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Margaret crawled out of her tent snickering, holding two Secret Club water bottles. She peeked over the fence and spotted an unfortunately familiar red-headed nuisance crawling out of his inferior fort. He got up and began strolling towards his house, not taking notice of the tall girl.
She had superglued on the top of one of the bottles so it would be impossible to open. It was a foolproof plan to prank the stupid boys, and who better to test it on than the one next door?
“Oh, Henry~” Margaret sang out with a false sweetness.
Henry looked up at her and furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you want?” he asked, voice laced with irritation.
Quickly double-checking that she had the correct bottle (which she had discreetly marked), she placed the untampered bottle by her feet and held out the other one.
“You look really strong. Please could you take the top off this bottle for me?”
Henry physically recoiled, having been caught off guard by Margaret’s uncharacteristic language. Did Margaret, the moodiest person he knew, just compliment him?
Distrust and uncertainty colored his face. “Why can’t you do it yourself?”
“I’ve tried, but it’s impossible,” Margaret whined. She attempted to twist the top off to demonstrate. “See?”
Henry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If you can’t do it, I guess you’ll just have to die of thirst,” he spat out. He started walking away.
Margaret loudly sighed. “Well, I shouldn’t have expected such a weak boy to be able to help me. I lied about you looking strong, by the way.”
Henry froze in his steps. Weak?
He took out his hands and balled up his fists at his sides. He faced the brunette and glared at her. “I am not weak!” he shouted.
“Yes, you are!” Margaret shouted back. “You could barely earn your five-metre swimming badge. You’re terrible at playing football. You can’t even win a single thing on Sport’s Day.”
How dare she?!
“I got that badge on the day when no one else won any of theirs!” Henry protested. “I scored the winning goal in that football game, and I won the cross-country run!”
“And in all of those you cheated,” Margaret correctly pointed out. “You lied about a shark being in the pool, used your hands to score that goal, and distracted everyone with sweets in the cross-country run.”
“I— you don’t have any proof!” Henry stammered out, crossing his arms. Besides, none of that mattered, anyway. He won in the end, one way or another, and that meant he, the leader of the Purple Hand Gang, was not in fact, weak.
Margaret rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious once you think about it for more than five seconds.” She smirked. “But if you really insist otherwise, you would have no problem helping me with—”
“Give me that!” Henry yelled, running up to Margaret and snatching the water bottle. He’d open the stupid bottle if it would get Margaret to shut up. He wasn’t weak. He’d show her.
Henry grabbed the top and gave it one big twist.
It didn’t move. Not even a little bit.
Henry blinked a few times in disbelief. Maybe he didn’t grasp it enough.
He tried opening it again, twisting the top even harder.
It still didn’t move.
Henry glanced up at Margaret, who stared back with an innocent smile.
Scoffing, Henry made another attempt using his left hand.
“Having trouble, Henry?”
“Shut up!” Henry growled. What was wrong with this bottle?
He gave up and switched back to using his right hand. He moved his hair out of his face and grabbed the top again, placing his entire palm this time. He tried to turn it to the right with all his strength.
Suddenly, his palm slipped around the ridges of the top.
“Argh!” Henry cried out.
The bottle fell into the grass. A sharp, stinging sensation screamed from the inside of his right hand. He immediately clutched it with his other hand, feeling a trace of tears pricking the corner of his eyes.
Once the humiliation started settling in, Henry swallowed. “Well—” He turned his head back to Margaret, glowering at her. “You couldn’t open it either, so that makes you weak!”
Wordlessly, Margaret grabbed another bottle next to her feet. She held it up so Henry could see and twisted the top off effortlessly.
“That was another lie,” Margaret said as Henry’s eyes widened. She smirked again. “Guess you couldn’t do it after all!” she laughed before walking back into her house. The test was a complete success. She couldn’t wait to see the other boys seethe when she tried it on them!
Once Margaret was gone, Henry carefully uncovered his right hand and cringed at the sight. A section of the skin was dusted red from the irritation. Separate tiny dots of crimson formed along it.
Henry covered it again. There was no way he would ask Mum or Dad for help. They would keep bugging him to tell them what happened and then give him a long, boring lecture about why he needed to be more careful until his ears fell off.
