Credit: Unsplash via Patrick Tomasso
If Louisa had intended to cross the whole road, she would have, and she resents the boy’s suggestion she is here by brainlessness. In fact, it is this boy and his bicycle she is waiting for, resting her breastplate directly on the bright, yellow line and peering out of her shell.
Being a country road, the risks here are low. This time of year has school buses and tractors, but it’s too early in the morning for buses, and even Louisa with her slow, lurching gait, is faster than a tractor. She knows if she waits any later in the season, her cold, creaky body won’t cooperate. So it’s today.
The boy steps off his bike and hurries over on two spindle legs to investigate, as he always does when spotting an animal in the road. Louisa knows because she has been watching the boy–the boy and the tortoise strapped to his head as he flies down the road delivering newspapers.
His head tortoise is a great deal larger than Louisa. But, given the chance, she can convince the boy she’s the better tortoise for the job.
And that will show him. That darn hare. Yes, that will show him.
Quincy Trochue 