Bonny Malt: Prince of Swan

By Vic Ramphal

Sudden apprehension, terror, and unsurpassed fright cascaded over the boy as he was held in a viselike grip off the dry and hard ground. Instantly, he hated the man in front of him more than the one that held him suspended. More so, because his trusted dog was limp at the man's feet. Then, unceremoniously, thrust in the midst of a group of strangers, who were as surprised as he was, nevertheless, unselfishly, welcomed him in their weekend of fun, where he called the only girl high priestess. And

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781643500690

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Bonny Malt

Prince of Swan

Vic Ramphal

Copyright © 2018 Vic Ramphal

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64350-066-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-069-0 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Ellen Claxson was in unbearable pain. She felt it with each throb as her blood made its circuit through her sore calf. Several times that evening, after she got home from school, she was very careful how she moved around lest she collapsed under its involuntary muscles. Nevertheless, she tried her best not to favor it.

I must finish first, she kept saying in her mind ever since she woke up that morning, although she knew, just wishing about it was not nearly enough.

It all happened about twilight the day before. Penna, her mother, was working late and her father, Dennis, was on an assignment out of town. So she went riding her bicycle for about an hour; only this time it was not a casual, routine joyride. It was more of an endurance sort. Then, after putting her bike away on its supporting stand, and still feeling energized, she decided to do some running. By now, she had worked up a little sweat, and the warm afternoon breeze refreshed her a little as she ran into it.

Ellen knew she was not an athlete, and so for that very reason, she ran for a quarter of an hour more, and that was when she felt the sudden soreness. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she was on her way back home, and that’s how she will win, because she was sure about being agile, strong, and healthy with tolerance and endurance. And with her favorite cousin’s words reverberating in her head, Run to win, let the others compete. She kept on running, still. But she ignored her pain a little too longer than was necessary, than she would have otherwise.

That night she went to bed a little earlier, hoping the extra rest will repair her sore, tired calf.

In the bright lights, after buttoning up her blouse, she patted the front of it as she sat on the stool in front of the gold-and-mahogany-framed, oval-shaped mirror, next to the matching vanity, where she carefully laid out her toiletries, well, most of it, in her spacious room. Her thoughts were only of getting this unnecessary race over with. She powdered her nose for the second time, then brushed her hair in long deliberate strokes and made a few faces at the image in the mirror. She began to hum a tune and moved her head as she put her socks on. She held her watch to her ear and listened to its ticktock, as a habit, before fastening the small metal clasp of the gold band of the delicate watch, which she rested on its face on her lap. She wiggled her wrist until she was satisfied it hung comfortable on her slim wrist.

It was a Tuesday morning. Penna Claxson was very keen about keeping time, especially when it was about her job. She likes being punctual and expects her daughter, Ellen, to be so too. Penna had to. She was the district manager for a large, successful warehouse. She was very militant, where dozens of drivers of large distribution trucks jostle early in the morning each day, to load and unload their laden cargoes. She held the helm with efficiency and commanded respect, for the six years she worked there, and was awarded a few trophies and merits from major distributors and manufacturers, which she accepted with gratitude and coy. But her main drive was to build a handsome living while the time was favorable. She often said to her daughter, One day I want to own my own business.

From ten minutes past six in the morning each day, she would spend exactly twenty minutes in her home gym. The first five minutes, she would do free arm exercise. Then skipping the next five minutes, followed by running on the spot, and finally sit-ups, all in front of a very tall and wide mirror. Then she would shower in the bathroom in the gym, before getting ready in her room. She had to pass Ellen’s room on the way to her room, and religiously called out to her, I hope you are up, my dear, to which Ellen, who was always up, would recite in chorus, to her anthem, in a singsongy manner, upon hearing her footsteps approaching.

Is Mr. Boyce coming this evening still? Penna asked, as she drove on the way to Ellen’s school.

He promised he would, replied Ellen.

Good, how are you feeling about the race, anyway?

If I go by what Keven suggested, well, upbeat.

But . . .

If I go by my assessment, I have a good chance, which is not what I crave.

Isn’t that the same thing? asked her mother, and took a quick look at her, then turned her attention back to the busy morning traffic and the bright glare from the sun reflecting on the windscreens of the vehicles in front of them.

Well, you know what my greatest motivator, cousin Keven, says, ‘Ride to win, not to compete,’ said Ellen.

