The Turned Tortoise
He weighed less than five pounds when he was born. His grandmother said, most acidly, it was a well-deserved curse on his mother. The young woman was brutally "persuaded" into exchanging something with her first cousin.
"Get it away from me!" Her tiny hands pushed the infant away in disgust.
"Honey, look at these eyes." The persistent nurse tried to coax the motherly instinct from the teenager.
"No! I don't want to see it! I don't want to," she flailed her arms in a tantrum, "I just don't want it!" The dehumanizing term strengthened her hatred. The viscous salty tears rolled lazily down her cheek. "I don't want it."
The baby started to cry.
It struggled to roll onto its feet. The strong little legs moved slowly, but powerfully. Its toes would be hair-lengths way from the ground before its momentum would falter and he would end up back on his back. The poor thing looked so dehydrated.
The wide brown eyes looked intently at the tortoise. Grubby fat hands wanted to reach out and touch the animal, but an instinctive fear kept them at bay. He amused himself by looking at the feral battle. His Aunt had told him something about the woods. After he found the tortoise he couldn't remember what she had warned him a bout.
His lapses in memory happened often. They usually landed him in sticky situations with his Aunt and other adults. The teacher would tell him to do his work and he would forget. It didn't matter anyway. She talked too fast. Every time she laughed her second chin would jiggle like Jell-O. He found pleasure in mentioning it to the entire class. Her big green horn-rimmed glasses scared him, however, when she would bend down to smack him on the hand. The lingering sting would make him cry.
"Look, its Dummy!" The familiar voice of Freddie made the youth look up.
The taller boy, along with two of his friends—George and Mark—emerged from the trees like specters. "Loser Lennie!" Mark taunted from behind the leader.
Lennie smiled. The other boys gave him really neat nicknames. He enjoyed their company. He was especially fond of George. George, in Lennie's mind, could do no wrong. When the other boys took games too far and hurt Lennie, George would not join in.
"George. Hi George." Accidentally he kicked the tortoise as he stood. It skidded across the ground like a Hockey puck. An eternity passed before the Tortoise stopped spinning.
"Hey Stupid, where is your Aunt?" Freddie stepped up to Lennie. He was a few inches taller than him and two years older. When Lennie didn't immediately respond, Freddie kicked him in the shin. "You too dumb to understand, Stupid?" Maliciously he shoved the young boy to the ground.
A chorus of laughter followed the blind abuse. George, however, looked everywhere but at Lennie. Cruelty wasn't his favorite part about picking on Lennie. Making fun of him and calling him names was entirely different from physical torture.
Lennie looked scared. His baby-like brown eyes were three times their size as he looked up at the older boy. His body shook as he tried to keep himself from crying. Freddie heard the hitch in Lennie's breath. An amused smirk masked Freddie's predator-like intent. "You trust me, Lennie?" Squatting next to the frightened boy, Freddie asked this question in a friendly tone.
Flashes of what had occurred passed though Lennie's consciousness. What had happened just now? He was watching the bird—no he was watching the fish. That wasn't right either. Why couldn't he remember why he was cowering on the ground? Lennie just couldn't comprehend the situation. So, he did what he did best and nodded.
"Good boy," Freddie ruffled Lennie's hair. The act was comparable to petting a well-behaved dog. The thunderous sound of Freddie's hands clapping made Lennie flinch. When the sound was no more, Lennie peeked to see Mark bringing Freddie the tortoise. "Take this Lennie." The tortoise went back into its shell.
Hesitantly Lennie reached out to take the innocent animal. George, for a fleeting second, debated whether to stop everything. Unfortunately the debate went to the con. "Now, Lennie," Freddie talked seriously, "I want you to throw it on the ground as hard as you can. Then you pick it up and throw it on the ground again. Do this until the thing doesn't want to come out of its shell."
Smiling confidently, Lennie did what he was told. With all the strength he could muster, he threw the tortoise to the ground. Nothing happened. He repeated the process several more times. After a while it became fun. The throws became more forceful. On the last throw, the tortoise hit a rock. The sound was comparable to a major bone being broken. Lennie laughed in triumph.
George had left during the whole thing. A hollow feeling came. Lennie didn't want George to be mad at him. He liked George. The tears rolled down his cheeks in a sad twisting river.
Lennie started to cry.
George learned his lesson after Lennie almost died. The look of total fear on a teenager's face could make ice melt. From that point onward, George had made sure Lennie wasn't the butt of any jokes. Though he was short, George had a mean right hook and an even meaner left. The other boys soon learned Lennie was off limits.
"George, I was wondering about that mouse you was gonna give me." The huge monster of a teen asked. In the pass three years, Lennie had grown to a skyscraping six foot four inches 220 pounds. The sight of him gave the bravest of men reasons to think twice about picking at him. It was only later, when they found he was a giant marshmallow, they would push their luck.
Unfortunately they would have to tangle with George. If George looked like he needed help, Lennie would step in. Most of the men limped away. The rest stayed on the ground playing unconscious so they wouldn't get anymore of Lennie's rage.
Lennie had George. George had Lennie.
"I forgot. Make sure you Aunt don't know." George took a little gray mouse, the size of maybe one of Lennie's fingers, out of his pocket. "Don't you go and kill this one. Your Aunt will go and tear me a new one if she found out about this. There you go. Don't squeeze it too hard." George passed the fragile animal to Lennie like it was a treasure. "I found it behind the icebox."
Lennie went to stroking the tiny animal. His attention was solely on the soft pet. It felt so nice under his fingers. It reminded him of the silk and velvet the woman used to let him touch. The rest of day Lennie was absorbed in his new pet.
"Lennie, you gotta let it rest. It aint healthy for the mouse. Open your hand." George ordered Lennie.
"No. G-George he is okay." He put his hands behind his back like a stubborn child.
"Open your hand Lennie. Don't make me smack you."
Lennie reluctantly opened his enormous hand. The mouse didn't move.
George shook his head. "Lennie, you gotta stop petting them so hard. No wonder your Aunt stop givin' 'em to you." Before Lennie could protest, George snatched the dead rodent away and threw it.
Lennie didn't like when George was mad at him. He started ranting about how he could have finished school or had multiple girlfriends. Then he would go on to saying how he would leave and go to New York. Lennie knew it word-for-word. Right now he didn't want to hear it. His eyes began to hurt because the tears started swelling. Finally, one rolled down his cheek. "I'm sorry George. I just wanted to pet it. And I don't want you to be angry. I don't like it when you're angry at me. Please don't be angry George." Lennie's breath hitched as he whimpered slightly.
"Jeeze, Lennie. I aint mad at ya. You know I just be foolin' when I say all those things." George kicked a pebble. "I promised your Aunt I would take care of you. I aint never went back on a promise."
Lennie dragged his arm across his face. "Tell me about how you are gonna take me everywhere. And how we are going to be together. How I got you 'n you got me."
George chuckled. "We are going to have a lot of adventures. Big adventures—"
"Giant Adventures!" Lennie cut him off.
"Yep, huge adventures," George smiled.
Lennie, too, smiled.