Barbra Hesson

Gregor the Overlander

By Suzanne Collins

Book one in the Underland Chronicles

When eleven year old Gregor follows his little sister through a grate in the laundry room of his New York apartment they hurtle into the dark Underland beneath the city where humans live beside giant spiders, cockroaches, bats and rats.

When Gregor tries to find a way home he is trapped by the evil rats, but rescued by the humans who fly on their bats.

Gregor finds out that there is a growing conflict between the creatures, especially the rats and humans. He is shown a prophecy, which foretells a role for him in saving the Underworld.

He also learns that his father who disappeared two years ago is in the Underland and also part of the prophecy.  To save his father, he must fulfill a quest with his two year-old-sister, two Underland humans, two bats, two roaches, two spiders and one rat.

The story is face paced, and the dialogue is interesting.  The Underlanders speak a kind of broken English.

At 308 pages it’s a little intimidating, however it is an easy read with lots of action and strange creatures on every page.

Would be good for Grade 4 to Grade 6.  A good Grade three reader may enjoy it as well.  Good for both boys and girls as there are two central characters.

Teaches many lessons about acceptance in life, equality, hope and doing the right thing.

I really enjoyed this!

Overusing Words

Well-chosen adverbs works good in a story, but beware of using too many in a row.  Usually because of the “-ly” ending, it creates a sing-song, clickety clack effect that draws attention to itself.

Also many are unnecessary because they’re already denoted by the verbs they modify.  How else do you slam down a phone but forcefully, or jump to your feet quickly etc.  Why repeat what the action has already told us.  Take them out.

Remember words that aren’t working for you are against you.

Repetitious Words or Phrases

Watch that you are not using one word all the time within a small section of writing.  Writers often have a favorite word that they use and don’t realize it.  For example:

little, huge, there, shiver, cried, etc.  This is harder to fix and I don’t worry about it when I am writing my first draft.  The important thing then is to get your thoughts down.  I know that I have used the same word to describe something five times but I also know that I can come back later and change it.  That is where the Thesaurus becomes invaluable.

Less is more

Consider the difference between: “Ron felt tears falling from his eyes,” and “Ron wept.”

“You’re no longer going to be working here,” and “You’re fired.”

“The place turned out to be a Laundromat,” and “The place was a Laundromat.”

“She launched herself forward at him,” and “She jumped at him.”

“He raised himself from the chair and came to stand by the bar,” and “He rose from the chair and stood by the bar.”

One of the hardest parts of story writing can be the beginning.

Think about what you do when you introduce two friends.  Ideally you tell each who the other is, where they live and work/go to school and you may mention something that is interesting about each one that could spark a connection between them.

An effective opening in a story usually does two things:

1.  Introduces us to the main character and the situation he or she is in, (the main conflict in the story.)

2.  It gets us interested in the story

It is as short as possible so the reader can get on with the action.  Effective openings must create suspense and make the reader want to read on.

The best way to get a feel for how this can be done is to READ a lot of good stories.  Which ones got you hooked right away and how did they do it? Which ones left you yawning and not wanting to finish? Why?

If nothing happens until page 50, look to see if  you can begin the story there.

Simply take away everything that isn’t the story ( you may have to add some stuff later.)

Look for BIG blocks of stuff that are not necessary. I’m talking about whole scenes or sections of scenes, entire characters (often minor ones), rambling dialogue, anything that doesn’t move the story forward or have any impact later  in the story.

One of the reasons I find this hard to do is because sometimes I think I have written something absolutely brilliant and I don’t want to get rid of it.

But you must ask yourself does this reveal anything about the main characters, does something happen later because of this? If your answer is no, then take it out but keep it for something else. Sometimes I get a new story idea from something I have scrapped previously.

When submitting articles to a magazine or a contest there is always a word maximum. I can honestly say every time my story has been over the word count and I’ve  had to eliminate words, I’ve  always felt I ended up with a better story. One that  moved faster, and flowed better.

