Some vines shuddered and the movement continued to the right. There was the sound of leaves shaking and light snapping sounds.
“What should we do?” Peter whispered.
“Let’s go take a look,” Dill answered.
“What, and burn down the garden again?”
“Dude, I came prepared this time.”
Dill pulled out two small, keychain-sized flashlights from his shorts pocket.
Peter looked at the offered flashlight, then out at the garden. The rustling started again, then stopped.
“I don’t know…my grandfather said not to come out here.”
Dill smirked. “You do everything your grandfather tells you to?”
“Well – ”
“You’re down here, aren’t you? So no, you don’t do everything he tells you to. Come on, don’t wuss out now. It’s probably a raccoon. Raccoons are cool.”
“What if it’s a hobo?”
“You and me, we can take him.”
“I thought you said we could only beat up a sixteen year-old.”
Dill thought for a second. “All we have to do is kick him, then we’ll run away.”
“What makes you so brave? Last time you got scared to death and burned down the garden, right?”
Dill slapped Peter on the shoulder. “Yeah, but now I got you to go with me.”
Peter hesitated.
Beets and peas. 9:45 bedtimes. Two weeks of lost vacation.
He relented and grabbed the flashlight. “All right.”
“Yeaaaaaaahhhh.” Dill grinned and headed into the garden.
Peter snapped on the tiny little flashlight, which gave off a beam that was barely any better for seeing than the moon. He sighed and followed Dill into the garden.
The dirt was soft and gave way beneath Peter’s feet. Low-lying plants – cucumbers? Zucchinis? – brushed against his legs as the boys moved through the rows. Coming up were the tomato plants, which twirled high above Peter on six-foot stakes.
Up ahead, Dill crouched over and disappeared into the tangle of vines. His flashlight bobbed behind the tomato plants like a glowing fairy from a storybook.
Peter looked over his shoulder, back to the safety of the giant house with its dim lights showing through the windows. Then he peered forward into the darkness and twisted ropes of green.
He took a deep breath and plunged on through.
It was a jungle in there. A fresh, green, pungent smell filled his nose. The plants crinkled against his body, occasionally tugging against his jeans or shirt. The little flashlight illuminated only the closest vines to him, no more than a foot or two away.
In less than a minute he had reached the corn stalks. He paused and whispered, “Dill?”
Dill answered from somewhere off to the right. “What?”
“You in the corn?”
“Yeah. Come on in.”
Peter pushed into the giant green plants. It was even harder to see now – the big leaves slapped his face and towered so high above him that they blocked out any light from the moon or stars. It was just Peter, the dim beam from the flashlight, and the shhh shhh shhh of the corn all around him.
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Copyright © 2008 Darren Pillsbury. All rights reserved.
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