"What are you doing?" Grady asked Will and Cassie. He suspected he knew what they were planning to do, and stared at them wearily. They were carrying a box of matches, along with a bundle of sticks Will had collected.
Will snickered, holding the sticks against his chest. "We're going to play a little trick on the swamp hermit."
"Yeah," added Cassie, taking a matchstick out of the box to demonstrate. "We're going to start a little… commotion near his shack."
"What?" gasped Grady. "You're going to set fire to his shack?"
"No," said Will. "We won't go that far. Don't be ridiculous. We're just going to start a little fire near his shack. He'll probably put it out before it even reaches him. It'll just scare him, that's all."
"Are you crazy?" demanded Grady. "You can't do that! It's really dangerous!"
"He's probably dealt with loads of small fires in this swamp," said Cassie. "It'll just give him a fright. He might even scream and jump. That would be funny."
"How do you know it'll be small?" demanded Grady. "What if the fire spreads? Or he doesn't put it out in time?"
"Relax," said Cassie, waving the matchstick in his face. "You worry too much. It's just a little joke."
"I don't think so," said Grady. "I really think you shouldn't do this."
"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," said Will. "We play jokes like this all the time, and nothing bad happens. We just like giving him a little fright."
"Don't tell me you're going to do that," pleaded Grady. "I think it's a horrible idea."
"Are you always such a stick-in-the mud?" said Cassie.
"If you care so much, why don't you go to your hermit friend and warn him?" suggested Will. Emily had told them how Grady had started talking to him, and they had mocked him relentlessly. Grady had immediately regretted telling his sister. Now the friends he had made thought he was weird as well.
"Fine, I will!" said Grady hotly. He set off down the swamp, ignoring Will and Cassie's yells.
He ran further into the swamp, trying to remember where the trees thickened and darkened. Maybe he was overreacting. It was just a little joke, after all. But he had a bad feeling about it. The shack didn't look too sturdy. In fact, it looked like a few good kicks would bring it down. What if the fire got to it? Then John would have nowhere to live.
He was panting as he reached the clearing. John was outside, crouched in front of his tiny shack as he cleaned his boots with an oily paste.
"John!" called Grady.
John turned to him, surprised. Then he smiled.
"Grady," he said. "It's nice to see you again so soon."
"You too, but—" Grady started.
"You look tired," said John. "Did you run all the way here?"
"Yes, I had to," insisted Grady. "Listen—"
"I'll get you some water," said John, going back into his shack.
Grady ran up to his shack as the tree-limbed door swung shut with a creak. He panted a little, then called John's name, but he didn't seem to hear him. He knocked frantically on the door. Then he grabbed one of the rough limbs and pushed it open.
He stared into the dark shack before stepping it. It was so damp and musty that he almost stepped back outside again. He couldn't see a thing.
"John?" he called. "John?"
Suddenly, he saw a light switch on. The light was still dim and fading, but he could see clearly now. There was a mattress with a thin, raggedy blanket on the floor, a black pot by the corner, and a cracked little stool and chair. Grady hoped it wasn't the only room.
John stepped in holding a cup of water, looking surprised. "Grady?"
"I came here to warn you about something," Grady blurted out.
Suddenly, they heard scraping and yelling sounds outside. "Oh, it must be those children again," sighed John. "Don't they ever get tired of tricking me?"
"That's what I came to warn you about," said Grady. "They—"
John raised his hand. "Well, that's very kind of you, but it's not necessary. I'm used to their visits by now."
"No, this time, they said they were—"
Grady jumped in surprise as John suddenly darted past him and out of his shack, throwing open the door with a loud creak. Grady turned around to see the small, crackling fire, the orange flames flickering against the dry grass. It was small, but quickly starting to spread to the black pot next to the shack.
John threw the cup of water over the flames. It got rid of most of them, at least the ones approaching the pot. Then he yelled to Grady.
"Grady! Get me that blanket on the mattress!"
Grady jumped in surprise, staying still in shock for a moment. Then he picked up the tweedy blanket and tossed it to John. He threw it over the flames and started beating them with it, tossing it up and down and then jumping onto it and stamping it out. Grady watched in a combination of shock and awe.
Soon the blanket was a blackened, thin bit of string, even more of a mess than before. "Oh well," sighed John, eyeing it as he held it. Grady was surprised his hands weren't even a little burned. "At least I have plenty of spares. I must go through one blanket each month."
