Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass goes to school. He gets more education than he expected.

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rjb

Chapter Twenty-Seven – School

When Tallgrass started going to school he got a whole new perspective on life. Up to that point he’d been sheltered from the worst of the bigotry that thrived in the city. He hadn’t felt the full virulence with which city people despised those who came there from away. They looked down on those who came in from the towns up and down the coast, but they saved their full contempt for those who came from the villages.

Tallgrass hadn’t seen any of that, being surrounded by people who loved him, and he was shocked speechless the first time it happened to him. After his mother dropped him off and left, he was met by a small group of boys who welcomed him in the way only such children can. They surrounded him and began to torment him.

“Hey Runny,” said a boy with a fat, sneery face as he shoved him, “when did they let you into town?”

Tallgrass caught his balance but was unable to form a reply, so he tried to walk past them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the boy as he snatched at Tallgrass’s bag. “And what do we have here?” He opened the bag and dumped it on the floor. “Get the money and the food,” he told the other boys, as he threw the bag in Tallgrass’s face. When he saw how much there was he said, “You better bring more tomorrow, Runny, or there’s going to be trouble.” He gave him a last shove before they walked away, laughing.

Tallgrass looked around at the other children, none of whom looked as if they wanted to help him. Some were smirking. Some simply looked away, uninterested now that the action was over. There was only one who looked different. Who looked at him with something approaching sympathy. It was a boy who was small like him, apparently here for the first time as well.

After Tallgrass picked up his stuff and put it back in his bag, he straightened up and noticed an adult watching him. He thought this must be one of the teachers and he looked to see if he was going to do anything, or even ask him how he was. But he did nothing. He just looked away, his face carefully blank.

Tallgrass stood for a moment as the meaning sank in. Then he had to fight the pricking of tears and the jumping of incipient sobs. As he got control of that, he moved off down the hallway looking for his classroom. He felt someone beside him and turned to see the small boy who’d been watching him. After a moment when many things wheeled through his mind, he finally said, “Good morning. My name is Tallgrass.”

“Oh,” said the boy, a shy smile of recognition briefly lighting his face. “My name is Seagrass. We’re almost the same.”

Tallgrass said, “So we are.” Then he pointed with his chin and asked, “Did they pick on you, too?”

Seagrass looked at the floor, then said, “Yes. Just before you got here.” His voice almost disappeared as he said, “I was kind of glad you did because then they left me alone.” He looked out of his prey eye and said, “Sorry.”

“Okay,” said Tallgrass, thinking that he’d probably have done the same. “What were they picking on you for?”

“I don’t know,” said Seagrass. “Maybe it’s because I’m an orphan.” He shrugged. “Maybe just because they could.”

“You’re an orphan?”

“Yes. They tell me my mother and father came up the coast when she was pregnant, and then my father died trying to protect them when they were robbed.” Seagrass’s face was bland as he told what was obviously an old story. “Then they told me my mother died giving birth.”

“Well, don’t they know that?” asked Tallgrass. “Maybe if they knew, then they wouldn’t be so mean.”

Seagrass looked at him and shook his head. He hadn’t had quite such a gentle upbringing. “I’ve learned that if you tell them things like that, then they just have more ways to hurt you.”

Tallgrass didn’t have anything to say to that. It was so blunt and so hard that he somehow knew that it was something he needed to think about. There was something else that he wondered about though. Something more immediate. “How did they know?” he asked. “If they’re picking on you because you’re an orphan, then how did they know?”

“Maybe they don’t,” said Seagrass. “Maybe it’s just because we’re small, or new.” He shrugged. “They won’t bother us for a while now. Let’s find out where we’re supposed to go.”

It turned out they would be in the same classroom. Seagrass was right that they wouldn’t be bothered for a while. The bully who stole Tallgrass’s money and lunch, along with his two accomplices, were not in his class. If that lifted his spirits, they were soon brought down again by his classmates. He got a rude introduction to the practice of establishing a pecking order, and he and Seagrass found themselves at the bottom of it pretty quickly.

It seemed like as soon as he would introduce himself to someone, they would react in one of a few ways. The nicest of them would smile politely and find some way to move on. They weren’t mean, but they made it clear that they wouldn’t be his friend, either. Then there were the ones who immediately shunned him. They didn’t waste time being polite. They just turned their backs on him. Finally there were the ones who were overtly antagonistic. They didn’t avoid him. They found some way to clearly show that they didn’t like him. They never used his name. They called him “Runner” or “Runny.” These were names he’d overheard before when people complained about him running on the grass, but he hadn’t worried about them. He’d just let his mother and the Professor take care of it. Now he was beginning to feel the sting in them.

