the LoneDogs of Scrabble: a Canine TreeLeg Chorus

By Erick Redwood

The LoneDogs of Scrabble (A Canine TreeLeg Chorus) flaunts a kaleidoscopic diversity of style that immediately captivates its reader through. Early on in the book it becomes clear that dogs are sentient beings and protagonists whose narrative is threaded and woven throughout the book, intersecting with the human narrative seamlessly.

There is a curious balance between complex human relationships and a clever levity that allures us into the canine world. Dogs marvel at humans' capacity to bring them food without hunting for it, to fly in their "shells" (cars) together, and to continue removing all their good smells with their "Scent stealers." (vacuum cleaners). The canine voice interprets human realities entirely through the dogs' eyes (and nose), absent of all human constructs. This is further evidenced by usage of the word "TreeLeg" in the subtitle, one of several words used to characterize a human, foretelling the unique canine voice. Included in the rear of the book is a Dog Dictionary to define the dogs' voice and their perspective on life with humans, although words become mostly understandable in context.

The dog narrative begins with Jonas and his aunt Jonas and his aunt looking to rescue a dog from a kill shelter. One stray in the pound smells the "footskins" (shoes) of one young male, and conjectures whether the new humans, will give him a name and refuge, hunt his food, and in the best of worlds, become his Alpha protector.

The human story begins with Jonas, a highly creative thirteen-year-old, who aspires to be a writer and overtly asserts his own style. In school he meets Roy, a sharp-tongued teen from Oklahoma with an acerbic disdain for the immaturity of his classmates, in quick-paced dialogue.

Redwood deftly incorporates a "shifting viewpoint narrative," where the voice of the human and canine narratives change with the character in focus. Themes are neatly referenced by folksy sayings at the beginning of each chapter and ending with a pithy tie-up.

The LoneDogs of Scrabble has already reached a wide appreciative audience of young adults, seniors, and dog /animal lovers. Indeed, it is a tour de force of creativity, and decidedly an upbeat and adventurous novel for multi-generational audiences. And the likeable characters course readers through a gamut of emotions, keeping the pages turning!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350951707

Erick Redwood

Erick Redwood (M.Ed., Counseling Psychology) demonstrates considerable versatility in his writing style and experience. Additional to being commissioned to write numerous computer software reviews for two nationally distributed magazines (PC Novice /PC Today), he has authored multiple articles on teaching dogs through trust, freedom of movement and voice tones (The Shuttle). As a ghost writer, he penned numerous letters ranging from personally gridlocked relationships to business and consumer advocacy. In Education, he has worked as a secondary school teacher of English and computer literacy. Also, he has done relationship counseling and facilitated numerous growth/sensitivity groups. Currently he is retired with his three-pack of dogs.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Snake Story

If you always do the right thing, you’ll please some folks

and end up causing the rest to wonder what you’re up to.

Jonas even named his hat. Stet. Jonas’ tousled red hair was Stet’s red bed, and his plentiful freckles were just the dust under it. The old weathered Stetson that Jonas had rescued from the trash was his best friend. Except for his Aunt Syd and his hat, Jonas had no other friends but (according to his aunt) creative people were rarely popular people. And at twelve years old, Jonas Inkin sought the unusual, craved the original, and tired quickly with routine. He was his own style.

Jonas had hated life in his old school where he was called Goober Dweebo – but since the taunts were often directed at his hat, he happily blamed Stet. He had also hated his old cramped-up row house with its measly four-inch yard – his parents’ favorite excuse for not permitting him a dog: no yard. Not even a tree to pee. But he intended for things to be different when they finally moved to their new house in Pinetown. It was a whole other planet, even though it was only an hour away from where they’d lived before.

They were now only a few miles from the neighboring town of Rockledge where his Aunt Syd also lived, his favorite-of-all-people. He’d been visiting there since he was a baby, so he never believed his mother when she told him that moving near his aunt’s house was pure coincidence. Happily, it was still an easy walk going through the pine woods that bordered Jonas’ new home to reach his aunt’s rustic stone-log home, where he spent most of his spare time. The wooded path to his aunt’s cabin felt like a sanctuary, affording him a whole forest of privacy.

