The Hooligan
by
From the author of “The Dance”
Thank you all for your comments on
the first part of “The Hooligan.” Some glaring discrepancies presented
themselves after I had already sent Deeker the first section. I have changed
them and reposted the first part. The main change is the time frame. It just
didn’t seem right to have David be up in
Part 2
I wanted Mr. Taylor to explain what he meant. I wanted him to direct me, to mentor me. I wanted help. But instead I walked away. I could feel Mr. Taylor’s eyes on me as I closed his gate and walked back to my house. Leaving the hose where it lay, I went inside to cook a frozen burrito. With each bite, I contemplated the meaning of Mr. Taylor’s words, Do what is best for the boy, not for you. Was I doing something wrong by wanting to help the boy? Many times throughout the rest of the day, I wanted to run back over next door and ask the meaning of that phrase, but I held myself back deciding that I shouldn’t let Mr. Taylor’s thoughts effect me so much.
Before long, the sun was setting and I got the feeling that the day had been pretty useless. This whole Argrow situation was making me unproductive. Not that I have much to do anyways. I usually spend my fall and winter tending the lawn, raking leaves, shoveling snow, reading, creating a scattered love life on the weekends, playing guitar and piano, and building model ships. That is my true hobby. I actually picked it up from the previous owner of my house. He’d left a few of his creations when he died. They were beautiful. Not those plastic models they sell in the stores now. Real wood, real twine, real beauty. Majestic representations of the great queens who used to rule the oceans by the force of wind, long before steel made the world smaller. I had immediately become mesmerized by the models and took up the tradition. Each model takes weeks and I usually finish five or so before I head back north in the spring. They sell fairly well at the local art studio. Not that I need the money, but it’s nice to know someone appreciates the work.
I pulled out one of the models from the downstairs shelf and sat down at my work desk. The room is full of character and I love to work in it. A few of my favorite ships, whom I had grown far too fond of to sell, decorate the unfinished, cement walls. A small, dust covered window sits high on the far wall. Breaking every fire code and barely letting in any light even in the brightest of sunshine it’s rather useless, but I’m not around enough to spend the money on a replacement. A knotted, threadbare, mustard colored carpet haphazardly covers the floor. It’s a disgusting carpet, a forgotten relic of the sixties I found stuffed in the storage room, but it works with the unfinished walls. Mounds of scrap pieces of cloth for sails, wood, pins, needles, a miniature helm, scatter the mustard carpet. The piles whisper of their own minute world awaiting creation. And my desk: a fine piece of plywood. Quite unprofessional and inexpensive, but full of character. A rusty arm-lamp stretches its tired springs and brightly lights what is the foundation of the fruition of my dream world of pirates and explorers and storms and winds and maelstroms, of fantasy and dreams, of escape.
I worked deep into the night. There is not a clock in sight, a purposeful attempt on my part to block time. There is no need to be aware of such a concept while lost in a dream world. Time would defeat the purpose. But my back began to ache, and I decided to call it a night.
I rarely
smoke. It doesn’t coincide with my working conditions in
The silence of the night was broken by a soft shuffling of feet which promptly stopped the moment I noticed them. I looked up and saw a figure clothed in winter garb standing on the sidewalk in front of my house. I waved lightly, my memory making no recognition, and looked back down, taking a deep drag on the Camel Light. I didn’t feel particularly talkative at the moment, especially at three in the morning. The shuffling started up again and I noticed it was getting louder. I looked up again and realized the figure was shuffling quite slowly up my driveway, directly towards me.
I don’t smoke in front of people, so quickly I extinguished the cigarette and dropped it in the rusty coffee tin that sat next to the bench for that purpose.
“Hello,” I said. I was not afraid. Not in my neighborhood. I noticed the figure was not big. A child.
“Hi,” came the muffled reply.
The figure finally entered the glow of my porch light and I saw that it was Nate. I sat silently and watched his slow march continue until he was finally right in front of me.
“Cold, are you?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Do you want to come in and warm up?”
He shook his head.
“Well, you are welcome to sit if you want,” I said, scooting over and patting the bench next to me. Nate nodded and slowly took a seat. He was really bundled up. A full snow suit, boots, gloves, a thick winter coat, a scarf that masked his face, and a wool snowcap. His outfit presented an eclectic array of colors and Nate really looked quite goofy. But I wasn’t laughing. It wasn’t that cold out, maybe 40 degrees, and there was no reason why Nate should be out like this at such an ungodly hour. I felt like lighting another cigarette but knew that was out of the question. So, instead, I sat in silence trying to figure out something to say that would not question Nate’s current state. I couldn’t think of anything so settled on silence.
