Rafi and the Great Backyard Expedition

Rafi was seven years old, and he was an explorer.

He had a backpack with a compass sewn on the front. He had a hat with a wide brim to keep off the sun. He had a notebook for drawing maps and a water bottle shaped like a rocket. And today, he was going on the greatest expedition of all time.

"I am going to explore the whole backyard," he announced at breakfast. "The Jungle of Tall Grass. The Mountain of the Big Rock. The Dark Cave under the Fig Tree. And the Wild River."

"The Wild River?" asked his mother, raising one eyebrow.

"It's the hose," Rafi explained. "But in the expedition, it's a river."

"Ah," said his mother. "Of course."

Across the table, his little brother, Kenan, put down his spoon. Kenan was three. He had chubby cheeks, a tuft of hair that stuck straight up, and he wanted to do everything Rafi did.

"Me come too," said Kenan. "Me explorer."

Rafi groaned. "Kenan, you're too little. Explorers have to be fast. They have to be brave. You'll slow me down."

Kenan's bottom lip began to wobble.

Their mother looked at Rafi. She didn't say anything. She just looked, in that quiet way mothers do.

Rafi sighed a very long sigh. "Fine," he said. "But you have to keep up."

Kenan cheered and ran to get his own hat. It was a bucket hat with ducks on it, and it was much too big. It slipped down over his eyes.

The expedition began at the back door.

"First stop," said Rafi, pointing with his stick, "the Jungle of Tall Grass!"

The grass at the end of the garden had not been cut for a while. It came up to Rafi's knees, but it came all the way up to Kenan's tummy. Rafi marched straight in, swishing his stick from side to side. "Watch out for tigers!" he called over his shoulder.

He was halfway through when he heard a small voice behind him.

"Rafi... Rafi, wait."

Rafi turned around. Kenan was stuck. His duck hat had fallen over his eyes, and the grass was tangled around his little legs. He looked very small in the middle of the jungle.

"Hurry up, Kenan," said Rafi. "Explorers don't stop."

"Can't see," said Kenan, and his voice went wobbly.

Rafi walked back. He pushed up Kenan's hat so he could see. He bent the tall grass flat with his stick, making a little path. "Walk where I walk," he said. "Then the grass won't grab you."

Kenan followed in Rafi's footsteps. Step, step, step. Soon they were through the jungle, and Kenan was grinning. "No tigers," he said proudly.

"Next stop," said Rafi, "the Mountain of the Big Rock!"

The Big Rock was at the side of the garden, next to the wall. It was grey and lumpy and covered in patches of soft green moss. For Rafi, it was easy. He put one foot here, one foot there, and up he went. He stood on top with his hands on his hips.

"I have conquered the mountain!" he cried.

At the bottom, Kenan reached up. He tried to climb, but his legs were too short. He slid back down. He tried again and slid again.

Rafi looked down at him. He thought about saying, "I told you you were too little." But then he remembered how it felt when the big boys at school wouldn't let him play football.

So instead, he climbed halfway down and held out his hand.

"Put your foot on that bump," he said. "The one with the moss. Now hold my hand. Now push!"

Kenan pushed. Rafi pulled. And up came Kenan, all the way to the top of the mountain.

The two brothers stood side by side. From up here, they could see over the wall into the neighbor's garden, where a cat was sleeping in a flowerpot.

"We conquered the mountain," said Kenan.

"We did," said Rafi, and he was surprised to find that it felt better saying "we."

They climbed down together and headed for the Dark Cave under the Fig Tree.

The fig tree's branches hung low, almost touching the ground, making a shady green tent underneath. It was cool and quiet in there. The leaves were big as plates, and the light came through them in soft green patches.

Kenan stopped at the edge. "Dark," he whispered, and took hold of Rafi's shirt.

Rafi crouched down to his level. "It's not scary," he said. "Look." He pulled back a branch so the sunlight spilled in. "It's just shady. And guess what? Explorers always find treasure in caves."

They crawled in together. And there, on the ground, they did find treasure. A ripe purple fig that had fallen from a branch. Rafi broke it in half. Inside, it was pink and sweet and full of tiny seeds.

"Treasure," said Kenan, with fig juice running down his chin.

Last of all came the Wild River. Their mother had left the hose running gently on the lawn, and the water wiggled across the grass in a sparkly stream.

"We have to cross it," said Rafi. "On three. One, two..."

"Three!" shouted Kenan, and they leaped over it together, landing in a heap on the soft wet grass, laughing.

By the time they got back to the door, Kenan was very tired. His duck hat was lopsided and his knees were green. He yawned an enormous yawn.

So Rafi did something that real explorers do when their team member gets tired. He turned around, crouched down, and said, "Climb on."

Kenan climbed onto his back, and Rafi carried him the last few steps home.

Their mother was waiting at the door with two cups of cold lemonade. "How was the expedition?" she asked.

Rafi set Kenan down gently. He thought about the jungle and the mountain, the cave and the river. Then he opened his notebook and, at the top of his map, he wrote in big careful letters: The Great Backyard Expedition, by Rafi and Kenan.

"It was the best one ever," he said. "Because I had a team."