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OSWALD’S ENDEAVORS

Joey tried to remember what his mom had just said. She stood there with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. Her curly hair shone in the kitchen lights, bright compared to the dimming sky outside this May evening. The counters were spotless, although you could still smell the macaroni, cheese, and broccoli casserole they’d had for dinner. Some of Joey’s excellent test results were displayed on the refrigerator, much to Joey’s embarrassment. Not that there was really anyone to be embarrassed in front of these days. He risked glimpsing through the glass doors to the back deck. Oswald, his good opossum friend, blinked back and shifted from foot to foot to foot to foot.

“Come on, we’ve got to get going,” Melvin, Joey’s cat, said from the floor next to the door.

“I know,” Joey answered.

“You know what?” his mother, Ann, asked.

“Uh oh,” Melvin said and swooshed out the cat flap.

Ann tipped Joey’s face up to hers. He looked away—everyone said his almond-shaped brown eyes gave away what he was thinking. “You were talking to the cat, weren’t you?” She shook her head, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Bread. You were going to go get some more so I can make your sandwiches for tomorrow. Remember?”

Joey smiled as he grabbed his bicycle helmet. “Of course I remember,” he said and bounded out the door.

“What took you so long?” Oswald felt as cross as Ann had looked. But he never could stay annoyed with the boy for long. He was such a lovely lad, always interested in new things and up for adventure. Yes, becoming quite a nice young fellow, under my guidance, he thought.

“Hey, we had to eat all the bread while his mom wasn’t looking so he had an excuse to go out on a school night. Don’t get your tail in a knot,” Melvin huffed, as he maneuvered between the boy and opossum.

“My tail is prehensile, but I certainly don’t tie it in knots,” Oswald said proudly.

Melvin narrowed his eyes. “Glad we have that straightened out.”

“OK, you guys. Ready?” Joey said, as he plunked his bicycle helmet over his dark curls and continued before he got an answer. “I’ll go get my bike.” He leaped down the stairs and disappeared behind the garage.

Oswald was nervous, winding and unwinding his tail around his front leg.

“You’ll be all right. We’ve been over this a thousand times,” Melvin said.

“I think it was more like twelve. There’s no need for hyperbole.” Oswald paused to see if Melvin understood this big word. Oswald was going to be famous, and fame, he knew, came with responsibilities, like setting a good example for others, being a role model. Improving his vocabulary was one of the ways he’d been preparing for his new life.

Joey glided his bike to a stop beside the deck.

“Whatever, man,” Melvin said and jumped into the large basket on the front. He settled in on an old towel nestled atop a large coil of rope in the basket. Joey clipped his chinstrap in place, grabbed the handlebars, and put a foot on a pedal.

“Come on, Oswald. Let’s go,” Joey said.

Oswald peered over the edge of the deck. It was a full four feet to the ground, and exactly eleven inches from the deck to the bicycle basket. Joey had measured it for him—twice. Oswald had jumped farther than that lots of times, when climbing down trees, for example. But now, as the sun was starting to set, and his best friends were ready to help him make his dreams come true, those inches telescoped out in front of him. What if something goes wrong? What if I don’t get into the newspaper? Becoming famous had been Oswald’s dream for so long he didn’t know what he’d do without it. His mother always told him he would “be a real somebody, be important someday.” And now that she was gone, he wanted to prove her right all the more.

Boy and cat stared at him. It wouldn’t do to discuss his trepidation now; it certainly wasn’t full-blown fear.

“Do you think that old towel is suitable? Might you have something nicer?” Oswald said.

All at once, Melvin jumped back onto the deck and shoved Oswald over the edge. Joey caught him and carefully lifted him into the basket.

Melvin leapt back in and Joey clipped a bungee cord across the basket as a sort of seat belt, just as his mother opened the back door.

“Joey? Oh good, you’re still here.”

“Dang.” Melvin shoved Oswald underneath him and Joey tugged the towel over them, leaving only Melvin’s head sticking out. Ann walked down the steps and handed Joey some money.

“Looks like we’re out of peanut butter, too. Can you please get a jar while you’re at it?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“You better be growing—you’re eating me out of house and home.” She looked down at the bicycle basket. “You sure it’s a good idea to take poor Melvin? Wouldn’t he rather stay here?” She reached for the cat, but Joey banged his foot on the pedal and started across the yard.

“Nah, he likes to ride,” Joey called over his shoulder.

Joey sped through the front gate and onto the quiet street. Melvin shrugged the towel off, and Oswald gasped for air.

“Was that necessary?” Oswald sputtered.

Joey had taken Oswald on a couple of short rides before, up and down the block to get him used to it, but now it felt like they were flying. The tires thrummed as Joey stood to go even faster. Oswald thought he might be sick. He looked at Melvin, whiskers and ears blown back, a look of bliss on his furry face.

“Isn’t this great? It’s because of you we got this ride, man. Thanks,” Melvin said.

Oswald could tell Joey, too, was in the zone; boy and bicycle were one seamless machine. They had been so helpful with Oswald’s endeavors. They should have their fun, too, he reasoned. He turned forward, gripped the basket, and closed his eyes.