A Story I Wrote. . .

A Friend of Mine
.
By Hailey Joy Scandrette

“Ella!” A loud shriek broke the quiet of my afternoon as I walked along the stream.
“Ella!” The voice echoed through the patch of woods where I stood, up from the edge of the town where stands our house. I knew it was my little sister calling me. I knew I should go help Mama make dinner. I knew, but I didn’t want to leave my sanctuary by the stream.
“Ella.” Now, I also knew that Annie, my nine-year-old sister, was right behind me.
“Ella! Your hem is covered in mud. Mama already has enough laundry to deal with! And-“
“What is it, Annie?” I asked, cutting her off.
“Mama wants you to help make dinner,” she stated primly.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Mama wants me to work on my embroidery. Come on, she’s been waiting for you for ages.” She had already started walking back toward our house, lifting her skirts delicately. I ran back to our house. Mama was waiting at the door.
“Eleanor Francis Lockwood!” she began. I knew it was coming. “How on earth did you get so filthy? Where have you been? Go wash up quick and help me. Dinner should’ve been ready half an hour ago,” and with a tremendous sigh, “Why can’t you be more lady-like?”
Two days passed before I could go back to my favorite little patch of forest by the stream. On Friday afternoon I seized my chance. Annie was visiting a friend. Margaret, my five-year-old sister, and my twin two-year-old brothers were napping. Mama was having tea with Auntie Francis. I crept out our back door and ran up into the woods.
Climbing my favorite tree, I looked down at a small path I’d worn by coming up here so often. I discovered this haven five years ago when I was eight. I came up here whenever I felt happy, unhappy, lonely, afraid, or just bored. It was a place all my own. At least, so I thought. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed a tall, dark-haired boy around my age meandering up my trail. His voice shook me from my reverie.
“Hey, you!” he called. “What on earth are you doing up there?”
I looked down at him, startled, and then said calmly, “I am climbing this tree.”
“Girls don’t climb trees!” he said incredulously.
“I’m a girl,” I said, hopping down, “and, as you see, I have just climbed that tree. So, obviously girls do climb trees.” I grinned at him and his lips twitched. “I am Ella Lockwood,” I said, curtseying clumsily. “What’s your name?”
“Nathaniel Martin,” he replied, “but most everyone calls me Nat.”
“Where do you live, Nat?”
“Over there,” he answered, pointing to our town. “We go to the same school, you know.”
“Oh, yes.” I recalled the scrawny boy who sat in the back of the classroom last spring. He’d grown nearly a head taller since then. “Well,” I said into the awkward silence. “Why did you come here?” I demanded abruptly. “Are there no other boys you could be playing with?”
“They’ve all moved this summer,” he stated forlornly, “to some new farming country or other.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling suddenly very sorry for him. I could tell he was even more lonely than I. “Hey!” I said, brightening up, “Why don’t I show you the salamanders, the squirrel’s hole or the owl’s nest? We could go wading in the creek or we could catch some grasshoppers.”
He looked up and smiled. “I’d like that,” he said happily.
At that moment, “Ella!” It was Margaret’s voice this time.
“Oh, no,” I breathed. “Sorry, Nat, Mama must want me for something. I’ll show you the owl’s nest tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” he sighed, “I’ll be here.”
“Bye,” I called over my shoulder as I tore back to my house.
I finished all my chores extra quickly the next morning. “Where are you going?” Mama called as I tore out the door.
“I’ll be back to help with dinner,” I yelled. Nat was waiting by my tree, his eyes sparkling and expectant.
“So,” he asked, “what first?” I showed him everything from the fuzzy grey owlets to the ripe blackberry patch and the smooth skipping stones.
“You know,” he said as we waded in the stream, “you are certainly the oddest girl I’ve ever met.”
“I know. Mama says I should be more lady like.” I laughed and splashed him.
“I disagree,” he said laughing and soaking wet.
“You do?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. Pretty soon I was soaked, too.
“We better stop,” I giggled. “Mama will be angry if I come home dripping wet.” We got out and dried ourselves best we could. The rest of the afternoon was one of the most wonderful I have yet spent. Although, one of my bootlaces broke while I was racing Nat to the tree. (I won.) One of my short blonde braids came undone while I climbed into the tree. My dress ripped in two places as I climbed down. (I hope to mend it before Mama sees.) And I stained my apron while eating juicy blackberries. I hoped to sneak into our back door and change quickly without Mama noticing.
“Bye, Nat,” I called, running home, “see you tomorrow.”
He waved, grinning. I pushed open the back door. Unfortunately, there sat Annie, playing dolls.