Eventually he made the connection between his name and their reaction. His name, and Seagrass’s, both marked them as non-city people. That almost took the spirit right out of him. If these children hated him for his name, for who he was, then things were never going to get better. He might have given up if not for two things. He had made one friend: Seagrass. And he found that he loved learning.

He spent the rest of the day immersed in the excitement of learning. He forgot about his classmates. He didn’t pay any attention to the shunning or the contempt. When he raised his hand to answer the teacher’s questions, or to ask his own, he didn’t see the resentment in the other children’s faces. The day went by in a happy kaleidoscope of new ideas, and he was genuinely surprised when he was accosted by the bullies on his way out of the school grounds.

“Hey Runny!” said the one with the fat, sneery face. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” He grabbed the strap of Tallgrass’s bag. “I got something to tell you.”

Tallgrass waited.

The bully said, “Well?”

Tallgrass didn’t know what to do. He said, nervously, “Well what?”

The bully shook him by the strap. “Well, what have you got to say for yourself?”

Tallgrass was confused. He just wanted this to be over so he could go home to his mother. Thinking of her, he wished fervently that she could be here to take care of this. The bully shook him again, and he blurted, “You said you wanted to tell me something.”

That set the bully back. He looked surprised, then embarrassed, and then his eyes became small and resentful. He pushed Tallgrass and said, “You just make sure you bring more money tomorrow, Runny. You just remember that. Or else.” He turned and led his accomplices in search of another victim.

Shaking, Tallgrass straightened his pack and turned to go. As he turned he saw Seagrass, small and almost invisible. They gave tiny waves and made their separate ways out of there.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass does get to drive a truck. And he meets a day runner.

We’re about halfway through now. Please join us in the comments. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything.

rjb

Chapter Twenty-Six – The Picnic

They let Tallgrass drive the truck after they’d been on the road for a while. He watched Street drive for the first few kilometers, so he could see what he was supposed to do, then they let him take over. They were still on the hard, stony part of the road, so it was smooth going. The road was nice and wide, and Street kept the speed down, so all the weaving back and forth wasn’t a problem.

“You’re overcorrecting a little, Tallgrass,” said Street as he put his hand on the steering wheel to show him. “The trick is to let the truck do most of the steering itself while you just do little corrections. See?” He took his hand off the wheel and the weaving started up again, only much reduced. “There,” he said, “better already. It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”

“No,” said Tallgrass, the tip of his tongue showing in the corner of his mouth, and his rigid arms jerking the wheel back and forth.

“Once you’ve been doing it for a while, most of it becomes automatic,” said Street. “You get so you make all the little corrections without even realizing it.” He helped get the truck on track, then helped keep it there while Tallgrass got a sense of it. This time when he let go, the weaving was almost gone, so he let the boy drive on his own for a few kilometers.

They were in one of the bigger trucks of its class. There was plenty of room on its open deck for their gear and all five of them. Tiny was along for that extra bit of protection just in case, and he was trying in his inarticulate way to apologize to Sage. Digger had turned discreetly away, hanging his head over the rail and watching the scenery go by.

Tiny was saying, “I’m really sorry, Missus.” His face was bunched up in concerned wrinkles. “About before, I mean.” He waved a big arm in the direction of their destination. “When we met before.” His shoulders slumped as he sensed he was failing to make himself understood.

Sage smiled gently. “Did Street put you up to this?” she asked.

“No Missus!” he said, his face now in earnest wrinkles. “Well, after we met the first time,” his big arm swung again, “he did lay into me a bit.” His gaze went back. “Quite a bit. But he didn’t say anything today, Missus. It’s me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was stupid and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

Her smile was for pleasure now. He was making an important gesture, and it made her want to do the same. She said, “Thank you, Tiny, but it wasn’t all your fault. I didn’t have to react the way I did.” She held up a hand to stop his protests. “Nothing would have happened if I had just taken what you said in a better humor.” She held out her hand, and as he looked at it she said, “I accept your apology and I hope you will accept mine.”

His face showed that he didn’t believe he deserved it, but he took her hand and accepted her apology anyway, so as not to insult her. “Yes Missus,” he said.

“And you don’t need to call me Missus,” she said. “You can call me Sage.” When she saw how uncomfortable that made him, she said, “Or Miss Sage, if you prefer.”

Relief lit up Tiny’s face. “Yes Missus,” he began, and covered quickly with, “Miss Sage.” After a while he remembered to let go of her hand, lost as it was in his big, meaty one.

