Ladybug Luck

“Why don’t you ever tie your shoes? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Mom, I'm in a hurry!” Todd mumbled with a mouthful of bologna sandwich.

“You better be home on-”

The door slammed. As loud as it was, Beth wasn’t phased. The abrupt behaviors were a frequent occurrence in her puberty-stricken son; it was the grandfather clock chiming off in the living room that startled her. Almost immediately after the door slammed, the clock announced the beginning of a hot afternoon.

12:00 o’clock.

After twelve unwanted chimes, the clock fell back asleep but didn’t remain completely unnoticed. Its hands ticked as if tapping softly against the reflective glass that protected the inside of the antique.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Beth stared past her disgruntled reflection at the outdated gold numbers in the clock, contemplating whether or not she should blast her foot right through the glass.

Whizzing cars outside the kitchen window pulled her away from her thoughtful regret of procrastination. She tightened her robe, certainly not ashamed she wasn’t yet dressed on a lazy Saturday afternoon. Soon she’d do her hair which was a disheveled mess. But first, she’d fetch the Ricearoni she forgot about in the microwave due to multiple confrontations with her 12-year-old he-man.

Tick-tock. It’d only been 30 seconds or so since Todd vacated the house, but Beth was releasing so much self-destruction, as single mothers often do, that she felt like she unpacked her entire parenting life in that short amount of time.

She sat at the table eating her rice, the sun beaming through the window melting her into an old candle. She only felt a little guilty, imagining what it’d be like if Todd was a girl. It even made her chuckle a little, making rice shoot out her nostrils.

“I’m gonna kill him. I swear.” She muttered to herself. Then she took another bite. “Can’t even just tie his shoes. Sometimes I think he only does it to bother me.” She took another bite, embracing the warm salty taste. After a deep breath, she remembered the importance of picking your battles. And in hindsight maybe untied shoes weren't so bad.

———————————————-

Todd skipped a couple of steps leaping off the front porch. He turned left zooming past the kitchen window. Without breaking a stride he took a vicious bite of his sandwich. Twenty seconds into his desperate sprint, puddles of sweat already began to form in his armpits.

Tick-tock. He wanted to stop. Perhaps the mouthful of bologna and mustard restrained his ability to breathe, but his side quickly began to ache. Then he thought about getting a comfy spot at his best friend Ron’s house and getting first dibs on a controller playing the new game Goldeneye. He found more energy and pressed on, crossing over Blue Ridge Street to Flurries Road.

Forty seconds into a dead sprint from his house, he was just a few houses down to the home stretch. To ignore the side ache, he thought of a plan to sneak past Mrs. Monroe without having to take his shoes off.

His eyes were on the prize. He widened his gaze, staring down the blue front door. He saw his path across the well-groomed lawn.

Not far ahead a thunderbird sat idled in the driveway puffing smoke from its muffler. A blonde-haired senior in high school that Todd would’ve recognized as his new neighborhood crush if he’d been paying attention, swung open the passenger door to the thunderbird and enthusiastically jumped in. His eyes, however, were too fixed on his remaining path into Ron’s house.

Ten seconds left until 12:01. Todd was already late. He thought about Timmy getting first dibs on a controller and that made him so angry his head escaped into a grandeur fantasy of a backyard WWE match with the red-haired freckled idiot.

Five seconds. In his fantasy, Todd was leaping from the ropes while Timmy lay helpless on the floor. He was so caught up in this pleasant daydream, that he failed to notice the thunderbird rocketing out the driveway.

Four seconds. Tires screeched. A mixture of white and black smoke rose from the driveway into the maple tree in the front yard.

Three seconds. Todd was startled by the noise of the roaring muscle car, pulling him from his fantasy. But was it too late? He made eye contact with the passenger princess just before his body was to become a floor mat.

One second. Todd tripped on his shoelaces a foot from the car. His face found the sidewalk. His right shoe flew off into the yard.

His face burned. An open wound on his cheek was exposed to the humid air. He sat up and clutched his face just inches away from the car door.

“Oh my, are you okay?”

It was her, that angelic southern accent that flowed like Iced tea after a hot day on the baseball field. Her hair swayed behind her with a breeze that seemed to only favor pretty girls deserving of a cooling off everywhere they go.

“Let me help. Are you hurt?” She grabbed Todd by the elbow and hoisted him to his feet, diminishing any pain that throbbed in his face.

He couldn’t find any words to say. His hand was still attached to his open wound.

“So lucky we didn’t hit you.” Where you headed in such a hurry?

No hurry, Todd thought. I’m right where I need to be.

Suddenly feeling awkward for staring too long, he bent down and began to tie his laces.

“I’m alright,” instead of making eye contact, he stared at a ladybug crossing the sidewalk. It climbed over his untied lace just before Todd crossed it into a loop and then it made its way into the grass.