Since he would be starting eighth grade in a new school, maybe everything else could start fresh, too. Now maybe there would be a dog. But since they’d moved, discussions about dogs had only succeeded in getting his parents to promptly exit the room. With his aunt’s help, though, he was confident that he would eventually convince them.

Outside of the dog issue, Jonas knew his parents were reasonably permissive and gave him very few restrictions. Actually, as long as he left notes on the refrigerator, all was fine. So as far as parents went, this was definitely one of their strong points. And whenever the mood hit him, Jonas could bike the few miles into town to rent a movie or get a pizza.

On his walks home from school, he liked meandering through the four blocks of small shops in Pinetown. The old bookstore had been closed and replaced with Pinetown Pets, so Jonas stopped to browse the front display window. For a small shop in a small town, it had a surprisingly diverse variety of fish and reptiles. He stopped there often, and he was glad they didn’t keep puppies in cages; that would have seriously depressed him.

It was an Indian Summer day – a good day to browse the town shops, so Jonas agreed to meet his mother in town after he got his physical for school and she’d done her shopping. Of course, Jonas suggested the pet store as their meeting place so he’d have a chance to stop and look at the snakes. The shop had mostly small ribbon and king snakes, but there was also a boa that was at least one foot long, and Jonas intended to have that boa. He craved what was different – a snake. Nobody else had a snake.

He knew he’d have to work pretty hard to slide owning a reptile by his mother. Dogs were best, of course, but not as reachable. Jonas had become momentarily obsessed with the snake, beautifully slithering about in its habitat. He diverted his attention to his mother, who was now rapping on the pet store window.

Just a little while more, Mom? I have time, Jonas said, poking his head out of the shop door.

One cigarette. If you’re not ready then, you can walk home!. Okay?

But wait a minute! C’mere-‘n look’t that snake, Mom! Whattya think?

"I think it’s very nice. Just where it is. Look, I’m going to finish my cigarette. Then I’m leaving. I didn’t come to look at animals, I came to give you a ride home." She smiled with her lips pulled together–her way of indicating that the discussion was over. But it was only the first round. There was always later— like after he talked to his aunt.

Mom, why don’t you just go on home? I’ll just walk over to Aunt Syd’s. So, I’ll see you at home. It was a good two-mile walk to his aunt’s neighboring town of Rockledge, but a pleasant walk through the large pines – and actually a good shortcut.

I suppose Just call and let me know whether you’ll be back for dinner.

His mother’s reaction was predictable. Even if he tried to tell her about the money in his ostrich bank, saved up from his dad’s handouts, he knew she wouldn’t discuss it. But Jonas still had an IOU saved from his last birthday. It was like a credit line his aunt gave him to use each year after his birthday for when he really wanted something. And it came complete with his mother’s permission (with a little help from his Aunt Syd). He’d already gotten his ant farm and fish set-up that way.

Much to Jonas’ surprise, his aunt always seemed to be able to clear the animal additions with his mother, eventually. Now, the snake. It was a worthy strategy. He would talk to Aunt Syd, and if there was a way to get the snake, she would find it.

Jonas’ re-entry into the shop was the signal for a sale. The pet store salesperson hovered over Jonas.

He eats mice, you know. Real cheap to keep. Just throw a mouse in every week or so and watch the show! And ya can get two mice for a buck. Cheap enough for a week’s meal, wouldn’t ya say? He’s a BEAUT, huh? The salesclerk had put on his kids-are-adults sales smile.

So how much, mister? Jonas asked, not liking the feeling that he was being talked down to.

Special! Just fifty-five!

FIFTY-FIVE DOLLARS! His mother would definitely squawk. She would probably tell him to go dig up a worm.

But Jonas was sparked. He’d seen snakes feed on Discovery Channel many times, and he loved watching. He could learn how to feed it and watch it eat little mice. No one had their own personal show like that. Especially at twelve.

His mind raced. Jonas wondered whether his Dad might consider splitting the cost of the snake with Aunt Syd, like he’d done on the fish setup. Syd was sitting on her expansive porch, writing in a notebook when Jonas arrived. After the usual hugs and banter, Jonas explained his snake strategy to his Aunt.

I know she won’t do a dog yet, because I asked her, he grumbled to his aunt, who was always glad to hear his causes. So − do y’ think getting a snake might be STRETCHING things a little? Jonas asked smiling. Get it?

