“Just another yard forward,” I whisper to myself. “Just another yard ought to do it. Please, just one more–”
Then I hear it and my heart explodes with joy. The loud, cackling, victorious cry of the giant yellow boona bird echoes in the cold air as it breaks through the monstrous wall of white and momentarily disappears. One by one the carts in front of us dissolve into the whiteness as well, fading from our sight. Then it is our turn and we pierce the wild, snowy barrier, cutting through winter’s worst like a cannonball and sailing through to the other side into radiant streaks of golden sunshine that embrace us like warm, welcoming arms. The storm is behind us and we are safe at last, now on a clear path that leads us back to the main road nestled in the faded green landscape below.
I hear cheers erupting from the line of carts as the creatures heap praise upon the boona bird. When we reach the main road, Big Yellow steadily moves onward for another half mile or so, guiding us along though the weather is no longer a threat. Then it suddenly turns right and heads up another road back into the snowy hills, leaving us to continue our journey alone. But before it vanishes among the trees and grassy fields, the yellow boona bird bellows out a raucous goodbye that sounds like an avalanche of metal and rock with a lion’s roar thrown in for good measure. As our cart moves past the turnoff, the giant bird disappears from our view, its thunderous call fading into the hills.
FFFBBBBOOOOOOOMMM! GGGGGRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…….
“Wow! Dat’s a loud one. See it go, Gif? See it go?” the young boy exclaimed, thrilled to watch the yellow snowplow charge up the hill like a snorting bull, its thick blade scraping noisily against the ground and shooting off a few sparks to punctuate its departure. “You see it, Gif?”
“I saw it, Charley,” Griffin Ghostley replied with a tired smile. He glanced over at his four-year-old brother sitting next to him, securely strapped in his car booster seat despite squirming about like a playful pup. “Good thing it happened to drive by when it did, huh? We’d still be trapped in the hills otherwise.”
“Good thing!” Charley said with a sharp nod for emphasis. “And we wants to follow it home, too.”
“Hey, I don’t plan to drive through those hills on the way back,” remarked the tall man seated in front behind the steering wheel. He wore a leather jacket and glanced briefly into the rearview mirror, eyeing Charley with a silly expression and causing the boy to grunt with laughter.
“I agree with your father,” added the woman in front sitting next to the driver. Charley’s mother wore a white ski jacket with a matching fur collar and turned around to look at her younger son. “You may like to watch those big trucks drive by our house, but I don’t want to see another snowplow for the rest of this trip!” she said with a grin.
“Aaawww… Not even one?”
“Brrrrr! I’m cold just thinking about it,” she joked. “I hope to see a cup of hot coffee in my hands instead–and soon!”
“I rather eat apple pie. And ice cream, too!” Charley said. “I’m hungry!”
“Ahhh, torta di mele con gelato!” his father replied. “We’ll rustle that up in no time. We’re almost there.”
“Why’s he still talking so funny, Gif?” Charley asked, eyeing his brother with a confused gaze.
“You’re talking funny,” Griffin replied. “And my name is Griff. Say Griff, Charley. You’re forgetting the R.”
Charley scrunched up his face as if preparing to lift a set of barbells. “Grrrrr-iff!” he shouted. “Better, Gif?”
Griffin grunted with laughter. “You’re weird, little brother.”
“But he said it correctly,” his mother proudly pointed out. “Well done, Charley. Magnifico! Bravissimo!”
“Now you’re talking funny, too!” Charley said, slapping his forehead.
“Yeah, Mom. Bad enough we have to hear it all the time at home, but why in the car where we can’t escape?” Griffin asked.
“Your father and I like to practice our Italian,” she replied. “Our next class starts in January. We want to keep sharp for that–and for when I finally convince him to take me to Italy some day!”
