Chapter Text
The fresh air of the morning shining through the sleek curtains, the crickets in the night under the reflection of the moon, and his hands against the cold bumpy dirt of the earth. Things little Dennis never knew to hold onto for a little longer. He didn't know this wasn't going to last a lifetime.
As the sun poked through his rusting window the rooster croaked validating his wake up call. Dennis curled his hands into fists and furiously rubbed his eyes pulling his quilted covers off of him. His brothers had already woken up and began their day, but as the youngest brother he was often given grace in the morning, despite their consistent tournaments. His feet touched the cold floorboards of his room as stepped over to the bed beside him.
“Sheila.” Deniss whispered above his younger sister's bed. She was curled up back facing him, no response. “Shelly?” He announced louder hoping she wouldn't have a hissy fit. Her response came in groans as she curled further into her covers. “C’mon shell mama’s gonna cause a fuss if you not up.”
Still no response. Dennis stepped back hesitant in his next move. Reassuring himself as a last resort he yanked on one of her pigtails. She jolted up and shoved his chest.
“Denny you brat!” Sheila stared daggers through his head, she hated being woken up by her brother. She quickly got out of bed begrudgingly. “Imma tell mama you've been pulling hair again. I would've gotten up on my own.” Her nose scrunched as she stormed out of the room in her oversized floral nightgown Mama made for her.
Sheila or Shelly or Shells was the youngest of the Whitakers, she was the family's baby. Her hair was golden blonde and she took pride in growing it as long as she could. Her face splattered with freckles just like Dennis. The two looked more like siblings than the older three brothers. Despite their common ground in looks the two bickered. All. The. Time. Constantly getting on each other's nerves.
“Denny pulled my hair!” Her voice echoed through their quaint farmhouse. Sheila approached her mother who was cooking in the kitchen. She held onto her mothers worn white apron, almost grabbing at her navy blue blouse as she stared deviously back at Dennis who stood guilty at the edge of the kitchen. His saddened eyes ached with shame as he grabbed the arm of his baggy cotton pajamas.
“I really meant no harm mama,” He really didn't, although he did purposefully cause his sister harm he meant no foul behind his actions, “she wouldn't wake up.” His words didn't matter, he still got lectured and scowled at by his mother. Dennis could take it though, he took it from everyone, he was tough.
The day was hot, scorching the once green grass into a dead yellow. Days like this made them wish for water. Dennis was petting their cow as his second oldest brother John milked her. As he pet her back he looked off into the distance where the crops met the grassy dirt.
“The grass looks like wheat.”
“Uh-huh.”
“John, look you wouldn't even know the difference.”
“Busy.” Dennis huffed at his brother's response, he thought he was too good to just look up for a second. As he admired his amazing observation his eyes made their way to the other side of their lot… the trees. The trees were in the forest beside their house. It went on for miles, miles of bushes and oaks. He would often find his mind drifting to the forest and what it would be like to explore it. His mother forbade it, saying it was nothing but dangerous. She didn't understand he was tough. If he went into the forest he’d put his fathers overalls on and trudge his way through. When in the forest he would take care of the ducks and the squirrels, all of them would get pets. But his father’s overalls were locked away, and his mother forbade it.
Night came quickly, but it was still hot, there was a heat wave. Dennis took off his muddy jeans and slipped into his baggy cotton pajamas. He didn't bother putting his shirt on, he was sweating as it was. Sheila was already in bed, her shiny golden hair twisted into one braid tonight. She laid with her back towards Dennis, a small snore escaping her mouth.
“I love you Shells.” Dennis whispered as he kissed her forehead gently. He stepped back and snuggled in under his own covers reaching to turn off the lamp before bed.
Morning came and the Rooster was just as vocal as yesterday. Dennis groaned as he got out of bed. Struggling to open his eyes he followed his same morning routine. Wake up, then wake Shells up. He went to grab at her pony when a hand grabbed his wrist. His groggy eyes jolted fully open, startled. Sheila grabbed his wrist.
“Your up Shells?” Dennis exclaimed, genuinely shocked. She never woke up before him.
“Couldnt sleep.” Her voice was raspy.
“Oh, was it the heat?” Just then their mother walked through the door. She was dressed in her outside work clothes with her hair up and her sunhat on.
“Dennis, baby Sheila is ill. I'm going out onto the farm. I need you to take care of her.” Despite being able to hide from the heat, Dennis didn't want to be stuck inside all day.
“But mama-”
“No butts, I need you to do this,” Her voice was stern, so Dennis listened, “Keep her cool, I know it's hot.” She turned to leave the room before yelling back, “ And be nice to each other!"
Dennis listened. He spent the morning providing for Sheila's every need. He stood in the kitchen making her tea. He recalled what his mother taught him about making them. What each herb helped with. He felt like a scientist creating new formulas to help his sister. Ginger and peppermint for her flu, honey to help soothe her throat. Stirring it slowly he watched as the mixture brewed in the hot water from the kettle. Carefully, he brought the tea to his sister, setting it in her hand, and she drank it fast. And even quicker she fell back asleep. Dennis sat in his bed singing tunes to himself, humming and whistling occasionally.
“Denny.” Sheila woke up her voice groggy, but no longer raspy. Dennis quickly got to his feet and went to her bedside.
“What’s up Shelly?” Concern dripping from his face.
“I feel good.”
“Hm?”
“Your tea, it made me feel better.” Dennis was taken back, he helped her. He healed his baby sister. Despite the urge to poke fun at his sister, her gratitude felt genuine, and he had this weird pit of satisfaction in him regarding the fact that he was able to cure her illness. “I’m good now,” She smiled, “But, I'm hot.” She really was, and so was Dennis, their skin beamed with sweat.
“I'm sorry you want some water?” She sat with his question, thinking.
“I have a better idea.” Dennis’s face scrunched in confusion.
“You know mama dont want you wasting water if you aint dirty–” she cut him off.
“No, I don't mean that. I have a better idea.” Dennis sat still confused, what could she possibly be hinting at.
“Theres the river–”
“River?”
“Shush. It's in the trees–”
“You know mama forbids us from going in the trees–”
“SHUSH! It's safe. Only a mile in, I've been before.” Dennis was completely puzzled when she could have possibly done this. There was a strict policy of being near or furthermore in the trees.
“How do you know about it?” Silence followed his words, Sheila swallowed hard.
“Papa took me.” Dennis held his breath.
“Papa…”
“I understand if you don't wanna go–” Sheila looked to her feet dangling from the bed.
“No.” He put his hand on his baby sister's shoulder.
“I wanna go.”