Nate, whose feet barely touched the ground while sitting on the bench, swung his boots creating a rhythmic scuffing sound that harmonized comfortably with the night’s tranquility. I quickly settled into its mesmerizing effect. So did Nate, it seemed: we sat in silence. I didn’t mind it, I suppose, but I was curious as to the purpose of Nate’s late night arctic excursion.
“My mom put me into public school.” Finally, something. “She said she doesn’t have time to home-school now that dad’s…” Nate trailed off.
“Central, then?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a good school. You know I went there?”
“No.”
“Not too long ago,” I laughed lightly. “It’s a good school though. I still know many of the teachers. I’ll put in a good word for you.” I punched him softly on his well-padded arm.
“Thanks.”
“Ninth grade, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re going to be going with those fools who broke into my truck?”
“Yeah.”
“Watch yourself, Nate.”
Silence.
“I mean it. They’re nothing but trouble.”
“You don’t know that.”
This time I stayed silent for a second. He was right. I didn’t know that. “You’re right, I don’t know that. But for the moment I have known them, that is what I think, and I think I’m right.”
Nate was still scuffing his shoes. He had a good sense of rhythm.
“You have good rhythm.”
“What?” He asked, looking over at me.
I smiled slightly. “You’re keeping good rhythm with your shoes there. On my porch.”
“You’re weird,” was all Nate said.
“Thanks. Do you play an instrument?”
“No.”
“Consider it,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know, what kind of music do you like?”
“Rap!” He said forcefully.
I groaned in disgust. “Seriously?”
“Oh, you’re just old,” Nate giggled.
He was laughing, this was good, I thought. “No, I’m not old. And I appreciate rap and hip hop for what it is. I just honestly see it as primitive. You can like it, you had just better like something else as well.”
“Like what? What is good music then?”
“A lot of kinds, actually. I think it all has its place. You should like a variety, or at least be knowledgeable about it all. You don’t have to like it all, but you should try to understand it all. In other words, don’t just listen to rap.”
“You’re old. I can’t trust you,” Nate said.
I paused and looked at him. “Do you really believe that?” He must have felt my eyes and looked at me, staring at me for a moment.
“Yes, I do. You have no idea what is going on in my world.”
I felt that statement was loaded with a lot more than an analysis of my musical tastes. I looked away from Nate and breathed in the cold night air. It felt good. “You’re right, actually, I have no idea what is going on in your world. But you can trust me.” I looked directly at him. “You can.”
Nate looked away. He didn’t believe me yet, and that was ok.
“I’m really not that old. Thirty two, yes. Eighteen years older than you, yes. But old? No. At least I don’t feel like it. I honestly feel as old as I did when I was your age. Physically, maybe not, but mentally…I feel like nothing has changed.” I paused for a moment, thinking about what I had just said. “That is probably not good,” I laughed. “Maybe why I’m still single. I think like a child.”
“Single, huh?”
“Mostly. I
don’t know. I leave for half of the year. It’s hard to hold a relationship with
that kind of life. Most girls don’t want to up and go to
“Girls? Aren’t they women by thirty two?”
“See, that is what I’m saying. I still think of them as girls.” I laughed heartily at the whole moment, at once enjoying the situation and realizing that I should not be burdening Nate with my troubled love life. “Listen, don’t worry about me. Sorry to bring me up. I have to honestly say, I’m more curious about you.”
“Oh?” Nate replied, scuffing his shoes again, which had momentarily stopped.
“Yeah.” I decided just to throw it out there. “Why are you all dressed up? It’s not that cold.”
Nate looked down at himself. “I don’t know, actually. I was digging through old stuff in the closet and just decided to put it on.” He stopped and silence fell again for a moment. Then he said, “I was bored, I guess.” He looked over at me and I caught his eyes: glassy and moist.
I wanted to hug him, but knew it was not my place.
“Listen Nate. I’m going to be strait with you. I tried this afternoon, but you didn’t seem to catch it.”
“No, I did,” Nate replied quickly.
“Really?”
Nate nodded, staring at the cement.
“I, for some reason I can’t explain, have taken a liking to you,” I said quietly. Nate scoffed, softly, but I heard it. I shot a quick glance at him then continued, “Not in a weird sort of way, but I want to see you ok. Like I said earlier, I don’t know anything about what you are going through. I’m old, right? You like rap, I don’t. Whatever. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m here. Whatever that means to you. I’m not trying to be anything you don’t want me to be, but I want to be what you need.” I stopped, feeling like I had said enough. All I needed to. It was now up to Nate. I didn’t want to push it.