He turned to a frightened-looking Grady, still inside his shack. "Is this what you were going to warn me about?"
"Y-yes," said Grady. "They said it was just a small fire, and it wouldn't harm your shack at all."
"Well, it might have," said John. "It was about to eat up one of my pots. I use them for cooking and washing, you know. They think it's a harmless joke, but it isn't, to me. Not when I already have so little as it is."
"But I didn't warn you," said Grady guiltily.
"You didn't need to," assured John. "I heard the sounds of the fire outside."
"Really?" awed Grady. "You have good ears. I didn't even hear that."
"Yeah. Those kids say I have good hearing," said John. "It's one of their only compliments for me."
"I can't believe them!" Grady fumed. "Starting a fire near your shack just for fun? Do they do stuff like this all the time?"
"Pretty much," said John, smiling slightly. "But it's not a big deal. I'm used to it. It's easy to mess with me. I am rather strange."
"People do the same to me," Grady blurted out. "I mean, the kids at home before I moved here. They picked on me because they thought I was weird."
John looked surprised. "But why? You seem normal to me. Then again, anyone would, compared to me." He laughed self-deprecatingly.
"They think I'm geeky," said Grady. "I don't have many friends. Even my sister thinks I'm weird. Will and Cassie seem to like me. But they say I'm weird for talking to you."
He regretted saying it, but John didn't look offended. "Well, maybe you should stop. I don't want to ruin your relationships with your friends."
"No, it's fine," insisted Grady. "I don't really care what they think. And you shouldn't either."
"It's hard not to after they almost set my shack on fire," joked John.
Grady stared at the shack. It was so shabby and rundown, he thought it would take much less than a fire to burn it down. "Did you really build it all by yourself?"
"Yes," said John. "I used tree limbs and roots and grass and mud—"
"I went inside for a second," interrupted Grady. "It was so dark, I couldn't see anything. How do you live in there?"
"The lights were out for a while," said John. "And I have good eyesight."
"There wasn't much in there, either," said Grady. "And my sister complained about our new house…" He paused, realizing how judgmental he sounded. "Uh, no offense. Sorry."
"No, you're right," admitted John with a little smile. "I know my shack isn't much, but it's enough for me."
"But why do you live here?" asked Grady. "Can't you have a better house outside of the swamp?"
John ignored his question. "It's good enough for me," he repeated. "Besides, it's not as bad as it looks."
"Really?" Grady asked incredulously. "Uh… could you… show me inside? I'd like to see it. Not that you have to."
John stared at him in surprise. "Are you serious? Nobody's ever asked me that before. They want to stay as far away from my shack as possible. In fact, I don't think anyone's been in here other than me."
"I'm just curious," said Grady. "You don't have to. It's your home—"
"No, I'm flattered," said John. "I know it's a dump. You can make fun of it if you want."
"I won't," said Grady, smiling at his attempt at humor.
John walked up to the slightly crooked front door, grabbed hold of the tree limb, and slowly pushed it open. Grady stared into the dim light, and could barely see anything. John walked inside and sat down on something Grady couldn't see.
"Can you turn on the light?" asked Grady, standing outside the door.
"I did," said John. "It doesn't get any brighter."
"Really?" asked Grady.
"Well, it can," said John. "I have lanterns. I can get some from the kitchen."
"No, it's okay," he said as he stepped into the musty darkness. He could understand why nobody had been in there before. But it didn't really smell bad, just old and damp. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he supposed it had a sort of charm to it.
He spotted an oil lamp providing the dim light. It was lying on top of a chipped wooden stool with a broken leg. John was sitting on an equally chipped wooden chair with parts of the wood scraping off. On the table in front of it were cans of food.
"I carved these," said John. "The furniture, I mean."
"Really?" Grady asked in awe.
"It shows, doesn't it?" said John. "They looked much better back when I first carved them. But now they're falling apart. Actually, the table did fall apart a little while ago, and I had to carve a new one."
"How long did that take?" asked Grady. He suddenly noticed that the table was much sturdier than the other furniture, the wood almost shiny.
"Oh, not long," said John. "Only a few weeks or so. It'd take less time to carve the chairs. I enjoy it, too. Carving things is one of my talents."
"Like that carving you gave me," said Grady. "Of a wolf."
John looked at him. "A wolf? You mean, a dog."
