Every Fool Needs a Quest

 

 

We had pedaled far enough that I couldn’t see the axeman anymore. I was about to suggest that we take a different route home, when Mac veered off the street, toward a woods. Ditching his bike, he trotted down a trail like a little man on a mission.

“What’s Mac doing?” I asked Tabitha, who didn’t seem at all surprised by her brother’s detour. She braked her bike and motioned to the woods.

“That’s where Cosmo disappeared,” she said. “We come here a few times a week, looking for him. Mac just doesn’t get it. He’s never going to find his dog in there. But good luck anyway.”

Though Tabitha was right about Cosmo, a part of me admired Mac for not giving up on his lost dog. I dropped my bike and yelled to Mac, “Hey, wait up. I’ll help you look for Cosmo.”

“Really?” Mac turned. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Why would I make fun of you? Your dog’s missing, and I want to help you find him,” I said, feeling bad because I knew we had zero chance of actually finding Cosmo.

Mac shrugged. “Everyone always says it’s hopeless.”

Hurrying after him, I said, “Nothing is ever completely hopeless.” My latest happy lie.

That was when Mac Morton surprised me with a hug. His thin arms clutched around me. I could feel his kindness. It was strange, but a good strange. I patted Mac on his shoulder and pushed him away, though not roughly.

“Look, you don’t have to pretend to be nice to me, especially when your dad isn’t around,” I told him. “I’m not looking for a shiny new family, understand? The one I got is already messed up enough.”

Mac offered no reaction whatsoever. He just said, “Can I tell you a secret?” I nodded that he could. “Tabitha’s right, Bertie. You’re weird.”

“Well, that’s not exactly a secret,” I said.

Standing on his tippy-toes, Mac whispered in my ear. “The secret is … I like weird.” His mischievous grin caught me off guard.

In North Carolina, I used to dream of having brothers and sisters to play with and pester, but that just wasn’t in the tarot cards for me. I watched Mac move on, shouting into the dense woods, “Cosmo! Here, Cosmo!” For one quick flash I could envision Mac being my actual little brother, not just an annoying twerp I had to deal with until I escaped the Altoona horror-fest. We were kindred spirits, Mac and I. We loved dogs and weird stuff.

Branching off the trail beside Mac, I yelled, “Cosmo, are you here?” No response, of course. Cosmo was history. And even though Mac probably knew this better than anyone, he refused to give up on his missing dog. All at once, it hit me how much Mac and I shared. I still hadn’t given up on my parents getting back together one day in the future.

Every fool needs something impossible to believe in, I guess.