The Cow-Pie Chronicles (18 page)

“Why?” Mom asked. “I usually have to force you into that outfit.”

“He wants to impress his
girlfriend
,” Dana said.

Tim clenched his fists and glared at Dana. “Do not!”

“My friend, Cindy, has a sister in sixth grade and I told her you have a girlfriend who likes cows,” Dana said.

Tim ran around the table, ready for a fight. “Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!”

Dana screamed then ducked under the table as Mom grabbed Tim by his arm. “Stop that! Sit down and be quiet, both of you!” Mom said. “Dana, you better keep your mouth shut now or you'll regret it later. Trust me. Don't you dare do or say anything to embarrass your brother at school.”

Tim pulled his arm from his mother's grip. “I don't want any breakfast. I'm going to school.”

“You need to eat something,” Mom said.

Tim ignored her, picked up his books and headed out the door. As he walked to school, Tim looked at every girl his age, wondering if she was Cindy's sister. He wondered how many other girls might be gossiping about him, too, thanks to Dana's big mouth. His stomach started to churn, not from missing breakfast, but from worry.

The kids who rode the school bus—like Niki and Frank—hadn't arrived yet when Tim entered his classroom. So he went straight to his desk and sat down. His teacher walked in a few minutes later and stopped when she saw Tim. “You're early this morning,” she said.

“Traffic was light,” Tim said.

“Your parents drop you off today?” she asked.

“No, I walked. But I didn't have to wait to cross any streets because the traffic was light.”

His teacher nodded her head and sat down at her desk while Tim stared at the door.

When the school bus kids started entering the classroom, he tried to catch a glimpse of Niki before she saw him. One by one they entered and sat down until nearly every chair was taken, but there was no sign of her.

Tim worried Niki had changed classrooms because of the gossip Dana had started. Then she appeared in the doorway, wearing a white blouse with a little pink flower on it, a plaid red-and-gray pleated skirt and a red ribbon in her hair. She looked straight at him, smiled and then took her seat at the front of the room.

Tim let out a sigh of relief and opened his math book to prepare for the first lesson of the day. Tim and Niki didn't see each other at recess, but when lunchtime came, Niki waited at the classroom door until Tim got there.

“I had a good time this weekend,” Tim said.

“Me, too. My parents like you a lot. Frank asked me to tell you to come out Saturday morning if you can. He has a big surprise for you,” Niki said.

“Isn't he going to be in the lunchroom?” Tim asked.

“He has the early lunch,” Niki said.

Tim wasn't sure what to say next. He'd planned on the three of them chatting about the fun they had over the weekend. The idea of sitting alone with Niki at lunch seemed a little awkward. “Oh. So, do you, I mean . . . are we going to eat . . . or talk at lunch?”

“Not today. Too many people are saying you're my boyfriend. Mom says I'm too young to have a boyfriend,” Niki said.

“Sorry. My little sister, Dana, started those rumors,” Tim said.

Niki raised her eyebrows in an expression of surprise. “Started what rumors?”

“Dana told her friend Cindy who has a sister in our grade that I have a girlfriend, and it's you.”

A look of disgust crossed Niki's face. “I know who Cindy's sister is—it's Grace. She's trouble and not very nice. Don't worry about it,” Niki said. “And guess what? Frank's telling everyone in seventh grade that I'm in love.”

Now it was Tim's turn to be surprised. “Why would he do that?”

“To get even with me for teasing him about his girlfriends,” Niki said.

A smile crossed Tim's lips as he remembered his mom's comment to Dana that morning, about starting rumors at school about Tim—he'd get even with Dana when she grew up and had her first boyfriend. “So that's what Mom meant when she told Dana she'd be sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Niki asked.

“Never mind. Tell Frank I'll be there bright and early,” Tim said.

“Okay.” Niki started for the lunchroom, leaving Tim standing alone in front of the classroom.

“Hey, Niki,” Tim called.

Niki stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

“We're still friends though, right?”

“Of course,” Niki said.

Tim suddenly realized he had left home without picking up his lunch sack. Since it was pointless to go to the lunchroom, he went back to his seat in the classroom and put his head down to rest until the lunch period was over.

* * *

When Saturday morning finally came, Tim gulped down his breakfast, jumped on his bike and made the two-mile ride to East Dairy Farm #6 in record time, anxious to see what the big surprise Frank promised was all about.

Tim rode into his friend's driveway out of breath and dropped his bike on the grassy yard. No one was around. He waited a bit and when no one showed up, Tim walked around back toward the barn. He spotted Niki carrying a sack of something toward the house.

“You're early,” Niki said.

“Where's Frank?” Tim asked.

“He'll be here in a couple of minutes,” Niki said.

“Need any help with that?” Tim asked as he started walking to the house with her.

“No, I can handle it,” Niki said. “I'll see you later. I have to get my chores done before Jerry comes.”

Tim stopped walking. “Who's Jerry?”

“A friend from school. He's never seen a farm,” Niki said, without stopping.

Before Tim could say anything more, the high-pitched whine of a small engine echoed between the buildings. Then out popped Frank, screaming down the lane on his new Ducati motorcycle! He slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop right in front of Tim, throwing gravel in every direction.

“Wow! Is it all yours?” Tim asked.

