Todd the Spectacular Chp. 19

 hello everyone, so sorry i forgot to post a chapter yesterday, but here it is!

C h a p t e r  N i n e t e e n

The Shadowy Places

Felix was strengthening again, and I hadn’t noticed how quiet I had been lately. I didn’t notice it myself and I would have never thought Felix to be one for observing little things such as that. He simply asked what was wrong, and I didn’t know what to tell him.

I did cheer up though, eventually. 

The others didn’t take too kindly to the idea of going to church, alone without any parents. I did understand though. Henry was nervous and hadn’t talked to anyone really, except us five. And Artie—well, I think his reasoning went a trifle deeper.

I found Artie that evening, sitting on a dock where most of the townspeople went fishing in the afternoons. He sat crosslegged at the edge of the dock and stared off into the sun that was leisurely sinking into the clouds. The sky was red and pink and there was no wind. It felt strange. I could hear both of our breathing.

“I know a joke,” I said all of the sudden, and he stared at me with a strange look on his face. When I didn’t say anything, he rolled his eyes a little and chuckled.

“Have at it then, Miss Phoenix.”

“Why don’t horses tell many stories?”

Artie’s head dropped in his hands and he sighed with laughter, clearly thinking I was ridiculous. “Isn’t Felix enough, Annabelle?”

“Well go on, guess.”

“Why, Miss Phoenix?”

“Because they only have one tail.”

“One tale?”

“Yes, tale. You know, one story? And one tail?”

“You mean…” and then Artie fell on his back and reluctantly began to laugh. “You English,” he said and sat back up. “What do you think and dream about?”

I suddenly thought of something: thinking and dreaming.

“I want to write a poem.”

“Really?”

“One with a verse about each of us. I’ll begin with you.”

Artie lifted an eyebrow. “Alright.”

I cleared my throat, a little bashful. “Do you have any paper?”

“No. You’ll just have to memorize it.”

I chuckled and tried to begin. “The boy in the corner is reading. And thinking. And dreaming.”

He nodded his head slowly, as if he were approving of it.

“His straw hat covers his ugly eyes—”

“Wait—”

“I meant to say emerald eyes, really,” I said laughing.

Artie waved his hand.

“They’re gleaming…and shining.”

“Do they really shine? And gleam?”

“Well, all eyes do, in my opinion. But I need to say something poetic in a poem.”

“Something!” he said in a high voice, I guess pretending to be me.

“I’ll continue the poem sometime else.”

“Oh Annabelle, don’t be mad. Say the whole thing again, so you can commit it to memory.”

And I did, and then we made a second verse about Henry.

I didn’t know how many hours had gone by. Our conversations changed from jokes, to poems, to our opinions on slavery, to our favorite kinds of desserts.

When I told him another joke, one about the moon, he rolled his eyes and said he wouldn’t ever laugh, not at my jokes.

“But isn’t it wonderful?” I said through labored breath, hardly able to get enough air to my lungs.

“You are fairly interesting.”

“I meant the joke.”

Artie’s brows furrowed. “I know.”

After a quiet moment, he looked at me and grinned. “Do you want to hear something?”

“What is it?”

“You’ll never get me—tag, you’re it!”

I gasped and leapt to my feet. I chased him until finally, he slowed just a little and I caught him and he stumbled to the ground. 

“You’re not supposed to be so fast,” he panted.

“And why is that?”

He shrugged. “I’m older than you.”

I laughed, and soon we went back to the dock.

That’s when the quietness came. It must have been silent for nearly half an hour. 

But finally I worked up the courage to break it.

“Henry’s still waiting for a name from the great ‘Todd the Spectacular,’” I said with a cautious laugh. 

Artie looked dark right then. His brows were set in a firm line that furrowed close to his eyes. I was grateful when he began to speak because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I haven’t gone to church since Ma died. I was little. Don’t remember much about it,” he barely opened his mouth as he talked.