That’s a wonderful concept indeed, but it is not always like that, you know.

And that is what my greatest concern is about, could you see my point, Mom? asked she.

Yes! I see what you are up against. But as a mom, and especially your mom, do let her work for it, said Penna.

You will be fine, she added and reached over and patted Ellen’s forearm.

Thanks, Mom, I will think about that until all is over, said she.

Later that afternoon, when Keven Boyce rode over on his well-maintained, shiny bicycle to his aunt’s residence, he was almost out of breath. He panted so much as if he was chased by a phantom billy goat. Then, in haste but carefully, he leaned his bicycle against the side of the garage, then leaned over and rested both hands on both thighs and, breathing laboriously, said to himself, I lost him.

Ellen had in her hands a small bundle of letters she just took out of the letter box at the end of the driveway. Her back was toward Keven, so she did not see when he rode up, and neither did she hear. His bike was so quiet and well cared for. But when she heard him say that, the first thing she said was, Keven! I didn’t see when you rode up . . . That box is so hot! She then fanned her warm face a few times with a large envelope as she walked quickly back to the cool inside of the garage, where he was.

I know you didn’t. You couldn’t, he said. That’s the image I want you to impress and portrait when you ride in the race, he said.

Message received. What’s the matter? I heard you said something about losing him, she asked.

Keven shrugged his shoulders and replied, Whoever was trying to compete with me. He could see she was still walking with a slight hesitation on her left foot.

She tried to tap him on the head with the envelope but he avoided her.

Show-off! You boastful oaf, she said, what kept you so long?

Instead of answering, he said, Water! Water!

What about water? she asked.

I mean, give me some water, he said this time.

Over there! Help yourself, said Ellen and pointed to the fridge in the corner. My leg still hurts. You can get it faster.

A fine friend, you are, he said. He then went over and helped himself with some cold, refreshing water.

Sorry, yes, I know but I thought you can manage, he said. We will see to that and fix it in a little while, he added.

How?

She laid the letters on a shelf at the opposite corner from the fridge. That way, she was bound to see them when she goes through the door into the house. While Keven was helping himself to a second glass of water, she started to put some tools together for him to work on her bicycle, which was his primary reason he had come. She put them side by side, on a piece of old newspaper on a narrow work bench and called out each name as she did so.

Oil can, one flat screwdriver, one Philips screwdriver, one air pump, some rags, one adjustable wrench. Then she paused and asked, Is there anything else you might need, Keven?

That’s plenty enough. I will see to it if there is need for anything else, he replied. He rubbed his tummy with his free hand, then let out a belch.

Sorry, he said. Then, he took two metal collapsible chairs that were leaned against the wall next to a short wooden ladder, and unfolded them.

He slapped the seat of the green one and said, Come and sit here. Then he casually dragged the brown one a short space away and sat on it.

What is this modern-day tribal meeting all about? she asked jokingly before she sat down.

About that same time, Penna turned into the driveway and stopped the car almost ten feet away from where Ellen and Keven were sitting. She turned the motor off, got out, and was about to go to the letter box, when Ellen called out, I already see to it, Mom.

Hello! Aunt Penna, said Keven.

Hello, Keven, I am glad you are here, we were hoping you be here, said Penna.

Do you need the least of help with anything? he asked.

No, thanks, I can manage, only my bag from the back seat.

They sat in silence and watched her retrieve the bag and shove the door closed with one push from her hip. She walked over and stood next to them.

Anything in the bag for me, Mom? Ellen asked.

Hmm . . . as a matter of fact I have. A partial packet of Smarties, if you want it.

That will do, said Ellen and held out her hand. Before I forget, Mom, please take those letters from that shelf for me, said Ellen and pointed to where she put them. Hold out your paw, Keven, have some, said Ellen with a little laughter.

Thanks, but no. I have some more important things to do, he said.

Oh! What is it this time? asked Penna.

This, my dear aunt, is supposed to do the trick, he said. He went over to his bicycle and took out, from the small saddle kit from under the saddle, a small transparent bottle and jiggled it. The dark brown liquid sloshed about in the partially filled bottle.

What’s that, a trick in a bottle? Penna asked.

No! Aunt Penna, it’s transformer oil, he answered and raised his eyebrows, made a funny face, and kept on jiggling the bottle.

Is it to transform my ordinary bike into a super bike? Ellen asked, as she laughed at his antic.

No! No, no, my little not-so-street-smart cousin, he said.

