The Hook

The sun over the far horizon crept up over the hills, bringing with it dawn and the start of a July day that promised to be a scorcher. Howard, a boy of only twelve, wanders out in the road in front of his house, barefoot. He wears a pair of cut off jeans and he carries with him his father's Zebco fishing rod and an empty tin of Folger's coffee. Staring at the ground, he intently studies something, when he is interrupted by a voice from across the road.
"Howard!" The boy annoyingly rolls his eyes before turning around to look to see where the already known voice was coming from. His next door neighbor and classmate Melanie, a cute, pigtail sporting girl, skips towards him, careful to avoid the occasional car or truck that rarely passes.
"Hello Mel," he said, turning his attention back to the dirt in front of him.
"I betcha it's gonna be hotter than yesterday. That rain we got didn't do much at all," the girl said. She too began staring at the ground with Howard, and when he bent down on one knee she followed suit.
"Well actually, it brings up the worms," he said, spotting something just off the road in the freshly cut green grass and swiftly grabbing it. It wriggled around in his hand for a moment before he held it up proudly, his chest puffed out like a scared porcupine fish.
"Look at this fat one," he said.
"How can you touch 'em? They give me goose bumps!" she said. Howard let his fingertips feel the cool, mud filled ridges of the worm before holding it by an end, dangling it up close in her face. Melanie backed up slowly, shaking her head from side to side and shuddering at the same time.
"Howard Stevens, don't you dare!" she screamed, turning around and running back across the road to her own front yard. Mission accomplished, he thought. Turning his attention back to the wet and writhing earthworm in his left hand, he picked up the coffee can and let it gently fall inside to once again be with its companions. Replacing the lid, he realized that he had forgotten to cut slits in the top for his little captives to breathe.
Knowing he was not allowed back inside for the day, he thought about what he would use to cut the holes. He stepped off the road and retreated into the shade of an enormous Black Locust tree, the coffee can tucked securely under his armpit. This grass was different, he thought. He could feel it immediately. The lush clumps that protruded just slightly above their brethren tickled the space between his toes and massaged the bottoms of his much calloused feet. Leaning his father's rod up against the tree, he noticed the seemingly endless thick vertical lines of bark that ran all the way up the tree. Looking high above he could see what used to be thick green and beautiful foliage but what was now a charred reminder of storms past. His eyes slowly followed the tree down, noticing too the missing limbs that were violently destroyed from last winter's ice storm. The morning's dew had made its way onto cobwebs that spread themselves along the lower branches of the tree, and Howard jumped in an attempt to brush them away. Realizing defeat, he sat down on the squashy sod and contemplated his original dilemma.
"I don't think fish like dead worms," he said, out loud and to no one in particular. Letting his head rest on the firm surface of the tree, he accidentally bumped into the fishing rod, which consequently went sliding down onto the ground next to him. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed something gleaming from the sun's early morning rays. A closer inspection revealed the hook attached to his fishing line was resting on the same grass he had given so much thought to previously. Of course," he said to himself, "The Hook."