A Frendibles Story by Marty Donnellan
Copyright Marty Donnellan © 2014. All Rights Reserved.
Frendibles are small, potato-like creatures who live in the woods, meadows and thickets of the southern United States. They have short limbs, large heads, and big eyes which are both wondering and skeptical. The novel “Henbit and Her Sisters” and the short chapter book “Henbit and the Roly Poly” both follow the adventures of Henbit and her two sisters early in their lives.
“Henbit and Maypop” takes place after Henbit has grown old. Maypop does not like being the youngest frendible in the pine forest, and Henbit does not like being the oldest. Hoping to improve her chances for playmates, Maypop has accidentally ruined her hair. Can Henbit fix things in time for dinner? You will enjoy this gentle tale of youth, age and friendship.
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The afternoon was rainy, the pine forest soggy and uninviting. Henbit sat mending a quilt in her tidy room deep within the underground burrow the frendibles called home. The old frendible must have fallen asleep, because when she looked up, there stood Maypop. Maypop’s eyes were red and swollen.
Henbit knew that with Maypop, she had to choose her words carefully. “Have you been crying?” she asked, pretending it didn’t matter if she had.
“No,” Maypop lied.
“Isn’t that my old gardening hat you’re wearing?”
“Maybe.”
Henbit frowned at the greenish tufts of hair poking from beneath the brim. “Is there anything you think I should know?” she pressed. “Maybe you should take off the hat and let me see.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I think you should show me what’s under the hat,” Henbit said, her temper rising.
“You’ll be mad.”
“Maypop! Take that thing off your head,” Henbit snapped.
Maypop snatched off the hat and threw it to the floor.
“Suffering sumac, what have you done?” Henbit cried.
Maypop’s hair was a ghastly greenish-gray, a color which suited the river but had never been seen on a frendible. As if that wasn’t enough, she had tried to fix her mistake by cutting it off. What was left of her hair stuck out in jagged, uneven tufts.
Erupting into fresh sobs, Maypop threw herself face down onto Henbit’s bed. “My life is ruined,” she grieved, her tiny shoulders heaving. “Now no one will play with me, ever again.”
Henbit set aside her sewing and rubbed her eyes. Soon it would be time to start dinner. Now and then Henbit wished someone else would take over meals, especially on rainy days when her arthritis was acting up. Usually, all it took to bring her back to her senses was a bite or two of someone else’s cooking.
“Why don’t you sit up and tell me what happened,” she suggested. “Here’s a hankie.”
Maypop sat up and blew her nose. She peeked at Henbit, who did her best to look encouraging.
“Well, it all started yesterday,” Maypop sniffled. “I went to the thicket to get some blackberries. Instead, I found a beautiful bloodroot plant.”