“Yep. Just picked it up yesterday. Hop on!” Frank said.

Tim didn't give Niki another thought as he jumped on the back of the motorcycle. Frank clicked the gearshift, revved the engine and popped the clutch, sending the machine flying down the lane into a
stubble field
of fresh cut alfalfa. Tim could see the makings of a racetrack where Frank had been riding all morning.

Frank headed for the track, gunned the engine, shifted into high gear and sped down the straight-away section. They made the complete circle around the huge field quickly. Sliding to a stop, Tim slid off the back then Frank hopped off and killed the engine. “Your turn,” Frank said.

“I don't know how to ride,” Tim said.

“I didn't know how either until two hours ago. Get on. I'll show you what to do,” Frank said.

Tim climbed timidly onto the cycle, placing his hands on the handlebars. Frank went through all the things Tim needed to do to operate the machine, pointing to the different levers as he explained them. When he was finished, Frank said, “Okay. Start her up!”

Tim squeezed the clutch, snapped the kick start and twisted the throttle as the engine came to life. He tapped the shifter with his toe to put it in gear and slowly released the clutch. The motorcycle jerked forward a few inches then stalled. Tim's next few attempts at releasing the clutch had the same results. He was so embarrassed that he wanted to get off the bike and hide in shame.

“Don't give up. It took me 20 times before I got the hang of it,” Frank said.

Determined not to fail again, Tim started the engine, revved it up, popped the clutch and felt the rear wheel spinning underneath him as the motorcycle lurched forward. He was moving!

“Shift! Shift!” Frank shouted.

Tim popped the shift lever up with his toe, cranked the throttle and was on his way around the track. They spent the next hour having a blast timing each other on their laps. But, alas, there's always work to be done on a farm. Tim spotted Frank's dad standing with Frank as he finished the last turn of his fastest lap yet.

“
We need to take some tools back to the wheat field. The
combine
broke again,” Frank said.

Tim scooted back on the seat and Frank jumped on to drive. Together, they rode to the toolshed and went inside to look for the tools they needed. Frank grabbed a bag of wrenches and handed it to Tim. “Hold these.”

Tim jumped behind Frank on the motorcycle and held on for dear life as Frank raced across plowed fields, through ditches and over rocks. Tim thought it was a miracle they reached the combine without crashing, or at least his being tossed off the back. Tim hardly had a chance to catch his breath before problems developed with the repair of the broken farm machine.

“You brought me every wrench but the one I need,” the farmhand, who was working on the combine, said to the boys.

“Which one do you need?” Frank asked.

“A three-quarter-inch box end. The long, heavy one,” the farmhand said.

“We'll go get it,” Frank said.

“One of you stay here,” the worker said. “I need some help prying this thing up.”

“I'll stay and help,” Tim said, not quite ready to go bouncing around on the rough fields again.

“No, I'm getting paid to help,” Frank said. “You go get the wrench.”

Tim stared at Frank in disbelief. “You get paid?”

“Yeah. How do you think I paid for that motorcycle?” Frank said.

Tim's eyes opened wide in shock. “You bought it yourself?!”

“Of course, now get going,” Frank said. “I don't want to be stuck out here fixing this stupid machine all day.”

Tim jumped onto the motorcycle and headed across the fields at a much slower pace than Frank had driven. He wondered what it must be like for a 12-year-old to earn enough money to buy a motorcycle. The most Tim ever got paid was a dollar for mowing his grandpa's huge lawn.

As he rolled onto the gravel lane that went to the toolshed, he spotted Niki walking with her new friend, Jerry. Tim changed course and headed straight for them. He gunned the engine then slammed on the brakes, skidding sideways to a stop right in front of them, throwing a wave of dirt and gravel across their shoes.

Jerry—who Tim recognized from school—jumped back, scared for his life. Niki didn't react at all. Realizing he had looked like a scaredy-cat in front of Niki, Jerry tried to act casual. He shook the dirt off his white tennis shoes then asked Tim, “So, what're you doing here?”

“I'm here all the time,” Tim answered. Then he asked Niki, “Where do you keep the big wrenches?” Tim knew darn well where they kept the big wrenches, but he wanted to make Jerry feel as out of place as possible.

“In the toolshed,” Niki said. “Mom wants to know if you can go up north with us next weekend.”

Tim couldn't believe Niki was asking him right in front of Jerry, but he wasn't about to miss a chance to get in another dig. “Wouldn't miss it,” Tim said. He then popped the clutch and roared off to the toolshed.

Frank and Tim finally got the combine fixed and made it back to the house a few hours later, hungry, dirty and tired. Frank stopped the motorcycle in the driveway in front of the house.

“Go tell Mom we're back while I put the tools away,” Frank said.

“Okay,” Tim replied.

“Hey, Tim!” Niki called from the back door then started walking toward the two boys.

“Uh, oh. You better head to the toolshed now. This isn't going to be pretty,” Tim warned Frank.

“What's her problem?” Frank asked.

“It's my problem. Don't worry about it.”

“I'm sticking around—I don't want to miss this one,” Frank said.

Tim slipped off the back of the motorcycle, bracing himself for a scolding from Niki about how he had treated Jerry. Frank sat on the bike, ready for his little sister to go crazy.