“Let’s see here...” Miss Nurgle’s substitute sixth grade teacher, Ms. Grover, continued taking attendance. “Deirdra Sully?”
“Right here!” she answered from the front row.
“Thank you, Deirdra. And finally, um... Tahoe Talbot?”
“Here!”
The voice itself was so little, she almost couldn’t hear it at all.
“Is there a ‘Tahoe Talbot’ here today?”
“Here!”
Already giggling, the other students turned toward an apparently unoccupied desk right smack in the middle of the room.
However, it only looked that way because young Talbot couldn’t yet see over its surface.
Yup, right there was his miniscule hand sticking up, waving hello. 👋
To say Tahoe Talbot was the smallest kid in school would be an understatement. He barely met the “knee-high-to-a-pig’s-eye” standard.
Depending on the pig, obviously. 🐖
At one time, he’d been no different from anyone else, but nowadays it seemed like everyone he knew had gotten bigger.
And with that, some considerably meaner.
In fact, his stomach sank knowing the substitute singling him out meant bullying at recess.
It sank further in the schoolyard later, when the prospect became reality — his peers dancing around him, pointing and chanting, “Ti-ny Ta-hoe Tal-bot, Ti-ny Ta-hoe Tal-bot!” over and over.
Suddenly, Big Branson, the biggest bully in school, pushed his way through the crowd, loomed over the small boy shrinking at the center of attention. “Hey, Talbot!” he snarled, grabbing hold of Tahoe. “You were s’posed to stay stuffed in that cubby.”
“Sorry, Branson, I —”
“Nevermind,” he interrupted, dragging Tahoe over to the playground, his feet scrabbling about. “Let’s see how you like fresh air after we saw how high you can fly!
“I’m not sure that would be the safest —” was all he could get out before —
Branson planted Talbot on the low end of the see-saw. “Don’t move,” he growled.
Then he climbed on top of the jungle gym, calling everyone to come and watch.
Just as he was about to jump down onto the see-saw’s opposite end and launch Tahoe into the stratosphere, Ms. Grover arrived on the scene, shouting, “STOP!” just in the nick of time.
“Aww,” Big Branson whined, climbing down. He wouldn’t get another chance tomorrow, as this was the final day of the school year. Heading back to class, he bent down near Talbot. “You lucked out, Teeny-Tiny Tally. But on the first day of school this fall? We’re gonna finish what we started and send you to the moon.”
The substitute stormed over to the see-saw, grabbed Tahoe’s petite shirt collar, and pulled him away.
“Why me? Branson started it.”
“You better start taking responsibility for your actions, young man. You have to learn to be the bigger person.”
“But I’m never the bigger person,” Tahoe Talbot complained.
Since it took Tahoe four times longer than anyone to walk home due to his diminutive size, not only was it late by the time he finally arrived, he was completely inconsolable: nothing made him feel better, not his favorite meal for supper, not even watching his favorite TV show before bed.
His sympathetic parents were concerned.
Dad stopped in his doorway to say goodnight. “Hey, since tomorrow’s the first day of summer, I thought we could get up early and go fishing.”
“Okay, Dad. Sounds good,” Tahoe replied, still trying to reach the middle of his bed. His parents had gotten him a regular-sized one, though he still hadn’t grown into it.
Tahoe hoped his father didn’t hear how he really felt: like the whole summer was already ruined by future Branson, patiently waiting to deliver a beatdown at its end.
His son’s lack of enthusiasm was unmistakable, though.
Fishing, specifically of the catch-and-release variety, was Tahoe’s favorite activity. Already an essential part of his early and deep love for nature and wildlife, he regarded fishing as a game; one with a devilishly smart opponent and one that you didn’t have to be big enough to play.
Well, maybe not counting the next morning...
Wading in the gentle surf, Tahoe got a bite that was more than he could handle. “I got one!” he called out to his father.
But then, the taut line pulled through the pole’s eyelets, its reel going, whirrrr!