Adding what’s essential

Remember it’s not the reader’s job to fill in the blanks, that’s the writer’s job. It’s  the writer’s story and the writer’s characters. What a reader wants to do is read something that allows him to use his imagination as he wanders through streets in Paris or the land of another planet.

Watch for too many scenes in which characters never talk. Direct dialogue is always more dynamic than a whole page of inner thoughts or strictly narrative information. There is a time for character thoughts when we want to portray personality, (but you don’t  need every single bit of dialogue.)

Look at your scenes with this in mind:

Do my characters need to talk more? Do more? Think more? Be described more? Live in a more vivid scene?

There are some some words that are simply space fillers, like the “uhs,” “wells,” and “you knows,” in conversation. These words seem innocent enough but are often very unnecessary. Watch for:

about,   exactly,  simply

actually, finally, somehow

almost, here, somewhat

almost like, just, somewhat like

already, just then, sort of

appears, kind of, suddenly

approximately, nearly, then

basically, now, there

close to, practically, truly

even, really, utterly

eventually, seems

How do these weasel words work? Consider the following paragraph:

The man was there in the bushes, waiting. When Joan was just three feet away, he kind of tensed, then leaped out and grabbed her. Joan struggled, but it seemed he was just too strong for her, and finally they fell down. She actually screamed, and even scratched his face.

All the bold words aren’t necessary. They create mushy prose. Take them out and see how much more dynamic the writing becomes.

The magic of a computer makes this an easy editing job. In most programs just go to edit, and then find. Type in your word and the computer will take you to the first one. Read your sentence and evaluate whether that word is “really” needed.

Some words and phrases are unnecessary. It is one of the most common mistakes a writer makes and once you realize it, you can spot it and fix it easily. For example:

She looked up at the ceiling. (You don’t look down at a ceiling)

A small frown appeared on her face. (Where else do frowns appear?}

He squinted his eyes. (With what else do you squint?}

She shrugged her shoulders. (With what else do you shrug?}

The child nodded her head. (With what else do you nod?}

After he pulled up the chair he sat down on the seat. (Where else?}

He held the bird in his hand. (Unless he’s holding it with something like tongs, he’s probably using his hand)

An unknown stranger appeared at the door. (Are there any known strangers?}

Their voices echoed back and forth. (That’s what an echo does.}

When he was alone he muttered to himself. (Who else is there?}

“Come into my parlor,” the spider whispered in a soft voice. (Whispers are soft)

That’s right, she thought to herself. (Who else do you think to?}

The horseman disappeared from sight. (How else?}

A black and white penguin trundled across the snow. (Aren’t they all black and white?}

“I’m through with you!” Joyce yelled. ” You are -”

“Don’t say that,” Kevin interrupted. (We’ve just seen him interrupt, why tell us too?}

The police officer put his key in the drivers side door, opened the door and sat behind the wheel. He put the key in the ignition and turned on the lights. He put the car in drive and pressing on the gas pedal the moved the car forward out of the parking lot. (Simplify this. What do we already know has to happen before you do something? What do we really need?}

Crop Circles

From Wikipedia:

Crop circles are patterns created by the flattening of crops such as wheat, barley, rapeseed (also called “canola”), rye, corn, linseed and soy.

The term was first used by researcher Colin Andrews to describe simple circles he was researching. Although since 1990 the circles have evolved into complex geometries, the term “circle” has stuck. Various hypotheses have been offered to explain their formation, ranging from the naturalistic to the paranormal.

Naturalistic explanations include man-made hoaxes or geological anomalies, while paranormal explanations include formation by UFOs. Many circles are known to be man-made,^[6][7][8] such as those created by Doug Bower, Dave Chorley, and John Lundberg,^[9] and a 2000 study into circle hoaxing concluded that 80 percent of UK circles were totally man-made.^[6]

Bower and Chorley were awarded an Ig Nobel Prize in 1992 for their crop circle hoaxing.

Mrs. Mitchell even gave us a nice surprise.  She said that tomorrow Cathy would be allowed to bring her rabbit to class for the whole month and students who received happy faces on their weekly performance sheets would be allowed to take it home for the weekend, if their parents approved.

