The map. New hope surged through my veins. I stood up to compare the map with the watermelon patch, expecting to find an identical match.
Before counting again, I checked the date on the journal. 8-28. Yesterday. I counted again.
“Did Noah bring a watermelon home for lunch yesterday?”
“No, they are not quite ripe for picking.” Bev responded.
“Maybe he missed one in sketch on the map?”
CLUE #3: Eight watermelons, not seven like the sketch.
I reviewed my clues. Noah’s bike still here. Noah’s dog still here. Noah had to still be here, near the sandia (watermelon) patch. But where?
Frantically I began searching under vines. Possibly the mass of leaves and vines could conceal him like a blanket.
I walked over to pet Rex, while trying to figure out what to do next. He whimpered as he looked up at me. Then jumped up, nearly knocking me over, and started digging next to the rogue watermelon.
“Whoa boy!” I said surprised, then I took a closer look at the eighth watermelon.
It looked different than the others.
“Probably a different variety,” I thought. Examining the others, I discovered the other watermelons were nearly identical. Mysterious, to say the least. The eighth was more blueish in color, almost like Noah’s favorite blue striped shirt. Impossible.
I couldn’t believe where the facts were leading.
“What shirt did Noah wear today?”
Bev’s reply, “Blue striped.”
Dark clouds began forming overhead. Confusion and disbelief filled my mind. Could it be? What if Noah was a watermelon? What could he do about that?
The storm was moving in quickly. Every flash in the sky was followed by an immediate and thunderous rumble.
“Alex, you better be getting home.” Mrs. Johnson warned. “I’m leaving now to try to beat the storm. Do you want a ride home?”
There was no way I was leaving mi amigo (my friend) alone in a storm, even if he was, potentially, a watermelon.
Now the flashes and rumbles were nearly simultaneous. I had to find cover somewhere. This was getting dangerous. Looking around, I saw the tool shed was my only option. Locked! Luckily there was an awning on the shed wide enough to stay dry. I inched close to the door as I could.
I tried to call Rex to shield him from the storm. He wouldn’t budge. In fact, he inched closer to the rogue watermelon.
I still couldn’t believe where the facts were leading. One minute I was completely convinced my best friend was a watermelon, the next I was certain that it was entirely impossible.
Although nothing could compare with what happened next. Rain was gushing down from the gray storm clouds, and that’s when I saw a sight I will never forget. A flash came down from the sky, and struck the watermelon patch. I froze paralyzed.
“Noah, oh no.” I mumbled.
My eyes were fixed on the watermelon patch, while the thunder echoed all around me, shaking the tool shed.
“What! Impossible! I exclaimed happily.
I ran to hug my friend, still drenched in rain and watermelon slime. All I could do was stare, shake my head, and smile. The impossible was now possible.
“How did this happen?” I asked Noah.
“I have no idea. Maybe it had something to do with the sandia (watermelon) seed I swallowed last night after supper.” He said shaking his head.
Noah looked as good as new. The rain had washed away the slime.
“Let’s keep this our little secret.”
“Deal. No one would believe me if I told them.” I shrugged.
“Maybe next time a seedless variety would be safer?” Noah asked.