The Door

Henry knew that crying was for children. Children younger than the age of ten. Why, just last week he’d blown out ten candles, opened presents covered in dinosaur wrapping paper, and listened to his parents belt out their family’s rendition of “Happy Birthday.” It involved fart jokes and sound effects, the whole shebang. It was glorious, and Henry wished that it would never end. But of course, it did, and now here he was, a year older, the big one-zero, with nothing to show for it except a skinned knee, cut on his ear, and the words of Jake Anderson echoing in his brain.

           “Dinosaurs aren’t for losers,” he muttered, “they’re for paleontologists.” He swiped a hand quickly across his face and hoisted the straps of his tyrannosaurus backpack so that it sat higher on his shoulders. Tall and proud. Unlike the boy under it. Small and weak. At least the school day was done. And Jake Anderson would be gone on vacation with his family tomorrow. A week of freedom. Jake had made up for that today, but his knees didn’t hurt so bad, really, if he thought about the week ahead of him.

           “Hello,” he called back to Mrs. Swanson, as she gave him a wave. She stood in her yard with Jaxson on a leash. The black lab flicked up snow with his nose, rolling his side in it. He reminded Henry of a slippery black seal. He made a mental note to tell Eleanor that one at school tomorrow. It would make her laugh; she loved Jaxson as much as Henry did.

           Feeling lighter on his feet, Henry started with a jog then broke into an all-out run. He was the fastest boy alive. Faster than Jake, faster than spitballs and pencil nubs. He bet that if he kept running this fast, his legs would fall off, but the rest of him would keep going, around the whole world in a minute. Poof, just like that, and his legs would still be here waiting for him. But the wind was cold on his ears and the snow was hard to run through, so Henry stopped at the front door of his house instead, where he knew his mom was waiting for him inside.

           “Take off your boots before you come in,” she reminded him without turning around. Henry knew the routine. Boots by the door, coat on the hook, hats and mittens in his basket. He didn’t know why she reminded him every day; every day was always the same. It must be a mom thing, Henry decided. That was okay with him.

           “Cookies?” he asked, after dutifully placing his boots by the door.

           “Chocolate chip,” she answered.

           Henry grabbed one before she could tell him that they were for after dinner. He took a bite quickly, and smiled. His mom sighed, but she was smiling too.

           “Alright, but just that one.”

           Henry nodded. He ate the cookie as fast as he could and brushed the crumbs onto the floor when his mom wasn’t looking. Then, Henry went up to his room to get out his favorite birthday present. Dinosaurs in Danger! the cover said, in thick, black font. He opened to page 12, and found the second paragraph where he had stopped reading yesterday.

           “When in danger, animals choose either a fight or flight response. Dinosaurs are no different. If threatened, they made hide, camouflaged with their surroundings. The more aggressive types, however, will fight, even to the death.”

           Henry closed the book with a thud. He didn’t like the image of a wounded, falling dinosaur that had come into his mind. He touched the cut beside his ear. Maybe he should fight Jake Anderson when he came back from vacation. That’s what nature was all about after all. The weak didn’t survive. Besides, now that he was ten, Henry was too old to run away crying any longer. In fact, he would go find Jake right now.

           “Bye, Mom,” he called, as he pulled his boots back on. “I’ll be back for dinner!”

           “Where are you going?”

           But he was already out the door and halfway down the street. The fastest kid alive. There was Mrs. Swanson, back from her walk with Jaxson. Just three more houses, and he would be at Jake’s. Suddenly, Henry’s feet didn’t feel so fast anymore. His stomach felt heavy with cookie. He counted the houses. One. Two. Each step was slower. Three. There it was, yellow and threatening. He could see Jake’s dad through the window. One. Two. Henry backed away. Three. Now, he was in front of the brick house next door. Jake hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t seen Jake. Henry turned and ran.

           He didn’t quite want to go home yet. If dinner wasn’t ready, instead of stuffing his mouth with spaghetti, he’d be answering questions about where he had gone and why there was a small cut on his head.

           He didn’t feel ready to answer those questions. Instead, he wandered into the field across from his house. It was covered in snow, not much to see, really. In summer, he played here all the time. He didn’t understand why the other kids didn’t. There could be dinosaur bones buried here. He’d spent many happy summers digging for them. If they were here, he would find them. Today, he walked all the way across to the corner he hadn’t dug up yet. He had a system worked out, and this was the last spot. It was covered in snow, of course, but if he cleared it, then maybe he could start digging earlier this year.

           Henry bent down and brushed away powdery snow with his mittens. He kept pushing away the snow until he saw dirt. And something else. Something sharp. He dug more quickly now, pulling up grass and dirty snow. But what he found wasn’t a bone. It wasn’t what he expected at all. It was just an old, rotted wood door. Probably from a root cellar, Henry decided. His teacher had read a book about a farm, once, and it had one of those. Well, at least he could go down and see. Henry pulled the door open as best he could. It was heavy, and some of the boards were broken, but he managed it. It slammed behind him on the first step.

           “Just some old vegetables, who wants those anyway,” Henry said to himself, images of being trapped underground and decaying filling his head. He pushed at the door back open. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The sun shone, birds chirped. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a field guide’s uniform. It was summer, and Henry was older.