Ike Hamill - The Hunting Tree Trilogy

“Relax,” said Davey, “we’ll be able to hear anyone coming. I want to wait for a second.”

“What for?” whined Paul. “This is a bad idea. We’re going to get caught.”

Davey held up his hand with authority and Paul hushed. They waited for a few more seconds, with Davey holding his head at an angle. Davey pushed the door open again and waved Paul through. He followed closely, slipping through the door as it closed, and pointed Paul up the small hill, towards the woods. The two boys trotted to the edge of the thick undergrowth and Paul began to pick his way into the brush.

“Quick,” said Davey, pushing Paul into the leaves and following close behind. He shoved his friend to the ground and they both spun around to look back at the school.

“Ow,” complained Paul.

“Shhh,” said Davey, pointing towards the door they had just exited.

As they watched, the school’s vice principal, Mr. Vincent, pushed the door open about a foot and poked his narrow face through the opening. He looked left and right and then pulled back inside, shutting the door.

“Wow,” breathed Paul. “That was close.”

“He saw the door on the camera,” said Davey.

“What camera?” asked Paul, pushing back to his hands and knees.

Davey pointed at the corner of the building where a dark bubble protruded from the brick wall. “It’s up there,” he said.

“We gotta go then,” said Paul. “They probably saw us run up here.”

“No, I waited until they weren’t looking before we left the school,” said Davey.

“What? How did you know?”

“I just did, okay?” said Davey. He lifted himself from the ground and sat cross-legged in the leaves.

“Yeah, right,” said Paul. “Look, knowing how to do the math workbook is one thing, but you can’t just know when a camera is looking at you. It’s impossible.”

“Mr. Vincent didn’t come looking, did he?” asked Davey.

“I bet he will,” said Paul.

“What’ll you bet?” smiled Davey.

Paul opened and shut his mouth without replying. After losing several treasured video games to hasty bets with Davey, he had finally learned to be cautious. “I’ll bet you a piece of gum,” Paul said finally.

“No bet,” said Davey. “You already owe me gum from when I gave you some this morning.”

“No bet then,” agreed Paul. “So then how did you learn to know when cameras are looking at you?”

“Nunya,” said Davey.

“What’s that mean?”

“Nunya business,” smiled Davey.

“You doofus,” laughed Paul. “Let’s go play over at the nature trail,” said Paul, crawling through the bushes and rising to his feet behind the screen of leaves.

“Okay,” said Davey.

They wound through the dense trees, taking a wide route around the playground, and the swampy area near the road. Their winding path brought them to a narrow wooden footbridge which crossed a bubbling creek. With his finger, Paul traced the carved letters of a sign that talked about the types of trees around the path.

“We’ve gotta figure out what to do about your mom,” said Davey.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s going to try to pick us up at the front of the building, but we can’t go back there,” Davey explained.

“I didn’t even think of that,” said Paul. “We can just sneak up from the side and pretend that we were inside the whole time, can’t we?" Paul gathered a handful of small rocks from path and took them atop the footbridge so he could drop them over the railing.

Davey lowered himself down on a rock and poked a stick into the gurgling water. “They count off the kids that go to the gym,” said Davey. “I’ve seen them with the clipboard, they’re going to know that we weren’t there.”

“Really?” Paul paused from his rock-dropping and stared at the water. “We’re going to get in trouble.”

“Not if we can think of a way out of it,” said Davey.

“Like what? They know we didn’t go. This whole thing was such a bad idea. My mom always says that you’re a good influence, but you’re not,” whined Paul. “Lately all you do is get me in trouble. When you stole that car from the toy store—who got blamed? Me.”

“Your mom didn’t even punish you,” said Davey. “You get away with anything because your mom’s afraid you’ll say you want to go live with your dad.”

“But I didn’t even do anything,” complained Paul. “ You get away with stuff and I get blamed. I never even do anything.”

“Whatever,” said Davey. “Least you have a dad.”

Paul resumed dropping rocks, trying to get one to land on a snagged leaf so it would wash downstream. “So what are we going to say?” Paul asked after a minute of silence.

“I got it,” said Davey. “Dip your pants in the water and we’ll tell your mom that we didn’t go to the gym because you had an accident. We’ll just say we spent the whole hour in the bathroom so nobody would see.”

“But people will see. When she picks us up,” reasoned Paul. “Besides, why don’t you get your pants wet? And I don’t want my mom to think I had an accident, either. That’s gross.”

“We could say that Ted attacked us,” said Davey. “We ran out of the school because he said he was going to beat us up more. We have to beat each other up though, and we can’t use our fists. We’ll hit each other with sticks until it looks like Ted beat us up.”

“Good one,” said Paul. “You’re just trying to make the accident thing sound less stupid.”

Davey laughed and Paul eventually joined him.

“What else you got?” said Paul.

“Space aliens?” Davey giggled. His laughter was contagious.

Paul snorted back a chuckle and suggested—“Let’s tell my mom we died trying to take a shit.”

“ She would shit,” said Davey, and they both doubled over with new amusement.

“Hey,” said Paul as he checked his watch. “Whatever we’re going to say, we better go say it now. My mom’s going to be at the school in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” said Davey, climbing to his feet from the creek-side rock. “I think…" He never finished that thought. He had planted both hands cautiously on the bank to support himself in case his feet slipped, but both his feet and hands slipped at the same time. With no limbs holding him up, Davey crashed to the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt, and catching a sharp rock in his ribs.

“You okay?” asked Paul.

“Ugh,” said Davey.

Paul ran around the edge of the bridge and grabbed Davey’s armpit, hoisting him up to his knees.

“I … can’t,” wheezed Davey, “breathe.”

“What do you mean?” asked Paul. “Is something wrong with your mouth, or what?”

Davey pointed to his chest and shook his head. His shoulders pulsed up and down as he tried to force air into his stunned lungs. The best he could manage was a thin whistling stream of air.

“Jeez,” said Paul. “I’ve seen you fall down like a million times, but I’ve never seen you get hurt.”

Davey nodded slowly and pointed back in the direction they had come.

“Yeah, come on,” said Paul. Propping his friend up under his armpit, Paul dragged Davey slowly through the woods.

After several steps, Davey held up his hand, beckoning Paul to stop. He hunched over for a few seconds before attempting to speak—“You … go … ahead. Get … your … mom,” Davey managed.

“You need help though,” said Paul.

“She’ll … leave,” warned Davey.

Paul thought about it for a minute and then saw Davey’s point. If neither boy stood at the front door when she pulled up, Paul’s mom would likely go inside looking for the boys. They often got involved in complex competitions with each other in the gym and had to be dragged to the car. Not finding the boys in the gym, his mom would ask someone and Paul couldn’t even guess what she would do when told they hadn’t shown up.