The Turtle Boy

CHAPTER FIVE

Shortly after Mr. Marshall made his feelings known about Timmy and his father, he sent Pete to summer camp.

Although the anger and hurt had settled like a stone in the pit of his belly, Timmy missed Pete and hoped Mr. Marshall would realize his cruelty and allow things to return to normal before Timmy found himself minus a friend. Summer was only just beginning and he didn’t relish the idea of trudging through it without his best buddy.

Early the next Saturday, he came home from riding his bike to find his parents grinning at him in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. It made his heart lurch; he couldn’t decide if it was a good or a bad thing.

“What?” he asked. They were sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, looking fresh and content. His mother was looping a strand of her hair around her finger, his father nodding slowly. They almost looked proud. As soon as Timmy’s eyes settled on the source of their amusement, he felt as if someone had forced his finger into a light socket.

Kim Barnes.

“What is she doing here?” he asked, pointing at the black-haired girl with the braces who stood in the hallway behind them. Her arms were crossed and she shifted from foot to foot as if no happier about where she had found herself than he.

His mother scowled. “Is that any way to talk to a lady? Kim’s sister and her friend have gone to camp too, so she has no one to play with for the whole summer. Isn’t that a nice coincidence?”

Timmy was appalled. “She’s a girl!”

“No flies on him,” said his father.

“But…she doesn’t even like me!”

“Now how do you know that? Have you ever asked her?”

“I know she doesn’t. She’s always making faces at me in school.”

Kim smiled. “I don’t mean anything by it.”

“You see,” his mother said. “You have to give a girl a chance.”

Timmy felt sick.

“I don’t have to play with you if you don’t want me to,” Kim said in a pitiful tone. Timmy felt an ounce of hope but knew his parents, who melted at the sound of her feigned sorrow, would vanquish it.

“Don’t be silly. Timmy would love to play with you, wouldn’t you, Timmy?”

He sighed and studied the scuffed toe of his sneakers. “I guess so.”

“Speak up, son.”

“I guess so,” he repeated, wondering how this summer could possibly get any worse.

His mother went to Kim. With maternal grace, she eased the girl into the kitchen. Timmy felt the color rise in his cheeks and looked away.

“Now see,” his mother said. “Why don’t you both go on outside in the sunshine and see what you can find to do. I bet you’ll get along just fine.”

I bet we won’t, Timmy thought, miserable. With a heavy sigh, he turned and opened the door.