He rubbed his dirty and tear-streaked face and marched home to a certain doom. A doom, which to him meant staying in the cluttered and dusty front yard and listening to the screams of the other children in the fairy-demon land of the woods across the field. No more running-tag in the meadow with undiscovered friends, and sweet treats from the candy-store at the crossroads. No more talking with jolly old Mr. Tumbleton, who had a real neet basement where he could explore and discover “stuff” from way back in the days of Marco Polo, and Eric the Red and all those guys.
How do you tell your Mom that you lost the brand-new wrist watch that your Uncle gave you that very morning, while we were all waving good-bye and good-luck. No! There’s no possible way. He laid himself down in a clump of dandelions and got to thinking.
“I’ll just have to walk up to her and say”, “Mom, I….” Nope! I just can’t break it to her. I’ll say, “Mom! A mean old hermit jumped me in the woods and took off with it…” or maybe “Mom I had to trade it for my life! when a bald man with a gun told to me to “Hand it over! or he’d shoot me!”
Mom’d probably rather have the wrist-watch anyhow; than a “dirty urchin.” That’s what she calls me, “A dirty urchant!”. Boy, she really knows how to hurt a guy. No! No! I just won’t go home tonight. Ya! and she’ll be so happy to see me again, she’ll forget about the crumby-old watch anyhow!
Na! it’s too cold outside in the night-time. I’ll just have to wait out here ’til it’s late and sneak in. I’ll get up real early and jump on the 6 o’clock train. I guess I’ll just ride on and on, forever! Yup! That’s what I’ll do ’cause that way nobody will get hurt. Not Mom. Not Dad. ‘Specially not me. Maybe I can get Jerry to go with me. He’ll come! I know he will ’cause we’re blood-brothers ’til the end!
He wandered across the meadow and backed-trailed through the woods, but his friend was no-where to be found. Still calling for Jerry, he made his way across the meadow until he was in sight of his home. Suddenly there was his mother, calling to him from down the road. “Are you ready for dinner son? Your Dad will be home soon.” “Uh,..No! I’d kinda like to stay out a little longer. O.K. Mom?.” “O.K. son, but don’t wander off. I’ll be watching you from the kitchen window. You know what your Dad would say if you held up his dinner.” “O.K. Mom.”
His mother left him standing there confused and worried. What was he ever going to say to her? What was he going to say to his dad? He sat down again trying to remember the wonderful feeling he had had when the watch was given to him. He had never had anything really grown-up. It seemed to have been there one minute and gone the next. At that moment he heard the honk of a horn which announced the arrival of his father everyday at five o’clock.
“Coming in for dinner son? or are you going to stay out here all night? Hey! Wake up boy! How was your day?” He didn’t know what to say to his dad and was almost in tears at the thought of having to tell him he’d lost the precious gift that had been trustingly given to him. “Guess dinner’s on the table son. Let’s go in.” Father and son approached the tiny, country cottage. What was he going to say? Every step he took got him closer and closer to an unhappy conclusion, to what started out to be a wonderful day. “You’d better go up and wash son, and show your Mom that she doesn’t have to tell you to do things all the time. That’s my young man.”
The boy slowly mounted the stairs, thinking about the disillusionment that his mom and dad would feel. He was ashamed. He’s just have to tell them right out and if they asked him to pack, he’d pack. He guessed Jerry would put him up for the night and after that it would be one job after another. Maybe it would be better just to sneak out now and spare his parents.
As he entered the washroom, with chin on chest, many thoughts flew through and behind him. Turning the tap on and raising his head to look for the soap, he saw something through the corner of his eye. His Watch! He’d put it on and taken it off when he went to wash-up for lunch! “Mom! Dad!”, he yelled running down the stairs to the kitchen. “My watch! My watch!”
This is a story I wrote many years ago while I was in High School. Grade 12. I recall being very proud of the Huge A+ sign on the top of the page.