minute when a woman and a small girl came around the corner of the house.
“Reed?!” the woman shouted into the backyard.
The boys looked at each other. Grandpa had told them they had to be quiet. The woman shouted again.
“Reed?!”
“I’m over here!” the older boy shouted back between clenched teeth. He did not want to make noise, but he knew his mother would go on shouting until he answered.
“Where?” his mother asked turning in the boys direction.
“Over here in the grass!”
Pulling the little girl along, the woman came across the patio and down the steps to where the boys were lying in the grass. Even though it was too dark to see, the older boy hid his slingshot under his leg.
“Reed, you’re not drinking beer are you?” the woman asked when she got within a few feet of the boys.
“No, Mom,” the older boy said, “Jeez, could you keep it down?”
“Why?”
“We’re waiting for a sticklehopper,” the older boy said, “Grandpa said it will come out of the dryer vent when it gets dark enough and quiet enough.”
The woman looked at the back wall of the house. Suddenly she remembered her father’s stories. She remembered the evenings her and her brothers spent hiding in the shadows, swatting off mosquitoes and waiting for something to appear.
“What did Grandpa tell you to do?” she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“He said to shine the light in its face, and then…..” Ken paused.
“And then what?”
Suddenly the lid on the dryer vent rattled. Ken switched on the flashlight. A circle of light appeared on the back of the house, the dryer vent in the center of the circle. Everyone stopped talking and watched it wide-eyed. The little girl said “oh!” and tried to pull away from her mother. But her mother held her hand tightly. Reed readied the net to bring it swooping down. But nothing came out. Reed’s mom was about to say that Grandma must have just turned on the dryer, when she got an idea.
“Did Grandpa tell you to sing to it?” she asked.
Ken switched off the flashlight.
“No,” Reed said.
“I used to sing to them when I was a little girl.”
“Sing to them what?” Ken asked.
“Oh, anything,” the woman answered, “Mary had a Little Lamb or Happy Birthday.”
“Hap-py Birf-day,” the little girl began to sing.
The woman began to laugh. “Not you, silly,“ she said.
The little girl giggled and pointed at the vent, which rattled once more and stopped.
“Anyways,” she said to the boys in a soft voice before turning to leave, “I just wanted to tell you two that they are about to start shooting off fireworks.”
After she left, both boys looked at each other. They could barely see each other’s faces in the darkness, even though they were only a few feet apart.
“What do you want to do?” Ken asked.
“Fireworks,” Reed said.
“Me too,” Ken said, “But what about the stickelhopper?”
“Shine the light over by the flowers,” Reed said.
Ken turned on the flashlight. Reed got up and walked over to house. The cricket stopped chirping. He bent down, took hold of one of the bricks that Grandma used for a border around her flowers, and wriggling it back and forth, pulled it loose. Several water bugs scurried away in the damp mud under the brick.
“Shine the light on the vent,” Reed told Ken.
He did, and Reed took the brick over and leaned it up against the vent. “There!” he said.
Ken got up and walked over to take a look. He pushed the brick so it was firmly set in the grass.
“He won’t get out of there,” he said.
The boys left the flashlight, the butterfly net, and the slingshot on the ground. They told themselves they would come back as soon as the fireworks finished. Soon after they ran off, the cricket started chirping again. Shouts could be heard coming from the front of the house, then a series of pops followed by a big bang that shook the evening stillness. There was a scratching on the vent. It moved a little, but the weight of the brick kept it shut.
Around the corner of the house came an old woman. She walked slowly with shoulders slightly stooped, but her steps were sure. She knew every inch of the yard. She knew where the patio ended. She knew where the steps started. She even knew which stones were uneven. But she nearly tripped on the flashlight where her grandson left it.
She bent down and picked it up. It took her nearly a minute to figure out what it was and turn it on. A circle of light appeared on the ground. She saw the net and the slingshot in the grass. She bent down to gather them up when she noticed the brick leaning against the lid of her dryer vent. She shook her head.
“That won’t do,” she said.
