15 For 15 Entries ~ June 2010

Frogs ~ June 17

“How are we doing, Scottie?” Miss Bradshaw asked as she slowed her pace alongside the line of fourth graders shuffling off the bus.

Scottie scowled at her and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked. “Scottie’s a baby name,” he shot back. “My name’s Scott.” He relished the flush that crept up her stupid happy face. He was sick of her asking him how he was, doting on him like he was a kindergartener, or something. Yesterday was the first day he’d been back to school since the accident, and he thought the teachers would pick him up and rock him on their laps, if he’d let them. He figured today would be better because of the field trip, but he guessed now he’d been wrong.

Tyler Rampey, walking in front of him, looked back over his shoulder, but as soon as his eyes met Scottie’s, his head snapped forward. None of Scottie’s friends would look at him. It was like they were scared of him. What were they afraid of? Did they think talking to him would curse them, make their fathers die too?

Cindy Hamilton broke ranks and ran back from her place nearer the front of the line. As she fell into step next to him, Scottie felt his cheeks go red.

“Hi,” she said.

“What do you want?” Scottie scolded. His stomach twisted in knots as she slunk away. He watched the white part down the back of her pig-tailed head disappear inside the museum doors up ahead, and several moments later he was inside too.

The exotic amphibian exhibit would have been fun, if his dad were here. Dad was supposed to be chaperoning. His class followed the teachers along the glass cases on the left wall; Scottie wandered to the right. There in a case were two tree frogs, one large and one small, side-by-side, hanging on a branch.

“Hey Scottie! It’s great to see you, sport!”

Scottie swung his head around, looking for who spoke. No one was nearby, and the voice was spookily familiar. He leaned closer, his forehead grazing the glass, and stared at the larger frog. “Dad?” he said, his voice barely audible.

“I’m so sorry, sport. Really, really sorry.”

Scottie’s eyes grew big and round, then he narrowed them. “You left us,” Scottie whispered.

“I know. I don’t call the shots, bud. I wish it were different, but it isn’t. I love you though. And I know you can be strong. You’re the man in the family now.”

“I’m can’t be a man! I don’t have any experience!” The glass fogged up as he hissed the words. He wanted to punch the glass.

“You have some, now. And don’t worry. Remember when I bought you your first ball mitt? You couldn’t catch for shit.”

“Dad!”

“It’s okay, you’re a man now, remember. Listen, go easy on the people who want to help you through this. They’re trying. And another thing, look out for the jerk in the red cap. He’s up to no good.”

Scottie saw a man crossing the room, coming towards him. When he looked back, the small frog was gone. He stared at the big frog, and suddenly it said, “You’re okay, Scott.” But it was Scottie's own voice he heard.

“Hey, cool frogs, huh?” the guy in the cap said, sidling up.

“Fuck off,” Scott spat, and he walked off to find Cindy Hamilton.