"Oh, right," said Grady. "It looked like a wolf, though."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said John sharply, his voice sounding almost aggressive. Then it softened again. "I have an appreciation for dogs, even though I don't see many in the swamp. They're such gentle, loyal creatures."
"I'm kind of scared of them," admitted Grady. "I got bit by one once when I was little. It had rabies, and then my dad had to put him down. He was our family dog."
John looked surprised at this sudden ramble. "Oh… sorry."
"My sister cried for days afterwards," said Grady. "She loved that dog. Maybe more than our parents. Uh, sorry. That came out of nowhere."
"Dogs seem to like me," said John. "Not many animals do, but dogs seem to gravitate towards me. I love petting and talking to them."
"But there aren't many in the swamp, are there?" asked Grady.
"Well, there is one," said John. "He's very excitable. He always comes running around my ankles."
"It must be exciting, living in the middle of the swamp," said Grady.
John looked at him in surprise. "Exciting? I've never heard that before. It's difficult, and lonely."
"Oh, yes," said Grady. "But I'd like to live here, just for a little while. I like mysterious. I could explore and learn a lot about it and meet all the animals."
"Wow," said John. "I've never heard anyone think that before. Not even me. Sometimes, I wish I could live outside here, with other people."
"Why can't you?" asked Grady.
John looked away, but answered his question that time. "I'm… not like other people. They wouldn't like me to live among them. It's best for me to stay here, away from others."
Grady was still confused by the cryptic answer, but decided not to push it. He didn't seem to like talking about why he lived in the swamp. "Sometimes, I wish I could live away from everyone," he admitted. "Even my own family makes fun of me."
"I'd love to have a family again," sighed John.
Grady was curious about that. "What happened to them?"
John didn't answer, and an uneasy silence filled the darkened shack. "Sorry," said Grady. "I was just curious."
"I haven't seen them in a long, long time," said John quietly. He picked up a cup on the wooden table and started sipping the liquid inside. "In a way, I'm glad I haven't. If they did see me… I have a feeling they'd hate me."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Grady.
John didn't answer again, and the silence was so long that Grady started to feel uneasy. He quickly changed the subject. "I wish my sister would disappear sometimes," he said. "She's so annoying. Just this morning, she scared me by putting her cold hands on the back of my neck."
John laughed, a deep, husky laugh. It almost sounded unnatural. But Grady preferred it to the uncomfortable silence. He started telling him more stories about his sister. He replied with amusement to some and sympathy to others. Then he told him about the kids at home picking on him. He hadn't even told his parents some of the stories. It felt good to confide in someone after hiding it for so long. John looked increasingly angry as Grady related them.
"I can't believe they'd treat you like that," snarled John. Grady jumped, slightly scared. His voice sounded like a wild animal's. He looked furious now, his eyes darkening and his teeth baring. "Did they really do that to you?"
"I had to hide my bruises that day," said Grady. "My sister saw, and she just laughed. She said I was a wimp for letting them push me around."
Grady watched in shock as his eyes, flashing an even darker green, narrowed into slits, and his teeth gnashed together slightly. Grady noticed how large his teeth were. They weren't especially sharp, but they were huge, and yellowed at the ends. He could just picture them chomping down on a piece of meat…
The next moment, he immediately went back to normal, his eyes turning gentle again and his mouth closing into a thin line. "Well, she's right about one thing. You shouldn't let them treat you like that," he said calmly, taking another sip from the cup.
Grady stared at him for a moment. Had he just imagined that? It had happened so quickly. He had looked like a completely different person. But now, he looked completely normal again.
"Neither should you," he managed to say.
"They're just children," John waved it off. "They just want to have a little fun with me. But other children shouldn't treat you like that."
"They just want to have a little fun with me," Grady echoed.
"Well, they shouldn't!" John growled, his eyes flashing again.
"Do you get this angry when they push you around?" Grady joked meekly.
"Oh, no," said John, going back to normal again. "I'm just used to it."
"So am I," said Grady. "I'm too wimpy to stand up for myself."
"Well, you should," urged John. "Don't let them treat you like that."
"Then you should as well," Grady pointed out. "Anyway, you haven't heard half of the things they've done to me."
"Don't tell me," John insisted, holding up his hand. "I can't listen to anymore. It makes me angered."
"I could tell," said Grady drily. "I was scared for a moment. I thought you were going to attack me."
