Timko and the Friends Who Fell Out

That morning the new house on Ash Tree Glade smelled of apples. Timko’s mom had mixed the dough long before dawn.

“I’ll bake a pie, just in case,” she hummed.

And it really was a special occasion: for the first time since the move, Rusty was coming to visit Timko. All the way from Oak Grove, from the far side of the forest!

Timko sat on the porch watching the path. Beside him sat Lily in her pink bonnet, watching too, though she didn’t know for whom.

“Is he coming?” she asked every minute.

“Not yet,” Timko snorted.

“Not yet,” Lily snorted.

Then, between the ash trees, whoosh! a red tail with a white tip flashed by.

“Me first!” shouted Rusty, and he was first onto the porch, though nobody was racing him.

“Me first!” squeaked Lily, and hopped onto the step too.

Timko rushed to hug his friend, and Rusty jumped:

“Ouch, you’re prickly!”

“That’s from happiness,” Timko laughed.

Rusty’s mom said hello to Timko’s mom, promised to come for her son when the sun set behind the ash trees, and went back through the forest. Timko’s mom brought a rosy pie out onto the porch.

“This is for lunch,” she said. “When your raft sails.”

“Let’s go to the brook!” Timko tugged Rusty by the paw. “Splash is there. We’ve been tying a raft for a whole week, and today we’ll launch it. All three of us!”

The Ringing Brook really did ring: ding-a-ling over the pebbles. Mom sat on the bank with her knitting, and Lily sat beside her with a leaf in her paws. Then, out of the water, splash! popped a head in a turquoise cap, and a whole cloud of droplets flew at Rusty.

“Splash, done!” Splash roared with laughter. “Now you’re an otter too!”

Rusty shook himself off. His ears stood straight up.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Splash. Timko’s friend.”

“I’m Timko’s friend,” said Rusty. “I’ve known him since kindergarten.”

“Well, I play with him every day,” Splash wouldn’t give in. “And you’re only visiting.”

Timko laughed, because he thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t a joke.

Rusty suggested a race to the old willow, and he got there first. Splash suggested swimming across the brook, and he swam it twice while Rusty was still testing with his paw whether the water was very cold. Then they skipped stones: Splash’s pebble hopped five times, Rusty’s three, and Timko’s just plopped to the bottom.

“Timko, who’s faster?” asked Rusty.

“Timko, who’s nimbler?” asked Splash.

And Timko wanted only one thing: for the raft to finally sail.

But the raft didn’t work out either. Rusty wanted the mast in the middle, Splash wanted it at the front. Each pulled the stick toward himself, and each shouted:

“Timko, tell him!”

“Timko, come on, tell him!”

Just then Splash glanced at Rusty’s tail, soaked from the spray, and giggled:

“Your tail looks like a wet broom!”

“Wet broom!” Lily happily repeated from the bank.

Rusty’s ears drooped. And Timko felt hot right at the tip of his nose. He got angry. At Splash, at the wet broom, at this day he had waited for so long and which was slipping through his paws like sand.

“Stop it!” Timko shouted. “You’re not my friend at all! You’re just a neighbor who splashes everybody. My best friend is Rusty!”

It went quiet. Only the brook went on tinkling as if nothing had happened.

Splash didn’t answer. He laid the stick on the raft and slid into the water. Without a single splash. Timko saw for the first time that Splash could do that.

And on the bank Lily watched her brother with round little eyes and moved her lips, as if she were memorizing something.

Timko and Rusty did launch the raft after all. Only it was Splash who knew how to tie it with reeds, and they didn’t. The raft wobbled, spun, and fell apart into four sticks, each floating off its own way.

“Oh well,” said Rusty. But he never shouted “Me first!” again.

At lunch Mom cut the pie into four pieces: for Timko, Rusty, Lily and Splash. Splash’s piece stayed on the plate.

Then the friends played hide-and-seek, but somehow hide-and-seek wouldn’t work either. Rusty was quiet for a long time, and then he asked:

“Timko, when someone else new comes to visit, will you tell me that too? That I’m not your friend?”

“No!” Timko was frightened. “Never!”

Rusty nodded. But not very sure.

When the sun set behind the ash trees, Rusty’s mom came for him. The friends hugged on the porch, carefully, so as not to prick.

“Bye,” said Rusty.

And he left. Oak Grove was far away, and Timko knew that Rusty wouldn’t come again soon. And this day, which they had both waited for so much, could not be brought back.

Timko sat down on the step. Mom sat beside him and didn’t ask anything. Then Timko said it himself:

“I got angry. And now I’m ashamed.”

Mom nodded. She wrapped Splash’s piece of pie in a burdock leaf and handed it to Timko.

The brook was very near, but his paws went there slowly, slowly. By the willow Timko stopped, snorted through his nose and whispered:

“Breathe in, breathe out, and off we go!”

It didn’t get easier. But he went anyway.

Splash sat on a rock and looked at the water. He didn’t splash, he didn’t dive, he just sat.

“Splash,” said Timko. “I’m sorry. I said something untrue. You are my friend.”

He held out the pie in the burdock leaf. Splash looked at it for a long time, and then took it.

“I forgive you,” he said, and took a bite. “It’s tasty.”

Timko brightened:

“So tomorrow we tie the raft again?”

Splash thought.

“Tomorrow I’ll probably play by myself. It still aches a bit right here.” And he touched his chest with his paw. “And tell Rusty the broom thing wasn’t meant meanly.”

And he slid into the water. This time with a quiet, barely audible splash.

At home Mom led Timko to the height plank on the kitchen door frame. Dad was still planing something in his workshop, so this time Mom took the pencil.

“What shall we draw next to today’s mark?” she asked.

Timko thought.

“Two paws. Side by side.”

“Whose?”

“I don’t know yet,” Timko said honestly. “Let them just be two for now.”

Mom drew two small paw prints. Below, on the plank, ran Lily’s row of marks, and now it was her turn.

“Lily, come here!” Timko called. “Let’s measure you!”

Lily hid her paws behind her back, shook her head and said very clearly, in exactly her brother’s voice:

“You’re not my friend at all!”

And she laughed, because she thought it was a game.

Timko froze. He wanted to curl up into a ball and hide his nose in his paws.

“She repeats everything she hears,” Mom said quietly. “Maybe tomorrow she’ll forget. And maybe not.”

Timko looked at the two little paw prints on the plank. A raft can be tied again, a pie can be baked new. But a spoken word floats on like a twig down a brook, and you never know who will fish it out.