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Excerpts

Once on the boardwalk, past the front window of the Mercantile and past temptation, I took my left hand down from the side of my head and held the box. With both hands on the thing, I could run. I took off.

It was two blocks down the street to our three-story brick hotel. The train whistle tooted again. It was closer than when I heard it from inside the Mercantile, but still not to the depot. With luck, there was time for me to get the supplies home and run back to the other end of town before all the excitement was over.

I ran harder.

Mama was in the kitchen when I flew through the back door, set the box on the table, and spun to make my escape. Right as the screen bounced shut behind me, I heard her voice.

"Will? Where's the flour?"

My ears and head heard her call, but it took my feet three more strides before they got the message.

"Will?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned. She opened the screen door and cocked an eyebrow.

"I've got to have the flour."

"But, Mama..." I pleaded.

She folded her arms. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, all right." I jerked around and kicked at a clump of dirt. A sudden, sharp pain raced from my big toe to my knee. I thought my kneecap was going to explode. From there, the pain shot to my hip, then up my spine to throb at the back of my skull. I had to clamp my lips together to keep from squealing like a little baby.

A rock lay half hidden beneath the clump of dirt. Blood trickled from my big toe. You dumb, stupid...

"Need a jar of blackstrap molasses, too." mama called. It took my thoughts away from all the bad names I was trying to come up with for myself.

I didn't bother to turn around. I simply nodded and limped on my way. By the time I reached the road, dust had coated the scraped toe and blood had clotted. When I got to the end of the block where our hotel stood, I didn't even notice the pain. Fact was, my pride was about the only thing that still hurt.

"No wonder you can't get a real job," I muttered at myself. "Want people to treat you like you're grown up, but shoot -- only a kid would go around kickin' rocks barefooted. Next time I go down to Ferguson's Mill or over to Thompson's to ask about gettin' a job, I'm wearin' shoes!"

The sound of the train whistle made me glance up from my dusty feet. I saw the stream of gray-black smoke that puffed up from behind the little depot at the far end of town. "No sense rushing now, Will." I sighed and looked back at my dusty feet again. "You've missed all the excitement."

Then a little smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "No sense rushing..." I repeated. "That means I got time to look in the window at the Mercantile." My pace quickened. Before I knew it, I was running. I jumped from the street to the boardwalk and didn't slow until I passed Nash's front door. Like a bird dog on point, I froze motionless before the window. It was still there. The smile stretched my face so face so much that I could see my teeth reflecting as tiny dots of white against the store window.

Copyright © 1997 by Bill Wallace