Gil's foot slipped on the rock's treacherous moss covering, throwing off his balance. With the agility and ease possessed only by young'uns, he regained his footing, and focused his attention back on his chase. Catching the slimy little amphibian was turning out to be a more difficult quest than he had anticipated, and the frog's unwillingness to simply capitulate and be caught was certainly not helping the situation.
Gil hopped, and the frog dove into the waterway. His smile widened, and he jumped into the stream right after it. He'd been getting tired of hopping on rocks anyways, so he appreciated the frog's change of pace. He ran haphazardly through the water, his jumping splashes trailing just behind the frog's leaping ripples. So it continued, the pair rounding the bend of the brook, and the chase went on.
Grant sat in his chair on the porch, as he often did. He stroked the stubble on his chin, took his pipe from his lips. He gestured vaguely at the brook, and began to tell a story to his wife, Carla, as he did when he sat in his chair on the porch. "I don't understand Gil. Him bein' my godson doesn't afford me no special understandin', either. Remember that terrible winter awhile back? The winter of ' was that, 2 years ago? Well, no winter would stop Gil from being, well, Gil-- he'd stay outside for hours and hours upon end, he'd come in at dusk looking like a human ice- pop."
"After 2 weeks of this, I took it upon myself to help keep 'im warm, as his mother's efforts had no visible effect: he's a kid, what'd she expect? For him to heed her advice? So, I found this nice hat, one of those leather and wool ones, like they have up north. Next time I see 'im, I plop it down on his head, and tell 'im not to take it off. He just gave me that odd look, y'know? So, I nodded, and left 'im to his devices. He didn't wear that hat all winter."
"Then, a good week after the last snow of the season, he suddenly decides that it's a good time to wear that darned hat. Now, it's impossible to get him to take it off. Every day this summer, I see him and say, 'You don't have any sense, you know that? It's summer; take that thing off.' Then he gives me that same ol' look for a moment. Before I can say anything else, he giggles and runs off, those flaps bouncin' off his ears."
Carla smiled and handed him a glass of lemonade. He graciously accepted and gulped it down.
Meanwhile, Gil had lost his quarry. He looked around; it was nowhere in sight. "'ey Gil! Over 'ere!" Gill looked over there, and saw Jackson's youthful frame seated on their favorite rusted, old pile of junk. It was an ancient pick-up truck, at one point ensnared by nature's tendrils, and now engulfed by the furnishings of Gil and Jackson- the furnishings of childhood and friendship.
It was Gil's idea, mostly. In fact, when he first found the roughened antique, it was in the same manner that he had just arrived, however, his prey was a dragonfly, rather than a small amphibian. He'd desired a tree house for quite a while, yet his plans had never come about, so when he found the old wreck, he had no question about its destined purpose.
He waved goodbye to the missing frog and hurried over to Jackson. Dew flicked off the grass and onto his legs; he was oblivious. He climbed up onto the bed of the truck and plopped down on an old cushion. A blast of air accompanied his movements, toppling Jackson's card castle in progress. Jackson glared at him, Gil giggled. Jackson smiled, shrugged, and construction began again.
"This is great, eh, Gil?" He nodded excitedly in response and looked around their temporary quarters. He soon found what he was searching for, a smallish sized marble out of a bag of many. He tossed it from one hand to another, waiting for Jackson to finish. Jackson placed the last card, looked to Gil, and nodded. He carefully planted the marble at the top of the cards, and lightly flicked it. It raced down the rickety fabrication, flying towards the edge of the truck. It flew off the edge, the entire structure collapsing into a cloud of cards behind it. With a clink, it landed on the ground in a pile of marbles that had previously been launched in a similar fashion.
Small, green, toy soldiers observed them from the top of the truck's cabin, protecting them from any monsters that lurked about. There was a rustle at the edge of the clearing. The soldiers stiffened; the rustle continued and attracted the gaze of the two companions. Jackson grabbed a handful of marbles, Gil hastily set up their emergency barricade.
Jackson tossed some marbles. They bounced off the wet grass, almost reaching the edge of the clearing. There was a swift movement just beyond the bushes; they tensed. Gil leapt out of their fortress before he could stop him. Jackson groaned and jumped after him, marbles in hand. He wanted to stop him, to save him from the monsters, but Gil had that look, that look that somehow he knew exactly what was going on.