Then, what is your price to reveal your cheap magician trick? asked Penna. She, too, joined Ellen in laughter.

This is what Mr. Bankcroft recommends. And now you owe him an apology. But my labor is absolutely free.

Mr. Bankcroft! said Ellen. How . . .

Oh! Sorry, honey. I ran into him at the café this morning, Penna said. He asked about your welfare, and I merely said you have a sore calf, that’s all. I hardly imagine he would summon up his trick dispenser, she added.

But how did he get hold of you, Keven? asked Ellen.

I dropped in to see a friend, and he asked me to do a little favor, and here it is, replied Keven and shook the bottle some more.

I can hardly believe that. Or you were escorting some girl, together with Richard, who works there? asked his aunt as she smiled at him.

I will pretend I never heard that, especially in the presence of my cousin, said he and held his head erect, and stared away from her gaze. Keven was only eighteen years old.

Hmm . . . well, in that case, how magical can it be. It has no label, and the only package is the saddlebag of a bicycle. Let me get a whiff of that thing, said Penna.

Keven unscrewed the bottle cap and extended it toward his aunt. But before she could bring her nose close enough, she jerked her head back, made a funny face, and stuck her tongue out and said, That’s the most ghastly and awful thing I ever smelled. It smells like burnt oil.

You look horrible! said Keven.

You won’t look any prettier yourself, if you smell that thing, said his aunt.

That’s what Mr. Bankcroft said it was, said he and took a sniff at the bottle himself. He agreed with her.

Mr. Bankcroft knows a thing or two, I must confess. I will leave the two of you to work it out, if it’s good or not. Let’s see what the conclusion is, she said.

Ellen and Keven said nothing. They watched her pick up the letters off the shelf, then went through the adjoining door into the house.

Suddenly, Ellen said, Let me smell that thing and reached out for the bottle.

Are you sure you are ready for this? he asked.

I don’t know! But let me have it anyway, since I am the one who will have to use it.

Okay! Fair enough, but promise me, you will not fling it away, he said and relinquished the bottle.

Gosh! Mom was right! This thing is horrible, I almost gag on it she said as she held it away from her.

Well . . . ?

Well, what? she asked.

What I mean was, would you go ahead and use it still?

Of course! I don’t have to drink the thing . . . wait a minute . . . or do I?

No! he said and laughed at her hesitation and concern.

Besides, I don’t think Mr. Bankcroft wishes me any harm. I know he is very fond of me

Good point. We all know that he said.

Well, there you have it then" she said and shrugged her shoulders as a model would.

Okay! Then let’s do that first before we tackle your bike, he said.

All right, Doctor, how did he prescribe it? she asked.

Now, sit still and be perfectly honest with me as your visiting doctor, do you shower before you go to bed?

What an unbecoming question to ask a girl!

That’s perfectly true. But you being my patient now, and my best cousin, I take that for a yes. Tonight, you must, after rubbing it on for four hours. So says Mr. Bankcroft and me. That is plenty time for it to work.

It would be quite insane of anyone not to wash this thing off before going to bed, she said and jiggled the bottle like her cousin did a minute ago and smiled at him.

It was getting near twilight, and Penna couldn’t see any sort of light coming through the opening at the bottom of the door that led to the garage. Keven was busy joining the master link on the new chain for Ellen’s bike. He was unaware when his aunt came and stood there, until she turned the light on. Suddenly, inside the garage got very bright, which woke Ellen from her nap. After rubbing on some of the oil that Keven brought, very gently, she felt relaxed and decided to lie down on a short wooden bench. It felt comfortable, first the massage, then, the lie down, and then she fell asleep.

What a fine lot the two of you are! One working in the dark, how much can you get done like that? And the other sleeping on the job. I would soon fire both of you if I didn’t care enough to bring you this juice, said Penna.

Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you do all the work, Keven. I felt so relieved of the pain, I must have dozed off, said Ellen.

I was too busy to notice. Anyway, I am almost done. And I won’t say a word about how loud you snored, he said.

Good! At least there wasn’t much for both of us to do, said Ellen.

Come on, take a break and let’s have some juice Mom brought.

Ellen drank off her portion in one steady drink, while Keven drank by the mouthful and counted off the maintenance work he did.

I adjusted the brakes, that’s good. Examined both sprockets, those are good. Cleaned and oiled axles, those are good. Checked tires, those are good. Air pressure, good, he said and paused.