The answer was obvious. He would have to fix it himself. He had plenty of small injuries in the past to know how to take care of a wound. True, he would have to do everything with one hand, but it was nothing he couldn’t accomplish.
His parents would still notice his bandage, but he could find a way to cover it up with something.
The only thing he had to do now was to sneak into the bathroom. It’d be easy, he would tiptoe past the living and quietly walk up the stairs. If anyone asked from that point, he’d say he was using the loo.
However, before Henry could execute his brilliant scheme, Mum opened the backyard door and walked out. Quickly, Henry kicked away the fallen bottle and hid his hands behind his back. Mum’s eyes roamed the yard until they fell on Henry.
“Henry, Ralph’s here!” she called out to him.
Rats! Henry thought there would be more time before Ralph arrived.
He ran across the yard and through the door, accidentally shoving his mum on his way in. He heard a “Don’t be horrid, Henry!” behind him as he ran to the doorway.
There was no sign of Ralph.
Henry turned to face Mum. “Where is he?”
“He went to your room,” Mum replied with a sigh, shaking her head from her son’s antics.
Henry dashed up the stairs towards his bedroom, noticing the door was open. He stepped inside and looked around in confusion.
Everything seemed the same. His comics and toys were scattered all over the floor. Mr. Kill was still resting on his unmade bed. His clothes were spilling out of his closet. But no Ralph.
The door loudly slammed shut.
“Boo!” a voice shouted behind him.
Henry screamed and whipped around, spotting Ralph wearing a smug grin.
“Oh, real funny, Ralph!” Henry growled out. He placed his injured hand behind his back.
“Ha!” Ralph mocked. “I got you, admit it.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Did so! You screamed!”
Henry eyed the exit. “It was because of the door!”
“But that was still me!”
“Ugh, whatever, Ralph!”
Ralph basked in his glory. He then tilted his head when he noticed Henry’s arm. He stepped a little to the side and examined the shorter boy. He halted when he saw Henry’s closed fist.
“Why are you hiding your hand?” Ralph asked, pointing. “Are you holding something?”
“No!” Henry immediately said.
Ralph glanced towards the hand, and then back at Henry. He slowly grinned. “Let me see.”
Uh oh.
“No way!” Henry exclaimed. He clutched his right hand with his left.
“C’mon, show me!” Ralph stepped closer. “Is it a toy?”
“Nuh uh!” Henry stepped back.
“Is it a Gizmo?”
“No!”
“Is it a sweet?”
“No!”
Ralph ran up to shorten the distance between the two before reaching out to Henry’s hand. “Give me a peek, Henry!”
“Never!”
Ralph chased Henry around his room, jumping over the scattered toys and avoiding the furniture. Henry knocked over his chair and kicked some toys in his path to slow down Ralph but to no avail. Despite his situation, Henry found himself laughing along.
Henry took a different turn and ended up almost running into the closet. Before he could move away, Ralph wrapped his arms around Henry from behind, again trying to reach his friend's hands.
“Get off, Ralph!” Henry pushed Ralph's face with his non-injured hand.
In retaliation, Ralph poked Henry’s armpit, making him shriek and let his guard down. Ralph wasted no time in stepping in front of Henry and grabbing Henry’s hand with both of his.
“Ha!” Ralph said, face radiating with victory. “Now what are you—”
His smile faded when he saw the scrape in Henry’s palm. He scrutinized the spot in concern.
A tense silence followed before Henry yanked his hand back and clutched it to his chest. He averted his gaze to the wall to avoid Ralph’s attention.
“...Henry? What happened to your hand?” he heard Ralph tentatively ask.
“I need to fix it,” Henry said, not wanting to answer the question. If he told the truth, Ralph would never stop teasing him. Then the whole school would find out and he’d be laughed at for an eternity. His name would be in the mud. He’d never have a moment of peace again.
Henry stepped around Ralph and opened the door, heading for the restroom. The sound of Ralph’s footsteps followed him.
“What are you going to do?” Ralph questioned.
“What people always do,” Henry responded. “So if you just wait outside—”
“Should I get your mum?”
“No!” Henry shouted.
Ralph was taken aback at the outburst.
“She can’t know,” Henry uttered, lowering his voice to a mumble.
“Oh.”
Henry pulled a stool and stood on it to reach the cabinet. He opened the doors and rummaged around for the first-aid kit.