There was a small jolt as the truck left the smooth surface for the packed dirt. As the steering wheel started to dance in Tallgrass’s hands, Street took over, but not before telling the boy what a good job he’d done. As he pushed the speed back up, his apprentice turned to his mother and said, “Did you see, Mom? I was driving.” As he walked proudly back to her, he said, “I’m going to be a good driver when I grow up.” He looked back at Street. “Aren’t I, Street? You said I did a good job, didn’t you?”

“Darn good job,” said Street, glancing over his shoulder. “The boy’s a natural.”

When her son turned his bright face back to her, she said, “Yes, I watched you. You looked really grown up there.”

“Uncle Digger, did you see? Did you see me driving?”

Digger brought his head in and leaned on the rail. “I sure did,” he said, “but you were driving so well that I just relaxed and watched the scenery go by.”

Tallgrass looked like he might burst, and if he’d been out on the grass instead of in a truck, he might have run around a bit.

When they pulled up at the hut, Tallgrass jumped down from the truck so quickly that no one could stop him. Sage called out to him while she and Digger jumped down, followed quickly by Tiny, who left the truck rocking. Street was right behind them after he hastily parked and secured the truck.

Tallgrass had the hut door open and was inside before anyone caught up to him. Digger had a quick look around for dangers while Sage went to her son. She said, “Don’t ever do that! Don’t you ever run off on your own like that.”

The delight of discovery vanishing from his face, Tallgrass said, “But you said it was safe. In your stories you said that the hut was the first place you felt safe since you left the village.” His expression was ready to collapse into tears.

As Tiny loomed in the doorway, blocking most of their light, Sage said, “Okay, you’re right. I did.” She patted his neck. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but don’t do it again, okay? Being out here has brought it all back for me, and it makes me scared for you. Do you understand?”

He might not have understood all the nuances of it, but he did see that she was scared, and that scared him. He knew how he could make her feel better, and himself too. He said, “Yes, Mom. I understand.”

She smiled her gratitude and kissed him. Digger patted him on the shoulder and said, “Good lad.” Tiny finally noticed Street trying to see around him and moved, letting a little more light into the hut. Sage looked around, memories popping up at every turn, and said, “Let’s bring in the provisions, then.”

They made a few trips back and forth, Tallgrass struggling stoically with his loads, and Sage directing where everything should go. As she hung up the last towel – you can never have too many towels, she’d said as they packed – she said, “Good. I think that’s got it. Now up the hill for the picnic.”

“Oh boy!” said Tallgrass as he ran out the door. He ran back in saying, “Your necklace. You have to get your necklace.” Then he ran out to the truck to get it. As he labored back with the bag, he was saying, “And your spear. Your spear.”

They got her decked out, loaded Tiny up with the picnic supplies, and began the trek up the sloping path. Tallgrass led the way, with Digger alert at his side. Tiny followed with Sage’s panniers, adjusted for his girth, hanging at his sides. Street walked with Sage at the rear. He said, “Seeing you like that brings back memories.”

“For me too,” she said. “A lot of them.”

“That was quite a sight to see,” he said. “Coming to the top here and seeing a wild girl yelling at a day runner.”

She had to laugh. She rattled her spear and laughed again. “I was so sick of eating them,” she said.

“I can imagine,” he said. After a moment’s silence he said, “I looked into it. The Moonshadow thing.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. I asked around and there are stories of a group of traders taking a girl from her village.”

“Kidnapping?”

“No. The girl apparently wanted to go. She was bored with village life, or something.” Street’s jaw bulged, and he gritted out, “They took her all right, but it wasn’t …”

“They abused her,” guessed Sage.

“Yes,” said Street. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. “They kept her all the way to the city, where they abandoned her. She was lucky Digger found her almost right away, or she would have been easy prey.”

Sage felt short of breath and she noticed her hands were shaking. Anger almost took her voice, but she managed to say, “Where are they now?”

“I know how to find them,” he said. “Tiny and I are going to have a talk with them when we get back.”

“A talk? Then what?”

“That will depend on how the talk goes.” He had a look in his predator eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It chilled her. “However it goes, they won’t be doing it again. Tiny doesn’t like people who pick on the helpless ones. And I don’t like people who give traders a bad name.”

Sage decided she didn’t have to hear any more. She would be able to tell Moonshadow that her abusers were punished and wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. It wouldn’t make it all right, but it would have to do.

