A CHANGE OF PLANS
Trevor slipped on shorts and a T-shirt. As he started down the stairs, the phone rang and his mom answered it from the living room.
Quietly he slipped out the kitchen door and hurried over to the log. It still looked like a broken tree limb. He nudged it with his foot and the leaves quivered giving him a glimpse of the broach. He tugged on it, but the pin was still stuck tight.
Amber said to get it out of the light. There were shady spots in the yard, but by afternoon they would be in the sun. He couldn’t keep dragging it around the yard. Why couldn’t he just take it back and dump it in the river? He wished he had asked her that.
The only solution was his room, but he’d have to get it past his mother. She’d never let him carry a dirty tree limb through the house. He opened the kitchen door and looked inside. His mom was still on the phone in the living room with her back to him, looking out the front window.
Easing the door open with his shoulder, he picked up the branch and squeezed through. The door slipped off his back and banged shut as he dashed for the stairs. He heard his mom hang up. He tripped and caught himself with the railing. The branch slapped against him and pain shot down his leg. He hobbled up the last two stairs and fell into his room.
“Trevor!”
“Yes, Mom?”
“There are leaves and dirt all over the stairs. What are you doing? Come down here right now and clean this up.”
“Coming.” He pushed the branch under the bed and dropped the blanket down to cover it.
“Now, Trevor!”
He wiped his hands on his shorts and bounded down the stairs. His mother was standing at the bottom with hands on her hips.
“There’s blood on your leg. You haven’t even had breakfast.”
He looked down and saw a smudge of dirt and a trickle of red.
She ran water on a paper towel. “What have you been doing?” she asked as she dabbed at his leg.
“Ow!” he said. “Let me do that.”
“With those dirty hands? I think not.”
He winced as she put on the antibiotic and slapped on a bandaid. “There. I think you’ll live.” She handed him a broom and picked up her keys. “I’m going to run a couple errands. I won’t be long. Get this cleaned up and have a bowl of cereal before I get back.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.
As the car pulled out the driveway, Trevor knelt by his bed and lifted the blanket. It still looked like a branch. He brushed away a dust ball that hung from a leaf and a spider ran across his finger and disappeared under the branch. How many other creepers were now hiding under his bed?
An uneasy feeling occurred to him that the sprite was laughing at him. Could they really make a ship look like a log? And why would the sprites have ships anyway. They could fly. Why would they need ships?
He pulled the branch part way out. Extending one finger, he poked through the leaves. His finger passed through the peeling bark. Instead of rough wood, he felt small bumps. They seemed to be boxes and barrels and were tied with string. It didn’t feel sticky like a spider web. He pulled on it and it snapped. There was soft thump and a sound like a marble rolling. It bumped up against his finger and he picked it up.
It was a wooden barrel. The fall had loosened the lid and light was coming through the crack. His fingers were too big and clumsy to get it open. He grabbed a plastic triceratops and used its horn to pop open the lid.
Light burst out like he had turned on a flashlight. Inside were small odd shaped beads. He shook some out in his hand, and they lay glowing on his palm. Most of them were white. A few were pale yellow, and ghostly green. One was a cold blue. They were like the stone he had picked up in the woods.
Quickly he dumped them back in the barrel and tapped down the lid. His hand tingled and he hoped they weren’t radioactive. At least he wasn’t shrinking. He hoped nothing worse would happen to him.
He put the barrel back. It was creepy to watch it disappear as it passed through the peeling bark. What other cargo was on the ship? If he really shrank tonight, he could explore it. He felt a twinge. He was supposed to meet Electrum and Silverthorn in the woods tonight. Could he really trust them? Maybe he should explore the ship first.
He pushed a toy fire engine up to the log and extended the ladder. It lodged firm on one of the twigs.
He heard his mom’s car in the driveway and jumped up. The mess in the kitchen, he thought and dropped the bedspread down.
Backing down the steps he gave each one a halfhearted wipe with a paper towel. The car door slammed. He scooped up the pile of dirt and ran to the wastebasket. A quick rinse got most of the dirt off his hands.
There was a thump and his mom called, “Help with the door, Trevor. I have my hands full.”
He wiped his hands on his shorts and pulled the door open.
“Here,” she said and handed him a couple bags. “I got more than I planned.” She looked at the floor and shook her head. “You call this clean? It looks like you just smeared the dirt around.” She sighed. “There’s Moose Tracks ice cream. How about we have some before we mop the floor?”
A Sprinkling of Thought Dust Page 28