Gil let out a bark. And, much to Jackson's surprise, the bushes barked back. A German Shepard pup bounded out of the bushes, and into Gil's open arms, and despite his small size, knocked him over. "Copper!" Jackson shouted in glee. The pup yelped back.
Gil had found Copper a while back, shortly after he found their truck. When he found him, he was lying on the spare cushion in the truck's cabin. Gil's parents wouldn't let him keep him, but that didn't stop Gil in the slightest. Copper lived in the truck, brought a daily supply of food by Gil and Jackson; on alternate days, to make sure their parents didn't get too suspicious.
Today was Gil's turn. And so, came the dilemma: Jackson's parents were having a big "Adults-Only" barbeque-- which normally wouldn't be problem, considering it wasn't even his turn-however, Gil's parents had hired a baby- sitter, Betsy Patton, to stay with Gil's younger sister, and he wasn't going to be able to just go up to her and request the meal he needed. You see, Gil and Jackson didn't get just any snacks for Copper, they got a very odd assortment of meats and leftovers, which their parents, when they noticed, just attributed to their age, but no right-minded baby-sitter would permit a child under her care to have. They could have acquiesced and accepted a less gourmet meal for the day, but Gil wasn't one to give up that easily.
So, they decided, it would have to be a covert operation, of the sort boys are so fond of imagining and participating in. The back door of Gil's house opened right in the kitchen, so getting in wouldn't be a problem. However, Betsy had always struck Gil as the type of person who would leave the child and sneak a few cookies, and nothing short of often. Gil knew where the food was, so that left Jackson to distract Betsy.
Luckily, they knew Betsy's weakness, because they knew the true reason that she babysat for Gil's parents. She could have done it for the money, it certainly paid well, but that wasn't it. And she didn't do it for her love of Gil or his sister, for she had a much better reason, which only the shrewdest of babysitters paid much thought to. She did it for the fringe benefits. Well, benefit, really, because only one mattered to her. Not too long before, around the time that Gil had received his hat, his father had purchased a color TV.
Now, they weren't the only family on the block with a TV, but Gil's father figured that if you were "gonna' get something, you might as well get the darned best there is," as he would say, in response to the protests of Gil's mother. The result being that they were the first family with a color TV in all of Clearwater. It wasn't a major accomplishment, only around 350 people resided there, but it made it a much bigger deal. They had just gotten it last weekend, and they were obviously more elevated in the community than ever before.
Compounding the majesty of their TV, and creating the possibility of the pair's plan, was the roof-bound antenna through which the set received its superior signal. And so, with the sun high in the air, the party well under way, and Copper's meal time fast approaching, they began.
Gil ran across the yard, pressing his back flat against the rear of his house, intent on avoiding detection. He peered through the window at the top of the backdoor; through the kitchen, in the living room, Betsy was seated in front of the TV, as expected, and Gil's sister was having her afternoon nap on the sofa. Gil whistled two short notes, the signal for Jackson to begin his part of the operation.
Jackson was on the side of the house, and he had a large number of small rocks with him. As soon as he heard Gil's whistle, he threw the first one at the antenna, probingly. They were big enough to interfere with the reception, but not big enough to do any real damage. If he was careful. He glanced towards the back of the house and continued throwing, awaiting the next signal.
Out back, Gil was keeping an eye on Betsy, who was starting to notice the effects of Jackson's stone barrage. He saw her try to adjust the TV itself, then look out the window, notice something was amiss, and head out the front door in a fit. He let out another whistle, the second signal. He heard the last of Jackson's rocks roll off the roof as he ceased fire. He opened the back door and hurried into the kitchen. He was short on time.
Betsy rounded the corner of the house, coming upon Jackson miming throwing rocks at a nearby tree. "Were you jus' tossin' rocks at the antenna?" Betsy asked, her annoyance quite apparent in her tone.
"Nothing doin', miss! I was just practicing my baseball arm," Jackson paused to demonstrate his pitch before finishing,"see?"
"I see it fine. But I'd rather be enjoying the television than watching you throw rocks at a stupid tree, so do it somewhere else. You're making. air currents, or something, and the reception is on the fritz. So, shoo." Betsy tried to sound authoritative, but came off as whiny, and she knew it. She fixed Jackson with an angry stare, and he shrugged. She threw her hands up in the air and started to go back inside the house.
