TIMOTHY AND THE PEANUT by Jeff A.

Harrell

One fine summer day, Timothy found a peanut that looked like a man. Two tiny pits were eyes, a slit was his mouth. Dark red peanut-skin peeling off like a bad sunburn. Timothy decided that he and the peanut should be friends. Timothy put the can back on the shelf and hurried upstairs. He went into his room and closed the door. He lay on his bed and cradled the peanut gently in his hands. "Where did you come from?" he whispered. The peanut said nothing. "What's your name?" The peanut remained silent. "Why won't you talk to me?" Timothy said. "Because I'm afraid," the peanut said. "What are you afraid of?" Timothy asked. "I'm afraid that you're going to eat me," the peanut said. "You ate so many of us. I was watching you. And now I think you're going to eat me." Timothy thought this over. "I'm not going to eat you," he said. "Let's be friends." "All right," the peanut said. # One fine summer day, Timothy was playing in the yard with his army men, a dump truck, and his peanut. The last flake of dry peanut-skin had come off that morning, leaving the peanut looking shiny and moist. Timothy deployed his army men on either side of the road, hidden in the thick St.

Augustine. He told them to wait until the truck passed between them, then to attack. "You shouldn't do that," the peanut said. Timothy fished his friend out of his pocket. "What did you say?" he asked. "I said that you shouldn't do it that way," the peanut said. "Your fields of fire will cross, and your men will be shooting at each other." Timothy looked down at his toys, and realized what he had been about to do. "How should I do it?" he asked. The peanut told him. The battle was short, and the victory decisive. Timothy thanked the peanut for his advice. # One fine autumn day, Timothy woke up very early. The peanut, resting in his bed in the matchbox on the nightstand, told him to go back to sleep. "It's too early," the peanut said. "The sun isn't even up." "I can't go back to sleep," Timothy said. "It's the first day of school." "But I already know how to read and how to write," the peanut said. "I don't need to learn." Timothy laughed. "But I do. So I have to go to school." "I can teach you what you need to know," the peanut said. "I can teach you to read and write and add and subtract. I can teach you history and science and--" There was a knock on the door. From out in the hall Mommy said, "Time to get up, honey. First day of school." Timothy threw back the covers and stepped out of bed. "I'll be home this

afternoon," he whispered. "We'll go out and play." "Please don't leave me," the peanut said softly, but Timothy didn't hear. # One fine autumn day, Timothy was exploring the woods with his peanut. The peanut told him about maples and oaks, poison ivy and deadly mushrooms. The peanut told him how to find his way by looking at the shadows on the ground, and following the sun. Timothy told the peanut all about the first grade. He told the peanut about the teacher and the desks, and the other boys and girls. He was about to tell him about one boy in particular when he heard someone speak. "Hey, little boy," said a scratchy voice. "You lost?" Timothy looked around. He saw a man leaning against a tree. The man's clothes were all grey, and he had a crazy beard and long hair. The man was smiling, but some of his teeth were gone. He looked funny, and friendly. Like a clown. "No," Timothy said. "I'm not lost. I can find my way home by looking at the shadows on the ground." The man's smile widened. "Yer a smart little boy, ain'tcha," the man said as he took a step forward. "Anybody know you come out here today?" The man came closer. "Run," the peanut whispered. "What?" Timothy said. "You out here all alone?" the man asked. "He wants to hurt you," the peanut said. "He wants to take you and do horrible things to you. Get away." "What do I do?" Timothy asked.