They crested the hill and Tallgrass had stopped, his head thrown back as he looked at the sentinel tree. Digger was at his side scanning for danger. Tiny pulled up on his other side and began to remove the panniers. Street and Sage stepped up to give him a hand.

Putting her pannier down, Sage asked Tallgrass, “Well, what do you think?”

He looked at her, then back at the tree. “It’s bigger than you said,” he said. “Way bigger.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And what do you think of the grass?”

He looked down and ventured out into it. “It’s brown. And long.” He trotted this way and that, getting a feel for it. Digger stayed close and Tiny went to post himself between the boy and the tree.

“You have a good run,” she said, “but stay close. And listen to Uncle Digger and Tiny. Street and I are going to set up the picnic.”

Tallgrass didn’t need to be told twice. He took off through the grass at a full gallop, with Digger trotting along beside him and Tiny moving to stay between them and the tree. Tallgrass could feel that the ground was a little harder and drier than it was back at the university, and the grass was crisper as well as taller. While he ran he could feel it brushing his legs and his ribs, and he could hear it swishing and crunching.

He turned sharply and swung back the other way, making Digger laugh as he tried to keep up. He ended up running a route that closely matched the one he did back home. Digger adjusted his route to stay on the side opposite the tree, and Tiny just moved back and forth guarding that side. Tallgrass felt safe, but he also felt a thrill of the unknown. This was where his mother had faced dangers, and he kept his eyes open, hoping to see a day runner or a day flier.

After a few circuits he heard Tiny call out in a quiet but firm voice, “Day runner.”

Tallgrass stopped dead and stared. He felt Digger move in close, and he took a step forward to keep his view. On the other side of Tiny, coming out from under the branches, was a scary looking animal. He could see the power in its six legs, and the muscles bunching under its gleaming scales, but it was the head and its huge mouth full of teeth that held his eye. He shivered as a primal fear washed through him. It was staring at him with all four of its eyes.

He saw that Digger had his knife in his hand beside him, and Tiny had his out too, as he warily faced the animal. Then he heard a rattle as his mother trotted forward. She went straight at the day runner, shaking her spear in front of her. It stared at her, uncertain, then it turned and scuttled back into the shadows.

Sage turned and trotted over to him, lifting her spear as she came. Under her gentle mother look, he saw a ferocity he had never seen before. He knew it was to protect him, and he had never felt so proud in his life.

They had their picnic then, standing around a portable table. Tallgrass had his date bars, then he had another run. He went up the little incline to have a closer look at the tree, his mother on one side, her spear point in front, and Digger on the other, his knife in his hand. Once he was satisfied with that, they went back down to the hut and the truck.

Tallgrass had a day he would never forget and, with visions of his mother and the day runner in his mind, he dropped off to sleep on the deck of the truck as it jostled over the dirt road.

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass gets to know Street and might get to drive a truck.

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rjb

Chapter Twenty-Five – The Penthouse

The Professor was back in his lab and the rest of them were walking around the rectangle toward the gate. Tallgrass was going the long way too, only on the grass. Sage said to the men, “Why don’t the two of you come over for a cup of tea? We can get caught up.”

“Yeah!” said Tallgrass.

Digger looked at Street, who shrugged. “You don’t have to be anywhere, Street?” he said. “No plans? Nobody you need to meet?”

“No,” said Street. “All my accounts are up to date. The crew is, uh, occupied with the things they do when we get back.” He glanced at Tallgrass, then looked at Sage to be sure he hadn’t offended. When she nodded he finished, “And I always set aside a little time at the end of a trip for myself. Nothing to do but rest and re-adjust to city life.”

“That’s wise,” Sage said. “As I recall, it does take some adjusting.”

“Nowhere near what it must have been like for you,” said Street, “but I find I still need to do it. I get used to it out there. The quiet. The simplicity. Everything is so straightforward. You do what you have to to survive, and that’s all it asks of you.” He looked around, then at them again. “But mostly the people. Honest. They say what they mean, and they go by their word.” He looked at Tallgrass and winked. “And everybody is allowed on the grass.”

Tallgrass gaped and looked at his mother. “Can we go there some day?” he asked.

She smiled at him and said, “I think we should, some day. The trouble is, it’s a month of walking each way, and there are too many things out there that would love to eat a little thing like you.”

“But you’d protect me,” he said. “You could bring your spear and your necklace.” He looked at Street. “And we could go with them, couldn’t we? The traders? Then we’d all be safe.” He nodded his head, all settled.

Street said, “For sure. You can come with us any time.” He grinned at Sage.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but with a smile crinkling their corners, and said to Tallgrass, “That sounds good, but there’s still the matter of the time. I can’t just take two months off whenever I want. And there’s your education to think of.”

