The Struggle Of Our Lives

Chapter 6, continued

Let's see what I can do, here.

After I placed the rocks under the wheels of the cart, I opened up the bag of supplies I bought from the CVS and took out one bottle of cold medicine.

I read the instructions on the side of the box, and opened it up. The instructions said to give 10 ml of the syrup every four hours. I looked at the time quickly on my phone, as to not kill my battery, and made a mental note to give him more at 8 p.m.

I poured the right amount into the little clear cup, and shook Teddy awake.

"Take this, it'll make you feel better." I said.

He didn't look happy about being woken up, but sat up to drink the medicine anyway.

"BLEH." He yelled, obviously disgusted.

I looked at the bottle, confused, and realized I accidentally bought the gross strawberry flavor.

Ew.

"Oh hunny, I'm so sorry, I meant to get the grape one." I apologized. I found it strange that even though they were half my age, they still preferred the same flavor of medicine as I did.

At first I thought it was weird, because John didn't care about the flavor, but I was the first kid to complain about the feeling strawberry medicines gave me as I drank it.

When the twins were born, and they needed to start taking medicines, they hated it. The only flavor we could give them and keep it down was when it was grape.

At the time, it made me feel a lot less special, as I was no longer the baby of the family with a special preference.

A year or so ago, I realized that it now made me happy, knowing I wasn't the only one.

"Why'd you do that, sissy?!" He continued, waking up Charlotte.

"What did she do?" she asked, utterly confused, and half awake.

"Stawberry!!" he cried. He was so upset, he babbled his words like he did when he was a baby.

Char gasped, and turned to me, completely betrayed.

I laughed and apologized repeatedly, hoping Char would quit acting like I just gave Teddy a lethal poison.

Eventually, they forgave me, and asked what we were doing in the forest.

"We're gonna make a fort!" I replied.

The two gasped and practically bounced with excitement in the cart. We laughed and I helped them out of the cart.

Ever since I was a kid, well, a younger kid, I loved the outdoors and making treehouses in the woods by my friend's house. Even in our circumstances, I couldn't wait to make a shelter for us.

Little did I know, in the years to come, building would become an obsession of mine.

"Alright, first order of business, let's look around for stuff people might've left behind. Like a shovel or a hammer?" I suggested.

The twins nodded excitedly and toddled off to find some useful litter.

"Don't go too far!" I yelled after them. "Remember, Marco Polo!"

They yelled an "ok" back, and I smiled, seeing them bond with each other. As twins, they were always together, always thinking the same thing.

It seemed like they could read each other's minds. They'd finish each other's sentences, wear matching clothes, style their hair the same, literally everything you could think of, they did.

I hope they never grow apart.

I turned around to examine my surroundings, letting my creativity guide me. There was a small cliff-like hill with some rocks against it. I thought about making a fort there.

I walked over to a fallen tree, and grabbed a
branch about as thick as my thighs were, and held it up near the base of the hill.

If i figured out a way to make walls, then a roof, there'd be enough space to stand upright, give or take a few inches.

I nodded to myself, looking for more branches of the same thickness. I found three more from the same dead tree, and set them on the ground.

My mind was racing, thinking of all the things I could do, what I could make our new home look like.

It'd have enough room inside for a large bed for the three of us, a small cooking area, and some space to move around.

I looked around again for more branches, and found four more, this time a tad skinner than the earlier four.

I looked around for something I could dig with, then remembering that the twins were out looking for tools.

"Marco?" I called out.

"Polo!" I heard Theodore call back.

They sounded to be a decent distance from me, not too far, but not close enough where I could see them.

I walked in the direction of where I heard the call, and called again.

"Marco?" I repeated.

"Polo!"

This time, they weren't as far, but still not within visible reach.

I kept walking until I heard them talking, and followed their voices.

I walked around a large tree, it's trunk being 5 times the size of me, and saw them talking with a pile of junk in fron of them.

"What'd you find?" I asked.

"This tiny shovel, a bucket, and this fat stick!" Charlotte responded.

They had found a rusty trowel, a tin bucket which I estimated could hold about 5 gallons, and a stick that looked like it could be used as a hefty mallet.

"Great job you guys!" I said. "Let's go back to camp!"

I picked up the bucket, and tossed the stick and the spade inside it. We retraced their steps, and found the cliff with the sticks I had gathered.

"Here's the plan guys," I started, setting the bucket down, taking out the trowel.

I used it to cut into the ground and draw a box coming out of the cliff.

"We'll dig holes here, here, here and here for the base." I stuck the shovel into the ground at the corners and in the middle, and twisting to make a circle where the branches would go.

It marked the corners, and where a little door would be.

This is going to be so much fun.