The peanut told him. "Why don'tcha come with me," the man asked. "I've got some candy back at my house, jus' over the hill. You like candy?" "No!" Timothy shouted. He scooped up a handful of dry leaves, quick as could be, and threw them into the man's eyes. Then, just like the peanut told him, he ran. As fast as he could. And he didn't stop until he could see his house. "That was good, Timothy," the peanut said. "That was just right. You did very well." Timothy, out of breath, just nodded. # One fine winter day, Timothy and his peanut were lying on their backs in the dry grass, looking up at the grey-white sky. "What are you going to be when you grow up?" Timothy asked the peanut. "I'm not going to grow up," the peanut said. "I'll stay like this forever." "Really?" Timothy asked. "Really," the peanut said. "When I grow up," Timothy said, "I think I'll be a fireman. Or a cowboy." "Why do you have to grow up at all?" the peanut asked. "I don't know," Timothy said. "I just will." "You don't have to, if you don't want to," the peanut said. "You don't have to do anything if you don't want to." Timothy giggled. "You're silly," he said. "I have to grow up." "You don't," the peanut insisted. "You can stay a little boy forever. And I'll stay

a peanut forever. And we'll be together forever and ever and ever." Timothy smiled. "I'd like that," he said. They were silent for a moment. "I love you," Timothy said. "And I love you," the peanut said. # One fine winter day, Timothy came home crying. He ran upstairs, threw down his coat, and buried his face in his hands on the bed. "What's wrong?" asked the peanut from his bed in the matchbox on the nightstand. Timothy just sobbed. "Don't cry, Timothy," said the peanut. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" Timothy told the peanut about Roy, the big second-grader. "He said if I didn't give him my lunch money on the playground tomorrow, that he'd beat me up." Timothy sniffled, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Beat you up?" the peanut asked. "Yeah," Timothy said. "You know. Hit me." "Oh," the peanut said. "Take me to school with you tomorrow," the peanut said. "I'll protect you." "How?" Timothy asked. "Remember the bad man in the woods?" the peanut asked. Timothy nodded. "Like that. We'll do it together." The peanut told him what to do. # The next day, Timothy put his peanut in his pocket when he left for school. He

told the peanut to be quiet so nobody would find out about him. The peanut promised to be good. When the bell rang for recess, Timothy rushed out onto the playground, just like the peanut had told him. He ran to the monkey bars and scrambled up to the top. There he sat, balanced ten feet above the hard concrete of the playground. His heart was pounding. "That was just fine," the peanut whispered. "Don't worry. Just wait, and remember what I told you." Just then, Timothy heard Roy yelling at him. "Hey, monkey!" Roy yelled. "Look, everybody. Look at the monkey!" Timothy said nothing. Roy stood at the base of the monkey bars and glared. "You know the deal, monkey," he said. "Gimee your lunch money." "Remember what I told you," the peanut whispered. "Come get it yourself," Timothy said. Roy's face turned a bright shade of red. "Oh, you are gonna get it," he said as he grabbed the lowest run of the monkey bars and hauled himself up. Timothy watched as Roy pulled himself gracelessly from one bar to the next, knuckles white as he gripped the metal pipes. Finally Roy reached the top, within swinging distance of Timothy. "Okay, monkey," he said. "Hand it over." "Now," the peanut whispered. Timothy reached out and put one hand on Roy's shoulder, and pushed. Roy teetered for an instant, then lost his balance. His sweaty hands slipped off of

the bar that was supporting him, and he tumbled to the ground. Timothy stared down at him for a long second before anyone saw what had happened. Then the crowd started to gather. "Is he gone?" the peanut, still buried in Timothy's pocket, asked. "Yes," Timothy said. "Did he fall?" the peanut asked. "Yes," Timothy said. "Good," the peanut said. Timothy, unable to speak, just nodded. # That night, Timothy awoke to the sound of the peanut's whispering. "What did you say?" he mumbled drowsily. "Tell me about it," the peanut said. "About what?" Timothy said, pulling the covers over his face. "Tell me about Roy," the peanut said. "I didn't get to see." Timothy pulled the covers down and stared at the peanut. The light from the streetlamp outside cast deep shadows over the peanut's face. "Why do you want to talk about that?" he asked. "Because I didn't get to see it," the peanut said. "I heard him fall, but I didn't get to see. Tell me what it looked like." Timothy told him. "Was there blood?" Timothy said he didn't know. Maybe.