The pedals! What about the pedals? she asked

I checked them, those are good too, he replied. Then he stepped back a couple of feet and said, Do you want to give it a test ride now?

Yes, but you have a go first and see how you like it, while I get my muscles to wake up.

Fair enough, he said and dropped the oiled rag on the chair he was sitting on, straddled the seat, and shoved off into the twilight, onto the asphalt street and out of sight. He went as fast and far and was back in two minutes. He panted like a chased rabbit. While he was gone, Ellen got up and stood at the entrance of the garage and carefully but gradually shifted her weight onto her left foot and stood on one leg. She raised herself onto her toes, testing her muscles of her calf. It felt good and bearable. Probably from the rest or the massage, or both. She couldn’t tell.

This thing is infused! he said when he got off the seat. He leaned the bike on its stand, stepped back, and looked at it in satisfaction.

What with? asked Ellen, who came and stood next to him.

I certainly didn’t exert more effort, like I would before tuning it up.

Or it could be you were afraid of the dark, Ellen teased. Keven didn’t pay her any mind, instead he said, Why don’t you give it a ride now, then tell me what you think.

All right! But do keep your ears open, in case you hear me cry out and I collapse in pain, she said.

No, you won’t. But I will.

Keven held the bike for his cousin, Ellen, until she was comfortable to ride off by herself. Just as she turned off onto the asphalt road, in the same direction that Keven went, her mom came into the garage. At that same time, Keven was wiping the tool he was using and putting them away.

Where is Ellen? she asked. Then she noticed that her bike was not there too, so she said, Never mind, I suppose she went for a test ride. For a moment, I thought she went upstairs and left you all by yourself.

Yes! Like you said, she just pedaled off to see what a difference it is now.

How is it? Did you get much, or everything done? she asked, as she wiped her hands on her apron.

All done! I even had enough time to take it for a test ride myself, he replied.

And how is it?

I think it’s in excellent shape, but let’s hear what she thinks, he replied.

That’s very admirable of you, Keven. But let me ask you something before she comes back. Do you think that she should compete, I mean, she can fake not being well. Evidently, her leg is hurt.

Of course! She should ride. Besides, she is not competing, she will be riding to win. I am encouraging her to win.

Yes, I know. And I think that is fine and so on, but I am very concerned. I don’t want anything to go bad. Her father would be, and it’s a long drive back here for him, if this doesn’t go well, said she.

She knows her limit. We talked about that, and how to handle it, if it happens to be necessary, he said.

And is she comfortable with that? she asked.

No! Neither are we anticipating that, he replied.

You are so sure of her. You do care. Thanks a lot, Keven.

Aren’t you? he asked, kindly. I don’t have a lot of cousins, you know, he added.

What chance you suppose she has, now that you have allayed my brooding?

As much as the other person, but even more. I am the honorable coach. And she is smart and proud, too, in case you have forgotten, he said.

Quite right! How could I.

Tell me, Aunt Penna, how did you know about me and Richard? Be quick before she comes back. All the while he kept looking up the driveway to see when Ellen would come back.

I didn’t. I made that up.

About Richard? he asked.

Oh! Him! Mr. Bankcroft mentioned he hired a new chap, Richard, he said his name was. That was only a guess about the girl part, she said with a smile.

Ah! Here she comes. I can see the light approaching, said Keven. He was correct.

Although the evening got cooler by then, Ellen managed to work up a little sweat. It was evident by the glisten on her forehead, by the light of the garage, when she rode slowly in. She was first to speak, even before she got off the bike.

You are so right! This thing has some added force to it. She then leaned the bicycle against the wall and went and stood next to them. Her mother beamed her a smile and allowed Keven to say something first.

What did I tell you? asked Keven.

Who? Me or Mom? asked Ellen.

Aunt Penna! Nothing to worry about. She was concerned if I did, a decent job. And there it is. You testify to it!

Well, that’s better. Are you all right, dear? she asked her daughter.

Yes, Mom, she replied. Then she sat down on the green metal chair, and clasped her hands between her knees.

I just need to cool off a little.

So I take it you are satisfied with the bike, said Keven.

Yes, Doctor, Mechanic, Cousin Keven, she said, as she tried to control her breathing and laughter.

You are starting to earn a few titles, I must say, said his aunt.

Accolades! Mom, accolades! said Ellen.