Mrs. Mitchell explained that each day of the week we would receive either a smiley face or a frowning face, depending on how we behaved in class that day.  It turned out harder than I thought NOT to get a frowning face.

Happy faces?  Didn’t we get those in Grade 2?  I think Mrs. Mitchell was living in the dark ages.  Oh well, I decided the best thing to do was nod and pretend like everything was wonderful.

Lucy got one for giggling during science and Mark got one for coughing too loud while Mrs. Mitchell was reading to us.  I didn’t think anyone would end up with five smiling faces by the end of the week.

Mrs. Mitchell went on to tell us all about rabbits. Rabbits are herbivores.  That means they only eat plants.  They like hay and dried grass and they especially like carrots, celery, lettuce and apples.  They also need something to chew on like a piece of log, so they can keep their teeth trimmed down.

The cage had to be cleaned out everyday and we were supposed to wear rubber gloves.  All the soiled paper and hay had to be removed and then we would spray disinfectant in the cage and wipe it down.  It didn’t sound all that fun after all.  But at least we would be able to hold the rabbit when we took it out.

“Always wash your hands after petting, holding, or cleaning” Mrs. Mitchell went on.  “Don’t ever kiss the rabbit, or tease him and never ever hit him”

All I could think about was Gabe and how easy it was probably going to be to look after an angel dog. So far it was more like he was looking after me.  I guess that was his job.

If I had a real dog, of course I never would, but if I did, I would have to brush him and feed him, take him for walks and clean up after him, but I could also wrestle with him and teach him tricks that I could show other people.

I guess I was smiling too much, thinking about Gabe, because all of a sudden I heard my name.

“And what is so funny Trevor?  Am I boring you?   Do you know everything there is to know on rabbits?  Do you think cleaning out a rabbit cage is funny?”

“No Ma’am” I blurted out in surprise. “I was just…” But how could I tell her what I was thinking.

“Well I guess you have just volunteered to be the first one to clean out the cage.  Now, everyone get out your Math.  We will have a pop quiz!”

Some kids groaned and got frowning faces.

The rest of the day was quiet, until last period, Language Learning.  Mrs. Mitchell was reading us a book called “The Indian In the Cupboard,” finally something good.  I had read the book, and seen the movie.

As she read to us she walked up and down each aisle. When she got near my desk, I noticed that Gabe’s tail was sticking out from underneath.  I wasn’t sure if she would be able to feel his tail when she walked by, or if her foot would slide through it. I didn’t want to take any chances.  But the more I tried to grab it, and move it, the more he wagged it up and down.

When she reached my desk she stopped and read a couple of sentences. She started to walk again.  I closed my eyes and scrunched up my shoulders.

Well I guess Gabe can only be invisible in certain ways. She stepped forward and her foot caught his tail. Mrs. Mitchell screamed in surprise as she lost her balance and began hopping forward.

She flung her book across the room and it hit the whiteboard with a thunk.  She started to fall to the right and then leaned to the left, placing her foot in the paper-recycling basket.  Mrs. Mitchell then pulled the basket off her foot and landed on her bottom. The basket flew over our heads and papers snowed down around us.

A few kids snorted behind their hands, but most of us kept quiet.

Groaning she slowly stood, smoothed out her skirt, and ran her hands over her head, patting down the stray hairs.  As the room started to hum with exited whispers the final bell rang.

“Class dismissed,” her voice cracked as she flopped into her chair like a limp rag.

At supper Dad told us all about his new job and how great it was to be working in a small town.  I have to admit, it was good to have Dad home for supper.  He hardly ever made it home on time in the city, and we usually ended up eating without him.

“So Trevor, how was your first day?” he asked, as he tickled Tara in her high chair.

Tara squirmed and giggled.  She looked down, pointed and said “doggy” and threw some bread at Gabe.

“What the heck has gotten into her?  Why is she saying doggy?” Dad looked at mom, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know John, it’s a new word she has learned and I guess she likes it.  Maybe she heard it on TV or something”

“Dad,” I said.  I had to interrupt him; he WAS talking to me first.

