Badge - Softcover

Reed, Edward

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1524604771 ISBN 13: 9781524604776

Verlag: AuthorHouse, 2016

Inhaltsangabe

Badge is an enduring and poignant story of a friendship between a child and a dog, Sam and Badge. Sam, twelve years old, faces the hardships, fears, and the harsh realities of being abandoned in a small town called Munro. Along side of a mother struggling to get herself and her children back on their feet and Badge, a beat up old dog, Sam is confronted by the best and worst a childhood has to offer. Painful memories, school bullies and something sinister lurking in the swamp just outside Sam’s window are all part of a bigger story of hope and faith and love. A story that promises to touch the heart of the child in all of us.

Über diesen Titel

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Badge

By Edward Reed

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2016 Edward Reed
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5246-0477-6

CHAPTER 1

As I peered out the window of my bedroom through the darkest night I had ever known, I remember thinking, If I was at my grandpa's, I wouldn't be afraid. If I was at Grandpa's, I would have my shotgun, it would be loaded, and I would be ready as I searched through shadows that gathered for their nightly dance at the edge of the swamp. The swamp that was forever reaching out for the tired old house my mama had found for us to stay in until we could get back on our feet. There was something out there. There was always something out there, except on the nights Mama was off work or it rained really hard and those nights didn't happen often.

"Probably ain't nothin' but coon or possum," Mama told me anytime I mentioned whatever that thing was that stirred around in the thicket along the swamp behind the house. She always reminded me of what Mr. Fesperman, the old man who'd rented us what was left of his childhood home, said.

"I remember, Ma. 'The swamp's more alive in the dark than it is in the daylight,'" I answered, trying to sound like Mr. Fesperman.

"Don't go making fun of that old man," she said, cutting her eyes at me. Mr. Fesperman had a hole in his throat and talked through something that made his voice sound as if it had passed in and out of one of those big fans old folks used to bring out when the summer heat became unbearable.

That ain't a possum, and it ain't no coon, I remember thinking to myself as I wiped my eyes, and looked even harder into the darkness, both wanting and not wanting to see what was rustling around in the night.

"Quiet, boy," I whispered into the pricked-up ears of the best friend a kid could have, especially when there was something prowling around outside. I still remember sitting there, my heart racing, holding the collar of that big dog and finding comfort in the low, rumbling growl building deep inside of him. It was a growl which always spilled out no matter how many times I whispered for him to be quiet.

"Quiet, boy. You're gonna give away our position," I explained to Badge, the old dog who had adopted me. I sounded like a soldier from one of those afternoon combat shows we managed to pick up with the old television that had been left behind by whoever had lived in the house before us.

Giving away our position didn't seem to matter to Badge, and it was all I could do to hold him. Badge was a big dog and I was small for my age. I would hold his as long as I could and when whatever was in the woods seemed to be as close as it was going to get I would let Badge go. "Sic 'em, boy!" I would whisper, and sic 'em he would. Through the window Badge would go and out into the darkness as I disappeared into the corner of my bedroom and then into the closet. It was in that old closet where I hid along with my brother Larkin who was a baby and somehow was able to sleep through everything.

With the closet door pulled to I would listen as Badge barked and growled and snarled for a good long time before growing quiet. It was always the quiet time when I was most afraid. I dared not open the door of the closet until I heard the sound of the early morning train roaring past the old house as it made its way through the marshy lowlands. Then I knew the sun was up, and whatever was in the swamp had drifted back into the long shadows cast by the tall and ghostly cypress trees bearded with Spanish moss and wisteria.

Known as the Hummingbird by the locals, the early morning train never failed to startle me. This was partly because it was as loud as thunder, and partly because by the time it came rumbling past, I almost always had drifted off to sleep. Waking, I would push open the closet door and peek around its corner, along the floor, and under the bed in the direction of the open window. There laying sprawled out full length under the window with his back to me would be Badge, who never failed to turn his head and look back at me. Then I would know that the coast was clear and we were safe.

After gathering up Larkin from the pallet I had made for him on the floor of the closet, I would slip him into the crib that my mama had bought at a yard sale. Before Mama found the crib, Larkin slept with me on the little bed someone had left behind in the back room of the old house.

With Larkin in his crib, I would wiggle my quilt and pillow around, making my bed look slept in, snatch on my school clothes, and dig something out of the kitchen cabinet for breakfast. Then I would watch through the window for the red-and-white checkers of my mama's uniform to show up as she made her way up the long driveway. As soon as she reached the porch, I would kiss her on the cheek and then hurry to meet the school bus. And somewhere in all that hurrying, I would manage to get Badge out of the house. That was one of my mama's rules: no dogs in the house.

On the bus, I would peek into the brown paper bag Mama always handed me when I had kissed her. Sometimes it was a sandwich, and sometimes it was a doughnut or a cinnamon roll, but it was always something I liked. Mama made sure of that.

CHAPTER 2

Looking back, Munro Junior High School wasn't such a bad place. At the time though, as a twelve-year-old, it was the last place I wanted to be. But going there was not a choice, so when the big yellow school bus grinded to a stop and its door swung open, I climbed on, even though a bigger part of me wanted to take to the woods and go where the long shadows had me under their spell.

Maybe things would have been better if I had grown up in Munro or had started school there in August along with everyone else. Showing up in November, in my secondhand clothes, I felt mixed up and out of place. Climbing the tall cement steps of Munro Junior High School alongside of my mama on my first day I remember wishing it was all just a dream, but it wasn't. Mama, in her red-and-white checkered uniform with Larkin on her hip, promised me that I was going to be fine. My mama made lots of promises, and most of them were too big for her to keep, so I was pretty sure that this was just another one. Somehow I managed a smile.

"You just wait and see," she said with the smile she always got when she tried to convince me it wasn't raining and I knew better.

There wasn't much waiting before I found myself standing in the dimly lit cafeteria of Munro Junior High School and looking for some teacher named Mr. Snoddley who later I would find out most of the kids called Mr. Snotly behind his back — and some to his face. Mr. Snoddley was my homeroom teacher and turned out to be a nice man.

With a cafeteria full of eyes bearing down on me, I remember being nervous — so nervous, in fact, that I introduced myself to several teachers before one was kind enough to point out Mr. Snoddley, a stooped and graying man on the far side of the cafeteria with a clipboard in one hand and a half-eaten sandwich in the other.

I handed him the yellow envelope the lady in the front office had given me, and then I looked around while he studied my paperwork.

"Sam, welcome to Munro Junior High School. I'm Mr. Snoddley, and I'll be your homeroom teacher," he finally said, still eating his sandwich. From the looks of it, it was peanut butter and jelly — the same as mine.

Mr. Snoddley pointed me to a long table near the cafeteria door, where a little old lady sat surrounded by students with downturned and silent faces, eating their lunches. In her black dress she looked scary, and she was reading a Bible. Mr. Snoddley told me she would be...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: AuthorHouse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2016
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1524604771
• ISBN 13: 9781524604776
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 110
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: preigu GmbH & Co. KG; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; Niedersachsen; 49078; Deutschland