Nate nodded and stood up. He turned and looked directly at me. His eyes were clear and lucid and I felt a nervous knot in my stomach – which I hadn’t noticed before – disappear. “I know,” he said and started to walk away. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder as he walked down my driveway and disappeared down the walk.
**************
Simon crept
silently through the underbrush, maneuvering around the tall pines that filled
the forests surrounding
Sun punched through the canopy of twisted branches in sharp shafts of bright light and, coupled with the soft buzz of insects, the atmosphere seemed calm and peaceful. The ground was covered with a light brown layer of needles, rocks and sandy, moistureless dirt. The summer had been exceptionally dry creating a fire danger that was a prevalent occurrence in the Northwest woods. Bushes and tall grass grew easily on the forest floor and Simon could feel little seeds and sticklers filling his socks. There was a smell, entirely unique to the area, which filled the air. Simon took a deep breath and loved everything.
The thick foliage abruptly seemed to drop off and Simon carefully worked his way to the edge of what turned out to be a magnificent sight. A canyon. It was probably only forty or fifty feet deep, but the drop seemed gigantic to Simon and he staggered backwards, dropping his prized pinecones in exchange for a firm grip on a small sapling that grew conveniently near its edge. He gazed into the dreamlike abyss, wishing that John and Alex were with him. Deep into their game of pinecone combat, Simon could not just give in. He made a mental note to come explore his discovery later with the support of his two friends.
Simon collected the pinecones and started out again on his attempt to sneak up on the home base of the enemy, which consisted of John and Alex. It was not long before he discovered his destination. John was kneeling next to Alex who was drawing in the dirt with a stick, apparently planning their own attack on Simon’s team, which was composed of Simon and another boy they had met in their first couple of days at camp.
The camp
was turning out to be all Simon had dreamed of: endless days of shooting
arrows, swimming, crafts, and, of course, vicious pinecone battles in the
extensive forest.
Simon took careful aim and quickly fired off his five pinecones. Simon loved baseball and his aim was dead on and the attack left Alex and John shouting in frustration and pain. Simon stepped out of the brush.
“You guys are sooooo easy,” he crowed.
Alex glared at Simon. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“Yeah, we weren’t even done planning,” John whined.
“So sorry,” Simon said, “but, guys, I found the coolest thing. I had to end this quick.”
The two boys perked up.
“What?” John asked excitedly. After his initial quietness, John had adjusted nicely, revealing himself to be an easily excited, enthusiastic member of their crew. Simon and John had immediately become fast friends.
“A canyon.”
Excitement danced on the boys’ faces. “You serious?” Alex questioned.
“Yep, just over that hill there, actually.”
“Let’s go!” All three boys nearly said at once.
Simon led the way as they tore through the forest. They arrived shortly and skidded to a halt, breathing hard from the excitement and exertion. They gingerly peaked over the edge.
“Wow,” John breathed. “A real canyon.”
“How do you think we get down there?” Alex asked.
“Dunno.” Simon looked around the visible stretch of jagged rock walls and saw no viable path. The boys searched around for nearly an hour, but could not find a way in. The canyon ended not far into the forest and it appeared the only way into the crevasse was the shore of the lake. The boys made the hike, following the meandering ledge to the lake shore. A small creek could be seen at the bottom and the whole unavailability of the bottom made their destination that much more desirable.
The outlet of the small creek and the end of the canyon proved to be a breathtaking sight. A small cove created by two outcroppings of rock protected the canyon, whose tips jutted out high over the water making direct access impossible. The cliffs continued out from end of the canyon and steadily diminished, finally dissipating at the end of the jetties.
“We’ll have to swim,” Alex surmised, analyzing the situation.
“I don’t have my swimsuit on,” John said.
‘We could follow the bank,” Simon said slowly, “The only part where we would have to get wet is that stretch right there.” Simon pointed out a section of shoreline where the rocks were nearly vertical along the water. It was only a length of thirty feet or so.
“Let’s do it,” Alex said anxiously, nearly hopping with excitement.
“We could go put on our swimsuits,” John said cautiously.
“Oh, come on, I’m not waiting. If you don’t want to come, then fine, but Simon and I are going,” Alex said forcefully, looking at Simon, “right Simon?”
Simon glanced back and forth from John to Alex. Finally he started walking towards the nearest rock jetty. “C’mon John, it wont be that bad.” Alex and Simon set off and it only took John a moment’s hesitation before he ran and caught up.
The three boys gingerly made their way along the rocky, uneven bank which was wet and slippery. Simon could feel adrenalin begin to pump through his body as the sense of danger began to surround them. The rock walls quickly gained altitude beside them. Before long they reached the impassible section. Alex knelt down and untied his shoe laces. The other two followed suit.