“You won’t believe this, but school was great.  Well sort of great, well, not if you count Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Mitchell, my new teacher.  She’s really old and she’s real mean.”

I wanted to tell Dad how awful she was, but he looked so happy that I skipped it.  When I offered to do the dishes after supper Mom and Dad both felt my head to see if I was still sick.

It felt good to be helping out, and after all I had made a promise to be better. Besides Gabe did most of the work, licking off the plates before I put them in the dishwasher.  He even dragged the garbage bag outside after I bundled it all up for him.

The next morning Gabe ran behind the school bus again.  I think it was for the best now that I knew how much trouble his tail could cause.  He didn’t make it to school in time for the bell, but I wasn’t worried.

Cathy brought her rabbit and everyone gathered around. It was in a wire cage, with a high, blue plastic floor. Paper and wood shavings were scattered on the bottom, and a long glass water bottle, with a spout, hung upside down attached to one of the wire sides.

Beside a chewed and bumpy log sat the rabbit munching on a piece of apple.  He didn’t look scared at all, even though everyone was peering in on him.  He was white with long black ears.  Tiny thin whiskers poked out from beside a little twitching nose and black spots were splattered all over his body.

When Mrs. Mitchell came in we all ran back to our desks so we wouldn’t get any frowning faces.  It would be cool to take him home.

I took my lunch out of my knapsack and crammed it into my desk. I put away my spelling notebook, and shoved my summer essay way to the back.

But where was my Math homework?  My hands started to shake.  This was definitely going to earn me a frowning face and who knows what else.  Leslie said Mrs. Mitchell went crazy when someone forgot their homework.

I must have looked pretty scared because when I glanced over at Leslie, she shrugged her shoulders and mouthed “what?”

“I forgot my homework.”

Math wasn’t until third period so I was going to have to sweat it out for the next hour and a half.

Leslie was still staring at me with that, “Oh no, poor you,” kind of look, when I saw Gabe over her shoulder.  He was standing a few feet from the window.  Then I got the most brilliant idea.

I could get Gabe to go back home and get my homework.  The problem was how to tell him.

Mrs. Mitchell would never let me go out to the washroom.   I thought about it for a while.  Maybe if I coughed loud enough she would let me go get a drink.  Then I could run outside and talk to Gabe.

Coughing was not such an easy thing to fake.  I covered my mouth and let out a little annoying “a-hemm”.   I put my heart into it.  By the time Mrs. Mitchell spoke to me, I really did have a sore throat and needed a drink.

“I’m sorry Trevor,” was her response when I asked her, “but we just got into the classroom.  You may however, open a window and get some fresh air.”

I coughed my way over to the window realizing this was my chance.  If Gabe was right there I could whisper to him.

“Get homework,” was all I said as quietly as possible, hoping that he understood and that the window would still be open when he got back.  Otherwise how was he going to get it inside?  Come to think of it, how was he going to get in our house?

When I woke up I noticed Mom had laid out my new school clothes. My stomach was doing flips, everything was wrong.

My brand new jeans should have been washed first. They had too much of a crease down the front.  The blue and white striped shirt beside them had a yellow collar.  I hate collars, especially yellow ones!

My knapsack hung from the back of my chair, looking clean and flat. At least she didn’t get me some dumb cartoon bag.  A pack of pencils, and a pack of pens, and new colored notebooks were stacked beside them. One thing I did like was the look and feel of a notebook when it was new. No scribbles or smudges, and no work piled into it.

Mom wanted to walk me to the bus stop, but I talked her out of it.  I have been walking to school on my own for years, and besides I had Gabe.

I walked slowly kicking at stones, and talking to Gabe every now and then. I was careful. I only talked to him when no one was around.  Bruce had caught me once and I didn’t want that to happen again.

The air was a little cooler and though I hated to say good-bye to summer, I loved the feeling of fall.

A strong breeze messed with my hair. Yellow leaves hit my face as they twirled in the wind.  I tried to catch some of them. Gabe did the same.  Chomping and jumping at any that floated by his mouth.

