Obviously we survived, but only by the thinnest sliver. Truth is we got unexpected magical help.

I'm gonna write more 'bout the magic stuff, but not until what happened fits inta my story. Ta do otherwise would be confusin'. It's like solvin' a jigsaw puzzle by startin' in the middle. Instead if ya pick out the pieces with a straight edge, ya can make the frame. Now, ya got a good startin' place. Ever' thing needs a frame to understand the context.

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Let's start at the very beginnin' 'bout ever'one in these parts calls me Wishes, but the name on my birth certificate is Aloisius A. Arthur. "Wishes jest seems ta fit ya," folks say. They think I'm extra lucky, but I don't get it, 'cuz I don't feel particularly lucky. I want more than heck ta be part of a real family with both a ma and a pa, but momma left when I was just a baby. She never came back. That ain't lucky. No matter what anyone thinks, a kid without a momma ain't all the way happy. There's a great big 'ol hollow space inside. It's like a jelly donut with no jelly. The donut's still good, but it ain't as great as it oughter be.

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One day I was real lucky, and I knew it. I got ta hear the famous Magic Salamander's whistle. It was the year before Roger Maris beat Babe Ruth's home run record. I'm here ta tell ya, that strange, unnatural sound comin' from the forest done saved my rosy pink b'hind. It was back the fourth grade that I made a big, dumb mistake. Now I'm older, and much wiser, ya know.

◽️◽️◽️

My school back then was Gulf Coast Elementary. It's said that it was just a stone's throw from the beach. I warn't too sure 'bout that. Only Superman, or maybe The Incredible Hulk could chuck a rock that far over the trees and marsh. Although there was one actual person in town who might have that kinda muscle—Butch Tieg's daddy. If'n he couldn't do it, no one could. Tyrone Tieg was the biggest, strongest, meanest, and angriest man 'round these parts. I'm spit in the hand tellin' ya, if'n ya wanted to keep your nose in one place, and your body unbroke, stay far away from Tyrone, or Butch.

Our school warn't nuttin' special. I figured they musta built a million red-brick; one-story buildin's just like it. We had 'em desks with attached chairs. Ya had to sidle in sideways ta sit down. I don't know why, but I always got the desk with squeaky hinges that went a-reeee-k when I opened the lid. It b'came a big joke. In ev'ry grade I got the screechy one. It had ta be the janitors funnin' me.

Ever' mornin', Teach'ah would say, "Class, please stand, put your hands on your hearts, and repeat the Pledge of Allegiance." I didn't like it much 'cuz the eagle atop the flag pole had mean eyes. It glared at me like I was a mouse.

Sometimes we got fire drills. When the alarm got a clangin', we formed an orderly line, and were led outta the buildin'. At other times when a siren screamed,Teach'ah would yell, "Duck and Cover!" When we heard that, we scrambled as fast as bunnies under our desks. We hunkered down like we was taught, with our arms folded over our heads. Duck-'n-cover was s'post ta save us from an atomic bomb, but we warn't fooled. Nobody who'd seen them grainy black and white Army films believed that for a flat clackin' second. But fire drills and duck 'n cover was kinda fun. We all figured it was just pretend, and it got us out of schoolwork for a smidge.

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The desk closest to the windas was mine. I never liked sittin' still, Teach'ah called me Fidgety-Wishes. She made me the designated Winda' Monitor. When the room got too stuffy, it was my job to crank 'em open. The top part was fixed, but the bottom opened purty good.

Since I was the one doin' the crankin', I got the first wafts. The smell of new air after a storm was like water ta a dry duck. B'lieve you me, rain-freshened air is even sweeter than a Hank Aaron homer in the ninth with all bases loaded.

School was best when even openin' all the windas didn't help a lick. When indoors became too miserable, Teach'ah would shuffle all us kids outside to sit on the thin grass under the spread of one of them enormous, gnarled, Live Oaks. Them oaks was always a special comfort ta me 'cuz they had huge knobby limbs just like my Gramma's swollen knuckles. I kinda felt she was there lookin' aft'a me.

◽️◽️◽️

Sorry, I've been wanderin'. As I mentioned b'fore, I made a real dumb mistake that caused a heap of trouble.  It wouldn't be fair to blame Crystal, but if someone else's desk was just in front of mine, I prob'ly wouldn't have done what I did. It warn't her fault, though. Crystal had long curly blonde hair, and eyes the same blue as my favorite shootin' marble. I liked her as much as a ten year old can like a girl, since all girls, 'cept  for Freck, was yucky and all, ya knows.