Syd laughed. Jonas felt clever when he was with her because she laughed at his jokes. "Alright, let’s talk bottom lines. A dog’s a big step. How about if we ease into a dog by starting with the snake? It’ll be a good compromise, and your mom’ll have a harder time objecting."

Jonas pulled Stet down over his eyes and tipped his happy hat to his aunt with a bow and a smile.

Syd had at least one cold war a year with her sister, sometimes two. Syd’s eighth birthday present for Jonas, the ant farm, had caused a one-month freeze between her and Elissa when the ants had left their farm to join the Inkin household.

"I told you he was too young for that kind of gift!" Jonas had heard his mother screaming at his aunt on the phone.

But no matter how bad things got, the two sisters made Thanksgiving family time, and all active disputes got automatically shelved − or discarded. It was already October and there still hadn’t been any major battles for the year. Of course, the snake issue could rock the boat, but Syd Kendall hoped that Thanksgiving would soften any frayed feelings. Her sister would have a whole month to defuse from whatever feather she got up her rear, Syd thought with a smile. She decided on a frontal attack.

So, Lise. Are you ready to let Jonas get the dog you promised he could have in the new house?

It’s barely a month, Syd. Can’t you wait until we’re at least settled in? Elissa Inkin respectfully nodded to a stack of unpacked boxes piled on the porch. Please Syd. Don’t encourage him. There’s still too much chaos.

I’ve got the perfect compromise. Let me find him a different pet - one that can live in a cage.

Please don’t say it! I was at the pet store with him. Please don’t say SNAKE!

OK. Good. Then you only have to answer!

"NO! What part of no don’t you understand!"

"The part that said yes to Jonas when you moved here."

SYD! You are a permanent pain!

Think of the pleasure you’ll have when you get rid of the pain. Look, Lise, at least it’ll live in a cage, it won’t chew, and it won’t shit on your floors!

This is it, then! Don’t let Jonas ask about a dog!

"Fine . . . for now," she added under her breath.

Jonas was Syd’s only real concern. She loved her nephew like a son. The thought triggered a ghost flash of what her own son might have been like. Jonas was only a baby when Brian had been killed. A tear pushed down her face as she blinked away the painful memories.

And so, Valdis was to be a fixture in Jonas’ bedroom- right next to his fish tank. Aunt Syd told Jonas that a dog would need to be in the future. However, Elissa Inkin was secretly hoping that a snake in a cage would eliminate a dog in the house. But Jonas just wondered how long he’d have to bide his time before he got his dog.

Within a couple months Jonas had become an old hand at feeding Valdis mice. He had proven his responsibility.

Now it was time for the big test- time to make a lasting impression on his new class and get a new reputation. His target would be the science project. It was to be an open-ended presentation to the class, with no restrictions on topic. That would be his chance.

Come the day of scheduling class presentations, Jonas raised his hand to volunteer, anxious to earn some real respect (and to get it over with).

Jonas?

I’ll go first, Mrs. Eckerd

Yay Joan! Girls first! It had come from Fred Scudder, one of the brainless jocks who knew Jonas from his old school, and rarely missed an opportunity to pick on him.

Those kinds of comments are not to be made in this class! Fred Scudder, did you say that? Mrs. Eckerd looked straight at him.

No, Mrs. Eckerd. Wasn’t me. He looked around and smiled. Jonas had learned to ignore it, and Fred wouldn’t harass him if he thought he’d get caught. Rumor was that Fred’s father had heavy hands, and that Fred was afraid of him. In any case, Mrs. Eckerd knew that just the threat of a phone call would quickly bring Fred to order.

At lunch, Jonas discovered a spot in the schoolyard where he could sit and read and avoid being bothered by bullies. It was much better than playing stupid games where everybody insulted everybody else. The more they insulted each other, and their sisters, brothers, and mothers, the funnier they thought it was and the angrier they got. Why did they bother to play if they got so angry all the time? he always wondered.

He just knew that he didn’t enjoy playing their games and wasn’t very good, anyway. Actually, he stunk. So, he only played when the teacher said everyone had to. Of course, he was always chosen last. He hated being the player that some team got stuck with.

But his new reputation still awaited him. The fearless handler of snakes…

Most of the lunch periods Jonas wrote in his journal, which he always carried with him because it was like talking to a friend. He would think about things he was sure nobody else ever thought of and read things he knew other kids never even heard of – especially about animals., When his Aunt Syd wasn’t around, Stet and J (as he had dubbed his journal) were his silent supports.

