The Lost Boy

“You never trust me,” Dave shouted, angrily, “I rarely do anything wrong, but when that rotten Jack screws up and blames it on me you always buy it. When he walks in here with his little 7-year-old puppy-dog eyes you always side with him.” Dave O’Conner was nearing 10 now and was starting to grow up. The only problem with his life now was that whenever something goes wrong, he always gets the blame. Time after time again his soft dad falls for his little brother Jack’s innocent stare, as if he could have never done anything wrong.

“Dave, all I’m asking you to do is go to your room for 30 minutes, it’s not the end of the world,” Said John, Dave’s 40-year old father, with a frustrated look on his face.

“You don’t understand, dad, Jack broke the window with the baseball when you and Mom were in town. If only mom was back now she’d believe me,” explained Dave. At this point, they were both furious. Dave wanted to kill that no-good little kid. All Jack was doing was smile behind his dad’s back at Dave until he couldn’t take it anymore. Dave lunged across the room at Jack and started to pound the life out of the boy. In John’s mind all it looked like was a nasty attempt of starting a fight with an innocent child, but Jack was far from innocent. For years Jack had been blaming things on his older brother and even classmates at school. Dave had to put an end to it for good. He was flailing himself all over the little devil until his father picked him up by the scruff of the neck.

“If you don’t get into your room by the time I count to 5, we’re going back to the city and we’re selling this cottage,” exclaimed John angrily, he’d had enough of the bickering between the two of them and was at his wits end. Dave knew what he had to do, so he got up and sulked as he walked down the hall and into his room. He loved this cottage, and everything about it. The swimming was great and he was just learning how to drop a ski. He would always miss that small wooden cabin, and he knew that going to his room was his only option, but he also knew that he could go to his room but still teach them a lesson.

It was 7:00 on a Saturday. The sun was still high in the sky. There were still about 2 more hours of sunlight. Dave was in his room. He didn’t belong there, Jack did. After all these years of torment he decided he was done. He had to run away; maybe not forever, but sure long enough to teach everyone a lesson. Dave went through his drawers. He picked out a nice warm pair of cotton socks, a big red sweater, his favourite one that his grandfather gave him before his death, sweatpants, a sleeping bag, pillow, some books, and a flashlight. He packed it all up in a small brown bag and zipped it shut. Dave leaped up onto his windowsill, opened the window, and jumped down onto the ground. Because his cottage was a bungalow, the drop was only two feet, which was quite manageable. Dave picked up his brown bag, threw the strap around his neck, and looked back at his beautiful cottage. His dad was in the kitchen, clearing the table after dinner, and his mom would be back soon. So, with a big breath, Dave was off into the woods.

After traveling for an hour or two, the sun started to set. Dave quickly realized that he would have to unpack everything now, before it gets dark. He unzipped his bag, set up the sleeping bag, put his pillow in and climbed inside. It was very warm and cozy with his sweater and sweatpants and nice thick -40°C sleeping bag he got from his older brother Mark’s dog sledding trip. Everyone hated Jack; Mark, his classmates, Dave, and even all of Dave’s classmates, but John and his mom Ruth were oblivious. Just thinking about him made Dave toss and turn in his sleeping bag.

Dave couldn’t sleep. Around midnight, he took the flashlight, got up, and sat on a log. He looked around and realized how alive and creepy the forest is at night. The mosquitoes were out and at 10 years old this was beginning to be too much for him to handle. He began to cry. It started off slow and then it got louder and louder. He was lost. Dave looked around him and realized that he had no clue where he was. He began to panic. “HELP!!!” he screamed, desperately, “HELP, ANYBODY, PLEASE!!!” but it was no use. No one was there. He continued to cry. He cried and cried like there’s no tomorrow, until something happened; something extraordinary.

“Are you alright?” came a young boy’s voice.

“Who are you?” asked Dave, nervously, his legs shaking with fear.

“My name is Peter, and my cottage is not too far from here, I heard something and decided to check it out. Who are you?” inquired the boy.

“My name is Dave. I ran away from my cottage and I really wish I could go back. But I can’t find my way back home,” said Dave, still sobbing.

“Its ok, come to my cottage, its cold outside, we’ll figure everything out in the morning,” said Peter. The boys both packed everything up into the brown bag and headed to Peter’s cottage. Peter was also only 10, so they got along well.

When they arrived at Peter’s cottage he explained everything to his parents. They understood and were very nice about everything. The boys went to Peter’s room and went to bed.

“I can’t sleep”, said Dave, “I miss my parents and I need to go home.”

“I have an idea,” Peter said, quickly. Peter got up, put on warm clothes, and started sneaking out. “Follow me,” he whispered as he sneaked down the stairs. They put on their shoes, grabbed their flashlights and the brown bag, and headed out into the night.

The boys walked and walked. They remembered each step as they went, so they wouldn’t get lost. Finally, after about an hour or so, they found Dave’s cottage. He was thrilled. Dave gave Peter a big hug and rushed towards the big old wooden cabin. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Dave said, but before Peter heard anything, he was gone. Dave’s dad was so mad at him from earlier that night that he didn’t even open Dave’s bedroom door to check on him before he, Ruth and their dog Shmurphy went to bed. Dave climbed back in through his window, shut the window, climbed into bed and felt safe and sound. He was so happy to be home.

That night Dave had the best sleep of his life. He slept until 12:00 noon! It was incredible and quite the refreshing sleep. When he awoke, he got out of bed, ran into the kitchen, gave his mom and dad a big hug. “I’m so sorry about yesterday, dad,” said Dave.

“Its ok Dave, as long as you learned your lesson,” explained John, warmly.

“I did,” Dave replied, even though it was Jack who broke the window. He didn’t give Jack a hug, he still hated Jack. After all this he remembered how happy he was about making a new friend. Dave remembered something. “I should go back to Peter’s house to thank him,” Dave thought.

Dave put on his shoes and ran and ran. He followed his tracks and found it; but there was a problem, something unexplainable. He knew he was in the right place, the land and the trees all looked the same. But, on that land, there never was a cottage. Maybe he imagined it or maybe not. But he realized that he would never know.