Crystal always sat with one skinny leg b'hind her. Her shiny black shoe was almost touchin' the gray, metal-tipped legs of my desk. She liked to wiggle her foot with her toe on the floor. Her white bobby-socked heel lifted right out of the back of her shoe. It musta helped her ta think. I've been told that the tip of my tongue slides out a bit when I'm a concentratin'. Crystal waggled her foot. I guess it's pretty much the same thing.

One autumn day, Bobby Joe Jones brung a black widda' spida' for show-n-tell. I swear its body was big as a bottle cap. He'd poked holes in the tin lid of the Mason jar for the spida' to breathe, stuck some grayish Spanish moss on the bottom for a nest, and a pussy willa stick for it to climb. He tipped the jar so's we could all see the scarlet red hourglass against its bulgin' stomach shiny as melted tar. Red on black. It was kinda purty—in a scary sorta way—like a bright silver skull painted on a shiny black motorcycle. He wanted to pass the glass container 'round, but Mizzus Appleton, our teach'ah, didn't think that was such a good idea. What if someone dropped it? Twenty heads bobbed up and down. No one wanted to risk gettin' fanged by that deadly bug.

Mizz Appleton was what Daddy called prim. She kept her blonde-but-kinda-turnin'-gray-hair all twisted up in a bun. She wore simple, down-to-her-knees dresses with white posies. Three strings of tiny pearls always hung around her neck. But it was the sweet smell of gardenias that trailed b'hind her that I'll never forget. Whenever the gardenias bloom I always think on her, even now. Is that weird?

I liked her whole bunch. If'n I had a momma, I would want her to be just like Mizz Appleton. She seemed happy mos' the time, and didn't get none too upset with our foolishness. Keepin' a poker face, though, is somethin' she just couldn't do, even if the offense called for sternness. In fact, I caught her smilin' b'hind her hand more than once.

She was purty dang smart, and I swear Mizz Appleton could see right inside our skulls. She knew that the black widda' was the only thing we could think 'bout. So, she clacked over to the blackboard and picked up an unbroke piece of chalk. She pushed the maroon, cat's-eye framed glasses up higher on her long nose, then spoke loudly but with a soothin', sing-song kind'a voice, "Do you know that a spider is not a bug, nor an insect? It's in its very own special classification called arachnids."

She wrote Arachnid on the blackboard. I don't know why it was called a blackboard, when it clearly was as green as a lily pad. Oh well.

"Can anyone tell me the difference between an arachnid and an insect?"

I knew one thing, so I raised my hand.

"Yes, Wishes?"

"Spidas gots eight legs."

She wrote 8 Legs. "Are there any other differences?"

Bobby Joe spoke up. "They ain't got no wings."

"Correct, Bobby Joe. Aren't we all very happy that they do not?" she said, as she chalked, No Wings.

I didn't know 'bout ever'body else, but the idea of a flock of scary black widda spidas buzzin' 'round was bone chillin'. It got me to thinkin' 'bout the Wicked Witch of the West on her broomstick smudgin' the sky with smoke, whiles writin' Surrender Dorothy. But instead of smoke it would be millions and zillions of spidas. If'n they dived down, ya could bet yer shoes and laces that no one would need to holler duck-n-cover.

I shivered, even though it warn't cold. Gramma used to call those shivers a goose walkin' over my grave. When I asked what it meant she said, "Don' fret about it none, chil'. It's jest a sayin'." She had lots o' those kinda sayin's.

"Is this specimen male or female?"

That was easy. Everyone knows that the red mark meant it was a girl. Them's the ones that could kill ya deader than a twice run over rabbit.

"Has anyone in class ever been bitten by a poisonous spider?"

No one had, so she went on, "The bite would feel like a tiny pinprick. Later the wound would blister and begin to eat your flesh. The venom gouges its way through the top layers of skin, leaving a red, weeping, depression. You probably wouldn't die from the poison, but if you ever feel a prick and see your skin blistering, you better rush to the doctor."

When she was finished with the questions, she told Bobby Joe to put the jar on the supply shelf in back of the room, so's anyone who wanted, could take a closer look. At recess a few of us boys went to see the spida. I got as close as I dared. She didn't look mean. In fact, she warn't doin' nothin' at all--just sittin'. I figured she was plottin' her escape. Anyways, I knew that's what I would do if'n I was trapped inside a glass prison.