That day in the yard, he had written the whole presentation in his journal. He didn’t think it would mind hearing.

Jonas

Snakes are among the most adaptable creatures on earth. They’re stealthy because they wait like a tree log. Then they suddenly strike and, eat their prey whole. They can sense danger and things around them from sound vibrations with their tongues. I learn more each day with Valdis.

Mrs. Eckerd had said to make it special, but to check with her if there were any special considerations. Jonas knew that asking for permission could result in a no, so why ask, he figured. Bringing Valdis to class was too good an idea to take a chance with. He wanted to show off how cool he really was.

The day of presentation, Jonas carried his portable plastic cooler containing Valdis to the front of the room. He wore Stet for the show. Mrs. Eckerd didn’t make him take it off. Jonas fumbled with the duct tape he’d used to seal the carrier closed.

He’s gonna show us his lunch! He’d expected some kids to make wise cracks.

Here comes Freckle Fat with his corny hat! Probably Fred again. Mrs. Eckerd thundered the appropriate warnings. It didn’t bother Jonas, anyway – just the price of being different. Besides, he didn’t really feel like he was fat fat. He just had what his Dad called a teapot. At least he wasn’t short. Jonas tipped his hat down as he sat on the edge of the table in front of the room and began to speak.

Jonas worked at the tape on the box as he spoke. ...and my Aunt Syd is the person who helps me whenever I need to figure out how to do something new, so − last September my Aunt Syd . . .

"Jonas − WHAT is in that box? Mrs. Eckerd interrupted, having now noticed the holes in the box. Jonas, why the holes? Is there something alive in there? Jonas?" Mrs. Eckerd’s eyes opened like two fried eggs.

Yes, Mrs. Eckerd – but. . . I thought that since he was unusual it’d be more interesting to surprise everyone. . . Jonas answered in a voice that was rapidly diminishing.

Jonas! What is it?! What’s in there?

Valdis, Mrs. Eckerd.

"Valdis? becoming exasperated. What is Valdis?"

A snake.

SNAKE! A live snake you brought into this school?! Jonas Inkin! You will keep that thing right in its box!

BOO!! DOOO-IT!! DOOOO-IT!! DOOOOO-IT!! … Hands pounded on the desks and feet stomped on the floor. Screeching.

SHOWWWIT! SHOWWWIT!! SHOWWWIT!!! Chanting that had started with only the boys had now become most of the class.

I WANT QUIET! NOW! Mrs. Eckerd was angry and red-faced.

Screams again. DOOO-IT!! DOOOOO-IT! SHOW IT! SHOW IT! in good cadence now.

"If this class goes out of order a single more time, there will be no more showing of anything!"

Jonas seized on the moment Mrs. Eckerd’s guard lowered to show his best cherub face. Does that mean you’ll let me show him, Mrs. Eckerd? I didn’t mean anything bad by not telling you. I just thought it would be a good project. I’m sorry Mrs. Eckerd, I really am. Jonas remembered about handling people how his father taught him to do in tight spots. Give them their respect, he had always said. .

"Are you ab-so-lutely sure it’s safe?"

"Oh, yes. Absolutely, Mrs. Eckerd. It is ab-so-lutely safe. I promise you. Valdis is a very nice-mannered snake. He always stays right on me."

He can’t bite?

Oh, no. He’s a boa- that’s a constrictor. They don’t bite. They squash and suffocate their prey.

"Can’t he strangle you? What if he bites you? –" Classmates excitedly started calling out questions. Even Mrs. Eckerd cautiously edged closer to the carrier case. With a smile of curious reserve on her face, she gestured for Jonas to continue.

He’s perfectly safe, Mrs. Eckerd. He knows me. I take him out all the time. Sometimes he’s loose in my room for hours.

Well, perhaps this could be a good learning experience for everyone − but − I think I’ll watch from the back . . . She smiled reassuringly.

Valdis curiously poked his head into the new air, testing the new place with his tongue. Noise vibrations were making him nervous, and he anxiously wriggled out of his box to check the danger. Students screamed with excitement as Valdis stretched the remainder of his body free from the box. He cautiously slithered around the shoulders of his keeper, checking the flesh object again with his tongue to be sure of its familiarity.