I had a feeling he had been thinking about church during all that quietness.

“After our mother died,” I began, “we stopped for awhile, too. Then we returned, but without Father. He wasn’t against church or anything like that,” I cleared up. “He simply stopped liking people. So he studied at home, alone. And if I must be completely honest…”

“What?” He turned to me.

“The more people I meet the less I enjoy the company of others, too. Of course, I don’t mean the people here in Averdeene. I felt convicted about not truly knowing them.”

“My pa never liked the idea. Of church, I mean. He just threw words at us when we said anything about it. Words and sometimes other things.”

“Do you think he’ll ever return?” And in that moment, I wasn’t sure if I meant his father or my own. I wanted both of them to come back. I wanted both of us to be truly happy again. 

He didn’t respond. Instead he said, “God doesn’t want us to have a pa. He wants us to be alone because He doesn’t care.”

“Has He said He does not care?”

Artie shrugged. 

“Well, then you shouldn’t say such falsehoods. You simply need ask. And listen, too.”

It was a peaceful quiet. And then Artie turned to me with a resolute face, like he had made up his mind about something. But then he said, “Annabelle?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve told you a great deal.”

I nodded. “Yes, you have.” 

“A lot of things, actually.”

“I suppose so.”

“I’ve never told anyone the things I’ve told you. And you need to understand that.”

“I—I do.”

His face distorted with a form of confused, lost anger. I didn’t know whether or not it was for me. “You can’t tell others this. I don’t trust anyone. Never have. Only you. I’ve not spoke to anyone about all this. Only you.”

What did he mean? I didn’t know whether to feel honored or heavy, like he had laid a burden on me. Because that’s how he said it: like he was entrusting me with a burdenous task. 

I would hold his secrets. I would be there for him. And that didn’t always mean talking and speaking and offering wise counsel. It just meant—

Listening.

Listening quietly.

Listening without speaking, without giving any advice.

“You can trust me, Artie.”

He looked down and sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“I won’t tell, if that’s what you’re implying.”

His mouth twitched. The same twitch I saw on the wagon ride the day I met him.

“I’m not used to…having a friend. When you go so long being alone and not trusting anyone, it’s hard to reverse it.”

“It might surprise you, Arther, but I do know what you mean. And Henry does too. I wish you’d get along more often.”

He didn’t say anything to that. “Just—” he looked at me anxiously. “Just don’t leave and abandon us like we’re dogs.”

I didn’t laugh. Not then. For I knew these things he said; they came from the shadowy places that no but I seemed to enter. The shadowy places that each of us have, but not all of us ever venture far in.

The things that he said—they hurt him more than anything. But that’s how I knew that they meant the most.

“I’ll promise to always be your friend if you’ll be mine,” was what I did say.

He didn’t speak his promise but he nodded his head and avoided my eyes and I knew that he promised in his heart.

His words still echoed in my mind.

Just don’t leave and…

But his words were in vain, for I was not the one who left.

Todd the Spectacular Chp.18 Charlie's Shoes

C h a p t e r  E i g h t e e n

Charlie's Shoes

It was a relaxing day, and Charlie did, in fact, dive into the river, well to be concise, it was a lake, and anyway, his short curls eventually flattened out and his hair looked almost right again. There was still some evidence though of ribbons and curlers in his hair, evidence that was not very visible to others, but enough to me.

I prayed that Henry and Artie wouldn’t notice, for I wasn’t sure how they would react, or what they would say.

But overall, it was a bit funny.

I decided to surprise Charlie with a little gift. Something that he may not like at first, but I hoped I could somehow alter his opinion, ever unchanging.

Henry and I picked him out a pair of shoes. 

And yes, I know, he hates shoes, but what would happen when winter came along? Truthfully, I wondered how he had fared in winters past before we came along. Maybe that was my destiny. To put shoes on Charlie Ferguson.

