The Shortcut

The Shortcut

While the rest of the class practices cursive,

I stare through smudged glass at the waiting world outside.

Today we are learning the letter Z,

I'd rather write an L.

The three-o-clock bell causes commotion--

Frantically I race to my cubby.

I stuff my paper mache mask and spelling lesson into my tattered and beaten knapsack.

My mission is first in-line, first outside.

But I make it too late and I'm second--

Behind smelly-red-haired-Ricky who's rumored to have cooties.

Eagerly I wait while third grade shuffles by and through the doors to the waiting world outside.

It's our turn and Mrs. Roy tells us to pretend we are angels,

to float nicely down the hall.

But I am not an angel,

I am an airplane and I hold my arms out straight.

Mrs. Roy pushes open the big heavy door

and a yellow burst of sun lights up our little smiles.

I run past Maria and Nancy who are trading stickers,

I run past Noah who's squishing harries,

and instead of going right, I run left

and I can run faster than anyone because I am wearing my red Zips.

I scurry up a hill slipping on the fallen leaves

and enter into the dark and cool kingdom of trees.

I follow the path looking for rare jack-in-the-pulpits and lady slippers.

Birds whistle their working tunes

and I imagine finding a house owned by trolls.

Pausing by the stream I pull off my winged sneakers and mismatched socks

I cram them in on top of spelling and paper mache.

Slowly I step into the cold water and waddle towards the tunnel.

I crouch down and enter the dark tube and wobble towards the light.

As I shout out echoes, I can hear the rumbling of cars passing over.

It's an earthquake and I am looking for the lost treasure.

At the tunnels end, I find myself in dangerous land...

In Mrs. Mates-with-the-yippity-dog's backyard.

If I'm not careful and quiet, she might mistake me for Gretel.

Barefoot, I run through the yard to the safety of the sidewalk.

Not bothering with socks, I pull on my trusty zips and continue on.

Rounding the corner, I see the friendly yellow house.

So I climb the mountain stairs and rap hard at the door.

It creaks open, screening a wrinkled smile

and Mrs. Holden invites me in for milk and cookies.

I pat her old black cat

and look at pictures from when things were black and white.

I say I have to leave and she hands me a peppermint,

shaking her head at my grass stained knees.

Like superman, I can fly!

I leap out and over the stairs

but it's rough landing and my palms break the fall

scraping and skidding on the sandy walkway.

I hold them up to see and watch red color appear.

It must be God's magic marker.

I resume my journey, this time staying on track

following the sidewalk and carefully not breaking mom's back.

As I come to the big red house I can see him standing there

with his arms folded across his chest.

"It's suppertime and where the hell have you been?"

I widen my dirt-raccoon eyes

I smile, revealing my whole-dollar front tooth space

I hold out my road rash palms and say:

"I took a shortcut home."