BELLYACHE Read online

  Peter took it even though he did not want it.

  “Thank you,” Peter almost whispered. He stared at it and thought maybe if he stared at it hard enough, it would disappear. When he looked up, Nana and Papa had almost finished their cookies. Nana smiled back at Peter. There was chocolate on her front tooth. Peter’s stomach churned. He knew he had to eat the cookie or they might suspect something. He never turned down sweets from Papa or Nana, ever. Maybe they would get up before he was done and he could hide the cookie in his shoe or flush it down the toilet. No such luck. Peter ate small bites in between talking and kept thinking that when his stomach could no longer be controlled by his cargo shorts, the button was going to pop off and hit Nana right in the middle of her forehead. He almost giggled at the thought.

  Finally, he was done. No more eating until dinner or maybe not even then. He felt sick, sick like the time he saw Curtis Wheeler throw up in the cafeteria all over Hanna Dell.

  “Are you all right, Peter?” Papa looked concerned.

  Peter quickly answered, “Yes, I have to burp.” It sounded as good as anything.

  “All right then, let’s get back to work,” Papa ordered.

  Peter slowly got up and went to the front to say good-bye to Nana.

  “I will miss you so much.” Nana kissed him on his forehead. “I will be counting down the days till I see your smiling face in church on Sunday.” He watched her turn the sign over to say “Open” on the way out the door. He wished he was going with her to lie on her cushy floral couch, which swallowed him with comfort every time he visited. That would make him feel better. Why did he have to eat all those sweets? He thought about how he should have paced himself or said, “Yes, it would spoil my lunch,” to Ruthie the carpet lady. He thought about the time: five more hours until Papa took him home. Would he be able to handle it?

  Papa’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I need you to try something for me.”

  “Try something?” Peter’s voice had no enthusiasm.

  “A new candy I have made,” Papa reported. “I haven’t put it out for sale yet because I was going to present it to your Nana first for our anniversary. It is a chocolate-covered dried mango slice with coconut sprinkled on top. You know how Nana loves exotic flavors. She should really enjoy this. Try it and tell me how you like it.” Papa opened a tissue paper to display the new candy.

  Peter’s mind went in two different directions. What a great thing Papa has done for Nana! There is no way I could eat anything else right now!

  He heard the door behind him open and saw the new candy disappearing once again into the tissue paper. Saved again by customers!

  Sweetness Overload

  Peter swung around and greeted the customers with the enthusiasm he lacked earlier. “Hello, how may I help you today? We have lots of exceptional stuff to choose from.” Peter realized he probably sounded like a dork. But he did not care. Anything to keep him from eating. The two ladies smiled back and seemed to be amused by Peter’s peppy attitude. Right behind them, a young man and a young woman entered. More customers! Peter made sure to talk to each person to prolong their stay. The longer they stayed, the longer until he ate. He did not feel well, but he could not show it. He was not going to disappoint Papa and let him know he had been sneaking sweets. Business stayed steady for a while, customers coming and going and Peter chatting. Finally, it died down.

  Peter had hoped that Papa would forget about the tissue with Nana’s anniversary surprise. He still did not feel well, and all that talking had made him feel heavier. His stomach let out a loud, long growl. He looked at the red and yellow tiles on the floor and thought about lying down on them. But he knew he couldn’t.

  “Here, Peter, come and taste,” said Papa briskly.

  Oh spam! he thought. He used this term when he wanted to say something he wasn’t supposed to. He said it once when he stubbed his toe on the coffee table at home, and his mother did not seem to mind. Ever since then, a few people had caught on to using the term. Even his mother said it sometimes when she opened bills or couldn’t find a parking spot at the mall.

  Peter took the candy. He studied it while Papa watched. Better eat it quickly to get it over with, he told himself. The candy did not have a fighting chance for Peter to like it—not because it wasn’t good, but because Peter would never want to think about it or eat it again. It was going to be too much for him to handle. It was going to be the one thing that pushed him over the edge, the one thing that would send him to the bathroom.