There was a little general store which had many varying things and it happened that there were but three pairs of brown boots left in stock.

“Are you sure we should do this, Annabelle?” Henry gave me a nervous glance, when we stood before the front counter. “Buy shoes for a lad who despises the things? He may refuse and never put them on.”

“Consider it a birthday gift,” I said cheerily. “Anyway, I want to do something special for him. And maybe I can change his opinion while I’m at it.”

The shopkeeper, an old man with a young smile, handed me a brown paper package, tied closed with a string.

I put my nose to it and sighed. I loved the smell of brown paper. It reminded me of lovely things.

“Thank you,” I said, and Henry and I walked out of the shop, a keen breeze sending a shiver of delight down our spines. Such a nice breeze for such a warm day.

We sat under a maple tree and Henry took the package. “Shall I open it?” he asked.

“Then the paper will be torn. I think we should leave it for Charlie.”

“What if we got the wrong size? It was a hasty and un-thought through purchase.”

“There are a very limited amount of sizes, Henry. I think it will be fine.”

Henry shrugged and handed it back to me. “Then let’s go and find him.”

At first Charlie was skeptical. He stared at the shoes, brown ankle-high boots with strings, and then he took the package. But soon he gave it back with a shake of his head. “You want me to wear shoes?” he muttered and bit the insides of his mouth. “I can’t. Uh uh,” he shook his head with the last two words, putting on extra emphasis.

“Oh Charlie, please try. Even I wear shoes, sometimes. And it’s only for the cooler days.”

“How about this day?” he wondered, very quietly.

I looked at Henry and he smiled at me.

“Today is very warm. But you will try them on, won’t you? For me, Charlie?”

“Will they fit me good?”

“Oh, but of course.”

It took awhile for Charlie to put on the shoes. I had to tie them for him, but once they were on, he stretched and eased into a slow walk.

“Do you like them?” I asked, hopeful for a good reply.

He shrugged. And then caught my gaze and grinned at me. “Aw…Annie.”

I chuckled and cleaned up the packaging while he walked around me in a circle, his feet stretching into the new boots. 

After that, everyone who saw him in his shoes simply encouraged him on, giving him a little compliment here and there. 

Felix came out from the Lovingale, after he had rested for awhile, and stood gaping at Charlie. “You’re in shoes!”

Charlie scowled at him. He made a strange grunting sound and walked stiffly up the porch stairs and sat down beside Felix who towered over him.

“Felix, say something,” I whispered.

“Um…” first Felix hesitated, but then quickly brightened up and exclaimed animatedly, “Would you look at those fine shoes, Charlie? They’re simply dashing!”

“I wish I had such shoes,” Henry played along.

Charlie’s mouth showed hints of merriment but he shook his head again and crossed his arms. Felix sat down on one side of the boy and Henry on the other.

“They are nice boots, my dear fellow,” Henry said quietly, but I could hear.

Charlie bit his lip and reached his fingers out and touched the heel of his boot. “No dust,” he whispered.

“They’re brand new,” Felix gave him a little nudge. “Like a little baby, you know. Every thing was new once at some point. Now come on old chap, they’re a mighty fine pair of shoes.”

The corners of Charlie’s mouth curved into a smile and he laughed, accepted the shoes, and I sighed with relief.

I wasn’t there when Artie reacted to his brother in shoes, for when I returned from taking a brief walk, he was gone again.

This day was a long one. But in the end, Charlie did eventually grow to tolerate his shoes. And then, he never took them off. So the three of us—Henry, Felix, and I—we made a plan to hide the shoes until it was cold outside, so that he would not completely wear them through.

And I believe Charlie enjoyed such praise from all of us.

Todd the Spectacular Chp. 17 Stars, Flowers, & Curls

hello to everyone who is reading! on tuesday, the 16th, I will probably be quite busy, so I am going to post next week's chapter today. anyway, that's all! I hope you enjoy!