"I hope there was blood," the peanut said. "Why would you say something like that?" Timothy asked. The peanut said nothing. Timothy rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. That night he dreamed of falling, and the smell of the lead pipes, and the hard smack of the concrete. # Two days later, Timothy's teacher told him to go to the principal's office. She told him he wasn't in trouble. She told him that a man wanted to talk to him. A doctor. The principal led Timothy to an empty classroom where he met an old man in a fuzzy grey suit and thick glasses. His eyes seemed to bulge out of his head. The man said he was a doctor, and that Timothy should call him Paul. Timothy had never called a grown-up Paul before. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. "I understand that you saw the accident on the playground," Paul said. Timothy nodded. "The teachers tell me you and the boy were having an argument," Paul said. "Don't tell him about me," the peanut whispered. "He wanted my lunch money," Timothy said. Paul nodded, and didn't say anything. "He said he was going to beat me up," Timothy said. Paul nodded again. "Keep our secret," the peanut said. "Were you afraid of Roy?" Paul asked.

Timothy nodded. "I guess," he said. "Did you want to hurt him?" Paul asked. "Don't tell him what we did," the peanut said. "I don't know," Timothy said. "Maybe. I guess." Paul nodded again, slower this time. "I can understand that. He was a bully, wasn't he, Tim?" Nobody had ever called him Tim. Timothy decided he didn't like Paul very much. "Tim," Paul said, "did you push Roy off the monkey bars?" "Lie to him," the peanut said. Timothy swallowed. "No, sir," he said. "He looked like he was going to fall, and I grabbed his coat to help him, but he fell anyway." "Now cry," the peanut said. Tears rolled down Timothy's cheeks. "I saw him falling, and I tried to help, but he fell anyway!" he cried. "I was mad, but I didn't want him to fall!" Timothy sobbed uncontrollably. "I just wanted him to leave me alone!" Paul put a hand on Timothy's shoulder and made soothing sounds. After a few minutes, Timothy stopped crying. Paul handed him a tissue, and Timothy blew his nose. Then the principal came again and took Timothy back to his class. In the hallway, the peanut whispered, "That was just fine. You kept our secret. That was just fine." "Uh-huh," Timothy said. "What did you say?" asked the principal. "Nothing," Timothy said. # One fine spring day, Daddy asked Timothy how he liked school.

"It's okay," Timothy said. "I guess." "Made any new friends this year?" "Don't tell him about me," the peanut whispered. "Not really," Timothy said. Daddy told Timothy about the neighborhood Little League team. He told Timothy about playing ball with the other boys in the neighborhood, all summer long. He told Timothy about making friends. Timothy told Daddy he would think about it. That night, Timothy and the peanut lay in bed together, whispering to each other in the dark. "Your father wants us to be apart," the peanut said. "No, he doesn't," Timothy said. "He doesn't even know about you." "He knows," the peanut said. "They both know. When you're at school, I hear them talking about it." Timothy considered this. "What do they say?" he asked. "They hate me," the peanut said. "They're jealous, because they know that you love me more than you love them." "But I do love them," Timothy said. "Yes, but you love me more, and they know that," the peanut said. "I don't want to talk any more," Timothy said. He put the peanut in the bed in the matchbox on the nightstand and pulled the covers over his head. "I'm afraid," the peanut said. "What are you afraid of?" Timothy asked. "I'm afraid of being alone forever," the peanut said.