“I don’t want to get my clothes all wet,” Alex said. “They’ll take forever to dry.
“Well, what other options do we have?” Simon asked.
“Swimming naked,” Alex replied, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“No way,” John replied quickly.
Simon laughed easily. “Then in your underwear. Your clothes will weigh you down too much in the water.”
“What if someone sees us?” John said, glancing around uneasily.
Alex and Simon ignored him and stripped down to their underwear. The two boys quickly appraised each other’s bodies. They looked about the same. Both seemed on the verge of puberty, but for the moment, they were still very much boy. Alex was perhaps a little chubbier, but both looked fit and athletic.
“Whose taller?” Alex asked John, stretching his body and holding his chin as high as he could. He presented a goofy sight, dressed just in his underwear, stretching in the sunshine. Simon had to laugh.
“Whatever, buddy, I’m taller,” Simon answered. He didn’t wait for Alex’s reply and instead gingerly put a foot into the glassy calm water. “Whew, a bit cold,” he commented.
Holding their clothes and shoes above them, Alex and Simon walked into the water. Soon the bottom leveled, the water rising just up to their stomachs.
“See, John? You only have to take off your pants,” Alex called back.
John rolled his eyes. “Great,” he replied sarcastically. “Fine, fine. I’m coming.” He quickly stripped down to his white briefs and started into the water. He was much skinnier and shorter than the other two and his ribs were clearly visible, his shoulder blades poking out from his back. He looked a couple of years younger than the other two. Alex and Simon had finished the trek and turned to watch John.
“Jeeze, man, do you eat?” Alex joked.
“Shut u-aahhh,” John’s rebuke was cut off, gasping as the water reached his genitals and soaked his underwear. “Cold!”
Simon laughed from the shore. “Turn you into a woman if you’re not careful,” he shouted. John looked up and, letting out a squeak, froze.
“What?” Alex asked.
John pointed past the two boys. “I saw someone, there!”
Both Alex and Simon spun around but only saw the beckoning canyon.
“You’re seeing things, man. The cold water’s made you go crazy.”
John quickened his pace and finally made it to the other side. He stood shivering on the rocks. “I-I-I s-s-swear I s-s-saw someone,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering.
“Hurry and get those clothes on before you die,” Simon half joked, ignoring John’s comment. The boys quickly dressed and set out towards the parted rock walls. “We’ll see if anyone is over here. This is going to be our hiding spot!” Simon and Alex marched with purpose while John followed a few timid paces back, eyeing the brush with a distrusting glare.
When they reached the opening, no one was there, just the winding creek calling them to explore the depths of the chasm. The unforgiving rock walls rose to heavenly heights on either side. Thick underbrush lined the creek, which was filled with clear, cool water. Sand filled in the space between the brush and the canyon walls. “This is so cool!” Alex breathed, not restraining his awe. “Yeah,” Simon agreed.
The boys trekked into the winding rock corridor and slowly became aware of another inhabitant of their discovery: the mosquito. Soon they were slapping at their exposed skin, trying to ward off the pesky blood-suckers.
“Ug! Wish I had some bug spray!” Simon groaned.
“There!” Alex exclaimed. “The end! Let’s check it out, then get out of here before we get eaten alive.”
The other boys nodded, eyeing the end of their journey. Up ahead, large boulders were piled up along the rock walls, which converged, ending the canyon. At the base was a small grove of trees and behind that, with the creek disappeared into it, a cave. Ignoring the boulders and trees, the three boys ran directly to the cave.
“I’m not going in there,” John said.
“Yeah, I think I’m with John,” Simon added, shaking his head. “No way. Maybe with a flashlight. We can come back.”
Alex glared at the two. “Scaredy cats!”
Simon shrugged. “Sorry, man.”
Alex took another longing look at the cave. “Fine, but we are coming back! With a flashlight! So you have no excuse!” He finished each phrase with a stomp on the ground.
“Ok, I promise,” Simon said, “Now let’s go before I die of blood loss!” The boys turned and started walking, Alex apprehensively giving in. They only made it a couple of steps before Simon felt a sharp pain shoot up from his leg, and he tumbled to the ground crying in pain.
“Woah, you ok?” Alex asked, kneeling down.
“Something stung,” Simon gasped, clutching his leg.
Suddenly battle cries arose from all around the boys and multiple figures stood up from behind the boulders, brandishing sharp sticks. The biggest of the figures held up a slingshot and yelled, “Move and you’re dead!” The figures rushed in and turned out to be a gathering of seven older boys. They surrounded the shuttering twelve year olds, glaring.