Jonas felt like he had earned a new respect. Whether it was because of the way he handled Valdis, or the way he’d handled Mrs. Eckerd − everyone looked mesmerized. For the moment, Jonas was king of the class. Still nervous, Valdis continued to circle his keeper’s neck while classmates continued shouting questions in staccato.

"WHAT’S HE EAT?"

"WHAT IF HE GOT LOOSE?"

"HOW BIG’S HE GONNA BE?"

"DID HE EVER BITE YOU? "

"HE EATS LIVE MICE? YUK!"

It was better than Jonas could have imagined. He was on top of the world. He had finally found his respect.

But then, just like that, his world shattered.

Valdis pooped.

Jonas felt the wetness on his bare neck. Big white blobs were all over his back and shoulder, and white liquid dripped embarrassment down his neck and shirt. Images of the digested mouse flashed through his mind. He burped bile, and felt like he was going to upchuck.

This was a first. It was like being attacked by giant slugs or leeches or cockroaches. Jonas froze and could vaguely hear the screams of ridicule.

A voice came booming from an anonymous pair of megaphoned hands, somewhere in the back of the room. INKIN’S STINKIN’!

Some new kid, a tall skinny kid that kept to himself, clasped his hands together again and megaphoned the refrain— perfectly timed to that singular moment of stunned silence and gawking faces.

Fred Scudder fell off his chair, guffawing ravenously at the chaos...

Not wanting to touch the white ook that clung in blotches to his neck, Jonas frantically shook his head to rid himself of the foul feelings. He could taste his morning V-8 juice fighting to surface.

Valdis went hurling from Jonas’ neck, airborne. Sensing he was on a fall, his long muscles reflexively tightened with fear.

Everybody was screaming and laughing. Hooting. Cheering and howling. Mrs. Eckerd shouted for order but was unable to restrain her panic at being in the same room with this loose reptile. She couldn’t quiet the class. They were just too keyed up to hear her.

GET THAT SNAKE! she screeched at the top of her voice. JONAS INKIN, WILL YOU GET THAT DAMN SNAKE! Her intense fear of the snake joined with a new fear that the chaos in her classroom would invite a visit from the principal.

Valdis landed in a fast-frightened slither on the open floor, frantically seeking concealment. Students were scurrying away from where Valdis had dropped. He tongued the air to find a hiding corner – more scared than anyone in the room.

Valdis was in danger from stampeding students. Jonas knew there was no time for the disgust or humiliation. He had to get Valdis before he got stepped on or disappeared. He tried not to feel the ook on himself, and to quickly catch Valdis before he disappeared into a crevice somewhere. Nothing else was important. Valdis had already reached the back of the room, and the students had see-sawed en masse to the front.

Jonas tried to pretend that he was somewhere else, someone else. He tried to imagine that he was flying above the room, looking down at the scene, but it didn’t work. Voices were screaming all around him.

Valdis had just slithered behind a bookshelf when Jonas saw him. Slow movements and a quick grab were successful, and moments later Jonas had placed Valdis back into the safety of his case.

The thought of the digested mouse all over him, and the blur of screaming voices became instantly overwhelming. The humiliation was more than he could bear. Nodding to the teacher Jonas sidestepped into the coat room, and hugging Valdis’ case huddled into a ball on the floor.

Then, Jonas pulled Stet down over his face and quietly cried.

Chapter 2

A Friend

When you beat someone at his own game,

you’ve had all the revenge you need.

THERE’S THE LITTLE GIRL! JOAN! HEY, YOU!! YO! STINKIN’ INKIN!

It had become the new Jonas chant. The lunchtime rounds of teasing had begun.

YO, STINKIN’ INKIN.! HEY, YO! JOAN IS STINKIN’!

Jonas looked up from his book and wearily observed that Fred Scudder, jock jerk and prime taunter, was being his usual brainless self.

A kickball flew full speed at Jonas. His head caught it before anyone else even saw it, excepting Fred, who had heaved it. He was older than the other kids in the grade, having repeated one of his earlier years– and he was heftier for his near fourteen years, in a barrel-chested, big-headed kind of way.