  Peter managed to get out, “It is very good, Papa. Nana will really appreciate it.”

  “Thank you.” Papa’s smile quickly turned into a grimace. “Peter, are you feeling well? You look a little green.”

  Peter clutched his stomach. “I think I have to go to the bathroom.” He quickly took off towards the back room. He was missing for quite some time. Unfortunately, he still felt horrible. His stomach kept bubbling, and all he wanted to do was lie down!

  “Peter, are you sick?” Papa asked, concerned.

  “No, I am fine,” Peter mustered.

  Papa responded, “Well, you don’t look so good. Sit down and see if you feel better after a while.”

  Peter did as he was told. Papa put his hand to Peter’s head. “You don’t seem to have a fever. Maybe Papa’s working you too hard?”

  Peter wasn’t going to confess to being a glutton. He did not want Papa to know what he had been up to. Aside from eating all that junk, he rather enjoyed working at Papa’s Sweet Shop and he did not want to mess up the chance of ever being able to again.

  Peter answered, “No, you are not working me too hard. I am having fun.” Fun minus the sick feeling, he reminded himself.

  “At any rate, Peter, you sit down and rest, and I will check on you later,” insisted Papa.

  Peter agreed to rest. He took the seats Papa and Nana usually sat on and put them on the side of the wall near Nana’s photo. He saw the two candies he had picked out this morning staring at him, and he grabbed a paper towel to hide them from his sight. What a dummy I have been, sneaking all those things. I never want to eat sweets again. Not until next week, anyway, he told himself as he plopped himself onto his makeshift bed.

  Staying up late last night was taking its toll. Not feeling well didn’t help matters either. His eyes were starting to droop, droop, droop, droop, and every once in a while, he heard his stomach make foreign noises. Soon, he was asleep.

  Left Behind

  Aloud thud startled Peter awake. He quickly sat up and was shocked to find it dark, with the exception of a few dim lights from the equipment Papa used to make his goodies and a gleam of light under the doorway.

  What is going on? He pushed the button on his watch that made the face glow. It was 5:42 p.m. Had Papa gone home and forgotten him? Papa had been known to forget things sometimes.

  Then he noticed a package in the spot where he had left his candies. Was that what had woken him up?

  A sense of calm swept over Peter. Papa must not be very far since he just put the package on the table. He ran to the front of the store. There were no lights on there, either. It was getting dark outside. No sign of Papa!

  Peter remembered he had not checked the bathroom. Maybe Papa was in there. There was still hope that he hadn’t been left behind. He hurried to the back and went straight to the door, calling out to Papa on his way there. He looked beneath the bathroom door to see if he could see any light coming out. No light. He opened the door.

  Peter was taken aback to see someone staring at him in the dark. He jumped back and let go of the door. Then he realized it was his own reflection in the mirror. He laughed at himself. Peter had scared himself like this once before when he looked out the kitchen sliding glass door.

  The refrigerator! He thought maybe Papa was stocking it. He swung it open and found only food.

  Then he came to the realization that Papa had forgotten him. Maybe Papa could not see him behind the table and had gotten so busy he forgot
about him.

  “This stinks,” he admitted out loud.

  He wasn’t sure if he should wait for a few minutes in case Papa remembered him or if he should call his mother. He did not want Papa to get a lecture about being forgetful. He decided to wait five minutes. Then he would call his mother. There was no sense waiting in the dark, so Peter ventured to find the light switch. He thought he would pass time by pretending he was a pirate searching for buried treasure in a dark cave, and he needed one of those torches that pirates light on fire in the movies.

  He was beginning to enjoy himself when he heard an unfamiliar humming sound. The humming was getting louder every second. What is that? Peter was perplexed. It sounded as though it was coming from the area where Peter had made his makeshift bed. He remembered the package on the table; it was slightly opened. Had it been opened before? The red letters on the package, which read “Special Delivery,” began to get brighter, glowing in the dark like a neon light with every hum. The words seemed to be popping off the box.