“Just close the door and guard it to make sure no one comes in,” Henry ordered as he grabbed the kit and stepped off the stool.
“Okay.”
Henry set the kit on the counter. He turned on the faucet and washed his hands like his mum would always make him do (something about preventing infections). After turning off the faucet and drying his hands, he took the kit off the counter and sat on the floor.
Ralph crossed his arms and leaned against the door, occasionally glancing at Henry.
Henry opened the box and used his left hand to sift through the items.
Frustration crept in. There wasn’t a bandage strip big enough. Did they run out of them when he needed one the most? His parents should’ve remembered to restock after they used a bandaid on Peter last time! Or better yet, they shouldn’t have wasted one on that worm at all! It wasn’t like she needed a big one for a small paper cut.
Groaning, Henry reluctantly grabbed the large bandage roll and the gauze instead. He placed the gauze on the affected area.
Well, at least he could play it off to his parents as if he was pretending to be a mummy, even if that angered them.
He took note of the roll. How was he supposed to do this?
“I can help.”
Henry looked at Ralph, confused. “You can?”
“Uh,” Ralph scratched his head sheepishly. “I get cuts too, and I watch my butler when he helps with everything, so I know what to do. And you can’t tie that bandage with one hand, so if you want me to…” he trailed off.
He did make a point. It would make things go faster anyway.
“Just don’t make it too tight,” Henry said. He held out the bandage to him.
Ralph walked up and sat across from Henry on the floor. He took the roll and carefully held Henry’s hand as he wrapped the bandage around it.
The gentle contact caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to rise in Henry’s chest. Henry squeezed his eyes shut as his cheeks began buzzing. This had been happening more and more frequently lately. Maybe he was sick with something after all.
Henry inhaled and then exhaled through his nostrils.
A strong yank made Henry yelp. He shot a glare at the other, fuzzy feeling dissipating. “Ralph!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Ralph defended. He finished tying the small knot. “There, done, see?”
“Oh.” Henry gave his hand a once-over. He then beamed at Ralph. “Not bad!”
Ralph sat one knee up and rested an arm on it. He beamed back before he put on an inquisitive expression. “Now are you going to tell me what happened?”
“What? No!” Henry whined. Would he ever give up?
“C’mon, you owe me now,” Ralph claimed.
Henry crossed his arms in exasperation. He should have taken his chances with Mum.
“What if I gave you two pounds?”
On second thought, Henry didn’t necessarily have to tell the truth.
Henry looked at Ralph. “If I tell you, you need to help me get even. Oh, and you have to give me two pounds.”
Ralph raised an eyebrow and shrugged half-heartedly. “Fine. So, are you going to tell me or what?”
“Okay, okay,” Henry replied. “I got it because of Margaret.”
Ralph’s face twisted in disgust at the name. “How?”
Here it goes.
“Margaret was chasing me, and I, uh, had to climb up a tree,” Henry said. “Then I slipped while climbing it.”
That should be good enough.
Ralph blinked a few times to process the information. Then, he covered his mouth in an attempt to prevent the guffaws that managed to escape anyway.
Huh?
“You climbed a tree?” Ralph managed to let out in between his snorts. “That’s— you were that scared of Margaret?”
Henry scowled. That was not what he intended to sound like. And now Ralph was laughing at him. Lying solved nothing.
“Ooo,” Ralph teased. “Henry’s scared of a girl!” Ralph laughed some more.
When Henry didn’t answer, Ralph glanced at his friend. “Henry?”
Henry was completely focused on the floor, eyes narrowed and cheeks burned with embarrassment. There was something else to his expression that Ralph couldn’t quite place. He seemed annoyed, but also… sad?
Suddenly feeling a wave of regret, Ralph stopped laughing.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah! Margaret sucks. We’ll get back at her.”
Henry shifted his gaze back to Ralph.
“And trees also suck,” Ralph continued.
Henry’s dejected expression vanished from Ralph’s change of tone, replaced with a placated one. “I told you what happened, so you owe me two pounds now.”
Grumbling, Ralph reached into his pocket and tossed two one-pound coins to Henry, who gleefully collected them.
“I know what to do,” Henry said after he pocketed his loot. He gave Ralph a wide smile. “But we’ll need some super glue.”
Ralph smiled back.
On Monday, neither the boys nor the girls could twist the tops off their water bottles.