“I hope it’s soon because they’re driving me batty,” Griffin whispered to his brother with a smirk. He glanced past Charley who burst out laughing, then noticed his older sister, Donna, sitting by the opposite window, her head bobbing back and forth as her lips moved in silent speech. She was fifteen years old with long brown hair, now sporting a thick braid intertwined with a strand of lemon-yellow ribbon. “At least Donna was lucky enough not to have to hear it all,” he muttered to himself, envying that she was in a world of her own while listening to songs on her digital music player, a set of ear buds hidden beneath her hair.
“I was forced to listen to some of it between songs,” Donna sarcastically replied as she carefully removed the buds firmly plugged into each ear. “Are we ever going to get there?” she impatiently added, directing the question to her parents. “I’m starving. The apples you gave us earlier didn’t do the trick.”
“I didn’t tell you to skimp on your breakfast,” her mother replied. “But don’t worry. Here’s the turnoff to Grandma and Grandpa’s house just ahead. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Yeah!” Charley gleefully shouted.
“Finally,” whispered Donna, rolling her eyes as she popped her ear buds back in.
But as hungry as he was a while ago, Griffin simply sighed and gazed out the side window at the cheerless scenery passing by. Thoughts of eating turkey, cranberries, stuffing and pumpkin pie suddenly didn’t have the appeal as it would have on previous Thanksgivings. One crucial element was missing, had been taken away from him, and the day just wouldn’t have the excitement as in years past. It was now time to pay the penalty for his rules infraction. It was now time to face his doom.
Griffin glanced at Donna who was again bobbing her head to the music as she silently sang along to her long list of songs. His sentence, which their parents had allowed his sister to hand down because of his repeated violations, didn’t seem to faze her a bit. His judge and jury had banned him from watching any football games on television for the entire day because he had trespassed in her bedroom earlier, and she seemed quite at ease with her life-altering sentence.
And what a harsh decision it was when she had pounded a fist onto her other hand like a judge’s gavel during his quick trial in the dining room. It was probably the strictest and most unfair ruling in the history of the courts, sure to be studied by legal scholars for years to come. But he could find no way to get out of it, and dared not tap his sister on the shoulder again to plead his case. Indeed, it was most unfair.
But then again, maybe it wasn’t.
Griffin fidgeted uncomfortably as the car turned onto the road to his grandparents’ house. Hadn’t he been warned numerous times not to hide in his sister’s bedroom–not ever? And the repeated excuse that he was trying to get away from the endlessly pestering Charley–his shadowlike younger brother who lately would just not leave him alone, with whom he was forced to share a bedroom, and who would jabber at him constantly without pausing for a breath–well, those explanations were just not going to work anymore. Griffin realized he had stepped over the line one too many times, and now he would have to pay.
Yes indeed, it was most unfair.
And then they arrived. The car moved up a long driveway and parked near a large, redbrick house, its windows glowing with yellow light, surrounded by bare maples, towering pines and several other cars. A dusting of snow coated the sprawling lawn. Everyone hurriedly piled out of the vehicle, eager to get inside. One girl, about Donna’s age, immediately rushed outside to greet her favorite cousin. Donna screamed with delight and ran to her, giving her a hug. Within seconds, the two chattered away like squirrels as they slowly walked to the house.
“I can already smell the turkey!” Charley said with a big grin as he stayed glued to his big brother’s side. They were several steps beh
ind their parents as everyone headed toward the residence amidst a chilly November breeze. Griffin was in no hurry to get inside, his mood as colorless as the charcoal gray sky above. Then Charley pulled at his sleeve.
“What is it?” Griffin muttered tiredly.
“I forgot my boona bird! We has to go back and get it.”
“I don’t think we has to. Can’t it stay in the car just this once?”
“Nooooo!” Charley replied, shocked at such a suggestion.
“Griff, go back with your brother and get it, okay?” his father asked.
“Do I have to?” Griffin complained. “That thing was staring at me the whole ride. I’m sick of looking at it.”
“Then you shouldn’t have won it for Charley at the fall fair,” his mother said. “You know how much he loves that toy.”
