Larry finds a buddy - FICTION - Chapter 5

bdmomuae (65)in #fiction • 6 years ago

Larry arrived at the track and leapt off his bike. He leant it against a tree and dropped his roller skates to the ground next to it.

Pulling his money from his pocket, he ran over to the teenager who was issuing tickets and bought himself a ride of nine laps. There were two people on the track at the moment, but nobody queueing for a turn. The others mush have gone for something to eat, thought Larry, although the park wasn’t all that crowded anyway, it being too cold for most people to think about camping these days. He laughed as the go-carts sped past him, each vying for first place on the track. The drivers, two boys about Larry’s age, were shouting and laughing and letting out cowboy-like whoops as each did his best to beat the other. Finally their ride came to an end, and the winner came in with a big grin, hands clasped together over his head, waving in triumph. The boys jumped out of their go-carts and ran off, shouting to each other as they went.

It was Larry’s turn. He could have the red or the yellow go-cart, but he’d already made up his mind to go for the yellow one, which had won the last race. He was shown the brake and accelerator pedal and had to sit himself on the edge of the seat, his legs being too short to reach the pedals if he leant back. Pushing his foot to the floor, he shot off with a great burst of speed, straight towards an upturned tyre at the edge of the track. With a squeal he heaved at the steering wheel and sent his go-cart veering madly over the track towards a tyre on the other side. Larry roared with laughter and swung on the wheel again. For the first few laps, until he grew accustomed to this new art of driving, he zig-zagged merrily across the track as he hurtled along. By the time he had one lap to go he was excitedly driving a straight and speedy course. It was such a fantastic feeling to see the tyres and trees flash past him, and to have the wind tugging and pulling at his clothing and hair as he sped along.

Sadly, his ride came to an end. He lifted his foot from the accelerator and let the go-cart glide to a halt as it free-wheeled back to the start. As it came to a stop and he jumped out, Larry looked around excitedly for the teenager to relate the story of his ride to him. But even as the first word came into his mouth, it died there unspoken, for the teenager was totally unaware that Larry had so much as finished his ride. He sat on a nearby rock, his head bent over his cellphone, completely engrossed and oblivious to anything else that might be happening around him.

Larry turned on his heel, the excitement dying and turning sour inside him. Slowly he went over to his bike and picked it up. Things were just the same, even here. He was still on his own – there was still nobody to have fun with. He slung his roller skates across the handlebars again and rode off slowly towards the river. He’d catch himself a crab. That would be fun, anyway.

Down at the river he settled himself on a large smooth rock, attached a lump of ham to a piece of string from his pocket, and dangled it into the water. He would wait all afternoon if necessary, he thought, but he’d catch himself a crab.

It was very quiet there at the water’s edge. The only sound was that of the bushes, and the splash and gurgle of the water as it swirled over the rocks. The occasional leaf, snapping from its branch, drifted lazily through the mild air, dipping and twirling, to land gently on the water and be whirled rapidly away. The afternoon was softly warm and a gentle breeze ruffled Larry’s hair and whispered through the grass.

Suddenly, without warning, a huge pair of pincers appeared out of the water and snapped onto the ham at the end of Larry’s string. Startled, Larry jumped backwards, falling off his rock and pulling the string with him. He caught a quick glimpse of a huge black crab clinging to the meat before it released its grip and splashed back into the water. Heart thumping madly, Larry scrambled back onto his rock and carefully lowered the string into the water once more. He’d get it this time! It wouldn’t scare him a second time! Tongue pushed out between his lips in concentration, Larry waited with bated breath. The minutes passed slowly. There was no sign of the crab. Gradually Larry relaxed, his tongue slipping back into his mouth, his grip loosening slightly on his string. It looked as if he’d frightened that big black crab away. But if he was still and quiet long enough it could come back. Or maybe another crab would come along. Once again, Larry settled himself comfortable onto the rock and prepared to wait.

Ten minutes must have passed. Larry was by now almost dozing in the warm dappled sunlight as his bait bobbed gently at the edge of the water. It was back! Larry’s eyes widened and his heartbeat quickened, but he managed to keep himself from moving this time as the hard shell of the crab rose to the surface of the water. Once again those big black pincers snapped onto the ham and tugged at Larry’s line. With a triumphant jerk, Larry hauled his catch out of the water and landed it on the bank.

It was a magnificent specimen, that one. It sat there, black and dripping and shiny in the sunshine, its feelers waving in the air, one set of pincers firmly clasped on the ham. Larry let out an excited shriek and did a mad little dance around the rock he’d been sitting on.

”Whoopee! I got him!” he squealed and then stopped in his tracks as he heard a shout of laughter. He turned and felt his face grow red at the sight of two little girls who were sitting at the top of the bank, hands over their mouths as they giggled and pointed their fingers at him. Very embarrassed, Larry rudely shouted at them to ”Get lost!” and they scrambled to their feet and ran off, still laughing.

Spinning round angrily, Larry returned his attention to his crab, but it had gone. While he had been distracted, the crab had scuttled back into the water, taking both Larry’s string and ham with it. In a rage, Larry picked up a large rock and hurled it into the river, drenching himself as he did so and hoping with all his heart that he’d managed to kill that stupid crab.

Once again he leapt onto his bike and petalled off furiously. If he’d had a friend this would never have happened. Those stupid girls were mocking him because he was laughing and shouting all on his own. They wouldn’t have given it a second thought if there’d been two of them at it. The heavy feeling he’d experienced at the track settled back on him like a thick blanket and he battled to fight back the tears and swallow the lump that was sticking in his throat.

It was nearly five o’clock and the sun had most of its warmth by the time Larry arrived at the big open barn. He climbed heavily off his bike and wandered around the building for a while, kicking at the raised floor as he went. Finally he sat down next to his bike, pulled of his shoes and laced his roller skates to his feet. Clumping across the grass, he climbed onto the concrete floor and began to glide up its length. It was perfect for roller skating, the floor being level and smooth, and soon he was whizzing furiously around its edges. Round and round he went, the wind racing past him, and whipping his hair and clothing back against his body. He skated until he was exhausted and his legs refused to go any further. Finally he glided to a halt and sat down at the edge of the barn. It was now growing dark and the air was cooling rapidly.

Larry no longer felt angry and resentful. He no longer hated the run-away crab and the two girls that had embarrassed him so. He just felt as though he carried a great weight inside his chest. He supposed that this was what people meant when they talked about being “heavy-hearted”. With a big sigh, he unlaced his skates, slung them over the bike, pulled on his shoes and set off once again towards the caravan.

Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were at a complete loss to know what was the matter with Larry that evening. He had raced off at lunchtime full of joy and had come back a few hours later silent and moody again. They could get no account from him as to what he’d done that afternoon and no matter how hard they tried, he refused to smile or be drawn into their conversations. They had a barbeque over the fire Mr. Lawrence had built and then Larry and his Dad took the dishes to the ablution block to wash. Larry once again refused to talk to his father and, having left the clean dishes at the site, went off to have a shower on his own. When he got back the heater was warming up the tent, the bunks were set up and spread with sleeping bags for the night, and Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were sitting at the folding table, the cards laid out, waiting for Larry to join them in a game of Fish, but Larry refused, saying he was tired and wanting to go to bed. Larry was in his bunk, face turned to the wall and the blanket pulled over his head by 7h30 which was an unusual time when he was free to stay up as long as he pleased.

Mrs. Lawrence was in tears again and the first night of their holiday was ruined for everybody.

... to be continued