Trying to get a rise out of Jonas had become one of Fred’s favorite lunchtime activities. It reminded everybody who was in charge. Fred needed a good fight, especially with someone he knew he could beat. But it had to look good. And he didn’t want to get blamed for instigating. Trouble in school didn’t go down well at home for him. His pop would put him down with one good wallop.

Jonas ignored his hurting head and the taunts. His reputation was blown anyway. What did it matter?

The nerd’s boring! Fred announced loudly to his buddies. Tired of getting no response, Fred looked for a better challenge.

How ’bout the TURD! Skip the NERD! Let’s get the TURD! Fred shouted, proud of his cleverness. He turned to stare at a tall wiry boy with a distinctive cowboy-type hat, who was casually roosted on a stair rail.

YO, COWBOY! HEY! YOU! COCKROACH WITH THE COWBOY HAT! Fred shouted at Roy Plimpton.

Roy ignored it.

Kids didn’t like Roy much, maybe because he didn’t say much to anyone, or generally seem too friendly. He didn’t appear shy about making cleverly sarcastic comments in class, though. His odd drawl made him even more of a curiosity.

For Roy, Pennsylvania kids were impersonal and boring. Nobody seemed particularly interested in anybody else here, he thought, amidst flashes of his old friends meandering and racing on their horses. Here kids just stared because he looked different. Usually, kids stared at his boots or hat, but when Roy looked them in the eye they’d pretend not to be staring. But some of the kids in school, usually the jocks, just glared openly. Either way, he felt like a broomtail in a cornfield.

In class, Roy quickly acquired the trademark of smart ass. He constantly made people laugh − often even the teacher. It was, indeed, Roy Plimpton who had memorialized the moment of the snake poop with his Stinkin’ Inkin comment. It was perfectly timed to that singular moment of stunned silence that made it funny at the time, even though its humor had gotten lost in the chaos of the moment.

Jonas never missed one of Roy’s interjections. In fact, he had wanted to tell him how comical his comments were, but had thought better of it. He definitely didn’t want to chance becoming a target of Roy’s mouth.

Hey! Pimplepole! Fred boomed at Roy for all to hear. Proud of his own cleverness, Fred was determined to take this scrawny freak down a peg or two. He was getting too cocky.

Roy turned around but said nothing for several moments. He stood and stared Fred in the eye.

Are you talkin’ to me? Roy asked in a warning monotone. "Heh, yuh sorry mound o’ horse puckies!

At least I’m not some smelly stable boy! Fred shouted back, visibly rattled by the calm quick retort from Roy.

Roy paused and eyeballed the assembling crowd of onlookers. He still had no expression on his face. Kids throughout the schoolyard were fast becoming more interested in this skinny stranger. The assembling circle of anxious students, pushing to catch the first real showdown between big Fred and the quirky cowboy with the unpredictable mouth quickly enlarged.

Listen-up, Cluckhead! Mebbe yuh’d better put yer jaw in a sling– befer yuh step on it!

Fred glared, trying to think of something else to say. His friends were uncharacteristically hushed. He moved closer to Roy, who was now standing his ground firm, without expression. Fred clenched his fists. He knew he was looking bad. He moved a little closer, hoping to sense some fear from the smart ass he called PIMPLE-ton, who was now steadfastly edging forward. Soon, they were nose to nose.

TAKE HIM OUT, MAN! TAKE HIM OUT! one of Fred’s friends shouted.

"Y’all look like yer gonna fert! Like yer gonna cut the cheese, heyh? Roy cued into the confused expression on Fred’s face. And with a confident grin continued his affront Spare me the smell of yer brains comin’ out yer butt end, PUKEHEAD!"

Roy was enjoying himself. Smiling condescendingly, he turned his back on Fred and walked toward Jonas, who had been watching in amazement – along with about twenty other students.

Fred knew he had pushed it a little further than he wanted and that he didn’t want to chance fighting the turd. But then when Roy turned his back on him it goaded a call-out.

"Where ya goin’, smart ass! Afraid?" Fred shouted .

" Ah’d ruther t’ be a smart ass then a dumb dick," Roy answered in his trademark monotone. The audience became Roy’s. Even Fred’s friends had to laugh. Jonas was fully focused on the confrontation. The cowboy was a whip.

Let’s see your fists talk so damn smart! Fred Scudder’s face was bright red now.