“Hmmm, my mistake,” he quietly replied, grabbing his brother’s hand. “Come on, birdbrain. Let’s go get him.”
“Yes!” Charley shouted, pulling Griffin toward the car with all his might. “Then will you pay wimmy later in the yard?”
“Do you mean play with me?”
“Yeah, just like this morning. Another game of chase with you, me and the boona bird. That was so fun!”
Griffin grunted with mild amusement at the comment as he grabbed the door handle. Though Charley was under the impression that his older brother had been playing a game of chase with him around the house earlier in the day, Griffin didn’t have the heart to tell the young boy that he had been trying to evade him to savor a few peaceful minutes away from Charley’s constant shadowing of late, but was still tracked down despite his best effort.
“Sure, I’ll play another game of chase,” Griffin replied with little enthusiasm. “It’s not like I’ll have much else to do after dinner–like watching football, for instance,” he muttered to himself.
“All right! Just like last time.”
“Sure, like last time. Nothing I’d rather do than stub my toe again on a rock, hobble up the swing set slide and then tumble through a pile of leaves on the way down just to entertain you.”
“Uh huh. Just like that!”
“Still, I guess it beats spinning you on the merry-go-round by that mini mall ‘til we’re both ready to throw up,” he added with a throaty chuckle.
Griffin shook his head as he opened the car door. Inside, wedged tightly into the leg space against the back seat, stood Charley’s boona bird, a large, light blue plastic bird with a bright orange beak. Its wide eyes were fixed upon Griffin the instant he opened the door as they had been during the entire trip to his grandparents’ house.
“Oh, I want my boona bird!” Charley said, holding out his arms and wiggling his fingers while eagerly waiting for Griffin to hand it to him.
“Charley, say balloon bird, not boona bird.”
“Bloona bird!”
“No, balloon bird, you birdbrain.”
“Balloona bird!”
“No, no, it’s a…” Griffin sighed with exasperation. “Oh, never mind. Call it what you want, Charley,” he said. “You know, it’s not even a balloon. It’s a plastic inflatable bird. Say plastic inflatable.”
“Plasic inflababa…pttthhh…”
Griffin burst out laughing and handed Charley the boona bird. “Close enough, buddy. You want your sippy cup, too? The one you nearly spilled all over me earlier?”
“No, just my boona bird,” Charley said, hugging his plastic pet. “Now let’s go in. It’s freezing!”
As they walked back toward the house, Griffin spotted his parents talking with Donna near the front door, immediately imagining what new and dastardly plan they were hatching. No doubt she was insisting that the punishment she had handed down be strictly enforced. Then his sister briefly glanced his way before she and her cousin hurried inside to join the Thanksgiving festivities. Mr. and Mrs. Ghostley waited outside by the doorway until their sons approached.
“What was all that talking about?” Griffin asked with growing unease. “Or maybe I shouldn’t even ask.”
“Oh, Donna was just telling us about how much she liked the story you told Charley during the snowstorm to keep him calm,” his mother said. “She had turned off her music to listen to it.”
“Oh, well that’s…” Griffin was temporarily at a loss for words, unable to offer a sarcastic remark considering Donna’s compliment. “Oh, well, glad she liked it.”
“And she had one other comment,” his father added, eyeing Griffin with a budding smile. “Your sister also wanted us to tell you that she has overturned your sentence. You’re free to watch all the football you want today.”
Griffin gulped, surprised by the news, wondering for a moment if he had heard his father correctly. “Are you being serious? She really said that?” he asked, his heart ready to burst with joy, though he fought to keep his emotions in check in case this was all a big joke.
“Yes, she said every word,” his mother assured him, “so you should take a deep breath before you pass out. And maybe quietly thank her later, too.”
“But why? Why did she change her mind? Donna was really mad at me.”
“Maybe, but I think talking with that boy when we had our flat tire kind of cheered her up,” she continued. “Started to lift her out of her doldrums and gave her a bit more self-confidence. She’s been moody since breaking up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago.”
