"Hey, Wuss. Whatcha readin'?" the bully leered over the smaller timid boy. The little boy shook a bit as he showed the older boy.
"'The Secret Garden'? What a freakin' nerd!" The bully shoved the book out of Martin's hands, then, as Martin bent over to pick up his book, the bully shoved him to the ground. Martin picked up his book, but remained on the ground clutching it to his chest.
"What's the matter, Martian?" Sneered the bully, "Too scared to get up? You'd rather go back to staring at all the pretty flowers wouldn't you?"
"Hey! Stop that!" There was a flash of yellow and purple. Before Martin could make a sound of surprise, there was a small blonde girl in a purple shirt and cowboy boots standing between him and the bully. She very kindly held a hand out to Martin. He accepted it timidly, and she pulled him to his feet. She smiled a slightly toothless grin at him, her blue eyes flashing brightly. Then, she turned so fiercely on the bigger boy, he had to take a step back in surprise.
"Who do you think you are?" She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes into a keen glare, "You should be ashamed! Pushing people smaller than you! Would you like it if I pushed you?!"
Bewildered, the bully shook his head cautiously.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now clear on out, or I'll give you what you deserve." The girl drew herself up and held a hand over the toy pistol that hung out of the holster on her hip.
The bully hesitated.
The blonde spat on the ground.
"I hate to shoot an unarmed man. All right then, let's settle this the old-fashioned way then." She tossed her pistol aside and putting her fists up she advanced on the stocky boy.
It was the first time the older boy had actually been faced with the prospect of a fight, and he felt scared at the girl's confidence. He slowly raised his own fists. Then the girl made a quick charging motion at him, swinging her right fist back as if she was going to really lay into him. The bully turned and ran.
"Yeah! You better run!" The girl called after him.
"How'd you do that?" Martin asked in shy amazement.
"You've just got to act bigger and tougher." She explained, "Act like you're in charge and they'll believe it."
"Thank you." Martin said gratefully.
"Not at all." The pretty blond girl replied cheerfully, "My name is Elizabeth. What's your's?"
"Martin Penderwick." Martin shook her hand.
"That's a rather funny last name." The girl's nose wrinkled as she pondered it, "I like it!"
"Thank you!" Martin beamed as he fixed his glasses.
"Very well, Martin Penderwick." Elizabeth waggled her eyebrows in a friendly manner, "I'm playing Cowboys and Outlaws. Do you want to join me as my sidekick?"
"If we're the Cowboys, who's the bad guys?" Martin asked sensibly.
"They're imaginary, Silly." Elizabeth ruffled his hair condescendingly fond. Martin didn't mind, he quite enjoyed it. He ducked his head bashfully, and eyed his Latin book a little regretfully, but then put it in his knapsack. After all, it wouldn't hurt to play for a few minutes. Right? He could always finish his book later.
"Alright." Martin said good-naturedly, "What's my cowboy name?"
"Deputy Penderwick of course." Elizabeth seemed surprised that he wouldn't have thought of that.
"Our first stop is the saloon." Elizabeth explained as Martin trotted obligingly after her, "There's always tons and tons of outlaws at saloons. They're always causing fights and getting into shooting matches. It's the law's duty to go up to them. Then we have showdowns right out in the street..."
"C'mon, Hound!" Batty cried in a whisper, patting the top of her bed, "You have to protect me from the ghosts while Rosalind's gone."
Martin Penderwick smiled faintly from his youngest daughter's bedroom doorway as he watched her settle down to sleep. A bittersweet memory of his own childhood, with a certain over-imaginative girl he knew then, entered his head. She and Batty would have gotten along famously.
Rosalind had gone over to her friend, Anna's house for a once in a blue moon sleepover, and Batty was worried because she didn't have her usual defender against bad dreams and monsters.
"The ghosts have terrible pointy teeth, and they attack you through your dreams." Batty explained wide-eyed to her faithful best friend, who was drooling on the blanket, "And in the middle of the night, at about eight o'clock, they come creeping and hooting into little children's rooms. And they put their icy claws on your shoulders and float inside your heads, and eat you inside out!"
Batty looked very grim and horribly frightened indeed. This was Batty's greatest fault. When her imagination took over, she had a hard time focusing on anything but the frightening things. Her fear would consume her, and the poor little creature got no rest. It was normally Rosalind or Mr. Penderwick that had to gently set her back into reality, and remind her the scary monsters weren't real, or play along and make the monsters into friends. Martin Penderwick usually went for the latter option.
"But then one day, a ghost name Bartimus decided he hated the taste of children, and began a revolt." Mr. Penderwick swept into the room and plucking up his daughter he carried her through the house as he spoke, "And Bartimus gathered up all the friendly ghosts in the world and they went into battle against the terrifying evil ghosties."
Martin dropped Batty into his own bed, Hound barked and leapt about the grown man's heels, as he acted out his story with an imaginary sword. Batty was enthralled with her father's tale. She listened with wide eyes, and cried out in alarm when it seemed as if Bartimus and his forces were losing. But in the end, Bartimus' army prevailed, and the evil ghosts either died in misery or converted to the good side.
"So there's no mean ghosts anymore?" The three year old asked as Martin climbed into bed next to her.
"No, Darling," her father tugged one of her brown curls, "Even if there was, they wouldn't stand a chance against you. You're too scary. All you have to do is stand up against them and they'll run frightened out of their minds. You're letting your imagination run too much, those ghosts aren't as tough as they seem. Understand?
"Yeah, I think so." Batty cuddled into his arms, "Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight, my little Elizabeth. Sweet dreams." Martin Penderwick whispered to the toddler, and then turned off the lamp.
This is the start of a short series I'm writing. There'll be around three more one shots detailing moments of a young Martabeth AU with times in the future where Mr. Penderwick sees the comparisons between his late wife and their daughters. Hope you guys enjoy.
KoalaLover-ABC-123: I love the way you think. Those are fantastic ideas, and I can't wait to use them. Especially the Batty and Ben one, I really love those two, because they remind me of my imaginary games as a kid. Thank you for the review too, I'm glad you liked the last one shot.
Readwriteedit: I don't know if it was that good, but thank you! I loved your review, it was very deep and meaningful. And you definitely got the theme of how Skye and Jeffrey growing together. I'm glad you loved it! Although, if anything is inspiring it's your reviews. Especially that last one.
Nijibrush: I'm happy it made you laugh, and I do apologize for making you catch my Punditis, lol. To be honest, it wasn't going to be that long at first, but then one pun led to another and it just blossomed. In fact the story originated with me asking, "How can I find a way to use all my flower puns?", so I guess my dad jokes aren't as bad people make them out to be. Thank you for the positive review, I always enjoy hearing from you.