When I was eleven years old, I thought my world was coming to an end. All because of a spring dress and a tacklebox.
"Daddy, this is stupid! I ain't like no girls goin with us!"
My father, a tall and skinny man, let out a hefty laugh behind the thick cigar caught between his teeth. The grease stained, long sleeve shirt he wore swayed in the wind, coated in thick layers of sweat. He finished tightening a bolt in the engine of our old truck before turning to look at me, taking the cigar out of his mouth.
His dry lips perked together as he sent a piffle of smoke into the bright blue sky.
"Tuck, she's new here. Ain't got no friends."
He reached over, grabbing his cup of sweet tea, ice cubes clinking against the glass.
"Now, I done invited her already. So, you and your friends be nice now, ya got it?"
Leaning against the hood of the vehicle, he pointed the cigar in his fingers at me, smoke rising lazily from its tip.
"If I hear my boy was anythin short of a perfect gentleman, there'll be hell to pay. Is that understood, Tuck?"
I grit my little teeth together, tightening my fingers around the old fishing rods in my hand.
"Y-Yes, sir…" I mumbled, looking down at the dead grass under my feet, far too scared to make eye contact.
This is stupid...
By the time I walked out of our old picket fence, paint chipping in more places than not, that new girl was already making her way through the field directly towards me.
Her hand shot into the sky like a majestic arrow, a wide smile spread across her face. The only thing she seemed to have with her was a tacklebox, staind with old orange mud, but clearly scrubbed furiously in a desperate attempt to somehow clean it. The old tackle bounced off of her hip with every step she took, her pace hurrying into a quickened jog.
"Hey!" She yelled, waving her arm like a pendulum through the air.
I scoffed and looked away, continuing my walk towards the alcove hidden in the distance, pretending I didn't hear her at all.
The patter of her little feet grew closer and closer, slowing down before reaching me, the tacklebox by her side jingling and jangling along the way.
"Sorry for running late!" She said between her soft pants of breath.
With those words, I instantly realized something very strange about her...
Her voice was odd. It did not sound right to me. Each one of her word had a strange inflation and twist you would never hear in Louisiana.
I turned towards her with a raised eyebrow, my mind still processing how someone could sound so different than what I was used to.
To my shock, I had to actually tilt my head and look up to see her face. She was tall… very tall for an eleven year old. The girl practically towered over me.
Across her face was that same beaming smile she was wearing a moment before, her cheeks beginning to grow red from the strain of maintaining the grin. She had long blonde hair that danced in the gentle breeze flying by, flowing behind her like a lazy curtain.
I couldn't really comprehend what I was actually looking at. I mean, on the surface, she was just a normal girl. The same as all the other ones I went to school with. But, something about her was just... different.
Her smile...
Her eyes...
Her very presence...
I felt a burning heat equal to that of the sun raising in my cheeks the moment i locked onto her bright blue eyes. The tips of my ears lit up just as quickly, like a steaming tea kettle ready to start it's whistle.
I had never once in my entire life up to that point had experienced something like that.
S'wrong with me?
Her smile began to fade as she raised her free hand to her mouth, and cleared her throat.
I just realized I had been staring slack jawed at her for an extended period of time...
"W-Well, my name is Charlotte. It is a pleasure to meet you."
I shook my head, trying to snap myself back to reality
"Y-Yeah… Tucker. Call me Tuck. Everyone does... Suppose you's can too."
My voice was scratchy and uneven as I tried, in vain, to keep my eyes off of the girl that made my face burn.
All I wanted to do was find something... anything to focus on besides her. For something in our backwater little town to distract me in a significant way.
With my eyes frantically darting all around like a scared field mouse, eventually my gaze landed on her free hand.
Wait... why's she only got a tackle?
"Where's your pole?" I asked.
She chuckled under her breath, rubbing the back of her skinny neck.
"Well, that's the thing… I... um… don't have one." She let out another awkward, forced chuckle before continuing.
"Your father mentioned to my brother that you had a spare lying around for me to use. My mum and I never were big on this kind of thing you see."
Mum?
I ignored her strange pronunciation, too frustrated with my father going and offering my stuff to strangers, without even talking to me about it.
"How you got a tackle, but no rod? That don't make no sense. S'like havin nails with no hammer." I responded, instinctively holding my fishing rods further away from her.
A childish game of keep away.
She looked down at the stained tacklebox dangling from her hand. The muck and grime across the surface of it seemed to bother her somewhat.
"Well, after my brother told me of the invitation, I stated rummaging through his shed. Which was quite filthy I might add. This was all I found. I didn't know what else to look for honestly. I was utterly lost, I tell you."