"Go to sleep now," Timothy said. But it was a long time before Timothy slept. # A few days later, Timothy came home to find the peanut missing. The bed in the matchbox on the nightstand was gone. Timothy looked in the drawer, and on the table, and couldn't find the peanut or the matchbox anywhere. "Timothy," the peanut whispered. "Where are you?" Timothy asked, looking around the room. "Hiding," the peanut said. "Tell me where you are," Timothy said. "No, I won't," the peanut said. "If I tell you, then your parents will make you tell them, and they'll get rid of me." "If you tell me where you are," Timothy said, "I'll protect you." "Do you promise?" the peanut whispered. "I promise," Timothy said. "I'm behind the desk, next to the wall," the peanut whispered. Timothy found the peanut there, covered in lint and spiderwebs. He cleaned the peanut as best he could, and then he put the peanut is his pocket. "You'll be safe with me," Timothy said. "Do you mean it?" the peanut asked. "Yes," Timothy said. "I love you," said the peanut. "And I love you," said Timothy. "Why were you hiding?" he asked.

"Because I heard your mother coming. I was afraid. So I rolled off the nightstand and hid behind the desk and watched." "What did you see?" asked Timothy. "Your mother looked for me," he said. "She looked in the bed in the matchbox on the nightstand, and when she didn't find me, she got angry. She said horrible things, then she took the matchbox and tore it to pieces." Timothy didn't know what to think about this. "Then what?" he asked. "Then she left," the peanut said. "Timothy!" Mommy called him from down the hallway. "In here!" he yelled back. "Protect me!" the peanut whispered. Mommy came into Timothy's room. "Who were you talking to?" she asked. "Nobody," Timothy said. "I mean, I wasn't talking." Mommy smiled coldly. "Dinner's almost ready. Wash up." When Mommy had left, the peanut said, "See? She hates me! You have to protect me, Timothy! You can't let them take me away!" "Don't worry about it," Timothy said. "I'm going to protect you." # "Wake up, Timothy! Wake up!" The peanut was whispering into his ear from beneath his pillow. "What is it?" Timothy asked. "Listen!" the peanut said. Timothy strained to hear the distant sounds of conversation coming from

downstairs. He could hear Mommy and Daddy, but couldn't make out the words. "They're talking about us," the peanut whispered. Timothy cupped the peanut in his hand and snuck out onto the landing, where he could eavesdrop. "Aren't you the least bit concerned?" That was Mommy. "Of course I'm concerned," said Daddy. "He's my son. I just think you're overreacting. He's got an imaginary friend; I had one too when I was his age." "Sure," said Mommy. "So did I. But I had real friends, too. And I played with real toys." "Look, he's just creative," said Daddy. "He entertains himself." There was more, but Timothy snuck quietly back to his room and got back in bed. "See?" the peanut said. "They were talking about us!" "What does 'imaginary' mean? Daddy said I have an imaginary friend." Timothy said. "Evil, Timothy," the peanut said. "Imaginary means evil. Your parents hate me. They want to destroy me." Timothy didn't say anything. "You promised to protect me, Timothy," the peanut said. "Remember? You promised." "I remember," he said. Timothy thought it over. "What do you think we should do?" he asked. The peanut told him. # The peanut woke Timothy in the middle of the night, just as they had planned.

Then the peanut told Timothy where to find the can, and what to do with the smelly water inside it. And where to find the matches. Once the smelly water had been poured around and over the bed, the peanut told Timothy how far to step back, and how to light the match, and where to throw it. When the screaming stopped, and the smoke filling the room became too thick to see, the peanut told Timothy to go to the front yard and wait, and what to tell the firemen when they came. And Timothy did it just right. He told the firemen about Daddy's waking him up in the middle of the night with a hug and a kiss. He told them how Daddy told Timothy to put on his coat and wait in the front yard, that they were going on a trip and he and Mommy would be down soon. He told them how he waited and waited, but Mommy and Daddy never came. He stumbled a few times, but the peanut was always there, whispering softly to him, telling him what to say. And when it was over, and there was nobody around, Timothy took the peanut out of the pocket of his coat and held it in his hand. "Did I do it right?" he asked. "Yes, Timothy," the peanut said. "You did very well." "Can we be together now?" he asked. "Yes, Timothy," the peanut said. "Together forever."