Primrose Lane YA Short

Coming of Age. Short.

I woke to a clattering of small stones against my window. No need to look, it had to be Jerry. I dressed in the dark.

I was quiet going down the stairs. Jerry was waiting, two of his favorite bamboo fishing poles in one hand, a small orange tackle box in the other. School was out for the summer and we planned to head over to Primrose Lane for some carp fishing. In those bygone days, two thirteen-year-old boys could still hang out without fear of predators. 

Our favorite kick-can was still in the bushes where we'd left it the year before, rusting and the worse for wear but still solid, waiting to be kicked back and forth down the path. That day, in a hurry to get our hooks in before full sunrise, we decided to forgo that activity.

“They’s gonna be biting afore daylight,” Jerry says.

“Yeah. Fishes must be waking up ‘bout now, wantin’ a juicy worm for breakfast.”

"What the devil's going on?" Jerry said, seeing a flash of color through shrubbery and blackberry bushes.

"Dunno, but we gonna find out and that's for darned sure."

We sped up, trying to run through mud and brambles. Entering the familiar clearing, we stopped.

"That's a girl." Jerry pointed. "At our hole."

I went over to the path we'd worn from Primrose Lane to our private spot in a bend in the creek. Yep! My cardboard sign was still there, though a little torn. It read: "Pribate propty. B/longs ta Tom and Jerry. You guys stay out." 

"I know her," I whispered, "from school. Easy Edna, she's called. A nerdy tenth-grader."

By that time, Jerry's over next to the girl. "What you doin' here? This is our hole, and on Tom's daddy's property. You can read."

She shrugged, shaking her pole to attract a fish. "I'm not a guy."

"Tell her, Tom. She has to leave. We ain't got no room here for a girl."

Was it the way she was sitting, her looks in those short-shorts, or was it puberty's call? I'll never know.

"Awww. It's okay, Jerry. We can go over there a ways. Should be just as good."

"You a girl lover, Tom?"

"Come on. It's a better spot, anyway. Even stumps to sit on."

So we set up twenty-feet away, ignoring Edna. It wasn't long before she came over.

"I'm out'a worms. You guys got a extra one?"

"Hell no--"

"Yeah. I do," I said. I even put it on the line for her while she stood next to where I was sitting, towering over me. I saw what I thought was a flash of hair through a leg of her brown shorts. Is she wearing underwear? I thought, becoming excited. 

"Thank you, Tommy. I have trouble with slimy things." She felt the worm, running her finger over it, smiling. "Yours isn't so slimy." 

"I ... well, I soak worms in water overnight. It makes them healthier." 

She still held that penetrating smile, eyes seeming to drill into mine, causing strange feelings in my groin. 

Running a pink tongue over pale lips, she replied, "I wash mine too." Then she went back to her fishing spot, shaking her butt all the way, and you can believe I noticed. 

"Tommmmmyyyy," Jerry said. "You got a boner." He must have thought it hilarious, the way he laughed. "Wait till I tell the guys." 

Somehow, I didn't care. 

About lunchtime, we both left, Jerry going south down Primrose Lane, me north. After a few feet, though, I returned. 

Edna didn't need to turn around. She must have heard me coming. 

"Tommy. You want to fish with me? Come on, don't be shy. We can even talk." 

"I don't have a pole. They both belong to Jerry." 

"Then we can share my pole and your worms." She laughed. "If they aren’t too slimy."

Well, that was the first time I shared my worm with a girl, and it beat the hell out of fishing.

Oscar Rat