“We could take a truck,” he said, referring to one of the wagons that pulled themselves. “That would be faster.” His eyes flashed. “Or an airplane. That would be really fast.”

They were going to arrive at the gate soon, so Sage said, “Airplanes don’t go that way, and there’s no place for them to land out there, anyway.” As his face fell, she carried on, “But you’ve given me an idea.” His face rose again. “I don’t see why we can’t take a truck part way. It wouldn’t make it all the way to the village, but it could take us to the hut.” She looked at Street.

“Sure,” he said, setting Tallgrass to bouncing. “That’s how we replenish its supplies anyway. By the way, Sage, you didn’t make very good use of the supplies when you were there.”

“They weren’t mine,” she said, “and I didn’t have anything worth trading.” Not looking at them, she said, “And I did take something. I ate some of the dried fruit. But I left my torch and its fuel. I thought that might be enough.”

“I noticed,” said Street, “and it was more than enough. You should have taken more. That’s what it’s there for.”

“Okay,” she said. “Next time. In the meantime, do you think we could take a truck out there? Maybe take a picnic up onto the prairie by the sentinel tree. Tallgrass could have a run in some real grass, and we could watch out for him.”

Tallgrass was really bouncing now, his eyes on Street, who said, “Sure, I don’t see why not. Some time in the next week?”

Now Tallgrass was still, hardly breathing as he watched his mother, who said, “That sounds good. Let’s make plans over tea,“ then watched her son caper for joy.

Sage and Tallgrass lived in a place with a view. The big window looked out over the harbor, where they could watch the ships come and go. The airport was also close to the water, so they could see the airplanes on approach and departure. When they came in, Tallgrass went to his room to change blankets, and Sage went to the kitchen, but their two guests went straight to the window.

The city was laid out below them. From Sage’s penthouse you could see it all, from the nearby towers, through the neat neighborhoods surrounding them, all the way down to the waterfront. Digger had been here before, of course, not only as he brought Sage her refugees, but also as a friend. He often brought Skylight and Fisher along for the evening. Their son, Star, had taken to Tallgrass like a big brother. So Digger was familiar with the view, but it was new to Street and he was quiet while he tried to take it all in.

That’s where Sage found them when she came back from the kitchen. Tallgrass was standing between them, his house blanket on, but askew. Straightening it, Sage said, “Moonshadow will be out with the tea shortly.”

Digger turned from the window and asked, “How is she working out? Is she settling in okay?”

Sage nodded. “I think she’s going to be all right. She’s certainly a good worker. But I think it’s a good thing you found her when you did. She’s a sensitive girl.”

“I know,” said Digger. “It was really hard to get through to her when I found her. She was afraid of everything and wouldn’t talk to anyone. It was all I could do to get her here.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Has she told you anything?”

“Not really,” said Sage. “There’s something there all right. Something bad. But I told her she doesn’t have to talk about it. If she wants to some day, that’s up to her. Meanwhile, she knows she’s somewhere safe.”

Digger nodded. “I think that’s best. I’m curious, of course, but it’s her story and she can decide if she wants to tell it.”

At that moment Moonshadow came in carrying a tray. Her hesitation when she saw a stranger, Street, was almost imperceptible. She set it down on a tall table in the middle of the room, then turned to face Sage.

Sage said, “Thank you, Moonshadow. We won’t need anything else for now, but let me introduce Street. He’s a trader and a good friend. You can trust him.”

She flinched very slightly at the word “trader,” but she managed a smile. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” she said.

“And you, Moonshadow,” he said. “But you don’t need to call me sir. I’m just a common trader.” The flinch this time was almost invisible, but he caught it.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and at Sage’s nod she left the room.

The three adults exchanged a look. They had all seen her reaction, and they all guessed that her trauma had something to do with traders. But before they could talk about it, Tallgrass turned away from the window and said, “Can we go on the picnic tomorrow? Can we?”

The grownups laughed as the tension disappeared. Sage said, “Not tomorrow, Tally. We need at least a day to prepare, so it will be the next day at the earliest.”

Tallgrass sagged only a little and not for long. “What are we going to take? What kind of truck? Can I drive it? I like date bars. Can we take date bars?”

Digger and Street were grinning at Sage as she endeavored to answer her son’s questions. “We can certainly take date bars. And I might let you steer the truck for a little while, as long as it’s safe. As for your other questions, that’s what we have to figure out today.” She walked to the table. “Tea everyone?” she said as she began to pour.