  Oh spam! Peter thought. He was captivated by the beauty of the red glowing letters and could no longer hear the loud humming.

  Standing over the package, Peter tried to peek inside, but he could not see anything. He was taken by surprise by a delightful warm gust of air blowing in his face from the box—the kind of breeze Peter had felt on many warm summer days.

  He put his hands on the side flaps of the box and took a deep breath. He felt compelled to open it. He was astonished to see nothing inside—no bottom of the box, no table underneath. It was completely dark, a bottomless pit. Peter leaned in for a closer look. The next thing he knew, the box began stretching up toward the ceiling. Peter gasped and took a step back. The opening of the box leaned toward Peter as if to get a closer look at him. Peter could not move.

  An overwhelming sense of peace swept over him, and he couldn’t keep from cracking a little smile. As soon as the corners of his mouth turned upward, the package swallowed him whole and made a giant gulping noise!

  Peter was not frightened, although he was surrounded by darkness. He seemed to be standing on a solid surface. Every few seconds, there was a tiny flicker of colorful light: first purple, then blue, then yellow, then pink, and many different colors followed. All of them were twinkling, like little stars in the darkness. Soon there were a small number of other colors flickering at the same time, faster and faster, more and more every second, until he was surrounded by thousands of the twinkling stars. Unexpectedly, they were no longer blinking, and it was as though he was encircled by a beautiful sea of lights giving off warmth.

  Peter thought it was absolutely one of the coolest things he had ever seen. The events had momentarily made him forget about the earlier part of the day. It was very peaceful, and he finally noticed his belly no longer ached. Peter turned his attention back to the stars and wondered if he could touch them. Would they be too hot, like miniature light bulbs? He decided the only way to find out was to touch one. He focused his attention on a luminous green one directly across from his nose. “You’re it,” he said to the little fellow, half expecting to hear an echo. There was no echo.

  Raising his finger directly toward the star, Peter hardly blinked. At the touch of Peter’s finger, the little light went out. All the other lights kept shining, but there was a little black hole in the place where the green light had once shone so brightly. Peter swiftly returned his arm to his side and felt extremely guilty. Without warning, one by one, just as they had appeared, the colorful lights disappeared faster and faster, more and more, every second until there was darkness again. “Sorry!” Peter called out with true regret. But it was too late. The lights were gone, and he was alone.

  Out of the darkness came a disturbing, earsplitting rumbling noise, and the solid surface under him seemed to turn into gelatin, waving his body back and forth like a kite in the wind. Before Peter could think about what was happening, the gelatin sucked him down farther. The next thing he knew, he was being shot straight up into the blackness, leaving the gelatin far behind. The rumbling noise faded as he soared higher and higher.

  Peter shut his eyes, wishing he had never touched that poor little green light. What have I done? Where am I going? Peter’s body came to an abrupt stop. He opened his eyes. To his amazement, he was no longer encircled by the darkness.

  Look at That!

  Wherever Peter was, it was like no place he had ever seen before, not even on TV. He looked down at his feet and lifted up his sneakers to check if anything odd was stuck to them. He saw nothing unusual. He looked around for a warp hole like those he had seen in video games; there was nothing like that. He took a deep breath. There was a slight sweet scent to the air; he couldn’t quite place the smell. It was warm, but not as warm as when he was surrounded by the twinkling lights.

  Peter’s eyes explored his new environment. He saw a few trees that looked like the ones in his backyard at home, only there was something different. The leaves were the same color as the grass, bluish-green, and their branches all seemed to be pointing in the same direction. Toward what? Peter wondered. He turned his attention to the sky. He was a little disappointed to see it was a normal-looking sky with a few clouds and the sun shining. Peter listened intently but could hear nothing except for the sounds of nature. He realized he was alone, alone in a strange place with bluish-green grass and pointing trees. No one to explore with, no one to talk to, no one to ask how to get home! Peter began to panic. His heart started beating more rapidly. He felt hot and sweaty all over. His eyes started to well up with tears. Peter wasn’t going to cry; he would not let himself.