Bobby Joe was s'posed to take his show-and-tell home with him. He jest plain forgot. The Mason jar, with its deadly jailbird, sat on the shelf all night until the next day. The first thing I did when I came in was look over my red-plaid shoulder at the bottle. I didn't see the spida in it and neither did nobody else. Someone yelled, "Mizzus Appleton, the spida done gone and left!"

"What do you mean left?"

"It musta 'scaped."

She hurried over, looked in the jar and tipped it to see if maybe it was clingin' to the underside of the lid, or hidin' in the moss. It warn't. Sure as shootin' it was gone. Disappeared without a trace.

Mizzus Appleton got all nervous like. Her hands was wringin', and her voice was crackin' some.

"Okay children, I want you all to leave the classroom. I'll call the janitor to search for it."

It took 'bout an hour. Mizzus Appleton hollered at us ta gather by the back door. She said, "Mr. Joe, the janitor, and his helper searched the entire classroom from top to bottom. They didn't find a thing. They swore to me that the spider was not in the room. They said it likely escaped through an opening in a window. It's perfectly safe now to return to the classroom."

Maybe it was safe, and maybe it warn't. We were all mighty jittery when we sat back down at our desks. Crystal's leg was waggin' faster than a church lady's Jesus-fan in August.

That's when I got my idea ta play a stupid trick. I got up and sharpened a pencil inta a fine point. Then I sat back down, and dangled the pencil over the edge of the desk. I was pretendin' to be thinkin' real hard about sumpin'. When her white, bobby-socked foot moved inta just the right position, it was bombs away! I didn't miss. Bullseye! That sharpened point hit her mid-calf. She jumped outta her seat and screamed like she was gonna die right there on the spot.

I 'spected we would all get a good laugh, but instead I caused a gigantic hissy fit. Mizzus Appleton rushed over to calm Crystal. Ever'one in nearby desks was purty sure they was bitten too, or gonna be. There was screamin', cryin', and kids runnin' all 'round. Good Lord, you'd think the world was comin' to an end by the way they was behavin'.

Crystal was breathin' very fast—too fast. The next thing I knew, her boney legs gave way. She slumped down like a bean bag with half the stuffin's missin'. Just before hittin' the floor, Mizzus Appleton swooped in and caught her. That's when she sent Sam Shelby off to the office for help. She muttered somethin' about callin' for an ambulance.

That's when I knew I was in serious, GREAT BIG, DOUBLE-DUTCH trouble. What if they took her ta the hospital and found 'stead of a spida bite; it was just a pencil mark? Everyone would know it was me, 'cuz I was the one sittin' right b'hind her. I was trapped just like that spida' in the bottle. My goose, as gramma would say, was royally cooked. When there ain't no way out, there's only one thing ta do, fess up, and fess up quick. I figured it was better ta speak up right now then ta than wait for 'em to come after me. I called out ta Teach'ah who was sittin' on the floor holdin' Crystal's head in her lap. "Mizzus Appleton?"

No answer, so I hollered, "MIZZUS APPLETON!"

"What, Wishes?"

She heard me this time, I shouldn't been surprised with all the fussin' and cryin' goin' on. "Mizzus Appleton," I said. My face was hot and throbbin'. Shame kept me from lookin' her strait in the eyes. "I don't think she was bit by no spida."

"What!"

"I acci-dent-al-ly dropped a pencil on her leg. See, there it is. It rolled right under her desk."

She shook her head like she warn't hearin' me right. "You did what, young man?"

Grownups always say young man when they're mad as can be.

"You dropped a sharp pencil on her leg?"

"Yes'm, but not on purpose. It was purely accidental."

I could tell by her slitty-eyed stare that she knew I was fibbin'. She musta' guessed I played a real stupid trick. My bad joke disrupted the whole class and caused poor Crystal ta faint dead away. She gave me a look I ain't never seen b'fore and never wants ta see again. It warn't a happy one—that's for dang sure. She warn't tryin' to hide a smile neither. She seethed, "Wishes, look me straight in the eye, and tell me that you didn't drop that pencil on purpose."

Ya know I just couldn't do it. I stood there with my chin hangin' down ta the bib of my overalls, and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I meant it as a joke. I didn't wanna scare anyone, 'specially not Crystal."

Mizzus Appleton gave me a no-nonsense-over-the-glasses glare and commanded me ta, "Report to the principal—immediately!"