John grimaced, seeming to deflate. "Did I really look like that?"
"Well, yeah," admitted Grady. "You looked like…" He trailed off.
"Like what?" urged John.
"Nothing," said Grady quickly.
"Like a werewolf?" John suggested.
Grady stared at him. "No, of course not!"
"I probably did," admitted John. "I know what you mean. I know what I look like when I get angry. There's a mirror in this shack, you know."
"Do you always look so… frightening?" joked Grady, deciding to ignore the werewolf comment.
"I suppose I do look frightening," said John. "But I was angry on your behalf. I wouldn't have attacked you. I would never do that."
"I know. I was only kidding," said Grady, though he really had thought that for a moment. "Were you really that angry about what they did to me?"
"Yes," said John. "How could they treat you that way? You're so kind and good-hearted."
"You think so?" asked Grady. "They think I'm nerdy and weak-hearted."
"No human's ever been so kind to me before," said John. "I mean, person."
Human? thought Grady. What did he mean by that?
"I can't believe anyone would treat you cruelly," said John.
Grady laughed hollowly. "You'd believe it if you saw me at home. It seems that's all people like doing to me."
"I suppose that's all they like doing to me, too," said John. "But at least they have an excuse. I'm the strange, mysterious hermit. You're just a kind, pure-hearted boy."
Grady changed the subject. "Is this the only room in your shack?"
"Oh, there's a few other rooms," said John. "But not many. I even sleep here, on the mattress." Grady glanced at the dirty, torn mattress.
John took another sip from the cup. It seemed to calm him. "Would you like to try this?" he suggested. "It's a kind of tea I made. It's really rather good.
"Uh, sure," said Grady.
John handed him the tea, and Grady almost dropped it from the heat. The cup felt hard and cracked as well as hot. He slowly lifted it to his lips, overcome by the strong scent. It smelled calming. As he took a sip, it tasted bitter at first, but also strong and soothing. There was a slight bitter, lemony aftertaste. It calmed and soothed him as the warm liquid made its way down his throat.
"Did you really make this?" asked Grady, taking another sip. "It's really rather good."
"I made it from herbs and plants in the swamp," explained John. "I boiled it in steaming water, in my cooking pot."
"You must know a lot of things if you live here," said Grady. He took another sip, and found it too strong to have any more. He was beginning to feel light-headed.
"I wouldn't have lasted this long here if I didn't," said John. "I can name every tree and plant in this swamp, and even more of the animals. As well as how to use them, of course."
"My dad would like you," said Grady. "He wants to learn everything about this swamp. That's why we came here."
"Maybe you should tell him about me," suggested John.
"You'd be okay with that?" asked Grady.
"Of course," said John. "I'd love to have more company, even if it's only for someone's pursuit of knowledge."
"He'd probably tell everyone about you, and spend ages interviewing you, and make you tell everyone in town everything about this swamp," said Grady. "You'd never get a bit of privacy again."
"I wouldn't mind that," said John excitedly. "I'd like to get to know the people in town better, and for them to know me." Then, suddenly, he deflated, sadness filling his face. "Oh, no… I can't. You're right. I just remembered, I can't be around other people. It's the best for me… and for them."
Huh? Grady was taken aback. He had just completely changed for no apparent reason. He had been glad when he heard John wouldn't mind Mr. Tucker knowing about him, even though he was slightly disappointed that they wouldn't be such close friends anymore. John deserved to have everyone accept him. It wasn't selfish of Grady to only want him to know him. But then, he went back to thinking he couldn't be allowed around anyone.
"But what about me?" asked Grady. "You're spending time with me."
"Oh, yes," said John. "But you're different. You're not afraid of me."
"Afraid? Why would they be afraid?" Well, he supposed John did look scary, with his ragged, wild appearance.
"They would, if they knew," said John.
What did that mean? Grady wanted to press more, but decided not to.
"Anyway, even you shouldn't spend so much time with me," said John. "Aren't your friends and parents worried about you?"
"They probably aren't," said Grady bitterly. "My sister said it made sense I was spending time with someone as weird as me. I guess we were meant to know each other," he joked.
"Well, you should get going now," suggested John. "They'll probably be wondering where you are."
Grady left, his heart lighter. He had never met anyone who accepted him before. Maybe now, he had finally found someone who was just as different as he was.