Yes, accolades! Well, I see the two of you have everything properly wrapped up. Would you stay for dinner, Keven? There is plenty, if you must know, she added.

Feeling elated and perked up, Keven said with a bow, Oh, what a delightful invitation, but I rather not, Aunt Penna. There is an errand I must do for your sister, without any more delay.

Well, good night. Do be careful in the dark. And call me when you get home, she said. Then, turning to Ellen, she added, Don’t you be too long now, it’s about time for your dinner.

Just as she turned to go back in the house, Keven said, Let me ask you something now.

Yes! said Penna.

Sorry! Not you, Aunt Penna, he apologized. It was Ellen I was addressing.

Oh! Now that you have my attention, may I listen in?

Sure! Now you can witness how a coach operates, he replied.

What is it? I thought you said you have an errand to run, said Ellen and got up off the chair.

I do! But just for a moment longer. It’s about this champion rider, he said.

Yes, what about her? asked Ellen.

Nothing much, except, have you ever met her?

No! Not even seen her, why? She is from another school replied Ellen.

Do you have even a hint of what sort of bike she would be riding?

As far as I know, the competition rules say all competing bikes must be of the same sort, so it must be one just like mine, she said, with a little concern in her voice.

Good! We are getting somewhere, he said.

You always like to play grown-up, don’t you? Ellen asked kindly.

Penna said, Go on.

Keven stepped closer to Ellen, about four feet or so, rested one hand on his hip, and stroked the few hairs under his chin. Then, he looked steadfastly at her and asked, From what you heard of her, and you must have, do you picture her legs longer than yours?

Of course, both Ellen and her mother were intrigued by his question, but Penna allowed Ellen to take charge of the situation.

I can’t tell where you are going with that question, but I suppose I will go along with you, said she and giggled.

Yes! This is interesting, what are you thinking about now? asked Penna.

The three of them looked odd, standing in the middle of the garage now, with Keven holding up his left hand, like a traffic police, then he explained his thoughts.

What I am trying to work out in my mind is, if she has longer legs, and her bike is like yours, she might be a bit awkward riding. And thereby, you have a very advantageous chance to perform better.

Ingenious! But how do you explain, she is the champion, and managed so three times in a row? asked Ellen.

Yes! Explain that, said his aunt.

I really can’t, except that, she is probably an intimidating and compelling rider, he said, a bit deflated.

And . . . or the ones who rode against her were not too keen on winning. But you are not so. You must, and will ride this thing, until we can’t put it back together! he said, and slapped the seat of his cousin Ellen’s bike.

And how can we know if someone hasn’t inspired her as you are attempting to do me? asked Ellen.

Yet she could be an astute athlete, and that we can’t discount, said his aunt.

Nevertheless! This thing must win! You must win he said, and pointed at his cousin. Then, his eyes fell on the wrench he was working with. He reached and grabbed it and lifted it above his head and said, And by this wrench, which I have imparted all the force necessary to win, I, we, hereby wrench the trophy from anyone who dares to oppose our goal, he added, with a bow to Penna and Ellen in turn. They applauded his confidence and told him what a good sport he was, and a very valuable inspiration too.

Yet you still don’t want to have dinner before you go, said Penna.

Quite certain, Aunt Penna, he said.

I just thought about something, Keven, after Ellen brings home the trophy for you and her, would you spend some time and look at my car? asked Penna, with a tease.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Aunt Penna, only this time it won’t be for free, he said.

Soon after, he left. Penna and Ellen went inside, and turned the garage light off.

Not wanting to stress her leg, more than was necessary, Ellen held on to the banister as she climbed up the stairs, slowly. However, with each step she ascended, she drummed a few times, with her fingers in an attempt to distract her mind from the present sore tingle in her calf. She smelled of burnt transformer oil. As she ascended each step, the imagery in her head was her cousin holding up the wrench and looking so certain of her winning. She smiled to herself and hoped that he was right. And so she climbed up another step higher.

Ellen spent a lot longer in the shower that evening than she usually would. Primarily, because she was tired, and there was the overpowering smell of the potion that the cheap magician, her favorite cousin, Keven, massaged on her leg. She washed and washed her hands and calf several times, until she was satisfied. Yet a faint odor lingered still. Then she realized it was the remaining trace in her nostrils. And so she reached for her towel, wet one corner, and cleaned her nose. She repeated that procedure a few times. Then she was relieved and felt more comfortable with her hygiene.