There was no one my age at the bus stop.  Some moms were holding onto their children’s hands. Some were busy buttoning coats and zipping up jackets. The little kids compared knapsacks, and ran circles around their moms.  I leaned on a nearby bench and tried to look cool.  Gabe sat beside me sniffing the air.

The big yellow bus, half a block away, chugged down the street, ugly black smoke spilled from behind.  The children jumped up and down pointing at it, as they shoved to be the first in line.

One of the moms found her way to the front of the line and made sure that the kids stayed safely back.  At the sound of the screeching brakes everyone became quiet.  Some of them looked at their mothers with big scared eyes. The mothers’ smiled and patted little hands, bending down to talk with them eye to eye.

I went to the end of the line, with Gabe behind me. I placed my foot up onto the first step, and Gabe backed up. All the kids and the bus driver looked at me.  I couldn’t call out his name or anything, so I just got on.  As I walked down the narrow aisle I could see him through the back window, sitting on the curb.

The bus was packed, and with familiar faces, but not necessarily friendly ones.  It boiled down to sitting by Bruce or Leslie. I picked Leslie.  She kept trying to talk to me but I kept looking behind me out the window.  I saw Gabe following but he was going to have to run the whole way to make it to school at the same time I did.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Trevor.  I was so scared when you fell in.  I don’t know what it is with Bruce, but he always has to have someone to pick on” Leslie rambled on.

“You see that boy two seats down with the red hair and glasses.  Well that’s Grant McCabe, and he was Bruce’s last victim before you.”

“Well, I must be Grant McCabe’s best friend.”  I tried to joke, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t wait to start Grade Seven,” she said.  “So what teacher do you want?  I know who I don’t want; the worst teacher in the school.  Oh ya, I guess you wouldn’t know about her, being new and all,”

I wished she would stop talking. I started to get sweaty. I twisted the strap to my knapsack so tightly around my fingers that they tingled. The smell of leather and mothballs from inside the bus made my stomach roll.

“I guess it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just glad we only have three days to start with.” I said peering out the window. There was Gabe, running his heart out.

“Oh it will matter all right, especially if you get Mrs. Mitchell.  She’s so strict you can’t even sneeze in her class without permission.  And she gives out a ton of homework.  And don’t ever come to school without it or she will have a total fit.  Boy I hope I don’t get her.”

“Ya, me too” I replied. Like I said, I wasn’t brilliant at conversation.

When we arrived at school I was anxious to see how Gabe was doing but he was nowhere in sight.  Bruce came right up behind me and slid my knapsack strap off my shoulder. It fell to the ground before I could catch it and some of my pencils rolled out.

“That Bruce is such a jerk!” Leslie said as she picked them up for me.

My face felt as red as Grant McCabe’s hair, who happened to be passing by when Bruce spooked me.  Grant had a huge smile on his face.

We lined up at the Grade Seven doors and waited for the teachers to come out and call our names.  Still no Gabe in sight.

When the teachers finally arrived everyone stopped talking..  The last teacher out was Mrs. Mitchell and sure enough, I was in the final group of kids.  When she called my name, the only good thing I could think of was that Bruce was not in my class.  But Leslie was and funny thing but she didn’t seem to mind getting Mrs. Mitchell after all.

Mrs. Mitchell was a short wide woman. I would guess about 100 years old give or take a few years.  She wasn’t smiling and she reminded me of my Grandma the way she wore her sweater over her shoulders. A little chain was attached to two clasps, which was pinched to each side of her sweater. Her hair was half-brown and half-gray and very curly. It looked as though she had stuck her finger in an electric socket, and her lipstick was definitely too bright.

Once inside the classroom she said, ” okay class settle down and take a seat, anywhere.”

Everyone scrambled like ants after a crumb.  The back seats were filled up first and those who weren’t quick enough, had to sit in the front.  Luckily I remembered this routine from my old school and managed to get a desk third from the front, in the last row by the door.  I smiled to myself and turned to see Leslie in the row beside me.  She was fast for a girl.

