Free Where I Belong by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

“Have you seen them here, in the woods?”
    â€œI came upon them shooting squirrels for fun and accosted them. I told them a decent person respects the lives of animals and doesn’t hurt or kill them for sport.” He sighs and strokes his beard, something he does when he’s thinking.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œUnfortunately I angered them,” he says. “They called me a stupid old man. Sean pointed his gun at me and said maybe he should shoot me instead of squirrels. They all laughed. Then one of them shoved me hard enough to knock me down. They told me to mind my own business—it wasn’t against the law to shoot tree rats.”
    â€œI can’t believe anyone would treat you that way. Don’t they know who you are?”
    â€œApparently not.” The Green Man gives me a sad smile. “Louts like them always pick on those they perceive as weak and unable to defend themselves.”
    It scares me to think that Sean, T.J., and Gene could treat the Green Man as if he were just another weak old man like the sad homeless men in the park. “Why didn’t you tell them who you are and smite them with lightning?”
    â€œBelieve me, Brendan, I would have liked to do that very much, but the laws of the Green Wood prevent me from meeting violence with violence. I go in peace in the forest and leave punishment to a higher authority.”
    I try to understand, but I wish the Green Man were allowed to punish Sean and his gang of miscreants.
    The Green Man leans over and gives me a gentle nudge. “Now to speak of more mundane matters, my belly is hoping you’ve brought food with you.”
    I pull a lunch out of my backpack and solemnly divide it between us. He wolfs his sandwich down so fast, I give him half of mine.
    After he’s eaten, he lies back on the mossy ground and sighs in contentment. “Nothing like a full belly.”
    He looks as if he’s about to drift into one of his long naps, but instead he props himself up on one elbow and stares into the bushes as if he’s looking for someone. “Where is my little princess of the woodland?”
    â€œShe’s never here on weekends,” I tell him, trying to keep the envy out of my voice. “Her parents take her places—the beach, the mountains, all sorts of places I’ve never been.” I pick up a stick and scratch lines in the dirt. Maybe I’ll draw a house. Or no—a castle might be better. With a moat and high walls and a dungeon where they keep the dragon.
    â€œLast Saturday, they went to Kings Dominion.” I concentrate on my castle while I tell him. “Shea rode the Rebel Yell five times. Today she’s going white-water rafting on the Shenandoah River, near Harpers Ferry.”
    â€œI suppose you’d like to do that.”
    I shrug. “I might be scared.”
    â€œI wouldn’t care for it,” the Green Man says. “An inner tube is safer. You float along slowly. Just you and the river and the birds singing in the woods.”
    â€œShea says the river has rapids. And waterfalls. People drown sometimes.”
    He frowns. “I hope she’s careful.”
    â€œMe too.” I picture Shea spinning down a river, heading straight for a huge waterfall. I see myself rescuing her. Perhaps I’d swing down on a rope from a tree and snatch her from the very brink of destruction. I’d be her hero.
    In the back of my mind, Mrs. Clancy says,
The very idea—a boy like you rescuing someone? Don’t make me laugh. You’re the one who needs rescuing
.
    I swat a mosquito. Where did that come from? I don’t need rescuing. Or do I?
Do I?
    Suddenly the woods seem to gather around me. The air is heavy, hot and thick with humidity. Mosquitoes swarm around my head. Gnats nibble at my ears.
    Nothing bothers the Green Man. He’s fallen asleep and begun to snore, probably exhausted from his journey. His chest rises and