She put on her sleeping clothes. The soft yellow silk one. It had double rows of narrow matching lace, along the neckline and sleeves. She brushed her hair, and stepped quietly, in her orange slippers, into her mother’s brightly lit room. She heard when the telephone rang, and supposed it was her father. She was happy it was him, based on the conversation her mother was having.

Penna was sitting in front of her dresser. Her hair was down. Evidently, she was brushing her hair before she went to bed. She had a hairbrush in one hand and the telephone in the other. She looked up at Ellen when she saw her through the mirror entering, and gave her a reassuring smile, that she looked fine, and it was indeed her father. Ellen smiled back with satisfaction, and took hold of the telephone cord and squeezed it in a gesture that she was eager to talk with him too. Her mother nodded her head, and held up two fingers to her, indicating she will have her turn in as many minutes. She was happy, so she kissed her mother on her cheek. She then reached over for a small bottle of perfume on the dresser. Although she was very careful, she, nevertheless, knocked over a tube of lipstick. The sudden clang on the glass tray it was on was very distinct, and alarming, so much so that her father asked, What was that about?

That was your dear daughter knocking over one of my lipsticks. I think she is getting impatient to talk with you, she replied.

Meanwhile, Ellen smiled to herself, as she sniffed at the content of the bottle. What a relief it was, after that horrid stench of that stuff in her nose. She allowed herself to escape in the bouquet of the perfume, then she put one dab on each side of the nape of her neck, and the same to her mother. Suddenly, she realized she had become the subject of the discussion. She lifted a finger to her lips, as a sign of say no more. She then returned the bottle, this time, not on the glass tray, but on the wooden top of the dresser, so as not to make the slightest of noise. That way it won’t make any unnecessary sound. Then she kissed her mother one more time, took a couple steps backward, turned, and left the room.

Like a programmed machine, the next morning, Penna turned her car carefully off her driveway onto the asphalt road to drive Ellen to school. Both were neatly dressed and feeling cheerful after having a light breakfast.

Then, suddenly, Ellen thought about something and got a little fidgety.

What’s the matter, honey? You have a concerned look on your face, said Penna.

Mom, is there some way you can get hold of Keven, and ask him to come over this afternoon after school? she said. She plucked away at the edge of the seat belt as she waited for an answer.

I could. But would you care to let me know what’s bothering you? said her mother.

It’s about my bicycle handle handgrips.

"What’s the matter with them? Didn’t you and Keven had a look at them last evening?’ asked Penna, as she kept her eyes on the traffic.

Sure! But Dad mentioned I should get some new ones, and that, he has a surprise for me when he gets back. Would you know what that might be, Mom?

Now, you surprise me. Of course, not.

I feel better you don’t know, said Ellen with a twinkle in her eyes.

Maybe, he has one for me too, said her mother.

You are just saying that to make me jealous! Otherwise you would have mentioned it before. Ellen felt a bit better that her father didn’t let her mother on their secret. Even she didn’t know what it was about either.

You! Crafty little selfish fox, said her mother. Oh! You might want to think what else you need to get done, because I might be working a bit late.

Ellen said nothing more. She just dropped her hands on her lap and plucked at the edge of the seat belt.

The habit of plucking at the seat belt started when she was old enough to ride in the front passenger seat, when her father took her to get a pair of new shoes for her eighth birthday party. Dennis, her father, noticed the cheerful expression on his little girl’s face and smiled at her. She returned his smile, which made him feel very content and proud of her. He thought she was excited and thrilled to be in the front and about her new shoes. But not too many days later he saw the same behavior again. On the other hand, her mother thought it was an annoying thing. Penna tried for a very long time to deter the habit. Eventually, she came around to appreciate the comfort that Ellen got from doing so. Which made her interrupt less and allowed her to concentrate on her driving.

On long trips, she would pluck away at the edge of the seat belt and look so relax and comfortable, she would fall asleep.

Dennis Claxson, Ellen’s father, was the one who encouraged his daughter in the front passenger seat. He told her mother, Penna, the many reasons why.

If ever she feels sick, I want to know right away. I want her to see what the traffic and surrounding area look like from the front seat. I want to see her face and eyes if she expresses surprise and joy, either something she sees or something we talk about. He made that comment after the three of them drove back from spending a weekend at Penna’s parents’ home, about four hours away from their house, a few years ago.

