6

The Coming Of Prince Terrien

Christmas was almost a month away, but at Jess's house the girls were already obsessed
with it. This year Ellie and Brenda both had boyfriends at the consolidated high school and the problem of what to give them and what to expect from them was cause of endless
speculation and fights. Fights, because as usual, their mother was complaining that there was
hardly enough money to give the little girls something from Santa Claus, let alone a surplus to
buy record albums or shirts for a pair of boys she'd never set eyes on.
"What are you giving your girl friend, Jess?" Brenda screwed her face up in that ugly way
she had. He tried to ignore her. He was reading one of Leslie's books, and the adventures of
an assistant pig keeper were far more important to him than Brenda's sauce.
"Don't you know, Brenda?" Ellie joined in. "Jess ain't got no girl friend."
"Well, you're right for once. Nobody with any sense would call that stick a girl." Brenda
pushed her face right into his and grinned the word "girl" through her big painted lips.
Something huge and hot swelled right up inside of him, and if he hadn't jumped out of the
chair and walked away, he would have smacked her.
He tried to figure out later what had made him so angry. Partly, of course, it made him
furious that anyone as dumb as Brenda would think she could make fun of Leslie. Lord, it hurt
his guts to realize that it was Brenda who was his blood sister, and that really, from anyone
else's point of view, he and Leslie were not related at all. Maybe, he thought, I was a
foundling, like in the stories. Way back when the creek had water in it, I came floating down
it in a wicker basket waterproofed with pitch. My dad found me and brought me here because
he'd always wanted a son and just had stupid daughters. My real parents and brothers and
sisters live far away- farther away than West Virginia or even Ohio. Somewhere I have a
family who have rooms filled with nothing but books and who still grieve for their baby who
was stolen.
He shook himself back to the source of his anger. He was angry, too, because it would
soon be Christmas and he had nothing to give Leslie. It was not that she would expect
something expensive; it was that he needed to give her something as much as he needed to eat
when he was hungry.
He thought about making her a book of his drawings. He even stole paper and crayons
from school to do it with. But nothing he drew seemed good enough, and he would end up
scrawling across the half-finished page and poking it into the stove to burn up.
By the last week of school before the holiday, he was growing desperate. There was no
one he could ask for help or ad- vice. His dad had told him he would give him a dollar for
each member of the family, but even if he cheated on the family presents, there was no way
he could get from that enough to buy Leslie anything worth giving her. Besides, May Belle
had her heart set on a Barbie doll, and he had already promised to pool his money with Ellie
and Brenda for that. Then the price had gone up, and he found he would have to go over into
every one else's dollar to make up the full amount for May Belle. Somehow this year May
Belle needed something special. She was always moping around. He and Leslie couldn't
include her in their activities, but that was hard to explain to someone like May Belle. Why
didn't she play with Joyce Ann? He couldn't be expected to entertain her all the time. Still -
still, she ought to have the Barbie.
So there was no money, and he seemed paralyzed in his efforts to make anything for
Leslie. She wouldn't be like Brenda or Ellie. She wouldn't laugh at him no matter what he
gave her. But for his own sake he had to give her something that he could be proud of.
If he had the money, he'd buy her a TV. One of those tiny Japanese ones that she could
keep in her own room without bothering Judy and Bill. It didn't seem fair with all their money
that they'd gotten rid of the TV. It wasn't as if Leslie would watch the way Brenda did-with
her mouth open and her eyes bulging like a goldfish, hour after hour. But every once in a
while, a person liked to watch. At least if she had one, it would be one less thing for the kids
at school to sneer about. But, of course, there was no way that he could buy her a TV. It was
pretty stupid of him even to think about it.
Lord, he was stupid. He gazed miserably out the window of the school bus. It was a
wonder someone like Leslie would even give him the time of day. It was because there was
no one else. If she had found anyone else at that dumb school - he was so stupid he had almost
gone straight past the sign without catching on. But something in a corner of his head clicked,
and he jumped up, pushing past Leslie and May Belle.
"See you later," he mumbled, and shoved his way up the aisle through pair after pair of
sprawling legs.
"Lemme off here, Miz Prentice, will you?"
"This ain't your stop."
"Gotta do an errand for my mother," he lied.
"Long as you don't get me into trouble." She eased the brakes.
"No'm. Thanks."
He swung off the bus before it had really stopped and ran back toward the sign.
"Puppies," it said. "Free."
Jess told Leslie to meet him at the castle stronghold on Christmas Eve afternoon. The rest
of his family had gone to the Millsburg Plaza for last-minute shopping, but he stayed behind.
The dog was a little brown-and-black thing with great brown eyes. Jess stole a ribbon from
Brenda's drawer, and hurried across the field and down the hill with the puppy squirming in
his arms. Before he got to the creek bed, it had licked his face raw and sent a stream down his
jacket front, but he couldn't be mad. He tucked it tightly under his arm and swung across the
creek as gently as he could. He could have walked through the gully. It would have been
easier, but he couldn't escape the feeling that one must enter Terabithia only by the prescribed
entrance. He couldn't let the puppy break the rules. It might mean bad luck for both of them.
At the stronghold he tied the ribbon around the puppy's neck, laughing as it backed out of
the loop and chewed at the ends of the ribbon. It was a clever, lively little thing - a present
Jess could be proud of.
