Читать книгу The Misadventures of Seldovia Sam - Susan Woodward Springer - Страница 10

The Too-Big Boots

Deep within his quilt and his scratchy-warm wool blankets, Sam turned over. He heard early morning sounds rising from the kitchen below. There was a soft, low whistle, then the skittering of dog toenails on linoleum, and finally the door opening and closing.

It was Dad letting Sam’s dog, Neptune, outside for her morning routine. Then Sam heard the wh-h-r-r-r of the coffee grinder and the clanking of pans on the big gas range.

Dad’s footsteps fell on the stairs, and his deep voice called, “Sam. Time to get up.”

Sam burrowed farther under the covers and pulled the pillow over his head. It muffled the sound of his father’s voice.

“Come on, Sam. The clams won’t wait.”

Sam was excited to go clamming with his father, but it was awfully hard to leave his warm bed.

Wh-o-o-os-s-h-h!!! Off flew the covers! Sam drew his legs up like a scared hermit crab as the cold air hit them. He opened his eyes, blinking.

Dad stood over him, smiling. “I know it’s tough to get up, Sam, but we have to get moving or else we’ll miss the good clam tide.”

Dad handed Sam his clothes and Sam shivered as he hurried into them. He followed Dad down the narrow wooden steps and hopped across the cold floor on his bare feet. He scrambled up onto a stool next to Dad.

“Good morning, love,” said Sam’s mother. She placed a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of him, and planted a kiss on top of his rumpled head.

“’Morning, Mom,” replied Sam, as he dove into the oatmeal.

“I wish I could go clamming with you two, but I’ve got early flights today,” said Mom. Sam’s mother was a bush pilot. She flew a small plane that carried people and supplies back and forth from Seldovia to the bigger towns across Kachemak Bay.

Outside the kitchen window, the sky was still dark. Sam could barely make out Neptune, waiting patiently on the porch. He washed down his oatmeal with a big glass of juice.

“I brought your new boots inside to warm up a bit,” said Dad. “You’ll want to throw on an extra pair of socks.”

Sam stared at the shiny black rubber knee boots. Ugh, he thought. Sam grabbed two thick pairs of socks out of the dryer and pulled them on his feet. He frowned as he slid his foot into one of the stiff boots. Even with two socks on, he could move his foot all around inside.

“Mom, these boots are so big,” Sam complained. “I wish I could have a pair of hip waders like Dad.”

“Sam, we went over this yesterday,” said Dad patiently. “Hip waders are too expensive for a kid who’s still growing. These knee boots are the smallest ones Mr. Murphy could find for you at the store.”

“As fast as you’re growing, those boots will be a perfect fit by next week!” teased Mom.

Sam smiled halfheartedly. He loved Seldovia, but sometimes not being able to drive to the big stores to buy exactly what you wanted was a real pain.

How in the world would he be able to walk through the gooey clam mud in these clown-sized boots?