Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Hey little dude, you got good taste in cookies. Those are the best in the world.”
The kid stepped back and it was then I could see what Preppy already had. A little boy. No older than five or six years old. Skinny little thing with a dirty face and even dirtier dark brown hair, matted to the side of his head. He was swimming in a torn dress shirt three sizes too large, his sleeves covered his hands and the cookies in them when he dropped his arms and looked to the ground in shame. His jeans stopped just below his calves. The big toe on his left foot stuck out of his sneaker, which by the looks of it, was three sizes too small to begin with.
“You can have as many as you’d like, in fact I put them there just for you,” I said in an attempt to make him feel less guilty than he looked. He remained silent but looked up at me with confusion in his bright blue eyes. “You live around here, right?” I asked, taking a stab in the dark. He nodded.
“Well I’ve seen you around and I thought to myself. I think he would appreciate world famous chocolate chip cookies. Didn’t I say that?” I asked Preppy.
“Uh. Yeah. Of course. As a cookie connoisseur myself I can recognize a fellow man who appreciate amazing baked goods.” Preppy smiled and took a seat on the deck, his legs dangling down over the side. “Go ahead, man. Have at it. They’re all for you. Surprised it took you this long to get here.” The boy reluctantly lifted his arm, his sleeve falling to the crook of his elbow as he lifted the cookie to his mouth and took a small bite. His eyes never left Preppy’s, as if he were asking permission during the entire time he chewed and swallowed that first mouthful.
“See? What I tell ya. Pretty damn good, right?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically and took another bite, this time managing to shove almost the entire cookie in his mouth in one shot, and then another and another until he’d downed at least four more in quick succession.
Preppy picked up one of his own and mimicked the boy, his teeth coated in chocolate when he spoke. “I’m Samuel Clearwater,” Preppy introduced, extending his hand and swallowing hard. “But my friends call me Preppy.” The boy looked at Preppy’s extended hand like he’s just produced a rattlesnake from his pocket. His eyes went wide and he took a step back. Preppy withdrew his arm and casually scratched the back of his head before and folded his hands together on his lap. He swung his feet like he was running in place.
“You got a name or am I just supposed to call you the cookie kid?”
The boy shrugged and my heart broke right then and there. I felt gutted. Whoever was supposed to be caring for this child wasn’t doing much caring if ANY and immediately I felt the rage burning in my lungs because when Preppy asked him his name he didn’t shrug like he didn’t know it.
He shrugged like his name didn’t MATTER.
I felt my eyes start to water. “You know what? I forgot to bring out the milk. I’m so sorry. You two boys chat for a second and I’ll be right back,” I said, standing up and running back inside.
When I was back inside and out of view of the boy and Preppy I took a second to lean over the sink and collect myself. Then I made several sandwiches with whatever I could find in the fridge and stacked them on a tray with two large glasses of milk. When I went back outside I set the tray on top of the step and took a seat next to it. “You know, Preppy. It was pretty funny how we made way too many sandwiches for lunch today.”
Preppy immediately caught on and shot me a grateful smile. “Yeah, it’s too bad they have to go to waste. Or hey,” he turned to the boy who’d just polished off the last cookie. “I mean, I don’t know if you’re a sandwich guy too but these are just gonna go to waste so if you want...” the boy was already nodding.
I could see him eying the tray and thought he was going to make a full body lunge for it when he stopped and pointed at himself. He looked around the yard and then pointed to the lawnmower we’d parked next to the hose beside the deck.
Then he did it again, slower this time.
“You’re trying to tell us your name aren’t you?” I asked. He nodded and added a crooked toothed grin.
He again pointed to the lawnmower.
“I mean lawnmower is a strange name, kid. I’m not gonna lie. But we’re in the south and I hate to tell ya, but I’ve heard stranger.” Preppy leaned in and whispered with his hand on the side of his lips. “My third grade class had three Bubba’s and I was in gym class with a kid named Bird Dog and his older brother White Zombie. We’ll just call you Mower, or Mo.”