by Linda Batey

Created on: July 23, 2008

August made me long for the return of school. I was bored and ready to go back to jumping rope with my girlfriends; my older brothers were my only playmates during the long summer, and I was tired of being the brunt of their pranks. Yesterday, after they grew bored tying Kenny to the front maple tree and took off his pants so all the world could see his dirty underwear, they headed for me, but I saw what was coming and escaped into the house to help Gram watch the Edge of Night.

Today, they had already tied Rudy down on an anthill and put honey on him, blown up several frogs with firecrackers stuffed in places they had no business being, and I was keeping a very low profile. I had slipped out the back door to go for a quiet walk and had asked Gram not to tell the boys.

I was probably eight that summer, which meant my brothers were certainly old enough to know better than to do the mean things they did. The oldest two were well into high school, but I guess living in the country with no one else around just brings out the trouble in the minds. It never seemed to take them very long to find it.

I wandered up the dirt road, keeping an alert ear to any indication that my brothers had realized I wasn't close enough to grab. It was a hot day and I could smell the sweet scent of freshly cut hay as I walked up to a small field; I waved to my uncle who was working on his old Farm-all tractor, and he waved back, a large wrench in his greasy hand. He wiped his brow with an old stained bandana and put the wrench back to work.

I began to slow my pace once I realized that I could no longer hear my brothers, and wished I had thought to bring a jar of water. Suddenly, I knew where I would go; I had almost forgotten a spot that I had discovered last summer and I longed to go there. My steps quickened again as I turned down a connecting dirt road, past the goldenrod and Queen Anne's lace and into a shady, much cooler space. On one side of the road was a swamp, which was almost dry. It had an odd smell, but not unpleasant. We'd always been scared of the swamp; as kids we'd been told that the swamp had no bottom and that it would suck you down and you would drown instantly. I gave it a wide berth as I walked by, both frightened and fascinated by its muddy water and dead cattails.

The road led me up a small hill and back into the heat of the sun. My throat was parched, but I knew the brook was not far away. The dirt under my feet was so dry that puffs of dust kicked up behind my dirty

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