Fred’s hate glare was lost on Roy, who went rolling right along. Roy horse-laughed openly at him.

"Why? Yer brain on vay-cation, huh, Toadsucker?

Roy had his secret weapons and felt confident.

WUSS! Fred shouted. Roy screwed his face up and held his nose. I think yer breath’s yer bes weapon! PHEW! Smells like a five-hole outhouse!

Roy touched his hat brim in affected friendliness and turned his back on Fred. Feeling the fool, Fred knew he had to make his move.

Oh, YEH? he shouted, intending to distract from his moving into Roy so he could push him down from behind.

Expecting and easily anticipating the cowardly movement from the corner of his eye, Roy stepped abruptly sideways. His tall bony frame stood still and firm. Then, in a single fluid movement, he caught Fred’s wrist as if he were snatching a Frisbee. Then somehow, he had Fred’s thumb in his other hand, and was leading him around like a dog on a leash.

Hey, Scudder! Mebbe yer lookin’ ta git yer brains beat out, caus’n from whit I can see, you ain’t got nothin’ t’ lose! Roy, to everyone’s amazement, was slowly guiding Fred’s captive thumb toward the ground, while Fred, cursing and hollering threats, helplessly followed his thumb in humiliation.

LEMME GO! Fred shrieked in pain.

Gonna behave?

"LEMME GO! Fred screamed louder, still hoping to save face.

Why, sher, Roy said cordially.

When Roy released him, Fred jumped straight up, fully red. BASTARD! YOU’RE LUCKY I’M CONTROLLING MY TEMPER! ASSHOLE! Fred shouted after he had backed a safe distance away,

Oh, thank you for givin’ me that piece o’ yer mind, but hey, now y’ ain’t gonna have much left t’ work with!

Roy turned to where Jonas was standing, now hooting and applauding him, completely ignoring his own customary self-consciousness. Then Stet noticed Roy’s cowboy hat, the only other non-baseball cap perched proudly distinct on its own unique Roy-head.

You all come on back fer the dinner show! the lank whizzer of words announced to his remaining audience with an exaggerated bow. Fred had already whisked off to hang with his friends, like it was all too trifling for him. Everyone knew he’d lost it though.

Jonas was truly impressed with how Roy would either coolly let things just roll off his back or just pull some super wise-ass comment out of the air. . He sat at an empty bench built around the tree, waiting to see if it was over. Suprisingly, Roy came over to him.

Wow! You really nuked him! Jonas said, elated that Roy’d sat next to him. He felt important.

"Naw − he’s jes an easy target. Blowhards jes blow up big, Roy reassured him with a wink. What ’n hell yuh always writin’ in that little book yuh got there, inyhow?" Roy asked matter-of-factly, like they were old friends.

"I’ll probably be writing about you now. It’s my journal. My aunt gave me a set of them. They’re blank books, till I write in ’em."

Jonas had discovered that his journal gave him a place to go when he didn’t want to be where he was, like in the classroom when he’d been crapped on. Then he could revisit where he’d been to see what it was like the second time.

You have a real talent with words, his Aunt Syd had repeatedly declared. "You’ll be a top-notch author and your little journals’ll become collectibles - one day." And so, it was then that Jonas decided he would collect his life in words.

Yer fixin’ ta write about me? Roy asked, wagging his eyebrows with amusement.

Yup. You’ve got the golden tongue. Jonas beamed admiringly, even though he felt a little self-conscious. He had always sort of liked Roy. He was definitely his own person, Jonas wondered whether he named his hat. Probably not, but Roy was definitely out there too, Jonas decided.

Roy’s Rules! First one. Win with yer wit.

And you’re best at it of anyone I’ve ever seen! Jonas blurted enthusiastically. Then he felt embarrassed.

Roy flashed a smile and toggled his hat tip. Glad t’ agree with yuh. Then he did another one of his dramatic pauses, like he was upstaging himself.

See, Inkin! We like the same people! Roy tipped his hat and Jonas tipped Stet in return. They both laughed. It was the first time Jonas could remember laughing aloud at school, and it felt good – like he finally had something that he could laugh at too–like his own private joke. Jonas liked Roy better than anyone of his age he’d ever met.

"So, Roy. You got any more of the Roy Rules?"

"It wouldn’ be much use with jes one rule– would it now?"

"So