“Ella!” she yelled, “What did you—” I clapped my hand over her mouth, but too late.
“Eleanor!” It was Mama’s voice now. I looked up guiltily. Mama looked livid. The storming rants about my dirty clothes, my muddy face and hands, my twiggy hair, and the multiple rips and stains on my dress seemed to last forever. When it was over, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, except for church, for a week.
On Thursday night there was a knock on our front door. Papa was out to dinner, I was confined to my room, so Mama answered the door, “Hello,” said Mama
“Hello ma’am,” replied a polite voice. It was Nat. I listened. “Is Ella home?” When Mama said nothing he added, “She’s a friend of mine.”
A friend of mine. . . I had never been referred to as a friend of anybody’s before. None of the other girls ever wanted to be associated with me, fearing that their mothers would not approve. I had been the friendless oddball. I hadn’t really cared until I was about eleven and then how I had longed for a best friend, just like everyone else. I felt a warmth spread through me, Nat considered me his friend!
“Um” said Mama, “She’s busy right now.”
“Oh.” Said Nat I could hear the disappointment in his voice. “ Alright then. Good evening ma’am.
“Good evening”
I heard the door close. He’d gone.
“Mama,” I called “Why didn’t you invite him in?”
She was standing in the doorway to Annie and I’s bedroom.
“ I don’t want you playing with that boy anymore. He’s the one who gets you into all this trouble. Your dress would be clean and mended if it weren’t fore him! Besides it is improper.”
“I don’t see anything improper about it! And he didn’t get me into any trouble at all! None of this is his fault!” I yelled. Mama had already left shutting our door behind her.
I threw myself onto my bed. Mama thought everything was Nat’s fault, she’d never allow me into the forest alone again, she’d never even let me out side alone again! This was horrible. I fell asleep and woke again still thinking. I’d had a real friend for two days. Now I didn’t know if I’d be allowed to see him ever again! I had to do something! So, I did.
I climbed from my bed, scribbled a quick note to Nat, and listened. No one else was awake. I looked over at Annie’s bed. She didn’t stir. I crept down the stairs, out the door and out towards the trees. I began to run. I don’t know why. The situation seemed desperate. Any moment Annie could wake up to use the outhouse and realize that I was gone. I’d be in such trouble, but I had to contact Nat.
Suddenly, I lost my footing, tripped over the hem of my dress and, falling, hit my head on a tree branch. I tried to get up but everything went dark, even the stars, and I sank into a heap on the ground. I am told that Mama woke up at 5:00, realized I was gone and woke Papa at once. Papa gathered a search party, but they didn’t come to the forest.
Nat, however, hearing the news, did. It was him who woke me.
“Ella,” I heard as though from the opposite end of a tunnel. “Ella,” I heard my name louder this time. Nat was shaking me. “Ella, everyone is looking for you. Your family is in hysterics and you’ve been out cold for hours.”
“Nat?” I said, bewildered. Then it all came rushing back to me. “Oh, Nat,” I said, “Mama thinks that you—“
“Come on, Ella. Your Mama thinks that you’re dead. Can you walk?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, trying gingerly to stand up. “Ow!”
“You may have broken your ankle. Here, lean on my shoulder.” Clumsily, we made our way back to my house. Nat, still supporting me, knocked on the door.
My mother opened it and cried, “Ella, where have you been? What were you—oh, that doesn’t matter now. You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I whimpered. “I know I shouldn’t have.” We were in each other’s arms.
“Say no more about it,” she said, holding me at arms length. “Are you badly hurt?”
“Just my ankle. Nat said he thought it might be broken.”
Mama looked at Nat. “Oh, dear! Thank you so much! You found her, didn’t you. Dear me! How can I ever thank you enough?”
“We should get someone to look at her ankle, Ma’am,” he said awkwardly.
“Dear me, yes!” Mama said quickly, her face tear stained and relieved. While Nate ran to get the doctor, she propped me up in bed and very soon I fell asleep.
Months later, after all was healed and mended, my sisters would demand to hear the story over and over. One of these many times, I broke away and ran to the forest. There stood Nat under the very tree where we first met five months ago. So much has changed since then. Mama has decided that, in my own time and in my own way, I will eventually become a lady—a strong-willed, independent lady, but a lady nonetheless.
A slightly more spunky Annie can be seen frequently walking through the forest, though never wading in the creek. Nat has continued to grow, and I feel he will never stop. None of his old friends has moved back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And I have a friend. As we walk up the stream, laughing and talking and splashing, I realize just how lucky I am.

The End