The Crossroads

Zack and Davy saw and heard everything.

They had come back from the swimming hole and were hiding in a thicket where they had a leaf-framed view of the Wicked Witch and her priest.

“So, pardner,” Davy whispered, “you think that statue is made out of plastic?”

Zack watched as the priest twisted the statue down into the loose dirt.

“Sure looks like plastic.” Zack heard a hollow plunk when the priest banged its pedestal against a rock. “Sounds like plastic, too.”

“Swell. That means the galdern thing will melt. It’ll melt real good.”

The old lady crawled back inside her Cadillac and was driven away. The other cars drove away, too.

“Okay,” said Davy, “we’ll be ready in a couple days.”

“Is that enough time? There’s so much to do.”

“Just bore them holes like I shown you. Soak her good with the kerosene. She’ll be ready to go.”

“You’ll help, right, Davy?”

In the distance, the boys once again heard the farm bell tolling.

“Aw, shucks. It’s Pops. Jiminy Christmas, seems he rings that dang bell every time we’re all set for an adventure!”

“Don’t go, Davy.”

“Have to, Zack. Pops would tan my hide if I don’t come when he rings the bell.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

“Sure you can. In fact, you can do it better than anyone. That’s why I chose you.”

“No. Wait. If you knew who I was…”

“You’re Zack Jennings.”

“No…I mean who I really am…what people say about me…what my mother…I screw things up, Davy. I ruin everything for everybody!”

“Zack?” said Davy. “I don’t rightly care what folks say about you. What they say can’t make you who you are—’less, of course, you let ’em.”

The bell clanged louder in the distance. “Wait! Don’t go, Davy. Okay? Stay.”

“Can’t, I reckon. But don’t worry. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Zack needed more. “Cross your heart?”

“Yep! And hope to die!”