Welcome to Feebie Doomerville
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Welcome to Feebie Doomerville

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Summary

Mateo wasn't expecting to visit Feebie Doomerville, but after a jolting arrival he feels comfortably at home in the peculiar town with its unconventional residents. His new friends and their idiosyncratic coping skills are unlikely menders of a troubled soul, but the powers for good conspire – as they often do – to lead Mateo to the three healing C's: connection, caring, and courage. These forces are forever present and available to all but sometimes we do forget. Whether you are feeling mildly bruised and bumped about by life or you are despairing and mired in gloom, help can come to you in unexpected ways, as Mateo discovers.

Status
Complete
Chapters
9
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
13+

La Tormenta (One)

Mateo wept. He sat on the uneven wooden floor of the tree house with his knees tucked up to his chin. Birds, sharing the leafy branches, called out cheerfully. Pieces of sunlight journeyed through thousands of rustling leaves and touched him warmly. Mateo was not comforted.

Once, he had enjoyed being part of the tree’s lofty world. Once, the tree house had been a special hideaway for Mateo and his best friend. Everything was different now, and not in a good way. Grief had hollowed out an emptiness that was now his constant companion. Mateo pulled his t-shirt up so that it covered his tear-splashed face. Inside the cocoon of faded blue cotton he wondered if he would ever be happy again.

Caring people had given him advice. “You’ll feel better eventually.” “Just give it time.” “Time heals all wounds.” Uncle Roy had taken a different approach: “Chin up! Life sucks sometimes. You can’t be a gloomy gus forever.”

Mateo looked often at the clock, waiting for it to reach out its healing hands. Nothing happened. He felt the same whether the clock said it was seven in the morning or three in the afternoon. No one told Mateo when he would not feel miserable. When, exactly, would he be lighthearted and ready for laughter and adventure? What time would that be? He suspected that time would never arrive. Time was not a mender, it was a thief; taking, taking, taking.

Adults, Mateo was beginning to understand, did not know everything. They chattered on, saying important sounding things but they weren’t actually that smart. They certainly weren’t superior.

“Teo! Teo!” a voice called his name. It was gentle, and rather sad, and so faint that it seemed to be traveling a long distance to reach him. Mateo’s head popped out of his t-shirt. He looked around. In the next yard, Mrs. Starsink was leaving her house with her finger-biting little dog. She hadn’t called his name. Mrs. Starsink only spoke to him to complain. She always called him “Zurullo.” It was the only Spanish she knew.

“The weather is about to turn nasty. Best go indoors now,” the mysterious voice whispered.

Swift, stormy clouds blocked the sun and the first raindrops sprinkled the leaves. Mateo made his way down the ladder that leaned against the great trunk of the oak tree. He walked, shuffling his feet, toward the kitchen door of his house. It mattered not that the wind and rain were pummeling him with fierce energy.

CRAAACCK! The sound was enormous and shocking. It was followed by a groaning. Mateo had never heard such a loud, painful groaning. He stopped. What was happening? Fear and confusion overcame him as the chaotic noise filled his ears. He was standing like a statue when the century-old oak split apart and half of the tree fell toward him. Mateo was toppled, face down, onto the soggy grass.

Trapped in a tangle of branches, he struggled to find a way out. The storm accelerated to a whopping fury. Mateo pushed with all his might and broke through the heavy greenery. He couldn’t see much through the curtains of falling rain, but there was a rectangle of white. “My back door!” he thought and ran toward it.

Inside at last, Mateo began to shiver. Why was the house so dark? He shivered even more when he realized he was not in his house. Mrs. Starsink’s house! He had gone into Mrs. Starsink’s house! At least she wasn’t home. He turned to leave.

Plop. Plop. Plop Water trickled off Mateo’s hair and clothes, creating a puddle at his feet. The few steps he had taken were recorded by muddy footprints on the white tile floor. In the kitchen, on the counter, was a roll of paper towels. He tiptoed in that direction. In another part of the house, a door slammed and someone sneezed loudly. Mateo knew that scary, honking sneeze. Mrs. Starsink!

He panicked. He ran. He knocked over a kitchen chair as he dashed to the door, opened it, and jumped. The jump, which should have taken him a short distance into the yard, did not. The jump had a mind of its own and kept Mateo airborne and moving. The world sped by as if a fast-forward button had been activated. Then, abruptly, the jump ended and Mateo dropped with a thud to the ground.

Let Sharon Bordeaux know what you thought about this chapter!

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