She walked across the grass and pushed the brick away from the vent with her foot. It fell harmlessly into the grass. She turned around, deciding to continue her inspection of the yard with the flashlight in hand. She had not gone three steps when she heard the dryer vent rattling. She turned around and shined the light from the flashlight on the vent. There was nothing there. She ran the light down along the back of the house. Nothing. She turned off the flashlight.
She was about to turn and leave when she got a feeling. She remembered that she left some laundry in the dryer that afternoon before everyone showed up. She stood very quietly, holding the flashlight with both hands, her thumbs on top of the switch. The dryer vent rattled. But she didn’t move. It rattled again, then it banged shut. She switched the light on.
The stickelhopper froze. Grandma did not see it at first. Its head was disguised to look like a leaf, its body like a slim pinecone. Its arms and legs were long and thin like twigs. But the blue sock on the ground had not been there a moment before. Grandma saw the stickelhopper’s hand holding onto the sock. Then it moved. One of its legs started to edge slowly to the left, away from from Grandma.
"Wait, wait,” Grandma whispered softly, “Don’t run away”.
Slowly she reached down for the butterfly net.
“I know you just want that sock,” she said in a soothing voice, “You need it to keep warm in the winter time, don’t you?”
The stickelhopper’s head seemed to cock to one side, like it was trying to understand what she said. Its leg continued to move away slowly to the left. Then its body followed. But it eyes did not stop watching Grandma. She followed with the light from the flashlight. Her hand reached the handle of the butterfly net.
“But how many socks do you need?” Grandma asked with a chuckle, “I think you already took several from us.”
The stickelhopper now looked like it was going to jump. Its body moved over both its legs bent underneath it. If it jumped, Grandma did not think she could catch it. Her hand wrapped around the handle of the butterfly net.
“Don’t run away,” she whispered.
The stickelhopper jumped, three bounds along the back wall of the house, almost too fast for Grandma to follow with the flashlight. She started after it, but she knew she was too late. When she reached the patio steps, she shined the flashlight at back wall of house. She was expecting to see the stickelhopper disappear around the corner. But instead, she saw Grandpa. He stood at the corner of the house with a plastic garbage can in one hand, holding the lid down with the other.
“Did you catch it?” Grandma asked almost out of breath as she reached Grandpa.
He nodded.
Grandma sighed. “That little devil was trying to steal one of the socks I got you for your birthday.”
Grandpa took the flashlight from Grandma. He switched it on. Then slowly he moved the lid back a few inches to peer into the garbage can.
“Be careful,” Grandma said.
Down in the bottom of the garbage can he saw the stickelhopper. It was trapped, and it knew it. It looked up. It arms tried to grab on to the plastic sides of the garbage
can, but it couldn’t.
“You’re getting bold, aren’t you?” Grandpa said to the stickelhopper, “an old sock with a holes in it isn’t good enough for you, is it?”
He reached in and snatched his sock from the bottom of the garbage can. The stickelhopper tried to jump out, but Grandpa was too quick. He quickly shut the lid.
Shouts came from around the corner of the house. Colored flares launched one after the other up over the road. The last one banged loudly. It was followed by laughter. Grandpa handed his sock to Grandma.
“They’ll be finished with the fireworks in a few minutes,” he said.
“I better go get the ice cream ready,” Grandma said.
But she watched as Grandpa secured the lid of the garbage can. He lifted it into the back of his pickup truck. Then he walked around the side of his truck and got in the cab. Grandma walked over to the cab, leaning in the open window on the passenger side.
“You don’t want to show it to everyone?”she asked.
“You know they won’t see it,” he said.
“Except maybe the little ones……” Grandma said, but she saw he was not getting out of his truck…..”What are you going to do with it?”
“Take it down to the woods and let it go,” Grandpa answered.
“But won’t it come back?” Grandma asked.
“I don’t think so,” Grandpa said, “They built that whole subdivision of new homes over there. It’ll be happy hunting for the little fellow.”
Grandma smiled and stepped back away from the truck when Grandpa turned the engine over. She waved as he put it into gear. He rolled down the driveway, turned onto the road, and disappeared into the night, leaving