The Toad Exodus
by Mary K. Grant
Everyone on the block knew that Gary Harmond had a mean streak. The kids next door witnessed it often, most especially in the summer. He would sit in front of his house on the lawn, inviting Gayle and Pammy and Jim to sit all around, their knees crisscrossed, a plastic sand pail in his hands. Then, without batting a sun-bleached eyelash beneath his brow, he would catch a series of houseflies with his bare hands. To the sharp intake of breath, I might add. Gayle was certain that he was part cat; since his reflexes were so quick he would out smart a mosquito or fly.
Then, after glancing at them all with great dramatic flourish, his blue eyes bright with excitement, he’d stick his sweaty, sandy hand into the pail withdrawing a fly on his hand. Grasping the little creature in two fingers, he’d deliberately pull off its wings. The thing would be lying there near his life line, helplessly spinning around, still alive and kicking. Gary would sharply inhale, greedy to experience it again. And he’d do the next one, then the next, until all of them were gone.
Kids in Lido worshiped Gary, but those who were close to him knew he had some deep seated emotional problems. But, strangely enough, this was below the grown ups’ radar; only the kids knew it.
Another great thing which happened, must have been the summer 1959, was the expedition into the lot down about five houses or so. Lido Beach was still in development in those days, with large lots filled with weeds providing playgrounds for those bored kids in the developments. Even the Golf Course, a private club, was unfenced to their backyards. They could explore the greens at times, as long as they avoided the golf carts and caddies playing through the Eleventh Hole there. Some great ponds, filled with tadpoles were nearby, well worthy to explore...continued at Rundelania