TUCK EVERLASTING
by Natalie Babbitt
(excerpt)


	There was a clearing directly in front of her,
at the center of which an enormous tree thrust
up, its thick roots rumpling the ground ten feet
around in every direction. Sitting relaxed with
his back against the trunk was a boy, almost a
man. And he seemed so glorious to Winnie that she
lost her heart at once. 


        He was thin and sunburned, this wonderful boy,
with a thick mop of curly hair, and he wore his
battered trousers and loose, grubby shirt with as
much self-assurance as if they were silk and
satin. A pair of green suspenders, more
decorative than useful, gave the finishing touch,
for he was shoeless and there was a twig tucked
between the toes of one foot. He waved the twig
idly as he sat there, his face turned up to gazed
at the branches far above him. The golden morning
light seemed to glow all around him, while
brighter patches fell, now on his lean, brown
hands, now on his hair and face, as the leaves
stirred over his head. 


        Then he rubbed an ear carelessly, yawned, and
stretched. Shifting his position, he turned his
attention to a little pile of pebbles next to
him. As Winnie watched, scarcely breathing, he
moved the pile carefully to one side, pebble by
pebble. Beneath the pile, the ground was shiny
wet. The boy lifted a final stone and Winnie saw
a low spurt of water, arching up and returning,
like a fountain, into the ground. He bent and put
his lips to the spurt, drinking noiselessly, and
then he sat up again and drew his shirt sleeve
across his mouth. As he did this, he turned his
face in her direction-and their eyes met. 


        For a long moment they looked at each other in
silence, the boy with his arm still raised to his
mouth. Neither of them moved. At last his arm
fell to his side, "You may as well come out," he
said, with a frown. 


        Winnie stood up, embarrassed and, because of
that, resentful, "I didn't mean to watch you,"
she protested as she stepped into the clearing,
"I didn't know anyone would be here."


        The boy eyed her as she came forward. "What're
you doing her?" he asked her sternly. 


        "It's my wood," said Winnie, surprised by the
question. "I can come here whenever I want to. At
least, I was never here before, but I could have
come, anytime."


        "Oh," said the boy, relaxing a little, "You're
one of the Fosters then."


        "I'm Winnie," she said, "Who are you?"


        "I'm Jesse Tuck," he answered. "How do." And he
put out a hand. 


        Winnie took his hand, staring at him. He was
even more beautiful up close.