When the two arrived at the school yard, the straw-haired Banner jumped from the swing and loped up to them with a huge grin on his face.
“Mornin’, Kismet!” He threw his arms around his friend and rocked him roughly back and forth. “How are you?” Banner pointed at Kismet like he had always done when asking how he was.
Kismet lifted a corner of his lip in a smile and gave a hearty pat on Banner’s slumped shoulder.
“Who’s your pal?” Banner hooked a thumb through his suspender and gestured to Prestige.
Kismet picked up his lunch pail and took out an empty slate and a skinny piece of white chalk. In bold cursive, Kismet wrote “Prestige.” After putting the tail on the “e”, he straightened his shoulders and presented it to Banner.
Banner’s face cracked into a huge smile and he nodded his head approvingly. He took the slate from Kismet, licked off the chalk and wrote in place of the name, “Some fine name he’s got!”
Mouthing through a smile, Kismet replied, “Thank you.”
Banner threw an arm around Kismet’s shoulder and pulled him into a walk. Banner enjoyed the outdoors more than anything. He spent most of his time wandering the woods and studying squirrels. He didn’t care for laborious work inside his mother’s shop, but would rather be working till his muscles ached down in the fields with his father’s friends. Banner was a talkative fellow; always talking about things he had read in stories or heard from neighbors. Even though he knew Kismet couldn’t hear him, he appreciated his company all the same and was happy to find someone who would just let him talk without stopping him.
On some occasions, Kismet would join him on a fishing spree or a long walk down a “secret” trail that Banner had discovered when they were both eight. Banner had gotten his nickname from when he and Kismet paraded down the main road during a festival holding a large, decorative poster celebrating the new county store that had opened a day before Independence Day. It was after that the bullies of the school called him “Bannerboy.” Banner didn’t mind, in fact, he took the insult with a smile and soon requested everyone to call him “Banner” instead of “Paul.”
Banner took the slate from Kismet’s hands and began scribbling the start of a conversation.
“Where did the wolf come from?” He handed the slate back to Kismet.
Kismet, still walking, pulled out another piece of chalk and wrote his response. “He found me.”
“I hear stories of a Red Wolf,” Banner began before tapping the end of the chalk against his chin. “They say the wolf came down from Canada. Others say the Injuns raised him. You think this is the legendary wolf?”
Kismet chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t imagine a small town boy like himself owning such a wolf. He scrawled back, “Impossible.”
“I think he’s the legend wolf. His yellow eyes and red fur! You know what he does, right?”
Kismet shook his head again. He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked down at Prestige, who, without moving his head, eyed him back. Kismet gnawed the corner of his lip and began second guessing the status of the wolf. The wolf yawned and stopped for a moment to stretch his legs.
Banner pulled an end of his sleeve over his fingers and wiped the slate clean. He wrote one more sentence before striding up the stairs into the classroom.
Kismet’s eyes dropped down on the gray slate and he read the powdery words carefully:
“They say the wolf chooses his owners until he knows he’s no longer needed.”
Prestige’s haunches fell to the ground, followed by his front legs. He rested his head on the first step of the stairs and stared at the entrance of the school. Kismets, remembering where he was, gave Prestige a kiss on the head, slipped the slate and chalk back into his pail, and raced into the classroom. Throughout the whole lesson, Kismet’s mind was on Prestige. Was it true? Did he really own the wolf that appeared in time of need? Was it even possible an animal could be that astute? Prestige wasn’t like any other animal, that Kismet could see, but how did the wolf know he was needed in a small town deep in Michigan?
Kismet dropped a shoulder and looked behind him over at the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Prestige. He didn’t see him at all. His heart banged against the inside of his ribs and his mouth went dry. Kismet planted his palms on the desk and was about to push himself out of his chair before his legs felt a warm, rounded body underneath his desk. Kismet smiled and sat back down. His eyes scanned the classroom to see if anyone had caught him panicking. No one did. Kismet reached down and scratched Prestige’s rough red hair. Prestige exhaled in satisfaction and pressed one side of his body against Kismet’s leg.
That day, Kismet went home with a beaming smile smeared on his face. For in his hands, held close to his chest, were two papers with the letter “A” written out in the right hand corner. And beside him, holding his tin pail gingerly in his mouth was the great Red Wolf.
YOU ARE READING
The Wolf's Boy
AdventureKismet and Prestige are just as unusual as their names. Though one is a boy and the other a wolf, they both desire the same thing: love. Through the years, their friendship grows and they become inseparable. But when their town is hit by a natural...
