Thanksgiving on Thursday - Mary Pope Osborne [5]
Together they stepped forward.
“Brrr!” said Annie.
“No kidding!” said Jack with a shiver.
He kept squishing the muddy sand with his toes. He felt pebbles and shells. Then he felt something soft.
“Hey, I think I found one,” he said.
Annie splashed over to him. “Where?”
“Stand back,” he said. “Here.”
Jack squished harder with his feet. The soft thing moved! Jack squished more. An eel slithered through the water.
Jack grabbed it with both hands!
“AHH!” he yelled.
The eel was long and skinny like a snake. It felt slimy and icky! It twisted and squirmed. Annie laughed as Jack tried to hold on to it.
The eel wiggled out of Jack’s hands and fell against Annie.
“Yikes!” she yelled, jumping away and bumping into Jack.
With more screams, they both tumbled into the cold water.
They scrambled up and splashed back to shore. Annie was still laughing.
“Poor eel!” she said, trying to catch her breath. “We scared him half to death!”
“Him?” said Jack.
“F-forget eels,” said Annie, her teeth chattering. “What about c-clams?”
Jack was wet and cold. But he took out the book again and looked up clams. He turned to the right page and read aloud:
Squanto taught the Pilgrims how to dig for quahog (KO-hog) clams. Quahog clams are hard-shell clams. They can live for sixty years or more. The oldest have been known to live for almost 100 years. They—
“Oh, forget it,” Annie broke in.
“What?” said Jack.
“We can’t catch them,” she said. “They live to be so old. We can’t just end their lives.”
Jack sighed. He sat down on a rock. Annie sat next to him. Their clothes were soaking wet. Their feet were caked with muddy sand. Their basket was empty.
“What other things do Pilgrim kids do to help?” said Annie.
Jack opened the book again. He looked up Pilgrim children. He read aloud:
Pilgrim children worked very hard. They built fences and cared for animals. They planted, harvested, and ground corn. They picked pumpkins, peas, and beans. They guarded the fields. They fished and hunted. They carried water. They collected nuts. They cooked and cleaned. They did everything they were told. They never complained about being tired.
“Oh, man, I feel tired just reading this,” said Jack, closing the book. “We make lousy Pilgrim children.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Annie. “Maybe we could do something like … like keep an eye on the turkey and tell them when it’s ready. That’s how I help Mom every year.”
“Annie, Thanksgiving in Frog Creek is a whole different story from Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims,” said Jack.
“Annie! Jack!” a voice called.
Jack quickly put away their book. Then they turned around.
Priscilla was standing on a rock. She held a pumpkin and carried a basket filled with yellow squash and red corn.
“I was looking for you,” she said.
“Good day, Priscilla!” said Annie.
“Good day,” said Priscilla. She walked to them. “Did thou fill the basket with eels and clams?”
“Not really,” said Jack.
“The eel didn’t want to get caught,” said Annie. “And the clams live to be so old! We didn’t think it was right to take their lives.”
Priscilla laughed. Her sad eyes sparkled.
“What strange children,” she said. “But you both look wet and cold. Would you like to come to my house and warm up by the fire?”
“Yes!” said Jack and Annie.
They washed off their feet and pulled on their shoes and stockings. Jack picked up his bag. Annie picked up their empty basket.
“Would thou like to put some of my corn and squash in thy basket?” said Priscilla.
“Oh, thanks!” said Annie. She took some corn and squash from Priscilla’s basket.
“And perhaps thou would like to carry the pumpkin?” Priscilla said to Jack.
“Sure!” said Jack.
“Sure?” said Priscilla.
“I mean, indeed,” said Jack. He felt relieved. Now they wouldn’t have to go back empty-handed.
Jack wrapped his arms around the heavy pumpkin. Annie carried the basket. They followed Priscilla back to the village.
The Pilgrims and Wampanoag were gathering in a wide dirt street. Women were baking bread in an outdoor oven. Some boys were setting wooden planks on barrels