Thursday, November 10, 2011

The Confrontation (Part 2 of 3)

After about five more minutes of walking on the winding trail through the East Texas woods, we finally made it to the lake. I spotted the other girls in my camping group sitting on a large wooden pier. Each of them had small fishing poles in their hands. I couldn’t wait to get my chance to throw a line into the water.
As we stepped on the pier, someone tapped me on my right shoulder, nearly startling me. I looked to the right and it was one of the girls from my group.
“Oh, Hi Christie.” I said.
“I’ve been waving at you, trying to get you to come and sit on the pier next to me, but you were igging me. Are you mad at me?” Worry filled her large, brown eyes as she tried to figure out why I was acting the way she thought I was acting.
Christie was one of my best friends in the third and fourth grade. We were separated in the fifth grade when the fifth grade teachers did a lottery system to assign the students to the classes. We very seldom got a chance to play together since her school bus picked her up less than ten minutes after the dismissal bell would ring. So, any opportunity we got a chance to hang out, we anxiously grasped at it. I guess that’s why she was confused to why I didn’t respond to her waving at me.
“Christie, I didn’t see you waving at me.” I informed.
Her eyes looked puzzled as she studied me to discern if I was being honest. I grabbed her hand and smiled at her, trying to reassure her that I would never ignore her.
“Oh, you know I want to sit next to you on the pier.” I said.
I turned and thanked Miss Tina for walking with me. She tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me to be very careful. Before walking away, she told me that she would come and get me when my parents were back.
“Have fun!” She commanded.
I trotted down the pier, telling Christie about the squirrel and bird fight I witnessed on the way to the lake. She laughed and started acting out the fight scene, one minute pretending to be the bird and next the squirrel. Her twisted pony tails danced as she flapped her arms and jerked her neck, pretending she was pecking the squirrel. By the time we got to the line of girls that were sitting on the edge of the pier fishing, both of us were bubbling over with giggles. We sat down, and our team leader, Miss Lisa, brought us two small fishing poles. She then offered us a plastic bag that had about a dozen brown worms in it.
“Ew!” I yelped.
“Yes, we’re going to use live bait. I’ll put it on the hook for you.” Taking one of the worms out of the bag.
I looked at the squirmy creature as she slid the thin metal hook through his body. My mind raced back to the book I read in the third grade, How to Eat Fried Worms. There was no way I could ever eat a worm. I would eat dirt first. I thought.
She handed me the fishing pole and I dropped the line in the water, often pulling it up to see if I had caught anything.
“You’ll know when you catch something. Stop pulling your line out the water. Be patient.” The team leader said to all of us.
Christie and I continued to talk about the squirrel and the bird fight, our anticipated horseback ride, and the marshmallow roast that I was going to miss later that night. Suddenly, I felt a tug at my line. Excitement ran from the back of my neck, down the center of my back as I gripped the fishing pole with both hands.
I caught a fish!” I screamed.
One of the other girls quickly told me that I was lying. I ignored her accusation, knowing that the truth was hooked on my fishing line. Miss Lisa told me to pull my line out of the water very carefully. I slowly rose the pole in the air, lifting the line out of the water, and at the end of the string was a small, orange and white fish, wiggling and flapping its scaly body.
Christie and a few of the other girls clapped and celebrated my catch. I flashed the other girls a wide smile as I boastfully held my fishing pole.
“Good job, Angela.” Miss Lisa said.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“We’re going to take it off the hook and throw it back in the water.” She informed.
Confusion accosted my smile and I shot Miss Lisa a bewildered look.
“Back in the water?” Christie asked, obviously just as confused as I was.
“Yes, we don’t want the fish to die do we? We have to hurry?” She insisted.
Miss Lisa grabbed my pole from my hand and asked me if I wanted to take the fish off the hook. I looked at the flapping, wet fish and quickly declined.
“I’ll do it.” Christie fearlessly volunteered.
Without any fear, Christie carefully slid the hook out of the fish’s bleeding mouth.
She proudly held the orange and right fish up to give the group a good look at the fish, who was obviously gasping for water. Without any warning, she tossed the fish in the air ahead of us like she was throwing a baseball across a grassy field. The orange and white fish soared in the air until gravity took over, causing it to plunge into the lake and disappear from our sight
“He’s probably for sure dead now.” I laughed and said.
”Why did you do that?” Miss Lisa asked after letting out a horrified gasp.
“You said the fish needed to go back in the water, right?” Christie said with a sheepish grin.
Walking away from us with frustration on her heels, the group leader replied, “Yes, we were going to drop it in the water, not send it flying in the water like a cannonball.” .
Christie and I giggled as we continued to sit on the edge of the pier. I noticed that some of the other girls were sniggling when the team leader wasn’t watching. After about five more minutes of fishing, Miss Lisa blew a whistle and told everyone that the fishing activity was over. I was the only girl in our group to catch a fish.

**Special thanks to Aunt Thelma, Frances, and Shirley for giving me feedback on part one. Stay tuned for part three. I'll post it tomorrow.**

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