Page 3 of To Catch a Firefly

The paper mill in town is one of the biggest in the state. We learned that in school. Toured it and everything. The people who work there are the pulpers, as our townsfolk would say, as opposed to the huskers. It’s either paper or corn here.

I don’t think I want to do either, but there’s not much choice.

“Do you wanna tell me your name?” Lucky asks. “You don’t have to.”

I clear my throat. “Ellis.”

He grins. “Do you like video games?”

I shrug, and Lucky doesn’t push it. He talks a lot, but maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t talk much.

Lucky continues to ask me questions as the last of the evening light filters away.

“Do you like pancakes or waffles better?”

“Is there anything to do here?”

“Is that silo behind your house haunted?”

“What’s with all the corn?”

He doesn’t seem to mind that I never say a word. Instead, I listen while I watch the fireflies dance. I’ve never seen so many before. Our teacher said it’s the weather this year.

“Hey, do you think we could eat lunch together at school?” Lucky asks.

I look at him then. His eyes are blue, I think. It’s hard to tell in the dark.

I nod, and Lucky beams. I’ve never had a friend to sit with at lunch before. Is that what we are now? Friends?

“Lucky, time for bed,” a deep voice calls. “Oh, is that Ellis?”

“Yeah,” Lucky calls back, standing. Mom must have told them my name.

“Hello, Ellis,” the man says.

I hold up my hand.

“Time to turn in,” he repeats, waving Lucky inside.

Lucky sighs. “I’ll see you Monday at school?”

I nod.

“Coming,” Lucky calls out. He gets halfway to the house before pivoting. “Hey, Ellis? I’m glad you’re here. Maybe this won’t suck so bad after all.”

My heart beats a little fast at that, but I couldn’t say why.

Lucky runs inside, but the man doesn’t move. “Need me to walk you home?”

I shake my head, already heading that way. The grass tickles my calves as I walk. It needs to be mowed.

“Goodnight, Ellis,” I hear the man say. The door shuts a moment later.

Lucky’s dad seems nice enough.

I forget to count steps on the way home, instead watching the moon. It’s half-full tonight. I don’t know why they call that a quarter.

When I get home, my mom is waiting just outside the door. She must have seen me walking up. “Have fun?”

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