Suddenly running out of line, the fleeing fish pulled Tahoe into the breakers, choking on saltwater. “Nope! ~glug, glug~ It’s got me!”
“Just let go, son!”
But giving up when he had his nemesis right where he wanted him was the last thing Tahoe would ever do.
Dad’s desperate cries faded with distance — “TAH-HOHHHH!!” — as the boy skimmed the waves, disappearing over the horizon.
Now, it’s worth noting that this was the exact moment Tahoe Talbot developed his legendary water-skiing skills.
He tumbled around at first, but getting on his feet wasn’t difficult once they were moving fast enough, stabilized by his extraordinarily low center of gravity. And before long, he was jumping, learning tricks, developing a true knack for the sport.
By the time the fish gave up the fight and returned to normal swimming mode, they were in a new and rather different place altogether.
A place covered in a heavy layer of trash.
Despite the masterful efforts of the newly minted expert barefoot water-skier, Tahoe’s shins cleaved floating garbage as he slid to a stop in the shallows.
He planted his fishing pole in the middle of an old tire.
There was so much seafaring waste around, he almost overlooked a small, cone-shaped island jutting up between a broken car seat, the top half of a cat’s litter box, and a deflated kiddie pool.
“What is this place?”
“At long last! We have been awaiting your arrival, Great One.”
Anyone else would have missed such a little voice. But Talbot was naturally used to small sounds. He knelt down beside the tiny island’s tiny beach. 🏝
A tribe of action figure-sized natives were gathered there; all but the queen and chief who spoke were on their knees, bowing and chanting in worship.
“Oh, my!” Tahoe exclaimed. Encountering shorter folk was quite unusual. Especially on such a miniature scale. He looked down at them with terrific interest. “Hello there.”
“Welcome to our current home, Great One.”
“Happy to be here. Uh, can you please tell me where that is, exactly?”
With deep pride, the chief tapped his staff on a rock, announcing, “This is the Isle de Idris Elba.” He gestured to the mountain beyond their beach. Perched upon its summit was an empty DVD case featuring Idris Elba on the cover. “Did you not hear our desperation? Our prayers?”
Talbot was a bit unsure of his circumstances but decided to play along. “Um, yeah! Yes, I heard you praying to me and that’s why I’m here.”
“Actually, we were praying to Lord Idris, but since you showed up —” The chief looked to the queen, who returned a grim nod. “— we will take it.”
“So, what seems to be the trouble?”
The chief and queen exchanged glances, like, seriously?
“Is it not obvious?” asked the chief.
“Your home is disappearing under all the garbage,” Tahoe replied.
The queen spoke. “Our once beautiful home disappeared long ago, forcing our tribe to relocate here from the island of our birth to the northeast, the Isle de Jessica Alba.”
“You must help us, Great One!” the chief urged. “Please, we beg you. We fear the next high tide will bury our land and people once and for all!”
Tahoe Talbot got right to work clearing the rocks, collecting litter, and removing junk larger than they could manage on their own. He even created a mini garbage barge by inflating the discarded kiddie pool.
He labored all day under the hot sun, invigorated by the tribe’s gracious exultations as he restored more and more of their island.
And just when he finally removed the last plastic bag clogging their water supply, high tide came in, bringing with it an overwhelming tsunami of rotten garbage, debris, and plastics, all of it threaded with his least favorite sight: nests of fishing line.
Exhausted now and sharing the islanders’ frustration, Tahoe Talbot worked long into the night. Even then, he only managed to restore Elba to the shape it was in when he’d first arrived.
Realizing there was nothing more he could do that day, and aware his parents would be worried sick, Tahoe threw in the towel. “This is a bigger job than I thought,” he told the chief and queen. “But I promise: I will come back again and again until you and your people can go home.”
With both understanding and dismay, the two thanked their giant visitor and wished for his prompt return.
Still on the line, the restless fish’s movement twitched and bent the fishing pole.