C h a p t e r  S e v e n t e e n

Stars, Flowers, & Curls

My brother Felix has always been one to catch a cold pretty quickly, so for a day or so, he was tired and laid out, and we finally had a ‘calm day.’

I needed that, and so did the others, I think.

Hours and days and more hours seemed to drift by timelessly, and sometimes, they felt magical and beyond confinement. Often, I didn’t know where I was, for I was entrapped in a space of twilight and sun, happiness and loneliness, in England and in America. I was missing Father, but I was also dreading his return when all my wildness and freedom would end.

I lost track of whatever day it was and whether it was seven in the evening or eleven at night.

I read books to Charlie, for his simple amusement, and I attempted teaching him a word or two, but he always shrugged and said he didn’t understand.

So, on many nights, me and Artie spent hours in Mrs. Rivet’s spare room where she kept her books about science, the ones she hardly read anymore. She told me that she hadn’t been in that room for ages, and to excuse the dust layering on each shelf. I swiped a hand over one shelf and gagged over the dust, thick, white, and tickling my nose.

It was dark and warm outside, and I lit a lantern, setting it on the hardwood floor between myself, whoknelt on the ground, and Artie, who lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“The others will miss us,” I whispered with a nervous laugh and spared a glance toward the door, left ajar. Happy glows from the kitchen stole in through the open crack.

“Look,” Artie suddenly pointed one finger up at the ceiling.

I lay down on my back and squinted into the darkness, my eyes not catching what his were. “What is it?”

He stood up and held the lantern closer to where he pointed, and there, I observed paintings of the moon, all across the boarder of the ceiling. There were crescents and full moons and over again, in a pattern.

“Those are the phases of the moon,” he explained. We stood, looking up, and I sighed at the paintings. When my eyes rolled upward I saw that there were stars above me like a real, wide night sky. I spotted a constellation. 

“She has the entire night sky on her ceiling,” I marveled. “The stars almost look like they’re glowing.”

“I’ve never…” his eyes glistened. “I’ve never noticed them before.”

“She must love astronomy.”

“As do I.”

That moment was a queer one, for it was quiet and the air was soft and our voices blended with the twinkling of the stars above us. Not the real sound of stars, of course, but far better ones. Because when you imagine something, it is oh, so much more extraordinary.

Afterward, we went home and I collapsed onto my bed, my dreams full of moons and stars all swirled around in my head.

The next day I knelt in the garden deep in thought, nearly unaware of everything else around me.

It had never really occured to me that we had been here for…well, I’ve kind of lost track of the true amount of days. We’ve made pleasant friends, and in such a short amount of time. I guess when not a day goes by without seeing one another, you get close very fast. But the real reason I’ve said this is because I’ve felt that we’d never made the attempt to really become acquainted with any of the townspeople in Averdeene. And for that I felt guilty. My mother was this way, and so was I, though the rest of my siblings took more after Father, one who would be perfectly content never coming down from his own land, back in England.

“Annabelle?”

I was taken out of my reverie.

Thank you, Claudia, I mentally said. I was getting too lost in thought.

Claudia looked a little sad and bored and I noticed her hair was barely even curled anymore. Her dress was clean but had some dirt on the hems.

I was watering the scarlet yarrows by the front gate with a cup of rain water I had collected. “So many flowers,” I mused, breathing in the floral surroundings. “It’ll be sad when they have to go.”

Claudia bit her finger and grazed the bottom of the gate with her foot. I was afraid she was going to talk about Father. I’m sure that had pestered her mind sometime.

I looked up at her from my place in the dirt. “Yes Claudia?”

At first she didn’t say anything, but then after a trying few seconds, she thrust out her bottom lip and said, “They were making fun of my curls.”

“Your curls?”

“Yes, my curls. You see, I lost my curlers and now my hair has looked dreadfully dreadful lately.”

“But…” I couldn’t think of a right consolation that would…well, console her.

