Eager Beaver

Chapter Twenty-Nine - One of the Kindies

The sun had finally fallen and with the storm clouds even the moonlight wasn't around to shine. It was eerily dark on the porch. Zach was sitting on the deck supporting himself against the wall of the workshop, just below the dirty window. He'd managed to stop crying, but he was still hyperventilating, shoulders rising quickly up and down and haggard wheezes escaping from his lips.

"Zach?" I asked him and approached, my exposed toes curling from the cold as I stepped carefully onto the slippery porch. "You okay?"

"No." He croaked. It sounded like his nose was all stuffed up. It probably was. His hair was still damp from the cold rain, and he'd been crying. "They." He tried to start and used his cub polo sleeve to try and wipe away his tears, smearing mud across his face. "They aren't going to let me near you guys after this." He sobbed. "I got us lost and no one knows where we are! You're all so little."

I sat down beside him and took hold of his hand. I wanted to tell him that I was actually the oldest and most likely one to get in trouble. At the very least, us getting lost was both of our fault. Still however, I couldn't quite bring myself to tell him the whole truth. He wouldn't believe me anyway. I gave his hand a squeeze and managed to muster a tiny whisper. "I'm in Grade Five too."

Zach squeezed back, his breathing seeming to calm a little. "I know." He told me, but he was shivering with fear. "You're my only friend Cooper." His fingers squeezed tighter to mine as lightning flashed through the dark rolling clouds above us - illuminating our faces for a brief moment.

"That's not true." I tried to comfort him, though I really had no way of proving it.

"Nate hates me." Zach snapped back. "So do Brad and Val and the rest of the class!"

I wanted to refute him, but he wouldn't let me get a word in edgeways. He was venting for what seemed like the very first time, his green eyes brimming with bitter tears as he released all of his bottled up anguish. "No one likes me! No one wants to be friends with me!" He went on, working himself up until he couldn't hold back the tears anymore and he was crying again. "The only people who hang out with me are Laurie's Beaver friends!" He concluded with an ashamed wince.

"Zach, I'm your friend! We have class together!" I offered helplessly, though I felt like I was only making things worse. If only Zach knew the truth. I could look after him. I could take care of him. I was a year older after all. But I'd dug in too deep. He'd never believe me, and if he did, it would only make him feel more ashamed.

Zach reached over and pulled me into a hug, at this point it was getting hard to tell which one of us had fallen into the mud. "They will pick a new Keeo!" He sobbed.

I squeezed him back with all the strength I had left. Indulgently his strong reassuring embrace felt nice after everything that had happened, though the thought of taking pleasure in it made me feel a little guilty. He was the one who needed reassurance now, not me. I couldn't keep collapsing under the slightest pressure like a frightened little boy. I needed to be a big kid. "We'll still be friends." I told him confidently. "No matter what."

He didn't say anything, but just kept squeezing me tight. We sat there in silence for a long time, listening to the sound of the rain pelting on the workshop's metal roof.

After a while, I felt the gentle vibrations of footsteps walking onto the porch. I wiggled out of Zach's grip, looking up to see Alex leaning against the wall beside us. I wondered how long she had been standing there. I hadn't heard the door open. Zach looked just as surprised as I was, breathing in sharply at the sight of her. "D..did you hear?" he asked in a quivering voice, cringing from embarrassment.

Alex didn't answer but gave a gruff grunt, shaking the rain out of her shaggy orange hair like a disgruntled dog. "You're the only Keeo for the Kindies, even if you did smash my Dad's workbench." she finally spat out, though she was still wearing a cryptic frown.