When we got home, Freck went to her house to clean off all the bug spray. That was a very good idea. Pee-yew that stuff stinks. Once we cleaned up we got together again to discuss our adventure. "Ya know, Wishes," Freck said, "I've been thinkin' what do we really know about capturin' salamanders anyways? Have you ever caught one?"

"Nooo." I had to admit that I hadn't. I couldn't believe that with all of our detailed preparation and plannin' to go into Howlin' Woods, we clean forgot that we didn't know the first thing about how to catch a salamander. We'd seen them, of course, but neither of us had ever captured one. What did we expect to do in there? Were we just goin' to wander around keepin' our eyes peeled and expect that the Whistlin' Salamander would appear right in front of us and jump onto our laps? That would be like standin' by a stream expectin' fish to jump out and land right into your fryin' pan. How dumb was that?

Freck suggested, "Maybe instead of settin' our sights on the Whistlin' Salamander, we should just look for plain, ord'nary salamanders and hope to come acros't him in our search."

"Ya know Freck," I mused while rubbin' my chin as I was thinkin' out loud,  "catchin' a normal, everyday salamander ain't that easy either. They're pretty dang quick. They can scurry under a carpet of forest leaves fast as a beat of a hummingbird's wing. We've prob'ly walked past by more salamanders than we ever knew. Maybe ya just saw somethin' outta the corner of your eye--just a quick blurr. It could've been the tip of a tail disappearin' silent-like under sticks and brush. Salamanders are wary. They ain't goin' to just sit around in the open waitin' for us to stroll over and pick 'em up. So what do you think we should do?"

"We has to go to the lib'ary Wishes."

Of course, we could read up on catchin' salamanders. Why didn't I think of that?

▫️▫️▫️

On our way to the lib'ary, we came across Butch (the bully) Tieg. From what I learned from my talk with Mister Samuels, Butch's meanness was passed down from his daddy, Tyrone Tieg. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," he cautioned.

Butch was hangin' out with his buddies Craig Roundy and "Red" Stubbins. As usual, they were bored and lookin' for trouble. No sense stirrin' them up. It's always better to avoid bullies than to provoke them. The problem is ya never really know what is goin' to set them off.

We crossed on tip toes t'other side of the street. We were tryin' to sneak by but no, it's was like they had radar. There they were standin' in a three boy huddle. The second we got into range, their heads all swiveled in our direction. It was just plain spooky. And what's more, I swear, I saw their eyes flash demonic red. It's pure spite I saw. Those boys carried meanness inside them like the Pope carries Holy.

Butch called out. He was tryin' to sound friendly, "Hey it's Freck the Freak, and Wish Bones. Come on over here, we wanna talk with ya."

Butch did all his talkin' with his fists; we already knew that, so we ran. We shot off the sidewalk and up the dirt path ta the weedy field beside the train tracks. I ran so hard I got an icepick stitch in my side. My breath felt like slivers tearing inside my throat.

I stopped to catch a breath. Som'thin' was wrong. Freck was missin'. She warn't with me no more. I turned around and saw that Red held her by a pigtail tryin' to take 'er down. She was spinnin' around him kickin' up dirt and leaves and stuff, like a human dust devil. Some of those kicks slammed into his shin. "Ow! Stop kickin' me!" This made him pull harder on her hair. He was angry and gettin' madder with every kick. He wouldn't let go. Maybe he was afraid ta. I'm sure he thought about what would happen if he did release her. She might tear into him like a crazed wildcat. It was a stand-off. She wouldn't stop fightin' as long as he had her by the hair, and he didn't dare let go.

What could I do? I didn't have no choice. I had to go back. Even though it meant we might both get beaten to pulps. There was no avoidin' it. I couldn't let her fight them guys all by herself. So, I stopped, picked up a stick and a hefty rock.

I needed a plan real quick. There's a story I head 'bout a man who got himself out of dangerous situations by actin' crazy. The crazier he acted the more people would stay far away. I was prayin' that it was true 'cuz I was about to test it out. If it didn't work, two very sorry kids were goin' to get the stuffin's knocked clean out of them. It might even land us back in the hospital again.

I was 'bout ten feet away when I commenced screamin' like a wild ape-man, "Wagah! Wagah! Wagah!" I waved my stick and rock in the air. I jumped around like my pants was on fire.

Red let go of Freck and stared at me. Butch and Craig skidded to a stop. If they made a move toward us I pounded the ground with the stick. Then I tossed the stick down like it was a snake that was itchin' to attack. I growled at it--loud deep growls, "Grrrrrr! Grrrrr! Grrrrr!"

I pressed the rock into my cheek. Then brought it around to my nose. I smelled it pretendin' it was som'thin' delicious. I made like I was goin' to eat it like a ripe peach. I licked it and acted as if it was bitter. I tossed it aside and hunkered down on all fours. I rolled my eyes up and started bayin' like a wolf. "Ah-wooo!" Then I jumped up real sudden like, and snarled. Drool ran out of my mouth. I hopped to the left and then to the right. Then I bent over and dragged my knuckles on the ground.

