Over the Eternal Garden Wall and Into the Unknown

Chapter 11: Potatoes Without Molasses

Chapter 11: Potatoes Without Molasses

"Thanks again for letting me stay here, ma'am," Wirt smiled softly, his eyes scanning the rest of Beatrice's family. Everyone seemed much happier after him and Beatrice made up. Even the dog was content, curled up peacefully near the crackling fire, dark orbs set comfortably upon the group.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to have you, dear," the woman replied, setting a bowl of creamy butter on the table. "Does anyone want any butter for their potatoes?"

"Ooh! Me! I want some!" a chubby, mahogany-haired boy of around nine answered, arms already stretched out to receive the topping. He took it gratefully from his mother, immediately scooping a generous amount and plopping it onto his plate.

"Hey! Lawrence," an older male piped up from the opposite side, his voice smooth with a tone in the mid-ranges. "Save some for the rest of us, will ya'? We want butter, too."

"I am saving you some," he retorted, giving himself another heaping portion of the yellow goodness. "After I get mine."

"No, Caleb's right," a girl slightly smaller than Beatrice frowned, causing her twin brother's eyes to widen. Wirt guessed that she didn't usually side with Caleb on normal occasions. "There's not going to be any left for us if you take it all."

Lawrence sighed, putting the bowl back on the table. Nearly half of it was gone. "Fine, Amanda. It's not like I want any more, anyway."

The girl grunted in annoyance, but didn't say anything under her mother's forceful glare. Butter wasn't worth punishment, no matter how great it tasted.

"The potatoes are decent as they are," Wirt offered weakly, trying his best to act sure of himself. "We should . . . just eat them . . . by themselves . . ."

Beatrice, who was sitting beside him, chuckled to herself at Wirt's attempt at peace. Most of the other children laughed as well, although a boy roughly older than Greg let loose a flurry of thoughtless giggles. Even the parents had a small smile on their aging faces.

What is it? Am I missing something? The gnome-dressed teen frowned, an embarrassed blush creeping onto his faded cheeks. Is it my voice? Oh, wow, I really hope it isn't my voice. He'd been laughed at at school for that before, and it definitely didn't help to improve his ego.

It was a while before most everyone regained their composure, except for the nameless boy from earlier, who was pounding his fist against the table, crying from pure amusement. Even he had to stop sometime and after a while of awkwardness, the room was finally as silent as it would get, save for the content whisperings of the outside wind and the fireplace's warming sound.

I-is someone gonna explain this to me? Wirt blinked, feeling tiny in his chair. Anyone?

Polly eventually said something, although there was still a heavy trace of her previous entertainment in her voice, "Wirt, these potatoes are undoubtedly bland and sometimes taste like soil without anything to cover them up. We grow our own in the summer, so they're some of the only things to eat during winter. Even if you like unseasoned and boiled vegetables, you'd get sick and tired of them after a while. Butter is quite the delicacy with that sort of a meal."

It was an inside-joke. Thank goodness, the mortified teen observed, relieved beyond measure.

"That's why we call it dirt, sweetie," the group's mother told him. "Now, I'll go get more butter. Children, please behave at the table. And Lawrence, don't use so much of it next time."

"Yes, mom." The boy dipped his head, beginning to eat. His father gave him a reassuring pat on the back, which put a smile on Lawrence's face once more.

By the time Beatrice's mother had gone, a calm came over the family and their guest. They began to talk more freely, each kid having their own conversation with another, their father interjecting a comment now and then. It made Wirt grin. This was how a family needed to act around each other, comfortable and happy to be in the presence of their parents, brothers and sisters.

"So," Wirt began, testing the contents of his plate with the tip of his fork, "you never actually introduced me to your family, Beatrice." He gave the girl beside him a curious glance, watching as she rolled her eyes at his statement.

"Can't you introduce yourself? I'd believe after that whole episode yesterday you wouldn't have any trouble at all getting your name known," the former bluebird poked fun at him. "Besides, I thought you knew everyone already."

"I mean, I know Polly and I think I remember the names of your other sisters and brothers, but it slipped my mind," he replied sheepishly.

"Do I really have to waste my time telling you all this?"

"You don't have to; I was just curious," he shrugged. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to be having regular talks with any of them. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

She seemed to consider it for a moment, then said, "Alright, whatever. But I'm just giving you their names." Beatrice pointed at Polly, then at Thomas, Caleb, Amanda, and so on, stating their first names at each gesture. Wirt learned that the boy who had laughed so outwardly at his ignorance went by Gideon, and that Beatrice had another two year-old sister named Caroline who was sleeping at the instant. Everyone else he'd recalled hearing from before in the couple of days that he'd spent at the mill.

"Your family is really big, Beatrice," he remarked, taking some butter and spreading it over his dinner. "I just have Greg and my mom and stepdad."

"Doesn't that get kinda lonely?" she asked half-heartedly, stuffing a chunk of potato in her mouth.

"Well, not really," he admitted with a shrug. "I sort of like being by myself."

"With no other people to talk to besides your family? No friends? Besides that Sara girl, I mean," Beatrice questioned, glaring at an unknown target in the air. "How can you live like that?"

"I just do, I guess," Wirt answered, taking a bite. "And besides, I don't think Sara's my friend anyway. Not after what happened. She probably thinks I'm a loser. It wouldn't be a surprise if she was laughing at me right now from her place far, far away from here."

He regretted making that mixtape for her on Halloween night. It didn't go how he had wanted it to. Not at all.

"Wirt, hate to break it to you, but you are a loser," Beatrice confirmed, a smirk on her face. "Just in a really awesome sort of way. It's not your problem if she wants to laugh; people who carelessly make fun of others are much worse losers than you could ever be."

"Hm. I suppose so," he replied, eyes distant. Was she telling the truth? Had he had it all backwards all along? Or was she just trying to see how gullible he was? It wouldn't be too far from what she did before with Adelaide . . . He shook the thought away. No. No, I can trust Beatrice. We're friends.

The redhead opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it, turning her attention to her plate. It was starting to get uncomfortable for the both of them. Better to just keep quiet so nothing wrong is said, right? At least she isn't laughing. That's a good sign.

A yell from Gideon broke the teen from his train of thought. The light-haired boy jumped from his chair and pointed towards the hallway excitedly, as if to alert someone of something. Wirt turned his head to see what the commotion was about and spotted Jason Funderburker flailing madly, his long frog tongue wriggling this way and that.

What in the — Wirt frowned, pushing himself up from his seat and making his way over to Greg's pet. Beatrice and a couple of her siblings got up as well, crowding curiously around the amphibian, who was still in a state of shock.

"What's wrong, fella?" Wirt asked soothingly, reaching down to touch it, flinching when it flung away from his hand. He lifted an eyebrow, watching as the frog beckoned him back the way it had come.

"Wirt," Beatrice tapped his shoulder, her eyes pinned on Jason as well. "What if it's Greg?"

The male took in a quick breath, fear shooting through him. Oh, no! Something terrible must've happened to Greg. Without a word, he took off, sprinting past the frog and pushing everyone else out of the way to get to the room. Please, please, please don't let it be too late!