Her voice was starting to really annoy me, using strange words and stringing them together like she was in some theater show or something.
"Why you talk like that?" I asked, quite bluntly.
I guess she thought that was funny, considering she couldn't help but chuckle behind her dainty hand.
"Have you never heard of England before?" She asked, her words laced with disbelief.
I looked up to the lazy clouds overhead, thinking to myself for a moment.
England...
I recalled our instructor at the schoolhouse mentioning something about something like that.
Hm... oh, wait!
"Oh… You the folks who tried to tax us, right?" I snapped my fingers, suddenly feeling somewhat proud of myself.
"Tea and queens, right?" I continued.
She looked slightly offended by my words.
"That was ages ago, Tucker. You do know the year is nineteen fifty-three right? We don't live in ancient history."
Okay... rude...
The wider world might as well have been outer space to little ole Tucker Greenwood. To me at the time, all that really mattered was fishing and boats.
"I ain't care bout no fancy wigs and all that! Stupid anyways!"
I clicked my tongue, trying to hide the embarrassment I suddenly felt.
She laughed like I had made a joke that caught her off guard. Her hand waved just infront of her mouth like she was swatting away my comment.
"Those old wigs really are silly looking, arent they?" She said between the soft chuckles escaping her lips.
Looking up at her smile, the way her shoulders bounced with each giggle made my face begin to heat up again.
Why does her laugh burn my chest?! She givin me the flu or somethin?
After giving her a few seconds to stop her incessant laughter, I looked down at the fishing rods in my hand.
Fine...
Biting down on my lip, I grabbed one of the poles, and held it out towards her.
"Here… only cus' my daddy'll kill me if I don't..."
She looked down at the faded black handle which was thoroughly coated in thick layers of dry mud and gunk.
Her face scrunched up tight as she leaned away from it, her fingers dangling into a weak defense infront of her.
S'wrong with her?
"Somthin wrong?" I said, instinctively leaning closer to the shivering girl, a curious raise in my brow.
"N-No! I'm f-fine!"
She sure didn't sound fine.
She slowly reached out, grabbing the pole with the very ends of her fingertips, her eyes closed tighter than a bear trap.
"T-Thank you." She muttered.
Stranger still, she looked at the pole with a newfound confusion. Like the rod was whispering secrets to her. She kept glancing back and forth between the pole in her hand, and the one in mine.
"Hm..." She humphed under her breath.
What on earth is she doin?
I rolled my eyes.
"You girls all the same. Moment anything has dirt, you squirm like a tick on a pin."
Her face quickly grimmaced, cheeks puffing out like they were stuffed with cotton balls.
She looked like a chipmunk.
"That is not true!" She snapped, clearly annoyed with my observations.
"Then hold that pole like it don't bother ya."
Her flimsy grip tightened, the handle finally laying flat against her palm.
"S-See… no big deal… a-at all..." Her face was doing nothing to assist her fake bravado.
Figures...
I let out a chuckle, watching some prim and proper girl met mud for what very well might have been the first time in her entire life.
We made our way up the steep hill filled with tall weeds, past the broken down pile of old wood that I think used to be a barn, and through the line of mossy trees, finally exiting the thick brush into my favorite place on earth.
The alcove.
"Ay! Tuck, you finally made it!" A voice rang just below the hill leading to the water past the forest trail.
I lit up instantly, quickly running through the tall grass and towards that familiar voice coming from the shoreline.
A relief washed over me the moment I saw my two best friends, Andrew and Dennis holding their fishing poles with bright smiles across their faces.
"Yeah, sorry bout that, fellas! Daddy had me bring that new girl along with me."
With curiosity laced in their expressions, they looked past me and towards Charlotte.
She was holding up the bottom of her dress, trying her best to keep it out of the softening dirt she had just suddenly found herself in.
Andrew and Dennis instantly sighed at the sight of her, their shoulder dropping like I had just ruined their whole day with the news.
"Ah, Tuck! You know them girls ruin all the fishin!" Andrew said, his teeth already grinding together.
"Yeah, they's scare em off with they's perfume and junk!" Dennis added, kicking a small pebble towards Charlotte.
Luckily, she didn't notice. The last thing I wanted was one my more brash friends to do the scaring off. I knew I would end up being blamed all the same.
A sigh escaped my lips as I glanced over my shoulder towards her.
It seemed that a sticky bit of grass had stuck itself to her dress. She was fighting it as if it was a snake that had wrapped itself around her leg. Her tacklebox was being rattled all around during that frantic panic she was having, filling the air with an annoying barrage of claking and banging.
You's ain't doin anythin to help me here, Charlotte...
