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

to do grocery shopping and whatever other errands she did on Saturday mornings. Sam would be on his bike riding to work in a few minutes. And I would be helping Tommy clean the clubhouse. Our clubhouse, as he now called it.

Usually, I went with Mom on Saturday mornings. I liked to go grocery shopping. And I liked being with her. She worked so much our time together was limited. But the clubhouse fascinated me. I wanted to help clean it up and hang out there. I even put a few of my sketches in my bag, including the one of Mom that Tommy admired. I’d be honored to have it hanging next to his drawings.

My feet, encased in sturdy sneakers today, glided through the woods. Past the scraggly trees, used condoms, and empty beer cans to where the woods grew deeper and wider. The difference between the two areas of woods startled me. I imagined the houses on the other side of these woods were much nicer, too. Probably two stories with perfect white shutters and black paved driveways. Brightly colored hanging plants out front and a big swimming pool in the backyard. I used to live in one of those houses. Minus the swimming pool.

No worries. Houses didn’t matter in these woods. Nothing but trees and lush greenery were visible here. No rooftops, no people yelling, nothing. You couldn’t even see the train tracks this far back.

It was hard to believe I hadn’t found this place. But I never went this far into the woods. I’d just assumed it looked the same as the rest. I was wrong. This was another place entirely. I tramped on the soft, mossy ground. This was the green forest of my imagination. I was getting close to the clubhouse now. The soothing sounds of running water reached my ears, and I relished its melody. I didn’t think another sound existed as calming as water running over smooth rocks. In my mind’s eye I could see it cascading over the rocks’ bumpy surfaces, feel its coldness between my fingers, and taste its wet freshness on my lips.

I cast a quick glance at the clubhouse as I came upon it. The door hung ajar. I peeked inside, but no Tommy. I decided to wait for him. Besides, I wanted to get a closer look at the stream. I ambled down the slight hill to the rocky stream below. Upon inspection, it was more of a creek than a stream. The clear water ran lazily over the rocky bed beneath. I sank down on the emerald moss lining the bank. Untying my sneakers and tossing them to the side, I stretched out my toes, hot-pink nail polished, into the water. Not for long. The sun was warm, but the creek water cold. I snatched my feet back and just stared at its mesmerizing movements. Moving water always interested me. It drew me into its spell in a way. I loved its musical quality, the tone and pitch of cascading ripples moving with no particular destination in mind. In a way, you could say water was the original gypsy. No permanent home, just constant moving from one place to another. Maybe through rivers, lakes, and streams. Or evaporation and condensation. Always progressing.

A stick cracked behind me. I didn’t turn. I knew it was Tommy. I could sense it without looking to be sure. I felt his warmth when he sat next to me on the bank, his arm brushing against my own.

He ran his hand through his messy hair, getting it out of his eyes. His lips curled into a grin when his gaze settled on my feet. “Nice toenails.”

Chapter Six

I shoved him, and he toppled over, laughing. He snatched a clump of green moss and plopped it onto the top of his head.

“Check me out! Lord of the Moss. King of the Forest,” he shouted. He jumped up and grabbed a jagged stick that lay on the ground in front of him. “I am the Moss Master!”

Laughter spilled out of me. He looked ridiculous dancing around with a glob of moss on his head. I glanced down at the hot-pink nail polish on my toenails. Two could play that game.

“And I…” I plucked two graceful ferns from the ground beside me. “I am Queen Pink Toenail. The fairest of all the maidens in the forest.”

I placed the ferns on either side of my ponytail, secured with a silver band. The scratchy stems dug into my scalp, but I didn’t care. I was a queen!

“Oh, nice.” Tommy laughed. “Fern head.”

“Well, that’s better than moss head.”

“I guess so.” Tommy rolled his eyes. He fell onto the soft ground beside me, the moss dropping off his head with a delicate thump. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. His gray T-shirt held remnants of the dark earth lodged beneath the mass of moss. “I love this place,” he said quietly. “I had forgotten how much I love it here.”

I pulled the ferns from my hair. “I love it, too. What do you mean you’ve forgotten how much you love it here? Have you been away?”

Tommy’s eyes flashed open. He winked at me. “In a way I have. But I’m glad I’m here now. I’m glad I could show you this place.”

I nodded and unzipped my backpack. Retrieving the bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels from inside, I glanced at him. “We really need to clean up your clubhouse.”

“Right.”

Once inside, we tackled the cobwebs and scrubbed off the plastic table. We scoured the flowered lawn chair and dusted off the stack of comic books. We tried freshening the pillows, but they still stank.

“You didn’t get these at the dump, did you?” I held up the pillows.

“Yeah.”

“Ugh…gross. You’ve got to get rid of them,” I said. “Too disgusting.”

Tommy held