About halfway, on their way back, Penna was driving and she stopped for gas and purchased a few things at a mart. When it was time to resume the journey, she suggested her husband drive and let Ellen sit in front, because both like that. Naturally, Ellen was elated and happy at her mother’s suggestion. On the other hand, she, Penna, would sit at the back seat, so she can file her nails and do her manicure, which she neglected to take care of all week, and simply because the next day was the start of the new workweek.

So under the shade of the canopy of the mart, they made the necessary adjustment, while the place was not too busy. Penna took her bag, with whatever she needed to do her manicure, and settled back in the back seat.

Oh! This is so good at the back here. Now, only if I had someone to do the work, that would be so lovely, so divine. Then I can have a siesta, she said.

Dennis was well rested, and so he wasted no time to make gain on the remaining daylight to get home.

All ready, dear? he asked his wife.

Yes! All ready, Penna replied.

What about you, darling? he asked Ellen and gently squeezed her wrist and smiled at her.

Ellen smiled back at him and replied, just as her mother did, Yes! All ready.

Several times from the back seat, Penna leaned over and asked her husband to switch from one radio channel to another, or to adjust the volume, up or down. One time he said, But I like that station and broadcaster. But he pleased her, anyway.

Then another time he said, That’s a lovely song, yet, he did her bidding once again.

For the most part, Ellen thought that her mother was a bit annoying, and she would look at her father and smile, but it was a different sort. Not her pleasant ones.

And so that was when the habit of plucking at the seat belt began, as she looked through the car window. Her father noticed, and told her mother later, How serene my copilot appeared to be when she fell asleep.

For many minutes, Dennis drove in silence. Ellen looked through the window, and plucked on the seat belt, and Penna worked on her nails and hummed as she did. Mostly, at the tunes coming from the car radio. Suddenly, there was a noticeable lull. No sound came from the back seat. Dennis looked through the rearview mirror and confirmed his suspicions. Penna went to sleep.

He then leaned slightly over to his copilot, and whispered, Your mother is indeed having her siesta.

Ellen lifted a finger to her lips, indicating to leave her alone. Then she smiled at him, pleasantly. He was tickled with her.

Do you think I should lower the volume? he asked in a whisper.

No! She might wake up, she whispered back.

Do you care for a nap too? he asked. She looked at him and shook her head. But not too long after, she fell asleep too.

He said at first, he thought that she was counting off the vehicles that went by, but then, on a fairly long stretch of road, where there was hardly any traffic, the rhythm was still the same. He concluded that it was something altogether different. Ellen simply found some comfort or relaxation from plucking at the seat belt.

There is something unusual about the traffic this morning, said Penna. A slight frown appeared for a moment on her forehead, as she looked in the mirror at the traffic. I wonder what it might be, she added.

However, after a few minutes of driving slowly, she reached, not too far from the roundabout, where students were dropped off. Standing next to a small knoll with pretty, vibrant, and colorful wildflowers was a group of schoolboys. Penna rolled down the car window just enough to call attention to them and asked what the brief holdup was about. The early morning breeze rushed through the narrow opening. It was warm but refreshing. Two of them leaned forward and peeped inside and looked past her, at Ellen, before one of them said, There was a car that stalled. It had to be pushed aside, manually, by a few students.

Oh! I see, thanks a lot, she replied, and rolled up the window.

Is it all right with you to get off here and walk the short span, dear? she asked Ellen.

Mom! But you still can’t get past, said Ellen.

I know, but you might enjoy the little breeze, and freshness out there.

I know. But just look who is standing out there.

Where! I don’t recognize anyone, said her mother, and leaned over the steering wheel, just a little, not to arrest any suspicion.

Over there! Mom, I don’t want to point. Those three over there next to that painted bolder, the one on the left. He is Walter Bodler. He told my friends he fancies me

Oh! That’s nice. He does have a nice structure.

It’s not just . . . Oh! Mom. I don’t want him to see me with this limp.

You certainly don’t have a limp, you have a sore calf, and for good reason, her mother reminded her.

No! I don’t! But after sitting in this car for a while in this traffic, who can tell if my walk seems awkward.

Yes, you are right. But I thought you said he likes you. The least he can do is show some concern, said her mother. "Now, there is a difference. You don’t encourage him, or do you?’ asked her mother.

Mom! I don’t. But you were a girl not long ago, you do understand, I suppose.

"All right! All right! Let’s sit and wait