How many pages left?

 

How many pages left?

 

1

In his small furry pale brown hands, George held the book he was eager to finish reading. He set his eyes to the comfy chair, twice his height, and he jumped high.

“Behold, brave George, the fearless furry adventurer,” he whispered mid-air.

He landed soft and safe with the book still in his paws.

“Time to tame the evil-dragon,” he said with a smile.

Before he could find his page in the book, a small grey furry figure in blue pajamas appeared before him. The furry figure jumped wild into the air with a paw aimed at the ceiling.

“Are there angry dragons in your book?” his brother Jerry shouted.

George sighed. He tugged his yellow pajamas tight and up to his neck.

“Can I help you stop the angry dragon?” Jerry asked.

George brought the book up to his eyes. Jerry will soon get bored, he thought to himself.

Jerry prodded the air and shouted, “I got you big nasty dragon. Go back home and learn to be nice, like my brother George.”

George knew he was close to the end of his book. He found his spot in the book and felt the last few pages of the book in his right paw. Nearly there. Final chapter. The excitement made him smile. He read the first two words on the page when a shriek made him drop the book onto his lap. 

“Be gone, smokey puff-puff,” Jerry shouted. Jerry stood with paws on hips, chest out and chin pointed to the ceiling. “We don’t want angry dragons here.”

Their mother appeared at the doorway. She was twice the size of George, who was twice the size of Jerry. George got his light brown fur from their dad and Jerry got his grey from their mom.

“Well angry dragon or not, you two are going straight to bed,” their mother from the open doorway.

Jerry turned on his heels and said, “But we are not tired and there’s lots of dragons hiding in the room that I have to find.”

“Well, I am sure they will still be here in the morning waiting for you,” she said. “Bed, now.”

Jerry turned and looked at George. “Is it safe to leave the dragons here alone all night?”

George thumbed the last few pages of his book. “How about you go to bed, and I’ll stay here a little longer and make sure the dragons go home to their beds.”

“Both of you and now,” their mother said. “It’s being a long day, and you both need your rest.”

“But George has to stay and make sure the dragons go to bed,” Jerry said.

George held his book aloft.

“He has five minutes,” she said. “Then he has to go to bed.”

“Night, night dragons,” Jerry shouted. “See you in the morning.”

The tiny grey-tornado spun from the room and ran down the hall.

“Five minutes,” his mother said and left to follow the tornadoes path of destruction.

George patted down the tan colored fur on his head. He hated how his fur always stood up for no apparent reason. He really preferred his fur to be neat and tidy.

He scratched the slightly lighter colored fur around his nose. Dust? He checked the book and could swear he saw a speck of dust on the book’s spine. Impossible. He helped his mother with the house cleaning and the books were always dust free.

Maybe it wasn’t dust? Cinders? Dragon’s breath?

He peeked around the room and couldn’t see any sign of a dragon. He felt a bit foolish doing this because the room wasn’t exactly big enough to hide a dragon. But it’s always worth checking as they can be a bit sneaky.

George found his page in the book and shuffled his backside into the chair and started to read. Nearly there. A few more pages and…

“Now that your brother is in his bed, it’s your turn,” his mother said.

George almost jumped out of his fur when she spoke; he was so engrossed in his book that he hadn’t heard her return to the living room.

George had to think quickly. “Just a few more pages before Jerry’s dragon gets my book.” George’s furry face lit up with a big smile. The smile always worked on his mother, well almost, but if she wanted potatoes washed then no number of smiles stopped George from getting his paws soaked.

“Fine, but once you are finished…straight to bed and don’t wake Jerry.”

He brought the book back up to his eyes and said, “Thanks mommy. You’re the best.”

With only a few pages left to read, he glanced over at Book Mountain, the wall with shelves fit to collapse from the weight of hundreds of books calling to him.

