by Julie Helms

Created on: August 20, 2009

Trees Knees

Swiping aside the stray strands of hair from her face and tucking them behind her ear, Jenny continued to dig the toe of her sneaker into the dirt. She sat in the backyard of her home, under the big old maple tree, bored to tears. A few minutes earlier her mom had tossed her out of the house, telling her to stop complaining about being bored. "Go play and use your imagination," she had said.

Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. Jenny leaned back against the massive trunk, the rough bark digging into her back a little bit. She had positioned herself between two large, gnarled roots that ran along the surface of the ground, twisting and searching. Her father complained about the protruding roots when he mowed the grass. He called them tree knees. The tree's knees bumped up under his mower trying to wreck his mowing blades.

Imagination. She was supposed to use her imagination. Wasn't that for little kids? Dragons and princesses and fairy tale stuff. Well she was nine years old now and much too mature for fairy tales. She was mature enough to be completely bored. Jenny laid her head back against the rough bark and stretched out her hands and laid them on the roots, the tree knees, on either side of her, sighed and closed her eyes. Bored unto death!

She suddenly became aware of movement under her hands. Had she dozed off a bit? Or just drifted away in her thoughts? Well, she was fully alert now, looking at her hands to see if the feeling would repeat itself. Maybe she just imagined it! Hah, she thought, I imagined something, mom would be proud!

Then it happened again. She yanked her hands off the gnarled roots and stared in amazement as they began to grow. It was slow at first, but the roots were definitely standing up taller, almost even with her own bent knees now. Then she felt a tug on the back of her shirt and leaned forward just in time to avoid some serious road rash (tree rash?) up her back as the trunk of the old maple shot skyward.

Scrambling to her feet, Jenny continued to look up with her mouth gaping open. The top of the leafy tree was like a skyscraper, tiny amongst the clouds. In fact, the clouds appeared to be *lower* than the top of the maple.

She turned to run back into her house, but instead smacked right into the tree's knee that was now taller than her. The two sections of root had grown together completely trapping her within their embrace. As the knees continued to grow they began to blot out the light, leaving Jenny in a

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