Young Writers Society

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The stream was smaller than John had been expecting, and it was a lot muddier too. John didn’t want to think about how much angrier his father would be when he came back with muddy shoes. Instead, he gathered up as much mud as his hands could hold and began piling it at the edge of the path.

Once he had a large enough pile, John gathered grasses, pulling clumps out by the roots, and made a sling from them. He piled the mud into the sling and headed back to the many-faced post, covered in mud up to his knees and elbows.

“He’s back! He’s back! I told you he’d be!”

“It took more than fifty steps,” John said as he dropped the sling of mud and grass near the base of the post. Mud was surprisingly heavy.

The thoughtful face frowned. “That would be because you stepped into the streambed. It grows wider in the spring and narrower in the summer. If you had taken but fifty strides, as I had instructed, your shoes would have remained clean.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“Why did you continue walking through the mud?”

John’s fists balled by his sides. “Because you didn’t tell me!”

“You cannot expect everyone to tell you everything.”

John’s face felt like he had sunburn with how hot and itchy it felt, and he knew his entire head and neck were redder than the leaves on the ground. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he stomped a foot on the ground, kicking up a flurry of leaves and twigs.

“Well, maybe you can’t expect people to know everything! And maybe you can’t expect them to help you!”

“Now you’ve done it,” John heard the formidable face say as he ran away.

John ran back to the stream. It was the only place he could run to. He couldn’t run back to the house. He couldn’t stay at the post. He didn’t know anywhere else to go, except for the stream.

He stopped at the edge of the mud, just before the holes his shoes left began, and hunkered down in a pile of grass to cry. The thoughtful face was right. He didn’t have to keep walking through the mud. He should have stopped when he noticed his shoes were getting dirty. But did the thoughtful face have to be so mean about it? He was just a kid, and people never expected him to know anything because he was a kid.

John sniffed and wondered why it hurt so much not to know something.

He sat on his heels for a while, shredding grass and tossing it towards the stream. None of the shreds came close to the water. Once he had shredded enough grass to completely coat the mud in front of him, John stood up, stretched his legs, and walked back to the post.

The excited face looked especially excited as John came back into view. “Hi!” An uncertain face frowned before the excited face reappeared. “Um… are you here to help us? We understand if you don’t want to anymore! But we really need the help…”

“Truly, we apologize for our earlier behavior, child.”

“It was presumptuous to assume you would know such details of the local geography.”

“You mean, you forgot to explain, and that you’re sorry.”

“Yes. Ahem. I do apologize for not explaining the situation in full. I assumed that, as you were an intelligent young man, you would be aware of such a basic property of streambeds—”

“Anyways!” The excited face nudged its way into view. “We’re really, really sorry!”

John looked down at the ground and played with his hands. “You really think I’m intelligent?” he asked after a long silence.

“Far more than most.”

“Yeah! Most people just stare at us with this blank look on their face! And then they just walk away! They don’t even say hello! So rude!”

“At the least, child, you are more considerate than most.”

“The last kid that tried to climb up knocked four faces off.”

“And he wouldn’t stop no matter how nicely we asked him!”

“It was incredibly unpleasant.”

“Oh,” said John. “That’s terrible.”

“It is! It really is! So will you help us?”

“You are the first to listen to us in a long while, child. If you do not help us, we may fall apart entirely before another comes who may listen.”

“Please help us.”

“Okay,” said John, “but you have to promise you won’t be mean if I mess up, okay?”

“Okay! Hooray! We’re saved!”

“Now, the first thing you should do is organize the faces by expression…”