The Tree Monsters

Chuck Spencer poked at the hot coals from the campfire as he muttered his complaint. They glowed bright orange as they died, but little flames shot out as his stick revived them.

Chuck's twelve-year-old sister Diane stood up. "Well, cheer up, Chas. Your buddy's coming. I'm going to bed. You stay out of trouble, hear?"

Tony Rivers from the next campsite flopped down in the lawn chair next to Chuck. The two families pulled into the campgrounds almost at the same time yesterday. They hit it off right away and were doing everything together.

"What's happening, Chuckster?" greeted Tony. They high-fived.

Chuck watched his sister go inside the trailer. He went back to poking the coals. "Not much, bud. It's been a dead evening."

Tony found one of the sticks the Spencers had been using to toast marshmallows earlier. He joined in stirring the coals back to life.

"I know," Tony said. "We're the only black family here. We just don't fit in."

"Somebody bugging you? We'll go kick some butt."

"It's nothing like that. I guess it's my fault. I come from a black neighborhood, and I just don't feel right here. It's hard to talk to white folks. I'm glad my dad took me fishing today."

"How'd it go?"

"Okay, I guess, for him. He likes it. So does Mom, but I hate it. I always have. Don't say anything to them, though."

Chuck laughed. "I know what you mean. I went fishing with my old man once. He wasn't catching anything, so I got this idea. I knew there were fish around, so I tossed this M-80 into the water."

Tony cringed and laughed at the same time. "I'll bet your dad just loved that. He probably beat your butt."

"I got a good swat for it. It scared all the fish away, and no one caught anything."

"I'll bet it killed some of them too."

Chuck looked at him. "How did you guess? We got in trouble for that too."