There was no mistaking the delight in Leslie's eyes. She dropped to her knees on the cold
ground, picked the puppy up, and held it close to her face.
"Watch it," Jess cautioned. "It sprays worse'n a water pistol."
Leslie moved it out a little way. "Is it male or female?" Once in a rare while there was
something he could teach Leslie. "Boy," he said happily.
"Then we'll name him Prince Terrien and make him the guardian of Terabithia."
She put the puppy down and got to her feet.
"Where you going?"
"To the grove of the pines," she answered. "This is a time of greatest joy."
Later that afternoon Leslie gave Jess his present. It was a box of watercolors with twenty-
four tubes of color and three brushes and a pad of heavy art paper.
"Lord," he said. "Thank you." He tried to think of a better way to say it, but he couldn't.
"Thank you," he repeated.
"It's not a great present like yours," she said humbly, "but I hope you'll like it."
He wanted to tell her how proud and good she made him feel, that the rest of Christmas
didn't matter because today had been so good, but the words he needed weren't there. "Oh,
yeah, yeah," he said, and then got up on his knees and began to bark at Prince Terrien. The
puppy raced around him in circles, yelping with delight.
Leslie began to laugh. It egged Jess on. Everything the dog did, he imitated, flopping
down at last with his tongue lolling out. Leslie was laughing so hard she had trouble getting
the words out. "You-you're crazy. How will we teach him to be a noble guardian? You're
turning him into a clown."
"R-r-oof," wailed Prince Terrien, rolling his eyes skyward. Jess and Leslie both
collapsed. They were in pain from the laughter.
"Maybe," said Leslie at last. "We'd better make him court jester."
"What about his name?"
"Oh, we'll let him keep his name. Even a prince" - this in her most Terabithian voice -
even a prince may be a fool."
That night the glow of the afternoon stayed with him. Even his sisters' squabbling about
when presents were to be opened did not touch him. He helped May Belle wrap her wretched
little gifts and even sang "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" with her and Joyce Ann. Then
Joyce Ann cried because they had no fireplace and Santa wouldn't be able to find the way, and
suddenly he felt sorry for her going to Millsburg Plaza and seeing all those things and hoping
that some guy in a red suit would give her all her dreams. May Belle at six was already too
wise. She was just hoping for that stupid Barbie. He was glad he'd splurged on it. Joyce Ann
wouldn't care that he only had a hair clip for her. She would blame Santa, not him, for being
cheap.
He put his arm awkwardly around Joyce Ann. "C'mon Joyce Ann. Don't cry. Old Santa
knows the way. He don't need a chimney, does he, May Belle?" May Belle was watching him
with her big, solemn eyes. Jess gave her a knowing wink 'over Joyce Ann's head. It melted
her.
"Naw, Joyce Ann. He knows the way. He knows every- thing." She scrunched up her
right cheek in a vain effort to return his wink. She was a good kid. He really liked old May
Belle.
The next morning he helped her dress and undress her Barbie at least thirty times.
Slithering the skinny dress over the doll's head and arms and snapping the tiny fasteners was
more than her chubby six-year-old fingers could manage.
He had received a racing car set, which he tried to run to please his father. It wasn't one
of those big sets that they advertised on TV, but it was electric, and he knew his dad had put
more money into it than he should have. But the silly cars kept falling off at the curves until
his father was cursing at them with impatience. Jess wanted it to be OK. He wanted so much
for his dad to be proud of his present, the way he, Jess, had been proud of the puppy.
"It's really great. Really. I just ain't got the hang of it yet." His face was red, and he kept
shoving his hair back out of his eyes as he leaned over the plastic figure-eight track.
"Cheap junk." His father kicked at the floor dangerously near the track. "Don't get
nothing for your money these days."
Joyce Ann was lying on her bed screaming because she had yanked the string out of her
talking doll and it was no longer talking. Brenda had her lip stuck out because Ellie had gotten
a pair of panty hose in her Christmas stocking and she had only bobby socks. Ellie wasn't
helping matters, prancing around in her new hose, making a big show of helping Momma
with the ham and sweet potatoes for dinner. Lord, sometimes Ellie was as snotty as Wanda
Kay Moore.
"Jesse Oliver Aarons, Jr., if you can stop playing with those fool bars long enough to
milk the cow, I'd be most appreciative. Miss Bessie don't take no holiday, even if you do."
Jess jumped up, pleased for an excuse to leave the track which he couldn't make work to
his dad's satisfaction. His mother seemed not to notice the promptness of his response but
went on in a complaining voice, "I don't know what I'd do without Ellie. She's the only one of
you kids ever cares whether I live or die." Ellie smiled like a plastic angel first at Jess and
then at Brenda, who glared back.
Leslie must have been watching for him because as soon as he started across the yard he
could see her running out of the old Perkins place, the puppy half tripping her as it chased
circles around her.
They met at Miss Bessie's shed. "I thought you'd never come out this morning."
"Yeah, well, Christmas, you know."
Prince Terrien began to snap at Miss Bessie's hooves. She stamped in annoyance. Leslie
picked him up, so Jess could milk. The puppy squirmed and licked, making it almost
impossible for her to talk. She giggled happily. "Dumb dog," she said proudly.
"Yeah." It felt like Christmas again.