The Last Panther

By Xlibris US

THE LAST PANTHER

This is the story of Mathew Davis, a young boy living with his family on the edge of the Florida Everglades, who because of his short stature, is constantly taunted and bullied by his classmates. It is a story of Mathews struggles to discover who he is, and of his relationships with his father, and those around him. Thinking that being able to have a gun, and going hunting will help him secure recognition and respect, Mathew befriends a native Indian schoolmate, Charlie Jim, who teaches Mathew how to track animals and to respect the natural beauty of the Glades, while sharing many adventures together. Their confrontation with an angry alligator, and rescue of a wounded panther provide an exciting climax to their youthful adventures. Mathews desire to participate in a pharmaceutical study for the introduction of a new biological agent offers Mathew hope that his short stature can be corrected medically. This is a story of a young boy coming of age, who learns that the measure of a man is not in his size, but what is in his heart, and of the friend who helps him find his way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499049220

Book preview

THE LAST PANTHER

ANNE TURNER COPPOLA

Copyright © 2014 by Anne Turner Coppola.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014912352

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-4923-7

                Softcover        978-1-4990-4924-4

                eBook             978-1-4990-4922-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 07/11/2014

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Chapter 1 No Problem!

Chapter 2 Under The Ficus Tree

Chapter 3 Gumbo-Limbo

Chapter 4 Popeye’s Trophies

Chapter 5 The Contract

Chapter 6 A Tall Tale

Chapter 7 Marking Time

Chapter 8 Out On A Limb

Chapter 9 Initiation

Chapter 10 The Heart Of A Panther

Chapter 11 Alice’s Cookie

Chapter 12 Serendipity

Chapter 13 Andrew

Chapter 14 The Aftermath

Chapter 15 Endangered

Chapter 16 Changes

For Neil

Chapter 1

NO PROBLEM!

My name is Mathew Davis, and my heart is in the Everglades. It holds fast to the land as the stunted cypress growing there. When the devastating hurricanes brutally assault the flat landscape, it bends to touch the earth and waits. After the storm, it rises again, made stronger by the timeless cycle.

It was hard to breathe. I was squashed underneath Joey Bufford on the wrestling mat in the Homestead Junior High gym—pinned, as usual.

Hey, Chicken Little, ready to give up? Joey taunted.

What did you call me? I grunted through clenched teeth.

Chicken Little, he repeated, hovering his fat pimply face over mine.

I gathered my remaining strength and, with a determined effort, managed to pull my right hand loose, socking him squarely in the left eye.

Eeeeyou! he screamed, releasing me to rub his reddened, watery eye.

Quickly, I rolled out from under him just as he renewed the attack, throwing a strong right jab that crunched into my cheekbone. Amidst the explosion of floating stars, I made out the guys in my seventh-grade gym class circling around us.

Come on, Joey, Jared said, make the shrimp beg for mercy.

Yeah, teach the runt some manners, said Michael.

I didn’t have a chance. My size made the odds of winning any fight worse than hitting the Florida lottery, yet I always waded in.

My classmates knew that any insulting remarks directed at me would be immediately answered by my fists. Painfully, I had established a solid reputation for never backing down. Picking a fight with me was a cinch, but the real challenge was getting me to give up once the fight started.

Today’s altercation was no different. Joey Bufford, the second smallest guy in my class, was two feet taller than me, and he outweighed me by thirty pounds.

Darting around him, trying to land a lucky shot was the best I could hope for. My fancy footwork managed to avoid his first wild swings, and I landed a couple of punches, which bounced harmlessly off his pudgy body.

Joey established a winner’s rhythm. One of his longer arms held me off, while the other moved inside, pummeling my stomach with a series of body blows.

Break it up, you guys, a gruff voice commanded. Coach Johnson’s huge hands lifted and pried us apart, sending me flying off the mat, laying down skin from my elbows and knees as I skidded across the glossy wooden floor, landing on my belly.

Bufford, you’ve got a week’s detention for this. And I don’t want to hear a word out of you, the coach said, glaring at my red-faced opponent. He scowled at the rest of the guys hanging around. The rest of you cheerleaders, take ten laps around the gym before the bell, he barked.

Then Coach Johnson turned his wrath on me. Davis, get your butt to my office, he ordered. And with that, he turned about-face on his heel with the confidence of a general who didn’t have the slightest doubt his orders would be promptly obeyed.

I knew the routine. Since starting junior high in September, I had been involved in a number of fights.

Junior high will be different than elementary, wait and see, Mom optimistically predicted before the school year began.

Grades 1 to 6 were not a joy. Every morning, each grade lined up on the playground in size-place when the bell rang. The teacher gave the signal, then we played follow the leader into school. Always the smallest in the class, I was the Pied Piper. . . for six years.

Babies go first, my classmates teased.

In class, I was assigned the front seat so everyone could see over me. And that’s how I felt: overlooked. Nothing fit. I lived in the land of giants. Coat hooks and drinking fountains were Mt. Everest. Desks and chairs were so high, it was an effort climbing in—not to mention a hazard falling out.

Don’t slouch, sit up straight! my teacher ordered.

I had to perch on the edge of the seat so my knees could bend. If I pushed my body back flush to the chair, my legs stuck straight out.

Any game involving physical strength or stamina automatically dragged my team down. When girls were included in the game, it was humiliating. I hid in the bathroom and pretended I was absent. It didn’t work; the teacher sent someone in to tell me I was chosen last.

My classmates treated me like a pesky kid brother. They tolerated me only when the teacher was around. On the playground, if I tried to join in a game, they hissed, Get lost, peewee! Go back to Oz, munchkin! or Santa wants you at the North Pole, elf! I got their message loud and clear.

Name-calling was the point where I drew the line. I took a vow never to let an insult slide by. The reason was simple: getting punched out didn’t hurt as much.

Mathew strikes out at other children. He has a quick temper and needs to practice self-control. He has problems getting along with others, were comments teachers wrote on my report card.

How I hoped junior high would be different. By November, I realized the only thing that changed was the location of the arena.

Coach Johnson marched briskly into his office, with me trudging meekly behind. What were you fighting about, this time? he demanded.

I forgot! I answered, blowing on my skinned knuckles.

He removed a folder from the file cabinet drawer