short stories

Max

Max and I were always best friends. Some people fought with their siblings, pulled each other's hair, and stole each other's stuff; Max and I never did any of that. He was six years younger than me when I was eleven, and he most certainly acted like a stereotypical seven year-old. He was always hyper, curious, and was constantly itching to find something new to do; and because of this, he was in trouble with my parents a lot. There were times my old neighbors found him wandering in the middle of the night, trying to meet up with the nocturnal mammals and such. Mom hollered at him and told him he'd get kidnapped, but Max said he didn't care as long as they offered him chocolate.

We moved to Raleigh, North Carolina a month after my twelfth birthday. We settled in a small, beautiful house on the side of a mountain. Everywhere we went was overrun with trees. Mom and Dad loved it- but Max and I loved it even more.

Behind the toolshed, there was a lengthy ditch hidden by oak trees and berry bushes. We discovered it one afternoon when Max threw out baseball too far and it rolled down the little hill down into the stream. It became our place. We spent our every moment there. I can remember it clear as day- the water flowed from three different places, each sprouting from an invisible place in the bushes. The water wasn't deep, but since Max was so short, it almost reached his knees. The most fascinating part of our secret place, though, was the fallen tree. It had likely fallen from the hill leading up to our backyard, and it created a log bridge across the stream. The wood was bug infested and rotting, but that didn't stop us from climbing on it.

"Becca, Becca!" Max yelled excitedly from the edge of the stream, leaping up and down on the stones as he waited for me to climb down the hill. I looked through the leaves at him and saw him holding a toy airplane. It took me a moment to realize it was the exact one he'd been begging to get for years.

My eyes got big. "Is that-?" Max cut me off before I could finish, grinning ecstatically.

"Yes! I was talking about it yesterday, remember?"

"I remember. That's so cool..."

Max adored his new toy. It never left his grasp for more than a minute. He showed it to our parents, the neighbors, and even some of his friends from school. He told them forest spirits had heard him asking for the airplane and granted his wish. He was convinced that the forest was magical.

The next few days after this coincidence were particularly normal- Max and I waded in the stream, caught frogs, and told stories on the rocks. Since Max's birthday was coming up, the only thing that came out of his mouth were the names of all the things he dreamed of getting. I didn't have a choice but to listen and take notes; I had to be the good sister and get him everything he ever wished for with the little money I had to myself. I told myself I would, at least. I knew I didn't have the money to buy him a video game console or a dog, but I was too stubborn to let myself believe it.

"I know Mommy and Daddy won't get me my own TV," Max said as he attempted to skip rocks across the stream. "It's a lot of money and my room's little."

"TV's aren't that big, Max," I told him. "Mom and Dad have one in their room."

"You think it'd fit?"

"Maybe. You don't even play inside that much, anyway, so why would you want one?"

"All my friends have them."

'All my friends' was something I'd been hearing from Max often ever since he started school. His buddies in Virginia had the same financial status as us, but in North Carolina, the kids were either filthy rich or awfully poor. He must have known all the rich kids.