George relaxed and soaked in the words off the page. He started to imagine himself like the brave knight in his book, looking for an evil dragon to defeat. None of the books he had read ever mentioned a good dragon. They all seemed to be busy burning down villages and gobbling up creatures like him. Oh dear, he thought looking around the room. But he wasn’t afraid of dragons, but he did look around again, just in case one was hiding somewhere in the room.

“I’d be brave enough to face you,” George whispered as a warning.

He knew it would be up to him to protect his mother and his annoying brother; there was no one else in the household to do so anymore. George missed their daddy, and he still remembered the day his mother stood in the kitchen with a small Jerry in her arms and how she cried when she told him of their father’s passing.

Their daddy loved to read, and all the books piled high on Book Mountain once belonged to him. He had taught George how to read, even when a tiny Jerry was jumping around in his daddy’s arms with a smelly diaper strapped to his furry backside.

When the time came, George attempted to teach Jerry how to read. Jerry was a tough student. He’d get bored very quickly with the story and run around the room asking the silliest of questions. 

“Does a knight have pockets in his armor for candy?” Jerry would ask.

“Why would a knight have candy in his pockets?”

“In case he gets hungry.”

“Wouldn’t he be wiser to bring a sandwich with him in a lunch bag?”

“What kind of sandwich does a knight carry with him?”

“Not sure.”

“George, does a dragon have to go to school like me?”

“I don’t know.”

“George, why don’t you know? Are there many pages left?”

The last question always unleashed the grey furry tornado to dance around the room fighting off dragons.

“Look at me, I am the brave hero,” Jerry would yell.

Once he ran out of wind, Jerry would run to Book Mountain and grab a new book for George to read to him. Jerry always picked from the overstocked pile ready to collapse. It always collapsed and this never bothered Jerry.

Stuffing the new book under George’s nose, Jerry would say, “Read this one, George. That one was boring. I want this one.”

George read whatever book Jerry wanted him to read. He’d get Jerry to read along with him. For a few moments, as they read together, George would hear his father reading along with them. 

George smiled at the book in his hand. A few pages left. But he knew he was in a race against sleep. Every blink lasted longer than the last.

 

2

Jerry tugged on George’s arm. “Did you fall asleep George?”

George opened his eyes slowly. “Did I?” he asked.

“You did. It’s still dark outside. I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“We had better go to bed Jerry, before mommy wakes up and finds us here.”

“But George, I am wide awake now,” Jerry said, and then sighed. He climbed up into the chair beside his big brother. “I wish I could read just like you George. Who taught you to read?”

“Our daddy taught me. I’ve told you that lots of times.”

“He must have been very clever like you,” Jerry said.

George looked over at Book Mountain and said, “He was.”

They both missed him. George especially did when he came across big words that he didn’t understand. His daddy had been very patient in helping George to read.

Jerry snuggled up beside his big brother on the chair and rested his furry head on George’s shoulder. “Read me a story,” he asked.

George smiled at his brother and began to read. He wanted to finish his book, but mostly, but mostly he wanted to read to his brother.

“The End,” George said. “Wasn’t that a good story?”

In his arms, Jerry snored, soft and filled with calm.

George remembered how many times he had fallen asleep in his daddy’s arms. He felt sad as he looked at Jerry snoring in his arms. George was afraid that he might forget his daddy and forget the happy memories that they had shared together. But sitting here with Jerry helped him remember the good days and nights.

Night! It was night and late.

He carried his little brother to his bed just like his daddy did with him. He placed his brother under the blankets to keep him warm and safe.

With Jerry safe in bed, there was only one thing left for George to do, and that should have been getting into his own bed and going to sleep. Instead, he softly sneaked back into the living room and browsed Book Mountain for a new adventure to start.

Then George had a brilliant idea. He gathered paw loads of books from the shelves. Some he put in one stack by the shelf and others he stacked beside his chair.

The sunlight was starting to shine in from outside the window when George had finished with his amazing plan. He stood proudly looking at the stack of books as high as his chair.

