Lost Shoes
This story was originally published in the limited time anthology Paul Bunyan Wears a Face Mask in 2020.
Sunlight poured down between the clouds, ricocheting off the lake’s surface one ray at a time. On a small wooden dock, Gracie was laying on her back, combing through her unruly black hair with her fingers. Behind her, her brother Mason, a little boy half her age, darted up and down the dock, pausing every now and again to jump up and swat at passing damselflies.
Mason’s bare feet pattered up to Gracie, and he squatted down so his face rested inches above hers. “I lost my shoes.”
“You didn’t bring your shoes,” she said, gently pushing him away.
“Yes, I did.” He put his hands on his hips. “I put my toad in it.”
“You can’t catch toads.”
“But I did. An’ I put it in my shoe. I’m going to take it home an’ keep it as a pet.”
“Oof.” She rotated onto her stomach and reached over the side of the dock to trace circles in the water below. “You can’t catch toads.”
Mason pulled her hand from the water and tugged with all his might. “Come help. Come help.”
“Ow!” Gracie whined, but she adjusted her hand around her brother’s and pulled herself up. The dock warmed her wet feet, and the dark wood erased the liquid shadows of her footprints before she landed on the rocky beach. As soon as Mason dragged her from the dock, she winced. Beyond a few feet of wobbling rocks and a grassy slope was her family's small camp and, inside, her pink-laced sneakers. The ones she wished she had on right now. Small, broken rocks dug into the soles of her feet with a vengeance for every stone that had ever been stepped on. Meanwhile, Mason bounced along like his feet might be made of rubber.
He stopped abruptly, and Gracie pressed her hand against a large tree before she could lose her perfect, painless balance on the rocks. Mason bounced up and down on his toes, pointing at the tall grass lining the shore. “I put them there. I put them there.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing there.”
He tilted his head, allowing his big brown eyes to meet hers. “I know. They’re gone.”
“Maybe because you didn’t bring them.” Gracie turned to head back to the dock.
“No. No. No.” Mason clutched her hand with both of his. “I brought them. I brought them.”
“Oh? Which ones?” She continued down to the dock, dragging Mason behind her.
“My good ones. My good ones.” He said, still struggling to keep her on the beach.
She stopped. “Your good ones? Oh jeez.”
“Help me find them. Pleeeeeease.”
She closed her eyes and let out a long, dramatic groan. “Fine.”
“Yayyy!! You look over there!” He pointed down by the lily pads.
“Ugh.” She let go of his hand and teetered across the rocks back down to the water.
Mason sang as he skipped down the opposite end of the beach. “I’m at the lake, an’ I’m looking for my shoes cuz-” The grass rustled, and Mason immediately dropped to his hands and feet with his butt sticking up in the air. Croak. He grinned and lunged forward, hands outstretched.
Gracie splashed her way through the shallows, kicking lily pads upside-down along her way. “Any shoes here?” She kicked another lily pad. “Nope. Just muck.”
“Sissy, look!” Mason yelled to her.
She turned to see Mason struggling to keep hold of a slimy toad all gross and green and bug-eyed.
“I caught it! I caught it!” He yelled, then the toad squeezed out from his grip and bolted into the water. “Aww.”
“See.” Gracie muttered. “Can’t catch a toad.”
“I can’t find my shoes.” Mason said, scampering over.
“Well, they’re not over here.” She said.
“Oh. Maybe I didn’t bring them.” He concluded.
Gracie shook her head. “C’mon.” She took Mason’s tiny, slimy hand in hers and led him back to the dock. Together, they sat down at the end, slipping their legs into the water and startling the tadpoles below. Mason swished his legs back and forth, and when Gracie rested her hand on the his knee to make him stop, he laughed and began kicking harder.
She threw her arms up to shield her face. “Stop!”
Mason’s knuckles turned white as he clasped the end of the dock. His legs beat back and forth in a thunderous spray of water.
“I said stop!” Gracie’s voice cracked as she fell into a fit of laughter. She submerged her cupped hands into the lake and splashed the water up at Mason.
“NO!” He giggled, rubbing his eyes dry with his tiny fists as he splashed her some more.
“No. Shhh.” Gracie’s voice dropped into a serious, hushed tone. “Really, stop.”
This time Mason listened and let his feet slide idly beneath the lake’s surface. Gracie pointed across the water at a loon. The bird ruffled its feathers, steadying its weighted beak as it swam across the lake. The fish it caught was dark and something was attached to it. Gracie leaned forward, staring at the string that was treading a path in the water next to the loon.
Mason’s mouth fell open into a perfect circle. “What kinda fish is that?” He whispered.
Gracie sighed. “The good shoe kind.”