forgot all about it when I realized I was all by myself.

I guess I was scared for a minute. I had never been here before or anywhere like it, and my siblings were gone. So there was nothing else I could do but go out the door alone.

Magnolias waved at me. Its flowers, whites and delicate.

I went out the gate and peered down the path sloping into town. I could see the village; it was just a little walk away. I could hear distant chattering and laughing. This corner of the world was waking up now.

I told myself I was going to explore.

After smoothing my hair down and tying it in a low ribbon down my back, I collected my boots, short and black with a dozen laces criss-crossed, and left the Lovingale.

My second friend I encountered was near a river, which I followed by its sound. I went through trees and trees and thought I was going to be lost, but I heard water swishing and splashing and I found myself fighting against thick brush and tall grass. I pushed myself out of the woods and stood before the river. It lapped against itself like a miniature ocean. The water wasn’t crystal and salty, but it was strong. I walked into the sand and watched that magnificent river. It was so big. So big and wide. This must be the Mississippi.

“Apple?”

I gasped at the sudden voice. It was simply a boy standing beside me. 

“You scared me. I’m sorry.”

He held out an apple to me. His brassy hair swayed over his shoulders like Artie. And his eyes—blue, blue, eyes.

“I…” I hesitantly took his offering. “Thank you.”

“Take off your boots,” he told me. He scratched his head. His mouth twitched. But his eyes stayed on me.

“Why, if I may ask?”

“ ‘Cause.” Then his eyes darted past me and he looked around himself proudly, as if he owned the river.

I felt I had to ask, for the fun of it.

“Do you own this river?”

He chuckled. “Me? Nah. But ain’t it pretty nice?” He scooped up a palmful of muddy sand. He looked at me again. “Take off your shoes,” he repeated. “I de-taste shoes.”

“You mean, de-test?”

He looked at me like I was completely bonkers so I ceased trying to correct the people’s speech around here. Apparently, I was lost in thought again and was awakened when he said more urgently, “Take off your shoes!” 

I blinked back my surprise and swiftly removed my shoes and stockings and my feet thanked me for it. My toes stretched luxuriously, and felt the sand between them. “What a nice feeling,” I admitted and picked up a clump of it and watched it fall through my fingers. 

“Toldya so,” he said with a breezy laugh. He watched me take a bite into the apple and laughed like Felix when I flung it as far as I could away from me with a squeal.

“You naughty boy,” I scolded. “I nearly ate the head of a caterpillar in there.”

He bent over and laughed and pointed at me. I was used to that sort of thing so I shook my head and left.

“Wait!” he chased after me. “Have another one.” And out he produced another. “This one here’s safe. It ain’t got no bugs in it.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded bigly and I could sense that he was a trusting person who could also be trusted. I liked that about him. “I promise,” he nodded his head and assured me it was safe. I noticed all of his different facial expressions. He was a bit like Felix. They both liked to move and stretch and never sit still. 

I tossed the apple up into the air and then back to my hand a few times. 

The boy looked a little younger than me but a mite older than Felix. I guessed him to be fourteen, and so I asked.

“Yup, fourteen,” he said plainly, touching his chest with a finger. He snickered to himself a lot, and played with his own fingers, something I could tell in our small five minutes together. Merriment glistened in his eyes and as well as in his voice. He was happy, very happy. And he made me happy just  being around him. A presence like Felix. “I have a brother around your age. I have a feeling you’ll like him. He’s looking for a friend.”

I then looked past him and up at a tall, tall, tree that was wider than the other trees around it. The branches extended out every which-way and leaned against other trees. The leaves were thick and alive and oh, so green.

“That’s my tree,” he informed me, in a warning sort of way.

“Really?” I took several steps towards it and he followed me. “You climb this tree? It’s so big and tall.”

“I can do it,” he said. And in half of two minutes, there he was, seated on a branch above me, swinging his legs and glinting down at me. He laughed at me again, me who must have seemed so small.

“You’re very good at that,” I told the boy.

He ducked behind a branch. “You can’t do it,” he teased.

I furrowed my brows. “Let me try before you sound so sure of yourself.”

“You can’t see me now,” he chortled while he waved at me and peeked his head around the other side of the branch, like it was the most cleverest thing. “I’m up here and you’re down there. You’re like the ants and I’m like an eagle. Eagles eat ants, you know.” He laughed again. “Bet you didn’t know that, huh?”

I wondered at him. But I didn’t ask any questions, because truthfully, I wanted this moment to last. Right now, I didn’t want someone to argue with me and think I was just a stupid child like Henry always did. I wanted someone who was simple and pleasing. This boy refreshed me with his sense of charm and the playful way about him that made me smile.

“Come down here and tell me your name.”

“It’s Charlie,” he hollered down to me. “Charlie Todd Ferguson.”

I nodded slowly, his name triggering other thoughts and recollections in my mind. Another Ferguson… “Well,” I shrugged. “I’d better go now, unless you’d like to accompany me.”

He scurried down faster than he had scurried up. He fell in step along with me. “I’m comin’ too.”

“Alright,” I smiled. “Maybe you can show me around this place.”

Charlie Todd Ferguson. He was fourteen years old. He loved to be alive. He was very much like Artie, who I knew was a relation in some way. They had to be. 

Charlie talked to me the whole way through the forest about different sorts of things; about how he would never go to school, that no one could make him, and that he didn’t wear shoes. Never, not once in his life. Only one day, years and years ago, they had tried to put shoes on him and he ‘wouldn’t let them’. I didn’t know what that meant so I didn’t ask. I didn’t know who ‘they’ were either, but still, I didn’t ask any questions. I wasn’t entirely convinced that he had never before worn any shoes but I allowed myself to try and believe it, at least in this moment.

“Look,” he pointed to the ground near a muddy area that my feet sank into when I inched closer. He bent down and I did the same. 

“What are we looking for?” I whispered.

He pointed again to the same spot and hovered over it closely. Silently, he reached his hand down and retrieved a brown toad. 

“Ugh,” I stepped back. “It looks so bumpy.”

“Bumpy?” he asked, appalled. “It’s beautiful.” He handed it to me. I had not registered what was happening and peered down at it for ten whole seconds before I flung it away. “Oh, how horrible!” I exclaimed. I wiped my hands on my dress. “I hate toads.”

“Hate ‘em? They never done anything to you.”

“I know, but…hmm,” I considered this. “You’re right.” I sighed. “I always throw them away before they do something wrong to me. I never give them a chance.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re mean. Like Artie.”

I remembered that. “I am mean. And not just to little critters.” I sighed again, dejectedly. “I’m selfish and cruel and not at all brave.”

“That’s an easy fix,” he told me, and I almost believed him for a second. “It’s easy,” he said again as if he had come up with the idea himself. 

“How so?”

“Tell me what’s your biggest fear,” he said in a jumble, his accent, thick and Southern, made it a bit hard to understand. My mind quickly interpreted it for myself, thankfully.

“Well, tell it then,” he said, still recovering from his first jumbled command.

The bigger the sentence was, the slower he spoke it. Maybe he had some form of difficulty speaking long sentences and words. I didn’t mind. I just decided maybe people in America were different. Or maybe it wasn’t America. Maybe this boy Charlie was different.

“I…I don’t really know,” was my reply.

He shrugged. “Whatever you hate to do, you just have to do it,” he said, pausing and looking at me curiously for a moment. Then he shoved my shoulder and laughed. 

I took his hand when he offered it.

“Let’s go then,” I said.