  “You must be brave, Peter,” he told himself sternly.

  Peter recalled a story Papa had told him about a family camping trip he had taken as a boy. Papa had gone off by himself to collect wood for the fire and was awestricken when he saw a quirky squirrel running through the wilderness. Papa followed him for quite some time before he did not recognize his surroundings. He was lost for hours. Papa told of how he was fearless and found his way back in the twilight to his worried family, with firewood in hand. Peter thought Papa wouldn’t be proud if he found out his grandson had been a sniveling baby.

  Something smooth rubbed up against the back of Peter’s right leg. It scared Peter so badly he jumped. His heart was beating faster than ever. He swung around to see what it was, even though he feared what it might be.

  Peter could hardly believe his eyes. Standing in the midst of the grass was a wondrous red and white cat. Once Peter smelled the sweet scent of the creature, he knew at once what it must be.

  “Look at that; a peppermint cat!” he marveled.

  The unmistakable stripes, red and white. Its wide eyes shone deep blue, its nose rose-red, its mouth a softer red. Its whiskers were like a regular cat’s. Only this was no ordinary cat. Its scent was sweet peppermint and its smooth body was perfectly round like a peppermint candy, with four little legs peeking out underneath. A silky tail sprouted out in the back.

  Peter looked around once more to see if he could share this amazing sight with anyone. Still no one. Peter started to frown but stopped when he saw the peppermint cat plop down on its stomach and begin licking its paw. Peter was grinning from ear to ear now.

  “I wonder if you taste like peppermint,” Peter told the cat.

  The peppermint cat looked up at Peter with an inviting look while continuing to lick its paw. Peter soon gently sat down next to the cat’s side; he left two feet of grass between them. The cat licked its paw for a few more seconds and then got up and closed the gap of grass between them, practically sitting on Peter’s lap.

  “Do you want me to pet you?” Peter asked softly.

  The cat didn’t respond. It sat there, seeming to stare at one of the pointing trees. Peter, a little worried he might scare off the cat, lifted his left hand toward the brilliant creature. Slowly and gently, he began to stroke the cat. The cat felt smooth and sleek. Its tail was also smooth. Peter thought it felt like the surfac
e of a marble. The cat started to purr. Peter began to relax as he watched the chest of the cat rise and fall with its every breath. He couldn’t resist sniffing his hand to see if it smelled like peppermint. It didn’t, and he felt silly for doing so. They sat together in silence for several minutes while Peter petted and the peppermint cat purred.

  Peter was thinking how he might find his way home when the peppermint cat rose on all fours and pushed its hind side up in the air to stretch. The cat returned to a normal stance and began to walk off. Peter staggered to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” he cried out to the cat.

  The peppermint cat glanced back casually at Peter and continued on its way. The only thing Peter could think to do was to follow the cat. He did not want to be alone, wherever he was. Maybe there would be more peppermint cats where he was going. Peter observed they were going the way the trees seemed to be pointing. Each time he passed a tree, he walked faster. He felt as though the trees had some sort of authority over him.

  At the fourth tree they had passed, Peter heard a chirping noise. A bird, he thought right away. Another life form! Peter paused momentarily to see if he could spot the bird. There it was, perched on a branch, as vibrant yellow as could be. Peter took a couple of cautious steps toward it; he did not want it to fly away. He examined the bird from where he stood and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a fluffy marshmallow bird! A gigantic version of the ones he received on Easter. Had he gone mad? A peppermint cat and now a marshmallow bird? He turned to face the peppermint cat to make sure it was still within view. It was. He returned to watch the bird. It had flown down to the base of the tree and began pecking at the dirt beneath the grass. Within a flash, it had caught something and was trying to get the wiggly worm in its beak. Peter took a closer look. Could that possibly be a gummy worm? Of course, it had to be! He leaned in for an even closer look, and the marshmallow bird flew off with its meal. Disappointed, Peter hurried to catch up with his red and white companion.