“NINETY-EIGHT – NINETY-NINE – ONE HUNDRED.” Gloria withdrew her chubby little forearm from
before her eyes and stood for a moment, wrinkling her nose and blinking in the sunlight. Then,
trying to watch in all directions at once, she withdrew a few cautious steps from the tree against
which she had been leaning.
She craned her neck to investigate the possibilities of a clump of bushes to the right and then
withdrew farther to obtain a better angle for viewing its dark recesses. The quiet was profound
except for the incessant buzzing of insects and the occasional chirrup of some hardy bird, braving
the midday sun.
Gloria pouted, “I bet he went inside the house, and I’ve told him a million times that that’s not
fair.”
With tiny lips pressed together tightly and a severe frown crinkling her forehead, she moved
determinedly toward the two-story building up past the driveway.
Too late she heard the rustling sound behind her, followed by the distinctive and rhythmic clumpclump
of Robbie’s metal feet. She whirled about to see her triumphing companion emerge from
hiding and make for the home-tree at full speed.
Gloria shrieked in dismay. “Wait, Robbie! That wasn’t fair, Robbie! You promised you wouldn’t
run until I found you.” Her little feet could make no headway at all against Robbie’s giant strides.
Then, within ten feet of the goal, Robbie’s pace slowed suddenly to the merest of crawls, and
Gloria, with one final burst of wild speed, dashed pantingly past him to touch the welcome bark of
home-tree first.
Gleefully, she turned on the faithful Robbie, and with the basest of ingratitude, rewarded him for
his sacrifice by taunting him cruelly for a lack of running ability.
“Robbie can’t run,” she shouted at the top of her eight-year-old voice. “I can beat him any day. I
can beat him any day.” She chanted the words in a shrill rhythm.
Robbie didn’t answer, of course — not in words. He pantomimed running instead, inching away
until Gloria found herself running after him as he dodged her narrowly, forcing her to veer in
helpless circles, little arms outstretched and fanning at the air.
“Robbie,” she squealed, “stand still!” — And the laughter was forced out of her in breathless jerks.
Until he turned suddenly and caught her up, whirling her round, so that for her the world fell away
for a moment with a blue emptiness beneath, and green trees stretching hungrily downward toward
the void. Then she was down in the grass again, leaning against Robbie’s leg and still holding a
hard, metal finger.
After a while, her breath returned. She pushed uselessly at her disheveled hair in vague imitation of
one of her mother’s gestures and twisted to see if her dress were torn.
She slapped her hand against Robbie’s torso, “Bad boy! I’ll spank you!”
And Robbie cowered, holding his hands over his face so that she had to add, “No, I won’t, Robbie.
I won’t spank you. But anyway, it’s my turn to hide now because you’ve got longer legs and you
promised not to run till I found you.”