They didn't call an ambulance after all. Crystal was carried ta the nurse's office so they could examine the spot on her leg. Once they were convinced it was a pencil mark, they sent Crystal home.

I spent most of the rest of the day bein' lectured by our skinny sour-faced principal, Mist'a Krunklestein. He threatened me with a paddlin'. Ol' man Krunklestein took the dreaded Board of Education off the wall and smacked it in his hands a few times. I knows it was just meant ta scare me, 'cuz he didn't use it. The board of education was a thick wooden paddle with holes drilled through it. Them holes was s'posed to make it hurt more. I would'a rather been spanked with it than what he did next.

He said he was gonna tell my daddy. I pleaded with him not ta do that, but his sharp-beaked, stony face told me all I needed to know. He was gonna tell for sure. I knew full-well that once Daddy came home from work at the garage, I would get what I deserved. My backside hurt with a burnin' pain just thinkin' about what was a comin'.

I walked home so upset with myself for being real dumb. I truly hoped I would get flattened by a speedin' car, or get struck by lightnin', just so's I wouldn't have to see my daddy's mad face. I thought if'n I was horribly hurt, Daddy'd be so sad that he'd forgive me and forget all about what I'd done. Bein' injured, or dead, seemed like a right better solution than lookin' him in the eye and 'splainin' myself. Lucky for me (I guess) no cars came by. The sky didn't cloud over neither, so I warn't struck by lightnin'. Dang, dang, double-dang and a half! If'n anyone saw me they'd think I was doin' an Indian war dance.

There was an ugly gray boulder by the road. I swear was smirkin' at me. I growled and proceeded to take out my frustration on it. It replied by crunchin' my toes. Ouch!

While takin' off my shoe to see the damage, I heard a strange whistlin' sound comin' from the woods. Right away I knew what it was. It was the high-pitched breathy whistle of the famous Whistlin' Salamander. Ya know, hearin' that odd sound soothed all my fears. I don't know why, but my upset done sped away quicker than a tabby chasin' a field mouse. There was som'thin' in that whistle so calmin' that I just felt safe, comforted, and protected. I almost skipped the rest of the way home 'cuz I warn't scared no more, not even teensy bit.

I waited patiently on the couch for Daddy to return home from work. When he came in, he removed his mechanic's jacket with his name on it, took off his boots, and sat down in his favorite chair. Then he leaned forward, put his rough hands on his knees, and said slowly, "So, Wishes, I understand ya have som'thin' ta tell me."

For a second I wondered if I might've imagined the salamander's whistle. It crossed my mind that maybe it didn't work. "Daddy," I started out, "I did cause some ruckus in school today, but it was supposed ta be a joke."

Daddy's face cracked. He tried ta hold back a laugh, but bust loose with uncontrollable brayin'. Through all his guffaws he managed to say, "I heard all about it from Principal Krunklestein. Did he pull down the Board of Education?"

"Yessss . . . ," I was waitin' for the other shoe ta drop.

He just laughed louder.

"Ya know, Wishes, Ol' Man Krunklestein ain't changed a whit. I had a few run-ins with him myself at your age."

"Ain't ya gonna whip me?"

"No, I ain't gonna take a switch to ya. I figure you already beat yourself up enough. Keep in mind though, just 'cuz I didn't do it this time, doesn't mean you won't get it next. I have ta say when I heard the whole story; I almost laughed right inta the receiver."

"Ya did?"

"I sure did, son. Don't get me wrong, gettin' your class all stirred up, and makin' that girl faint, was wrong. Ya let your funny bone do all the thinkin'. I know you wouldn't wanna harm anyone on purpose. But I did promise Mista Krunklestein I would punish you appropriately, so your punishment is . . ."

He made me wait for it.

". . . No TV tonight and you have ta wash the dishes."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it—unless yer itchin' for somethin' more."

"No, Daddy. That suits me just fine."

Then I lowered my voice and got real serious, "Sumpin' else happened on the way home."

Daddy raised an eyebrow and asked, "Do you want ta tell me about it?"

"Comin' home I was feelin' lower than a snake's belly. Then—what?—I heard it. It was the salamander's whistle, plain as day. Didn't ya tell me that the whistle brung good luck?"

He smiled, and said, "The salamander only gives good luck."

Then Daddy said som'thin' really odd, "I'm pretty sure this ain't the last time you're gonna come 'crost the big guy."

"Really?"

"Really. Why else do ya think everyone calls you Wishes?"