It is summer and Ella is crouched by the lake. Shrieks and splashes surround her. She can hear a heated debate over sandcastle architecture from farther ashore, but does not turn to look. She is mesmerized by the minnows which swirl like grains of rice in the water. She has constructed a fishing pole out of a stick, a piece of lanyard string with an acorn as bait, but nobody’s biting.
She notices a strange shape in the sand. It looks so out of place that at first she is sure it is a toy. But then one of its antennae move and her eyes widen. It looks like a mini lobster, something prehistoric. Her hands shoot out, coming from both angles to trap it. She pulls it from the water and stares at her prize. The wiggling legs tickle her fingers. It’s got a shrimp tail and crab claws that it waves excitedly.
An adult shouts from the beach, “Everybody find your groups; it’s time for snack!”
She shoves the creature into the enormous square pocket on the front of her overalls and walks over to join the line. It makes several attempts to wriggle out, but her hand blocks it every time.
Ella has never seen a . . . bug? Or fish, like this before — but is glad to have it as her very own pet. She likes all its segments and how portable it is.
She manages to keep it hidden on the march back to the picnic tables, but loses her concentration when a generous handful of Cheez-Its is dropped onto her napkin. The creature seizes its opening.
“What is that?”
Ella looks down at where Counselor Celia is pointing. A claw and a pair of feebly waving antennae poke out from the denim.
“Nothing.”
But her voice is drowned out when the kids on either side take notice.
“It’s a bug!”
“Kill it!”
Ella brings her hand to her chest in alarm. “You can’t kill it! It’s mine!”
The boy across from her stretches over the table in fascination. “Can I see?”
She eyes him suspiciously. “As long as you don’t — ”
But Counselor Celia interjects. “Maybe I should have a look at it.”
Reluctantly, Ella removes her hand and another claw escapes, along with a pair of beady eyes.
“Oh my God, where did you get that?”
“The lake . . .”
“It’s a crawdad!” The boy seems proud of his Nature Fact. “They can survive out of the water!”
“Right . . .” Counselor Celia is doing a poor job of hiding her disgust. “Ella. Remember what we talked about: how we need to leave the wildlife alone?”
Ella does not remember this particular conversation.
Counselor Celia empties a plastic Cheez-It container and gingerly holds it out.
“You have to put it back.”
Everyone at the table watches in expectation. The crawdad wriggles beneath her fingers. Ella feels a sob press at the back of her throat. It arrives in slow motion with a crumpling of her features.
“But it’s mine! You can’t take it!”
“Finders keepers!” chirps the boy, but nobody’s listening.
A few expressions slide across Counselor Celia’s face, landing on resignation.
“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere else?”
Ella slides from the bench and walks to the time-out tree like a prisoner to the gallows. A rivulet of snot drips over her lip. She licks it up.
Counselor Celia crouches down and begins a speech about respecting nature and appreciating it from a distance. Ella barely listens. She allows her hands to be pried from her pocket, and watches her flailing pet land with a thunk in the plastic Tupperware. She does not see where it is taken.
By now snack time is over. Children race across the field or scribble on sheets of paper. Ella sits in dejection at the base of the oak tree. She steadily rips clumps of grass from the soil and glares into the middle distance. If someone happens to catch her eye, she glares at them too.
The boy from before approaches and sits carefully next to her. She ignores him.
“D’you wanna see something cool?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ella notices that his palms are cupped around something. Curiosity overwhelms her gloom.
“What?”
He carefully opens his hands. A brown, pincered centipede coils across his fingers.
“D’you like it? Crawdad’s better, but . . .”
Ella’s mouth falls open, “How many legs does it have?”
“A billion.”
“No way.”
“Yes way! I found a bunch under a rock.”
“Where?”
Ella smiles as she follows him. There are more pets where her crawdad came from.
She notices a strange shape in the sand. It looks so out of place that at first she is sure it is a toy. But then one of its antennae move and her eyes widen. It looks like a mini lobster, something prehistoric. Her hands shoot out, coming from both angles to trap it. She pulls it from the water and stares at her prize. The wiggling legs tickle her fingers. It’s got a shrimp tail and crab claws that it waves excitedly.
An adult shouts from the beach, “Everybody find your groups; it’s time for snack!”
She shoves the creature into the enormous square pocket on the front of her overalls and walks over to join the line. It makes several attempts to wriggle out, but her hand blocks it every time.
Ella has never seen a . . . bug? Or fish, like this before — but is glad to have it as her very own pet. She likes all its segments and how portable it is.
She manages to keep it hidden on the march back to the picnic tables, but loses her concentration when a generous handful of Cheez-Its is dropped onto her napkin. The creature seizes its opening.
“What is that?”
Ella looks down at where Counselor Celia is pointing. A claw and a pair of feebly waving antennae poke out from the denim.
“Nothing.”
But her voice is drowned out when the kids on either side take notice.
“It’s a bug!”
“Kill it!”
Ella brings her hand to her chest in alarm. “You can’t kill it! It’s mine!”
The boy across from her stretches over the table in fascination. “Can I see?”
She eyes him suspiciously. “As long as you don’t — ”
But Counselor Celia interjects. “Maybe I should have a look at it.”
Reluctantly, Ella removes her hand and another claw escapes, along with a pair of beady eyes.
“Oh my God, where did you get that?”
“The lake . . .”
“It’s a crawdad!” The boy seems proud of his Nature Fact. “They can survive out of the water!”
“Right . . .” Counselor Celia is doing a poor job of hiding her disgust. “Ella. Remember what we talked about: how we need to leave the wildlife alone?”
Ella does not remember this particular conversation.
Counselor Celia empties a plastic Cheez-It container and gingerly holds it out.
“You have to put it back.”
Everyone at the table watches in expectation. The crawdad wriggles beneath her fingers. Ella feels a sob press at the back of her throat. It arrives in slow motion with a crumpling of her features.
“But it’s mine! You can’t take it!”
“Finders keepers!” chirps the boy, but nobody’s listening.
A few expressions slide across Counselor Celia’s face, landing on resignation.
“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere else?”
Ella slides from the bench and walks to the time-out tree like a prisoner to the gallows. A rivulet of snot drips over her lip. She licks it up.
Counselor Celia crouches down and begins a speech about respecting nature and appreciating it from a distance. Ella barely listens. She allows her hands to be pried from her pocket, and watches her flailing pet land with a thunk in the plastic Tupperware. She does not see where it is taken.
By now snack time is over. Children race across the field or scribble on sheets of paper. Ella sits in dejection at the base of the oak tree. She steadily rips clumps of grass from the soil and glares into the middle distance. If someone happens to catch her eye, she glares at them too.
The boy from before approaches and sits carefully next to her. She ignores him.
“D’you wanna see something cool?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ella notices that his palms are cupped around something. Curiosity overwhelms her gloom.
“What?”
He carefully opens his hands. A brown, pincered centipede coils across his fingers.
“D’you like it? Crawdad’s better, but . . .”
Ella’s mouth falls open, “How many legs does it have?”
“A billion.”
“No way.”
“Yes way! I found a bunch under a rock.”
“Where?”
Ella smiles as she follows him. There are more pets where her crawdad came from.