Goose Chase

         I woke up to the warm sun, radiating its heat through my window. I checked my clock. It’s
9:00 on a Saturday morning. It’s my birthday!
         I ran downstairs, not even caring to run a comb through my hair. I was the only one up. I
decided I would make breakfast. Pancakes sounded good to me. Why wouldn’t parents trust me in the kitchen? We used to make pancakes in Girl Scouts well before I was 10.
        Bisquick. Check. Eggs. Check. Lemon juice. Check. Baking powder. Check. Oil for the griddle. Check. Chocolate chips. I’ll pile them on.
         I dumped the correct amount of each ingredient into a bowl, and stirred it up. Perfect. Now for cooking them.
         I poured a little bit of the batter in each of the corners, careful not to let them touch. I waited for them to cook. The first batch always takes the longest.
        Daisy, our dog, whined. She needed to go outside, so I took her out.
        I came back from our walk, and mom was standing in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed, giving me the stink eye. The kitchen smelled like a campfire, burning, and full of smoke. What had I done?
       Mom lectured me about responsibility, and not being so impulsive. I just wanted breakfast, but I could see her point. I just needed to not be so risky. As for the pancakes, they were toast.

        I opened my presents, and had cake and ice cream, just like any other birthday. I thanked my family for the gifts, and put them up in my room. I guessed this birthday would be like any other. You wake up, so excited for the day ahead, but it’s really the most boring thing in the world. I wondered if this birthday would be just a little different than the others. Just a little.

      When Mom called me downstairs, the whole day changed.

     “Here’s a choice Toby. You can accept a month of chores, or you can find all the clues to find another gift within ten minutes. Once that ten minutes runs out, you don’t get anything. I’ll give you five minutes to decide, starting now.”

       I thought it out. I’m a pretty risky person. I don’t go with the safe option. What my heart goes with, I go with. No chores sounded good, but the clues sounded more interesting. I made my decision.

      “I’ll take the clues.” I told my mom. She nodded, and got out a timer.
      “Here’s the first clue. Ready, set, go!”
       My heart raced as I read the first clue. It read Stop and look in swirly handwriting. I knew it

was my mom’s, but that didn’t matter. What could it mean?
       Looking around was my first instinct. I looked in the plush, green grass under my feet.

       Nothing. I dug an inch under the warm, worm filled soil. Still nothing.
       This obviously wasn’t working. It had to mean something different.
       It hit me. There’s a stop sign right next to our house. We live on a corner, connecting a street

and a court. It was perfect.
       I ran to the bright red stop sign that laughed at my dumbness as each precious second passed.

On the back of that sign, there was a yellow sticky note. It said High Ho Cherry­O.

       That’s the name of a game that was in our closet for ages. I remember it because my brother started throwing the little cherries at me once. Long story. I reached in the closet, and looked for it. I finally found it. The box wasn’t easy to open. I almost had to rip the box to get it open!
I opened it. Nothing unusual. I looked under each of the little pieces and parts. No clue. This was hopeless. I knew I would lose, but there’s no way I was going to give up. Not this girl.
I ran to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. A blast of cold air hit me. I thought there would be a jar of cherries, but once again there was nothing. It was like all other memories of cherries had been erased from my head. I even cared to check in the pantry for some can of cherry pie filling, or something! I grew more and more frustrated. What was I doing wrong?
        I went to Mom to look at the time. I had three minutes to come up with something. I was going to push through. I was going to get this.
        I looked at the cherry tree that was older than me for ideas. I ran towards it, suddenly realizing that this tree could hold a clue. High Ho would refer to the tree. Cherry­O to specify which tree. I should have known. I knew there wouldn’t have been time to beat myself up about it. I ran to the tree like my life was on the line.
       The tree was farther away than I thought. I started climbing the tree. I thought about the seconds ticking by. The branches scratched my face, as if it didn’t want to be climbed. I counted and calculated my every move in an instant. I was going to get this clue. It’s my birthday.
I felt the rough bark on my hands slowly wear away the tough skin on my hands. I felt a little blood dripping down my knee, thanks to a sharp little twig. I could see it. There was a flash of yellow. That was the next clue. I knew I just had to stretch out my short, slender limbs to get it. One stupid inch that I couldn’t reach.

      A sudden ringing shattered my concentration. My heart sank. That was the timer. I lost. No bonus gift, more chores for me. I was Cinderella without a happy ending. I needed my fairy godmother to help me face the chores.
      “Sorry Toby.” My mom said. I felt I disappointed her. I should have chosen the chores. She was even saying this morning how I shouldn’t take as many risks. This birthday wasn’t like any other.