“Well, that’s my ride. See you soon!” Tahoe yelled, retrieving his rod from the tire. When he waved goodbye, the fish kicked it up to high speed, pulling Talbot on his kiddie pool trash barge directly back to the shore he and his dad had fished from earlier that morning.
There, Tahoe wasn’t really sure what to do.
The fish was far too powerful to be hauled in, even by his father.
If he cut the line, it could end up like the miles of it he’d just removed or, worse, become entangled in something that endangers the animal.
Ultimately, Tahoe decided to stash his pole with its bail open so the fish could swim freely for the time being, then later see how many more trips he’d willingly take to the micro islands.
Which was quite a few, it turned out.
His parents had a complete freakout, of course. And they didn’t believe his story at all.
On the other hand, it was summer.
Since their boy was clearly going through some changes, they decided to let him do his thing as long as he promised to be home before nightfall each day.
And so, Talbot worked through the summer months, the fish taking the express route there each morning and back home every evening.
He still hadn’t seen much of his dutiful chauffeur — merely an inky, black mass moving swiftly just beneath the surface.
Every so often, though, the tip of a dorsal fin would poke out of the water.
Over the course of those weeks, it appeared more and more.
My goodness! Had he hooked a shark?
It was a “growing” concern since the black mass was itself getting bigger, seemingly increasing in size with every trip.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the only notable development.
By the end of August —
Elba had been restored to its original glory.
Alba welcomed its native peoples’ return to its pristine shores.
And Tahoe had cleared enough waste from the area that high tide no longer threatened to undo all their hard work.
The grateful community threw a huge celebration party for Talbot on Alba, the larger of the two islands.
“Great One,” the chief declared during a ceremony. “You are the tallest, biggest, hugest man our people have ever known or seen. But it wasn’t just your enormous height that saved us, it was your enormous heart. Please accept our endless gratitude and this lei of Alba flowers. Long may it symbolize our partnership and the life thriving here once more.”
It had been a massive undertaking for the natives to fashion a giant-sized lei. So much so, that when it was finally bestowed upon Talbot, he had to put it on himself.
Tahoe carefully considered his final words. “It’s been a tremendous honor to fix your home and make so many new friends. I would love to come back for a visit someday or offer my assistance anytime you need it.”
The chief and queen exchanged glances again. “Well...,” they began.
“Now that you mention it...,” said the chief.
“Our whole country needs just as much help if not more,” the queen concluded.
“Country?” asked Talbot.
“Yes,” the chief clarified, “Poland.”
“Poland?”
“Come, we will show you.”
Tahoe carried them to the other island on his shoulder and climbed Mount Idris.
Oddly, it only required two big steps up, though he remembered thinking it looked slightly more difficult when the chief first introduced it.
“There!” the queen proclaimed. “In the far distance!” (like, maybe ten meters or so away) “Our neighboring country of Poland Springs!”
The chief joined in. “And Deer Park to the north!”
Looking more like endless flotillas of plastic water bottles and trash than countries, they presented a challenge beyond the reach of one boy, however big or small.
Talbot climbed down, returning the pair to the shores of Alba from his hand.
He took the beautiful lei off of his neck and gently placed it in freshwater Lake Jessica, saying, “I don’t deserve this.”
The queen and chief were confused.
Until that moment, Tahoe didn’t think of his peoples’ activities as contributing to the islanders’ suffering, but his sense of responsibility now sent him home, defeated and downtrodden.
How much life was suffocating under this wasteland?
He felt vastly outmatched in spite of his tireless efforts.
Back at home, his parents found him inconsolable once more.
The only thing left to do was release his highly dependable transportation.
He went down to the shoreline, retrieved his pole, and reeled in.
Even though Tahoe felt like he’d failed, he noticed the summer work had toughened him up. He felt strong for the first time, more capable.
And yet, the fish was vastly more powerful — fighting back, nearly breaking the pole and line.
When the boy finally gave up, the fish leapt out of the water at full speed, beaching himself right beside Talbot.
The giant, jet-black beast wasn’t a fish at all.