I kept slowly inchin' forward until I was right beside Freck lyin' on the ground. The bullies backed a little ways off. So's I sat down beside her and acted like I was pickin' bugs out of her hair ta eat.

Freck knowed what I was a doin'. She rolled up her eyes and began convulsin' on the ground. I knew what she was doin' too. She was strugglin' to stiffle a laugh. If she broke, it would be all over for us. The act would fail. At first I warn't sure that they were buyin' it 'cuz they creeped a bit closer. Ever'time they made a move, though, I'd give them a wild glassy stare, growl, and flail some more. Eventually they decided it warn't worth it, and backed ways off.

Butch hollered, "Let's get outta here. She's sick and he's a real wacko."

Red said, "Icky, yuck, yuck--I touched her, do you think I'm goin' ta get sick too?"

"I don' know, but we better get somewheres ta warsh off the cooties," Butch's disgust was obvious as he shuddered and shook his hands like he was tryin' to shake off som'thin' nasty.

Craig Roundy didn't say nothin' at all. He was shocked. It did't come as a surprise that he was the first to turn tail and run.

"Hey Craig," Red called out. "Hold up a minute would ya?"

"No way," Craig yelled back over his shoulder, "you two can stay if'n you want, but I's outta here!"

They all took off like mad dogs was snarlin' at their heels.

Freck whispered from the side of her mouth, "Are they gone?"

"Nah" I whispered back, "but when they're all the way out of sight, I'll let you know. Just stay down and keep a twitchin'." I waited until I was absolutely sure they were far enough away, "Now."

She commenced guffawin' then brayin' like a mule. Freck's laughin' fit was infectious. I caught it and laughed so hard my guts felt like they was goin' ta split open. We musta been a sight. There we were, covered in dirt from the path, sittin' in the weeds by the railroad tracks yuckin' it up like a pair of hyenas. Maybe Butch was right after all. Maybe we was crazy.

I fig'erd that not only had my antics saved us from gettin' a beatin', but we prob'ly wouldn't deal with Butch's bullyin' ever again. If he should come at us, all I'd have to do is give him the wild-man crazy-eye, and commence ta growlin'. I'm purty sure he was sure I was totally out of my ever-lovin' skull. Ever'one knows it's smart to leave wild, crazy people alone. Ya never knows what they might do.

▫️▫️▫️

We were still snortin' and gigglin' when we got to the lib'ary and walked up the green painted wooden stairs to the aluminum storm door. We knew that Mrs. Goodly, the lib'arian , wouldn't be none too happy about our noise so we stood outside tryin' to calm ourselves down.

Mrs. Goodly called out, "Come on in kids. There isn't anyone else in here. Besides I want to know what's so hilarious. I could use a good laugh."

So we did, we hauled our beet-red laughin' selves into the lib'ary and told Mrs. Goodly the whole story of Butch and his bully friends. When I showed her my crazy ape-man wolf act. She belly-laughed so hard, she almost fell out of her chair. I'll bet that was the loudest noise the lib'ary has ever heard. Since Mrs. Goodly herself was makin' the loudest whoops, we warn't in no trouble.

She got herself kinda under control, and though still chucklin' she asked us, What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Goodly," Freck said, "We're doin' a summer school project and wanna know all about salamanders. Could you help us?"

She showed us to the nature books and said, "You kids just go ahead and if you need any more assistance, just come over and ask."

Our town lib'ary was just a converted mobile home made of metal. Bookshelves, tables, and chairs were all donated. Nothin' matched. The mayor said that the city was going to build a new, more modern library when he found the fundin' to do it. I warn't gonna hold my breath. Library money was probably all spent decoratin' his fancy office instead.

We pulled a couple of promisin' books off the shelf. I grabbed a green plastic chair with metal legs. Freck's chair was white and had a small flowered cushion sittin' on it. We pulled up our chairs ta the largest table in the room so's we'd have enough space to spread out the books.

"Freck," I whispered.

"What, Wishes?"

"Did you ever notice that sometimes grownups aren't really so bad? When I first started comin' to the lib'ary I thought Mrs. Goodly was kinda grumpy. I figured that lib'arians must like books way more than kids. She seems different now."

"Maybe that's so, but it might not be actual." Freck replied, "You have to remember that they still expect you to obey all of their rules: sit here, don't sit there, talk, don't talk, hurry up, slow down, go outside and play, stay inside. It gets confusin'. Then if you make a mistake, punishment's sure to foll'a. What's a kid supposed to do?"

I agreed, "Yeah, sometimes it seems that whatever we do is wrong, at the wrong time, and in the wrong place. It sure is hard being a kid, huh?"

"Yup, but maybe it's hard bein' them too."

"What do you mean, Freck?"

"Well, it seems to me that they don't know what they want. They tell us how hard it is to be an adult. They complain about ever'thin': money, taxes, age, hair, weight, and kids. Face it, a happy growed up is purty hard ta find."