His mother entered the room and with raised eyebrows, she cried, “Oh no, what has he done now?”

George slumped to the floor.

“Jerry?” she said. “How did he stack them so high?”

“It was me.”

“You?”

“Don’t be upset with me, mommy. I was looking for some books to help Jerry to learn to read.”

“All of them? Couldn’t you have just picked one or two?” 

“They are the ones that daddy and I used to read,” George said pointing at the stack by the chair. He shuffled and with the little energy he had left in him, pointed to the other pile. “We never got to read any of them together.”

A tear fell from his eye. He wiped his nose with his paw.

“Bed, now,” she said, with a little proud grin on her face.

She held his paw as they shuffled off to his bedroom. When they entered the room, Jerry sprung up awake from his bed.

“George, what’s wrong?” Jerry asked.

George’s furry head had barely hit his fluffy pillow when he started to snore, loudly.

“Is George sick?” Jerry asked.

She helped Jerry out of his bed and into his bright yellow shirt and blue trousers. “He’s not sick,” she said. “He stayed up late and is now tired. That’s why you should always go to bed when you are told to.”

George woke a few hours later, washed his fur in a half-asleep daze and struggled to brush his teeth. He did his best to button up his clean white shirt and blue trousers his mother left out for him to wear.

He made his way to the kitchen. His head hurt and his eyes found it hard to focus to the morning light. Mommy was right, skipping sleep is not a good idea. He felt terrible.

“Did you sleep alright?” his mother asked.

George let out a huge yawn. He jumped up on his chair at the kitchen table and then said, “Yes,” with a big smile on his furry face.

“Good, well eat up, you must be starving,” she said.

Toast and tea. His favorites.

He ate quickly. Then it dawned on him. It was quiet. Too quiet. Something…Someone was missing.

“Where’s Jerry?” he asked.

“He said he was going to get a book to read,” his mother said. “That was a while ago. He is being quiet…”

George jumped from the chair.

“Jerry doesn’t like to read,” he shouted.

He ran out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the living room. He flung the door open and stopped in shock.

Dangling dangerously from one of the bookshelves on Book Mountain was Jerry. With one paw clinging to the edge of the shelf and one holding a book.

George ran over to Jerry, stuck two paws up and lifted Jerry free from the shelf.

Then he saw it…well, more like what he didn’t see.

His stacks of books were gone. Both stacks. All his hard work had been undone. He fought back the anger and the tears waiting behind his eyes to soak his furry cheeks.

“The shelf and books could have fallen on you,” George said when he placed Jerry on the floor. “You could have got hurt.”

“We have ghosts,” Jerry said. “They came in last night and took lots of books off your shelves and put them all over the floor.”

“The books…” George said, pointing at the empty space beside his chair.

“I put them back. I know you hate to see the books out of place.”

It didn’t matter about the books; he could rebuild the stack. But a hurt Jerry wasn’t as easy to rebuild.

“That was dangerous,” George said. “Next time, wait, and we can put everything back together.”

“Yes, George.”

George looked at the shelves and noticed something strange about the newly rebuilt Book Mountain.

“I put all the books in order George,” Jerry said, taking George’s paw.

George’s eyes opened wide when he recognized the books placed in the bottom rows. The same books he had stacked by his chair.

“Look George,” Jerry said. “All the picture books and now they are low enough for me to reach.”

Jerry reached over and took a book from the second shelf.

“See, I can now pick a book. One we can read together,” he said.

Jerry ran over to George’s chair clutching the book in his paws.

George hopped up next to his brother on the chair. Jerry opened the book up and George began to read the words next to the pictures. George knew this book very well; he and his daddy had read it over a hundred times together.

After a few minutes, Jerry began to wiggle in the chair.

“George?” he asked. “George…how many pages are left?”

Jerry’s words had sounded very familiar to George. He paused and looked at the book in his paws. He scratched his furry chin. Then he remembered when he used to say:

“Daddy…how many pages are left?”