Mrs. Mitchell got down to the rules right off the bat.  No chewing gum.  No talking without raising your hand. No bathroom breaks until the bell.  No note passing. No, No, No!  She expected us all to act like little ladies and gentlemen.  She handed out workbooks and gave us our first assignment.  We had to write a two-page essay on the most extraordinary thing that happened to us this summer.

As I was wondering what in the heck I was going to write, I saw Gabe standing outside our classroom window.  His tongue was hanging out and slobber fell off the end of it like slimy string.  How on earth could I write about a guardian angel dog?

When the recess bell rang I raced out into the schoolyard. I couldn’t wait to see Gabe and tell him all about Mrs. Mitchell. I searched everywhere but I couldn’t find him. Maybe the bell scared him away.  My heart bounced around in my chest thinking that perhaps he was gone for good.

I climbed the ladder to the top of the wooden fort with the slide, hoping the view from the top would help.  The only thing I could see was Bruce and he was coming this way. I squatted down and peeked out of one of the window openings. I guess his radar was turned on again because he came straight at me. As Bruce started to climb up, I saw Gabe come around the corner.

“Gabe, you’re here!” I said forgetting about Bruce.

“Hey squirt, my name isn’t Gabe and you know it.  Are you trying to make fun of me or something?  I think I will come up there and show you how to FLY this time,” Bruce put one foot up on the first rung.

I swallowed hard; pretty sure I was going to end up with a few broken bones this time.  I could have run, or tried to get away, but for some reason I froze.

Gabe circled the ladder, and looked up.   He came close to Bruce and sniffed him and let out a low rumbling growl.  He lunged as Bruce’s other foot left the ground.  He didn’t catch his foot, but he did manage to lock on to a piece of loose thread on Bruce’s sweater.

Bruce climbed up slowly, threatening me and laughing all the way, not noticing that his sweater had begun to unravel.  The higher he climbed the shorter his sweater got.

When Bruce finally looked down Gabe decided to take this game one step further. He ran towards the fence with that piece of thread in his mouth, shrinking Bruce’s sweater smaller and smaller.

Bruce’s screamed and everyone gathered around us.

When Gabe stopped, Bruce’s sweater was up to his armpits, and even worse, he had a T-shirt on underneath with teddy bears.

Bruce began to yell at everyone, not making any sense. He got down and threw the rest of his sweater over his head, onto the ground, and ran for school.

The bell rang and there was Bruce in the line up for his class, wearing his shirt inside out.

Gabe walked beside me and came right into the school.  When I got to my desk he sat underneath it and placed his head on the floor.  It was turned out to be a good day after all

Our house was not only within walking distance of a lake but we also had a huge forest in behind it.  There were walking paths all through it, and I found one that led to an old fort some kid had made into a clubhouse.  The boards were soft and moldy, and some were missing and there were rusty nails sticking out everywhere, but I figured I could fix it up; get some new lumber; maybe find a piece of rug, and a lock for the door.  I could do it and it would be great, I knew that.  But I also knew I would need some friends for it to be a real clubhouse. I pushed that thought away and concentrated on Gabe.

Gabe followed me as we snooped around the fort and explored the forest.  When we came to a clearing I found a stick.  I waved it above his nose and he went crazy barking and jumping around.  He brought it back every time I threw it, getting just as excited as the first time.

My arm was getting sore so I decided to chuck it as far as I could to keep him occupied for a while as I caught my breath.  I brought it back and flung it forward with a grunt.   It flew high into the air and landed right in between two branches.

“Sorry boy, I guess that’s it for today.”

I sat down and expected Gabe to come and nudge me for more, but he didn’t.  He started to run toward the tree and that’s when it happened.

My mouth dropped to the ground as I saw him leap.  Huge white wings spread out from his shoulders and he flapped once, twice, and on the third he reached the branch, grabbed the stick and floated gently to the ground.

