They call me the Prairie Spy. When mom and dad get to fighting, I run out into that field as fast as I can. I like to crouch down in the tall grass and witness the world. You’d be surprised how much you can learn just sitting out in a big field. When I’m on the side by the big oak tree, that’s when I get to study the ants, the birds, the grasshoppers, and the occasional prairie dog. When I’m out by the mailbox, I watch all the cars and trucks go by.
Those drivers, they don’t even know I’m watching them. Mrs. Peters speeds by in her Sentra, and she’s always on the phone or putting on makeup. Old man Macoun rolls by in his F-150, and he often has a finger in his nose. Every time my dad used to catch me with my finger in my nose, he’d say, “digging for gold in there?” Then the family would laugh at me. Now, my dad doesn’t even notice when I’m on the couch next to him. I don’t even like basketball, but I watch basketball because Dad does.
Crap. Here comes Pixie. She’s always following me out here. I try to tell her I want to be left alone, but she doesn’t listen. I swear she just sits by her bedroom window, waiting for me.
“Hey Tommy,” she says as she runs up to me.
“What do you want, Pixie?”
“Do you want to play marbles? Momma just got me some real pretty ones from the thrift store in town. You can’t have the glitter one, though. That’s mine.”
“Marbles? What do think this is, the 1930s? I have an X-Box – why the hell would I wanna play marbles?”
Damn, I did it again. I made her cry. She cries so easy, though. Still, I didn’t mean to make her cry, but she could be so ridiculous sometimes. Girls. Brad says I’ll look at them differently one day. I don’t look forward to that day. Really, all I want to do is be out in this field by myself and watch how the world conducts itself. It’s an amazing world. For example, did you know grasshoppers have ears on their bellies? Once, I found an almost-dead grasshopper by the fence post and I examined him like a coroner. He spit this brown stuff and had these little vibrating points on his stomach. He died right there in my hand. I ran into the house and started studying grasshoppers on the internet. That’s how I learned about the belly ears.
Pixie doesn’t care about stuff like that. She just wants to play with her little plastic ponies all day. She talked me into doing that once, and I made her promise not to tell anyone at school that I agreed to that. Secretly, it was pretty fun. We made this fort for the ponies out of things we found in her yard. Her mom’s a sculptor, so we found all kinds of cool ceramic pieces and whatnot. Pixie doesn’t even know how lucky she is to have a mom like that. Pixie tells me that I’m the lucky one because I still have both of my parents, but then I tell her that it’s better to have one parent who loves you than two who don’t give a damn.
“Okay, Pixie. If you stop crying, I’ll play marbles with you.”
“Really?” She says, wiping her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess.”
When we get close to her house, I smell warm bread. Her mom hollers at us to come inside and she gives us a slice of fresh-baked bread iced with butter, and a big mug of warm cider with a cinnamon stick. It makes me feel weird. I mean, the bread and cider taste like the most delicious thing I’ve ever had, and Pixie’s mom looks so full of love and joy, dancing in the kitchen to The Kinks and kissing Pixie on the head. To a normal kid, this would be a happy scene. But, it’s so opposite what my house feels like that it makes me want to cry. Have you ever been so happy and sad at the same time? It seems to be happening to me a lot lately.
I guess I have a weird expression on my face because Pixie’s mom comes and sits next to me.
“Tommy, would you like to come to the Pumpkin Patch with us this afternoon? I hear they are giving away some delicious hot cocoa – the kind with little marshmallows.”
“That sounds great, Ms. Arlet.”
“Super! Let’s go ask your parents, then, shall we?”
“No, they won’t mind. They probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“I know your parents are having some problems, but they still love you, Tommy. You have to remember that.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe they did love me. But, if someone doesn’t make you feel loved, then the love might as well not even be there. It’s like the grasshopper. One moment he was trying to stay alive, and the next moment it was just this lifeless body in my hand. I could actually feel it happening – feel when there was no more grasshopper. So, I know what to look for. I know that a love that doesn’t fight for survival is no love at all.
Those drivers, they don’t even know I’m watching them. Mrs. Peters speeds by in her Sentra, and she’s always on the phone or putting on makeup. Old man Macoun rolls by in his F-150, and he often has a finger in his nose. Every time my dad used to catch me with my finger in my nose, he’d say, “digging for gold in there?” Then the family would laugh at me. Now, my dad doesn’t even notice when I’m on the couch next to him. I don’t even like basketball, but I watch basketball because Dad does.
Crap. Here comes Pixie. She’s always following me out here. I try to tell her I want to be left alone, but she doesn’t listen. I swear she just sits by her bedroom window, waiting for me.
“Hey Tommy,” she says as she runs up to me.
“What do you want, Pixie?”
“Do you want to play marbles? Momma just got me some real pretty ones from the thrift store in town. You can’t have the glitter one, though. That’s mine.”
“Marbles? What do think this is, the 1930s? I have an X-Box – why the hell would I wanna play marbles?”
Damn, I did it again. I made her cry. She cries so easy, though. Still, I didn’t mean to make her cry, but she could be so ridiculous sometimes. Girls. Brad says I’ll look at them differently one day. I don’t look forward to that day. Really, all I want to do is be out in this field by myself and watch how the world conducts itself. It’s an amazing world. For example, did you know grasshoppers have ears on their bellies? Once, I found an almost-dead grasshopper by the fence post and I examined him like a coroner. He spit this brown stuff and had these little vibrating points on his stomach. He died right there in my hand. I ran into the house and started studying grasshoppers on the internet. That’s how I learned about the belly ears.
Pixie doesn’t care about stuff like that. She just wants to play with her little plastic ponies all day. She talked me into doing that once, and I made her promise not to tell anyone at school that I agreed to that. Secretly, it was pretty fun. We made this fort for the ponies out of things we found in her yard. Her mom’s a sculptor, so we found all kinds of cool ceramic pieces and whatnot. Pixie doesn’t even know how lucky she is to have a mom like that. Pixie tells me that I’m the lucky one because I still have both of my parents, but then I tell her that it’s better to have one parent who loves you than two who don’t give a damn.
“Okay, Pixie. If you stop crying, I’ll play marbles with you.”
“Really?” She says, wiping her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess.”
When we get close to her house, I smell warm bread. Her mom hollers at us to come inside and she gives us a slice of fresh-baked bread iced with butter, and a big mug of warm cider with a cinnamon stick. It makes me feel weird. I mean, the bread and cider taste like the most delicious thing I’ve ever had, and Pixie’s mom looks so full of love and joy, dancing in the kitchen to The Kinks and kissing Pixie on the head. To a normal kid, this would be a happy scene. But, it’s so opposite what my house feels like that it makes me want to cry. Have you ever been so happy and sad at the same time? It seems to be happening to me a lot lately.
I guess I have a weird expression on my face because Pixie’s mom comes and sits next to me.
“Tommy, would you like to come to the Pumpkin Patch with us this afternoon? I hear they are giving away some delicious hot cocoa – the kind with little marshmallows.”
“That sounds great, Ms. Arlet.”
“Super! Let’s go ask your parents, then, shall we?”
“No, they won’t mind. They probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“I know your parents are having some problems, but they still love you, Tommy. You have to remember that.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe they did love me. But, if someone doesn’t make you feel loved, then the love might as well not even be there. It’s like the grasshopper. One moment he was trying to stay alive, and the next moment it was just this lifeless body in my hand. I could actually feel it happening – feel when there was no more grasshopper. So, I know what to look for. I know that a love that doesn’t fight for survival is no love at all.