“Moody? I’ll say,” Griffin agreed, still not fully believing that his life had been renewed.
“Just keep out of her room!” his father sternly warned.
“I promise,” he said. “Next time I’m trying to get away from–” He glanced at Charley who happily clutched the blue boona bird, a toy dearly loved by his little brother who looked upon Griffin as a hero for winning it for him. “Uh, I mean, next time I’m playing chase with Charley, I’ll hide in the laundry room again, or maybe under the dining room table.”
“Smart man.”
“Now come inside with me, Charley,” his mother said, taking the boy’s hand. “Your dad wants to talk to Griffin about one more thing, okay?”
“Okay. See you later, Giff!” he said, waving goodbye as he, his mother and the giant blue boona bird disappeared inside.
Griffin looked up at his father as a couple of stray snow flurries drifted down from the sky. “What did you want to talk about, Dad?”
“Just wanted to let you know that I’m planning to clean out that junk room off the side porch this spring. Hoping you might help me move some things.”
“Sure,” Griffin said with a shrug of indifference, wondering why his father thought it so important to bring up the subject now when a warm turkey dinner awaited them indoors. “Happy to do it.”
“Great,” Mr. Ghostley replied. “After that, I can properly insulate the walls and extend a heating vent inside. It’s not the biggest room for a bedroom, but for one person, it just might do the trick.”
For a second or two, it hadn’t dawned on Griffin what point his father was trying to make. He was anxious to go inside and eat dinner, and then watch some football with a full plate of pumpkin pie. But he slowly looked up as the information gradually sunk into his brain. Griffin Ghostley was unable to conceal a growing, beaming grin. “Dad, are you saying that...”
“That maybe it’s time you had your own bedroom?” His father nodded. “I think you’ve earned a little privacy, just like your sister. And maybe a bit of space away from Charley, too. Only don’t tell him that!”
“Oh, I won’t,” he promised, giving his father a quick hug and then raising his arms victoriously into the air as if signaling a touchdown.
Then they opened the door and stepped inside. A wave of warm air brimming with the scent of sweet and savory foods and the sound of joyful laughter washed over them at once, momentarily banishing the late autumn cold and dreary light from their path. Griffin couldn’t help but smile and feel light of heart, thinking that a few things in life were finally going his way. He even looked forward to playing
a real game of chase with Charley after dinner, and would happily forego a quarter or two of football to do so.
And he made a mental note to talk with Donna about her sudden change of heart, glad that she offered him a gesture of kindness, yet even more pleased that she had found a bit of happiness herself. For as much as he had been bothered, annoyed and put upon before and during that long, long car trip, he never once thought that other people might have their own problems to deal with, too. He promised himself that he’d try to make an honest effort to think that way from now on.
And as he walked down the front hallway to the kitchen, hearing his relatives’ cheerful voices and buoyant laughter growing louder, and smelling roasted turkey, herb dressing and fresh brewed coffee wafting through the air, and noting the first plays of an early football game being announced in the adjacent den, and realizing how it all gave him a warm, comforting feeling deep in his heart, it suddenly made any imagined prison in his mind relating to a family’s daily struggles and adventures one of the easiest to break out of because a key was usually there from a parent or a sibling just for the asking.
Griffin took a deep breath, delighting in the moment, yet oddly looking forward to the long ride home as well. Knowing his family, it was sure to be a memorable trip.
THE END
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story, the second of twelve planned books in the Griffin Ghostley adventure series. Next on my list of things to do is to outline Book #3, and then after a short break, I will begin writing it, hopefully starting by early summer at the latest. I already have the title and story idea swirling about in my mind.
I wish to thank my sister, Theresa, for previewing the book and cover elements, and again offering many helpful comments. And many thanks to you for your continued interest in this series!
Thomas J. Prestopnik
January 17, 2017
The Griffin Ghostley Adventure Series
Prisoner of the Giant Boona Bird (A Griffin Ghostley Adventure Book 2) Page 6