"I know's it..." I sighed, unable to take my eyes off of the, quite sad, panic attack she was having over... grass.
Oh brother...
I turned back towards them.
"Listen fellas, dad'll kill me if she ends up runnin home cryin. So, please just ignore the princess. She's usin my pole after all." My words were whispered as I held out my hand to block my mouth from Charlotte's view. I didn't want her to read my lips and run off.
They both just stuck their tongues out, sending an annoyed patter towards me before turning back to the water.
"Just keep her away from us. Ain't got time to babysit no lady." Andrew said, running his hand through his messy black hair with a shake in his head.
They both began to walk into the distance along the shore, choosing to fish far away from us. It was like Charlotte had given me a contagious disease or something.
Some friends they are...
Finally, it seemed all that struggle she was going through when coming down the hill had ended in her victory. Her heavy breathing only annoyed me as it approached from behind.
Looking over at her, I quickly noticing the unmistakable cringe that had suddenly overtaken her face. Her stare was focused squarely on something just ahead of her.
I followed her eyes, leading my gaze onto the mud soaked grass by the water.
Thats right... She ain't like dirt.
Her face made me smirk a little, eager to watch her squirm like any girl would the moment she took another step closer. Maybe that's a boys way of getting revenge...
"Somethin bothering you?" I said, digging my foot deep into the slushy mud, the sounds of which made her shiver.
She took a step back away from me, her shoes beginning to sink in the mud from the weight of her foot.
"N-No!" She said, letting out a clearly forced laugh.
Her nervous chuckles began to die down as she slowly scanned the shoreline.
"S-So, where's the dock we will be fishing at?"
I couldn't help but laugh at the very idea she was spouting.
"Dock? You's crackin me up! You's think we got somethin like that? Hah! You's really are from some big ole fancy city, ain't ya?"
For once, it seemed that she had caught whatever illness she had given me, her face beginning to take on a slightly more pink coloration.
I pointed to a small clearing amongst the towering weeds beside the water. The mud along the shoreline was loose and sloshed together from the many years I had spent standing in that exact same spot.
"Right there is my usual spot. Don't get hung up on as many branches."
I began to wade through the mud and grass, feeling bugs latch onto my bare legs with every step I took. The summer heat was intense, humid, and overbearing. A bead of sweat had begun to slowly make its way down my temple.
I loved it. That was home to me, deep in the Louisiana bayou. Everything about that place sang to my soul.
I knelt down in the short grass by the water, digging my fingers into the thick mud, the wet coolness of the sludge quickly molding around my whole hand. As I moved my fingers through the dark brown ooze, small bits of pebbles and twigs would brush against my skin. Occasionally I would accidently scratch a rock surface hidden under the slime, sending a small jitter up my arm.
"What on Earth are you doing?" Charlotte screeched, her face quickly losing all color. It seemed that I had just done something completely unthinkable to the girl.
"Gettin worms, what you think?"
She let out a little "eck!" sound, reeling back and away from me. After taking a moment to suppress whatever panic attack she was on the verge of having, she placed her tacklebox on a fluffy bundle of grass. The metal latch popped open, and she began to rustle around inside the small plastic container. After a moment of thorough searching, she quickly twisted around and flashed me a fake worm. The kind that smells like a factory, laced with sparkles and bits of black whatever all inside of it.
"Why not use these? Much more hygienic!" She said with a bright smile.
She looked so proud of herself. Like she was about to change my life forever with her new revolutionary ideas.
I took little fake worm from her fingertips, pretending to examine it in some meaningful way. Her ego seemed to inflate like a party balloon as she watched my eyes beginning to squint as I looked it over.
Her high chin and the smug bend in her smile made very apparent just how proud she truly was.
All of a sudden, that grin quickly disappeared as I threw that fake worm as hard as I possibly could into the water, like I was skipping a perfectly flat rock.
Her jaw dropped, arms flailing through the air like the plastic worm would somehow swim back to her with enough waving.
"What did you do that for?" She yelled, throwing her arms behind her, both fists clenched tight. Her face quickly shot towards mine, looking as if I had just insulted her entire family or something.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Them's are useless gutter trash! No fish wants some fake toy! They's want mud, guts, and the wiggles of a worm on a hook!"
She wrinkled her nose. I swore I could see smoke steaming out of her ears. I reached down and yanked up a wiggling worm from the mud, it's slithering body covered in all manners of filth.
"This is what they'll fight over, I tell ya!"
I held my hand out, offering her the little worm. I swear, she must have thought the harmless little thing was a monstrous ooze creature from the depths of the murky swamps by the way she looked at it.
