The Tracks by Sally Royer-Derr (little readers TXT) 📕

we were getting close to the honeysuckle again. Its sweetness surrounded me. A trickle of sweat ran down my forehead. I raised my hand to wipe it as I reached the fence. Just a moment before Tommy.

“Beat you!” I said breathlessly.

“Aww…I let you win,” he teased.

“Sure. That’s what all the losers say.”

“Okay. You won. You ran pretty fast. For a girl.”

“That’s an odd compliment. I don’t care. I’ll take it anyway,” I said. “That must be my winning spirit.”

“Oh, man.” Tommy shook his head. He walked over to the grassy area near the Millers’ white fence and sat. Stretching his long, jean-clad legs, he yawned.

“Tired?” I plopped down across from him. Leaning my backpack against the fence, I used it like a pillow to lie on.

“Yeah, I’m kind of used to it.”

“What? Being tired. You sick or something?”

“Nah. I just don’t sleep that much. Always noisy at my house at night.”

“I know what you mean. My brother always has his music turned up too loud. Mom and I are always yelling at him to turn it down or put his earplugs in. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. It’s just me.”

I picked up a blade of grass and flicked it at him. He grasped his chest and made a gagging face.

“You got me! I’m shot!” He moved his head around in a circular motion. “And now I will surely die.” He dropped his head and sat silently.

“Funny,” I said, without laughing. Although a smirk tickled at the corners of my mouth.

He still lay silently. I poked him in the arm. His eyes flew open.

“Fooled you, didn’t I?” he joked. His dark-blue eyes twinkled. “You thought you killed me with that lethal blade of grass.”

“Hardly.” I looked at him. “I’m not an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed. He stared at me for a moment. “You have unusual eyes.”

“Unusual in what way?”

“Well, yesterday I was certain you had brown eyes. But now they seem green.”

“My eyes are hazel. Sometimes they are brown, other times more greenish. I think it has something to do with the light I’m in. Or even what I’m wearing,” I said. “If I’m wearing a green shirt, my eyes look greener than usual.”

“Hmmm…that’s interesting.” Tommy nodded. “I guess I’ve never known anyone with hazel eyes.”

“I’ve always wanted to have blue eyes,” I said. “Like yours. Not that many people have blue eyes. They’re unique.”

“Not really. Everyone in my family has blue eyes.”

“Both your mom and dad have blue eyes?”

“Mom does. I don’t know about my dad. I never met him.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. I had friends whose parents had divorced, and they only saw their dads on weekends. I didn’t know anyone who’d never met their father.

“Yeah.” He balled up a wad of grass and threw it in the air. The pieces showered over his blond head. “It kind of sucks.”

“That would suck.” I nodded. I wanted to ask more questions, but I didn’t want to seem pushy. Instead, I leaned on my backpack, and we sat together in a comfortable silence. It didn’t feel awkward at all. I didn’t think either of us felt like talking at the moment.

Chapter Four

Tommy and I met every day that week. And the next week. And the next. Our schedule was minimal. Sometimes we’d just sit together. It didn’t feel odd to either of us. We had one of those unusual friendships in which silence was okay. Normally I’d feel pressured to fill silent gaps with babble about this or that. But not with Tommy. We could sit still in the grass staring at the blue outstretched sky without saying a word. It comforted me just knowing he was there for some reason.

But we did talk. A lot. About everything. I didn’t think there was a subject Tommy Tucker didn’t have an opinion about in one form or another. Sports, he hated them. Books, he loved them. Girls, he loved some and hated others. One thing he avoided talking about was his family. No mention of them since the day he’d told me he’d never met his dad. Not one word. I hadn’t asked, though. I was kind of scared to ask.

May blossomed all around us. Wild violets and sunshine-yellow dandelions covered the banks beside the tracks. Soft, lush grass grew alongside the Millers’ freshly painted white fence. I guess they’d gotten sick of the dull white-gray color and decided to invest in some new paint. They even did the barn, now a bright-red jewel among alfalfa and corn fields.

Temperatures rose so much that I wore my cutoffs today. I changed when I got home from school because we weren’t allowed to wear shorts that short. They had to be knee-length to be school appropriate. Knee-length! Those weren’t shorts. Only two more weeks left of school. I was counting the minutes.

I scurried through the woods, my backpack thumping softly against my bare arms. I’d brought some sodas and a sleeve of saltine crackers for us today. I’d started to wonder if Tommy was even poorer than we were. He was so skinny and always had on the same clothes. Gray T-shirt and frayed jeans. I’d asked him about it once. He’d just shrugged and said that’s all he had. They couldn’t be the same clothes everyday anyway. He didn’t smell. I even got extra close a few times to give him a good sniff. He smelled kind of sweet. Sort of like apples.

So, I imagined his closet with nothing in it but gray T-shirts and frayed jeans. I guessed it was possible. Maybe guys didn’t care about clothes as long as it was comfortable. My brother, Sam, certainly harbored no such care. Ripped jeans and various rock band T-shirts filled his closet. And he did smell sometimes. He