However, Jackson threw another rock, this time at the tree, and Betsy saw it, out of the corner of her eye. It hit the tree, hard and loud, and a few leaves fluttered to the ground. It couldn't have been more attention grabbing, and Jackson swelled with pride at completing the objective so perfectly. Betsy spun to face him, yelling, dragging him back to the task at hand, "Darnit, Jackson, I saw you this time! ' Bandstand' is on, and you're fouling it up. Cut it out, or I'm calling your parents."
It was a bluff. Jackson's parents were more than occupied with their hosting duties, both Betsy and Jackson knew it. Now, he also knew the plan, that he had to stick to it, and that Betsy would think he was a fool if he didn't call her bluff. He didn't have nothing for Betsy, certainly not, she was the enemy. He just didn't want any lady thinking him a fool. Betsy was known for her prettiness, and as Jackson stood there, looking at her look at him, he couldn't deny that she was pretty. He had tried to explain that to Gil when they were concocting the plan, but he would have nothing of it. So, Jackson was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was doomed.
In the end, however, it was probably his indecision that saved Gil, for Betsy would remain there until he made his choice. Gil needed every extra second he could get, because his mother had been to the store just prior to setting out the barbeque, resulting in a veritable wall of groceries blocking the Tupperware that contained the leftovers. Gil hadn't anticipated having to dig through so much food, and glancing into the living room to make sure he was still in the clear, he began piling the sundry food items on the counter.
The plan had only afforded him 30 seconds, and he didn't think he was going to make it. His palms were sweaty, and the counter was running out of room, but he could see the Tupperware, so he pushed on. The tower of food on the counter leaned perilously close to falling, but maintained its balance. Gil moved a loaf of bread and grasped the leftovers.
The tower leaned again, causing Gil to nearly fumble his grip on Copper's meal as he reached to halt its tumble. He rushed to refill the refrigerator with unparalleled speed- it'd been more than 30 seconds and since Betsy wasn't back vegetating in front of the tube, Gil knew something must have gone wrong. He was thankful for her absence, but he hurriedly shoved the milk jug onto the shelf and shut the refrigerator.
The backdoor slammed with a rattle as Gil rushed through it. He deposited the leftovers on the stoop before rushing to Jackson's aid. He'd been standing there, at a loss, for nearly twenty seconds, and Betsy ended up thinking him a fool anyways. "Gil! Tell your friend Jackson, here, that even though he might have forgotten how to speak, I haven't, and that I will tell his parents if he messes up Bandstand again." Gil nodded, and Betsy headed back into the house, satisfied.
As the two boys walked towards the back of the house to retrieve their goods, Gil tapped Jackson and pointed to his wrist with a quizzical look on his face. Jackson knew he was wondering what the delay had been, but he didn't want to tell him. Gil picked up the Tupperware, and the boys began the trek to the truck. He pointed to his wrist again, more urgently. Jackson sighed and gave up, "Gil, I..I think..I'm..in..in love." Gil stopped cold in his tracks. His eyes widened like saucers as he looked at his friend in disbelief.
"I don't know how it happened!" Jackson said, trying to defend himself. Gil continued to stare at him before smacking his own forehead and sullenly shaking his head. He sighed and continued walking, leaving Jackson standing there, watching him walk away. "Oh, come on, Gil! Don't be mad at me! I can't help it! She's just so. amazing!" Gil stopped again, turning his head to spear Jackson with a disbelieving, almost disgusted, look.
He tersely shook his head, making sure Jackson knew he didn't approve, and continued on to the pickup. Jackson sighed in defeat and walked quicker to catch of with his friend. He tried to explain, but Gil cut him off with an incredulous glance. He couldn't believe that his closest friend had fallen for the enemy! A twig snapped under his foot. He thought that if anyone would have been able to resist the deviousness of girls, it would have been Jackson. He looked over to him again and walked faster, hoping that Copper hadn't fallen in love while they were gone.
They stepped into the clearing where Copper was eagerly awaiting them, tail wagging energetically. Gil opened the Tupperware, placed it in front of the puppy, and sat next to Jackson, who had taken a seat on the back of the truck. As they watched the German Shepard ravenously devour its meal, a feeling of pride, accomplishment, and happiness swelled in them both. Copper looked up at them, catsup on the end of his nose, and they laughed. As he giggled, Gil realized that he would do anything to save his mate from the perils of romance, but that right then, all that really mattered, was being with his best friend and their dog, and no girl could ever change that.
Gil looked at Jackson and smiled wider than ever.