"Get that away from me!" She screamed.
I smirked, leaning closer.
"What? Finally gonna admit you ain't like this stuff?"
S'what I thought...
She leaned further and further away with ever inch I moved.
"Fine fine, preppy girl. I won't make ya touch it. You's welcome by the way."
I took her line, sticking the worm on the rusty hook.
It seemed her heart rate had finally began to settle down.
She lifted the pole, watching the worm dangle loosely on the fishing line.
"W-What do I do with it now?" She asked nervously.
Ain't even know that?
"Ya cast it, then wait for the bobber to plop under. That's how ya know ya got one on there. Then-"
I turned towards her with a smile across my face.
"Ya yank it!"
I watched on as she fumbled with the fishing pole. Everytime a piece of dry mud would chip off of the handle, she would bite her lip. It took all my concentration not to burst out in laughter.
But, fear held my tongue in place. All I could think about was what my punishment would be if I ended up scaring her off for whatever reason. That stopped my antics before they could even start.
After much effort, she finally managed to get her line in the water. She held nervously onto the handle, as if it would spring to life and flail around at any second.
Trying my best to ignore the girl quietly muttering to herself next to me, I focused my attention onto my own bobber in the water.
Andrew and Dennis stood down the way, joking and throwing mud pies at one another.
Looks fun...
I wanted so badly to run over to them and start a stick fight or push Andrew into the water to watch him splash all around.
But alas, I was stuck helping some strange sounding girl with the basics of something I never had to actually put much thought into.
My head dropped like a sack of potatoes hanging over the edge of a table.
I sighed...
There goes my-
"Tucker! Tucker! My bobber! It went under! What do I do?!"
Charlotte's paniced voice rang out through the humid air, scaring the life out of me.
My head quickly shot towards her.
The line of her fishing pole was yanked tighter than a bow string, her hands shaking like a nervous dog left in the rain.
"You got a big one! Ye! Yank that thing!" I exclaimed, my excitement at seeing a catfish the size of my arm getting the better of me.
She did not share in my excitment...
"I-I don't know how!" She yelled, the pole bending into a perfect arc as the line quickly darted all around the waters surface.
The catfish stuck on her hook was fighting for its life.
Pulling.
Yanking.
Panicing.
"What you doin?! It'll snap!" I yelled dropping my pole into the mud below, small chunks of filth flying up and through the air from the impact.
I tried to run as fast as I possible could towards her, but the mud refused to let me lift my feet out of its slimy depths with ease. Each step took much more effort than it should have.
Stupid mud! Let me go dag nabbit!
The fish continued to yank the line, suddenly pulling Charlotte's whole body forward, threatening to send her face down into the muck.
It seemed that the threat of going down and meeting the mud was far too much for her to bear.
"I can't," She screamed, letting go of the pole entirely.
I watched in horror as my oldest fishing rod was quickly swallowed whole by the brown depths, disappearing into its darkness.
Slack jawed, and in utter disbelief, my eyes never left the spot where I saw my lucky pole for the last time.
"I-I'm sorry! I swear, I didn't mean- I just… It was-" She yelled, her hands shivering like they had been dipped into ice water. Her fingers began to curl up, mimicking the position as if the pole was still in her grasp.
"T-Tucker, I-"
I kicked a chunk of mud towards the water.
"Course it's gone! I's afraid this'd happen! Girls always muckin stuff up!" I growled out.
Andrew and Dennis were busy dying of laughter down the way.
"Just got done puttin new string on the dang thing too!" I slammed my palm against my forehead, my dirty blonde hair falling loose into my eyes.
"I mean, why did- How come you- I just-" The image of a leather belt in my father's hand flashed in my mind.
I bit my tongue, almost hard enough to draw blood.
Taking a deep breath, I was determined to calm myself down.
Relax Tucker... ain't her fault. She's new to this whole thing... Just breath... She ain't know how much that pole meant to ya... Come on, Tucker... calm...
I took one last steady breath before opening my eyes... only to see my worst fear come to life...
Charlotte had a small bundle of tears tugging at the corner of her eyes. Her shoulders were raised up, tucking her face tight between them. Each one of her hands clutched her dress tightly. A small sniffle hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
No...
My anger quickly transformed into fear… an intense and horrifying fear of my father's belt against my rear end.
I outstretched my hands, waving them like I was trying to stop a car driving down a slick road.
"I-Its alright! I swear, I didn't even like that pole very much! D-Don't cry!"
Too late… she was up the hill in a heartbeat, disappearing the way we came, her little tears flowing through the air, sparkling in the sunlight.
My arms dropped like sacks of flour by my side.
"Crap…"