It was a young male orca. A killer whale.
His bottomless eye stared deep into Talbot’s soul.
He slowly approached the orca. Removed the barbless hook from the corner of his mouth delicately. “Thanks for all the rides, friend.”
Tahoe saw a playful glimmer in the killer whale’s eye.
“Hey, you’re too smart to take my bait. Did you do all this on purpose?”
The orca clicked and whistled.
“I thought so. You know, sometimes, when we were going out there, you looked like my shadow on the water. Is it okay if I call you, ‘Shadow’?”
Shadow whistled and clicked.
“Sweet. Cuz it looks like the ocean could use a ton more help and we make one heckuva team.”
Unbeaching himself, Shadow refloated with an excited whistle, then slapped his flukes against the shallows on the way out, drenching Talbot.
“So... I’ll take that as a ‘yes’?”
Tahoe wrung his shirt out as an encouraging waterspout shot up in the distance.
He hoped it meant better times on the horizon.
Now, he had to start Junior High.
Now, he had to face Big Branson.
Facing the new class of seventh graders, Mr. Clark finished calling roll. “Sully, Deirdra?”
“Present!” Deirdra chimed.
“Thank you, Deirdra. And finally... Talbot, Tahoe?”
Nothing.
Mr. Clark looked up from his desk. “Is Tahoe Talbot here?”
A desk right smack in the middle of the classroom appeared unoccupied.
Because it was.
Late for his first class, Tahoe heard his name called on his way in. But just as he tried to walk through the door, he smacked his head — on the top part of the doorway.
“Ow!” said a deep voice. “I mean, HERE!”
The entire class gasped, stunned that Tahoe Talbot was taller than everyone, including Mr. Clark. They watched him find his seat in the middle of the room with their mouths hanging open.
Although the desk broke apart when he tried to sit down, Tahoe stayed seated on the floor, able to see just fine.
No one laughed.
“Okay, marvelous,” said Mr. Clark, pretending nothing had happened. “Welcome to Junior High, everyone. Now, let’s learn about geography.”
“Yes,” said Talbot. “Let’s.” He turned toward Big Branson, who stared back looking as pale as a ghost.
And who suddenly wasn’t so big.
Talbot caught up with Branson getting on the bus after school.
“Hey, Branson!”
“Y-y-yes, Tahoe?”
Talbot took a knee beside Branson, clapped one hand on his shoulder, and —
Extended the other. “Wanna be friends?”
Branson exhaled relief. Then said, “Really?” No one had ever asked him that before.
“Really.”
“Okay, sure,” Branson finally said with a smile — though it wasn’t the same kind of smile he wore when inflicting wedgies, swirlies, or being cruel.
It was because he wouldn’t have to do those things anymore.
And that settled that.
EPILOGUE
Later that fall, Mr. Clark’s class went on a whale watching field trip.
However, an unfortunate boat capacity miscalculation meant either Talbot had to stay behind or at least five students.
They left him on the dock in the rain.
Three cold, wet, and miserable hours later, the students still hadn’t seen a whale.
By the time they finally caught a break in the weather, the captain had to turn around and head back.
Most of the students went back to complaining, until Deirdra finally cried out, “Look! I see one!”
Everyone on the boat turned to see a waterspout.
The rapidly moving orca breached again near the boat, then disappeared beneath the sun-dappled surface.
“Did you guys see that? I think he had some ropes or something in his mouth!”
Those were reins —
Attached to a tow rope held by Tahoe Talbot, water-skiing to the micro islands of Elba and Alba and beyond.
Yup, right there was his massive hand, waving to his classmates as he blasted past the touring vessel on skis the size of sea kayaks.
Actually, there’s a good chance they were sea kayaks.
You see, this was the story of Talbot’s first growth spurt, so by then, the second may have been well on its way.
It was also the story of why the smallest kid in class changing into one of the biggest people to ever exist really had nothing to do with height.
It was the origin story behind his many legends.
The legends of —