“But aren’t your curls fake anyway?” That was not very wise of me.

“Th-that’s what they said!” Claudia stamped her foot in anguish. “They’re not fake; they’re artificial. And I don’t think they should make fun now that they’re gone and I have no choice but to look like a peasant. They probably stole them.”

I thought for a moment. Stealing Claudia’s hair curlers was something a certain young lad would probably do in such a situation.

But I couldn’t call the blame just yet.

“Is that the only thing troubling you?”

“Well…” Claudia shifted her feet and drew circles in the dirt. “It’s not fair, that…”

“That what?”

“Well, Artie only likes you.”

She actually surprised me. That was the last thing I figured she would say.

“Um…” now I was at a loss for words again. “I think you’re confused, my dear.”

“I am not!” Another stamp. “I haven’t any friends at all and you get everything.”

“You do too have friends,” I fired back, rising from my knees. “That isn’t true about Artie, Claudia. No one gets any special treatment. We’re all friends.”

Claudia looked away defiantly. “But—but—”

“And what about Charlie? I thought you two adored each other.”

“He adores me. But only when I comb his hair. The minute I stop he runs off to Felix.”

“I’m sure there are other little children here in Averdeene.”

“Maybe so.”

“Well, go down and meet them. And on Sunday morning I’ll take you to church.”

She looked excited and sprinted off, leaving me to my flowers.

Later that day I had been walking through town, looking for my little sister who had sprinted off from me earlier, after telling me about her lack of friends and her hair curlers. You couldn’t imagine the confused surprise on my face, and how I felt when I did encounter her, and one other. She sat under a tree, a good distance away from the buildings, and sipped a cup of tea. This was not what surprised me, but what followed. 

“Hello, Claudia Anastasia.”

“Hello, dear sister.”

“You look rather alone,” I observed, glancing around. 

“But I’m not alone. Look, I gave him a dazzling makeover!”

“Who?”

And Charlie made me scream by jumping out from behind a tree and leaping onto my back.

“Charlie!” I cried when I recovered from the attack. When my eyes focused, I stared at him, and then frowned at Claudia. “Claudia. Why did you curl his hair?”

Charlie walked around me and laughed until tears streamed down his face. Short, bouncy curls shaped his tan beaming face around his ears and above his shoulders. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and I wondered how with all this noise did not the whole town take notice of us. He danced around me like he was in a circus.

“Charlie, knock it off right this minute,” I put my hands on my hips crossly. “And take those ribbons out of your hair.”

“No,” he rebelled.

“He looks lovely,” Claudia cried, sounding appalled that I did not share her opinion. “Aren’t you glad that I found them?”

“Has Artie seen you in this horrid state?” I said, stepping closer and trying to pull out one ribbon, but he dodged my touch. 

Claudia released a long, woeful sigh and stood up beside Charlie. “We’ll play another time,” she said sadly.

His shoulders dropped and he looked down disappointedly. 

I waited until after they were out of sight to release my laughter.

I had wanted to find Artie and talk to him about going to church, but somehow I winded up sitting on a chair in our backyard, Charlie kneeling on the grass before me. I sighed, and took out another curler.

“It hurts,” he moaned.

“Well, I’m sorry she did this to you.”

“She ain’t done nothin’.”

I pulled out a blue ribbon. “How many ribbons did she put in your hair? I feel as if I’ll never come to the end of them.” When I removed every bit of Claudia’s hair supplies out of the boy’s hair, I sat back and exhaled. “The curlers were in your hair too long. There’s nothing much I can do about it, but wait for them to wear off.”

“I can jump in the river and then they’ll stricken out.”

“Straighten out, Charlie.”

He shrugged. He stood to his feet and walked away, little Claudia curls in his hair. He looked like an English lass.

I shook my head and sighed. Then I called out, my face reddening, “Charlie, just take care not to let Artie see you!"