“Whoo hoo, Gabe.  That was awesome!”  I touched his wings folded tightly to his side, and I felt my eyes trying to leak.  It was weird.  I wasn’t sad; I guess it just hit me.  That he was no ordinary dog.

“Awesome,” I whispered as he dropped the stick at my side and lay down beside me.   I reached down and ran my fingers through his thick fur. He turned on his back and showed off his soft pink-skinned tummy.  It was warm and smooth.

I lay down beside him and gave and gave him a playful push and he rolled back over.  Before I knew what was happening he placed his front paws on my chest and was soaking my face with his tongue. We wrestled around for a while until I was laughing so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. I had to tell him “enough.”

I lay back down and Gabe rested his head on my stomach. Every time I took a breath his head moved up and down, his eyes always watching me. I think we both let out a sigh at the same time.

“You are some kind of dog, you know that.”

“Hey goofy, who ya talking to?  That bump on your head must have really screwed up that little pea brain of yours.”

That deep rough voice, that mean way of making someone feel small; I knew it was Bruce.  Where did he come from? Did he have some kind of radar on me?

Gabe sat up, and moved back, his ears flat against his head.

“Don’t worry Gabe, I won’t let him hurt you,” I whispered.

“Get away from me Bruce.  You could have killed me you know, you jerk.” I shouted at him as I stood up.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Bruce snorted, “as a matter of fact you should be thanking me for helping you to learn how to swim.”

“Ya, right. I sure learned how to swim. If it hadn’t have been for…” I glanced at Gabe, but Bruce didn’t follow my gaze.

I realized that Bruce could not see Gabe. What could I say, “a dog with wings dragged me out of the water?”

“Hadn’t been for what, that snotty little girlfriend of yours?  I was running home to tell my Dad. He would have come to save you.  He’s a top athlete you know.  I’m in training too; he kind of helps me out. I bet I could beat you at anything.”

Doesn’t this guy ever give up?

“Let’s have a race,” he said and gave me a shove.

“Who cares about some dumb stupid race?  I got better things to do with my time.”  I didn’t, but doing anything that involved Bruce, win or loose, seemed like a waste of time.

“Come on you wussy, you gonna let one little bump on the head stop you?” He shoved me again.

Gabe growled, but Bruce heard nothing.   I knew the only way to get rid of Bruce was to do the race.  I didn’t even care if I won. I just wanted him to leave us alone.

“Okay, Bruuucie, let’s do it.”

“To that tree at the end of the clearing and back” he said.

“Whatever.”

At the count of three I took off.   However, Bruce took off at the count of two and a half.  He had a head start and I knew this race was all over before it began. My heart was pumping loudly in my chest and my breathing was short and quick, but after a few minutes it evened out.

As I rounded the tree, I caught up to him. He gave a loud grunt and tried to pull away, but his foot slipped on the grass.  Gabe was with us all the way, and he was so close to my heels I was scared I was going to step on him.

We had fifty feet to go when Bruce turned around and yelled. “Told ya, you wussy, you don’t have what it takes.”

I saw his eyes widen. The smile melted from his face when he saw how close I was.

Gabe pulled out in front of me and headed straight for Bruce. With a soaring dive Gabe’s teeth caught a piece of Bruce’s back pocket. I saw Bruce jerk back and look behind him, his eyebrows scrunched low.  He pumped his arms harder as Gabe put on the brakes.

“What’s going on?”  Again he turned.

With a loud rip his pants and his pocket said good-bye to one another and he somersaulted to the ground.

“Yes!” I ran all the way to the finish and pumped my arm.

Bruce got to one knee and looked behind him to the right, to the left.  He stood up and spun around.  Staggering towards me he shook his head and frowned and for once didn’t have a smart thing to say.

I could see a huge hole down the back seat of his pants, where his pocket had been.

“Who’s the baby now? Better go fix your pants baby; I think you soiled your underwear.  I pointed and laughed so hard I cried.

“Good boy Gabe, good boy” I said as we stood and watched Bruce run for home, trying to hold his pants together.

As the day wore on I felt bad about what happened until I thought about the next day.  It was the first day of school.  School was Bruce.