“What are you doing here?” what must have been the leader, the one with the slingshot, asked, growling.
“Who are you?” Alex replied, coldly. Simon, slowly getting up from the ground, silently prayed Alex would keep his temper in check. This was a very mismatched fight.
“Eighth graders,” came the hissed reply.
The three boys were huddled together, their backs all touching, facing outward into the circle. The six eighth graders with sticks comprised the circle and eyed their catch with thirsty eyes. The leader paced around inside of the circle, taking turns glaring at the three younger boys. Simon could feel John shaking in fear. Simon was smarting from the slingshot hit, but knew these eighth graders wouldn’t really hurt them.
“You are trespassing on Eighth Grade property,” the leader said slowly. “You must be new, just going into seventh, is that right?”
The three stayed silent.
“You look too small for seventh grade,” the leader said to John. “You sure you’re in seventh?”
“Yes,” John whispered.
The leader prodded Alex with his slingshot. “What’s your name, boy?”
Alex kept his mouth tightly shut.
“Answer me!”
Alex coldly glared at him then spat on the ground.
“Oh, we got some tough ones here, fellas!” The leader crowed. Simon groaned. Alex was such an idiot! Didn’t know when to keep his spit to himself.
The leader stepped out of the circle. “Tie them to the trees, boys!” he shouted, motioning toward the grove. With their sharpened sticks, the gang prodded Simon, John, and Alex, who reluctantly marched over to the trees. One of the eighth graders produced a coil of rope. Each boy was in turn tied to a separate tree. Simon considered running, but knew he could not outrun the larger boys and didn’t desire to find out what unspeakable punishment they would come up for him. Mad eighth graders can do some pretty nasty stuff, or so Simon had heard. Best to play along.
Once each had his hands tied behind a tree, the eighth graders gathered in front of them.
“We’ll leave you here to think about how nice you are going to be to us for the rest of camp. You’ll do whatever we ask, clean our cabin, give us your desert. Ok?”
No one answered.
“Well, you’ll have lots of time to think.” The leader nodded to his group and the started to walk away. “We’ll be back to get you tonight!”
Again, the three stayed silent, except for the quiet whimpering of John. The 8th graders disappeared around a bend in the canyon and the three boys were left to themselves.
“Great.” Alex broke the silence.
“Why’d you spit, stupid,” Simon said.
“Oh, they would’ve done this anyways.”
Simon groaned, but he knew Alex was probably right. He looked over at John, who had his head down and was still shaking. “You alright, John?” John sniffled in reply, but nodded. Alex tried to sit down, but realized they had tied his hands to the tree; there was no way to sit without dislocating his shoulders. Alex and John realized they were in the same predicament.
“This blows,” Alex groaned.
They all took in their surroundings quietly, and in the absence of their rustling, they heard a new sound that seemed to grow louder and louder. Buzzing.
“Mosquitoes!” they all said at once. But the pests seemed to ignore Simon and John. Instead, they attacked Alex, leaving him swearing and twitching about.
“Must be something extra tasty about your blood,” Simon commented.
“I hate Eighth Graders!” Alex yelled at the top of his lungs. Simon and John nodded in silent agreement.
Time passed slowly for the three adventurers. The sun lazily started to drop in the sky, but it was still many hours until sunset. After about thirty minutes of tormenting Alex, the mosquitoes got bored and went back to the water, but not before Alex’s arms, neck, and face were pockmarked all over with sharp red dots. He looked like he had a bad case of the chickenpox. Every once in a while he would holler out in anger and frustration, “They itch so bad!” John eventually stopped sniffling and seemed to accept his temporary imprisonment. Simon, on the other hand, kept wiggling his hands about and rubbing them against the tree.
“I think the ropes are loosening,” he called out after about two hours of struggling.
“Really?” Alex and John both asked, surprised and excited.
“Yeah, I mean, I can’t get my hands out, but it’s a step in the right direction.”
Both Alex and John wiggled their hands about, but with no luck.
“Must have tied yours bad,” Alex commented.
Simon glared at Alex, “No, it’s because instead of complaining for the last two hours, I’ve been making my hands bleed. Maybe I just won’t untie you if I get out.”
“You wouldn’t,” Alex said sharply, but his eyes betrayed a trace of fear.
“I dunno,” Simon replied with a wink.
While they were having this exchange, John started to shift from foot to foot.
‘You all right?” Simon asked.
John looked over at Simon, then back at the ground, shaking his head. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he whispered.
“Oh, don’t piss yourself man,” Alex said roughly, “If the eighth graders find you like that, they’ll never let us live it down.”
“Do you only think about yourself,” Simon shot at Alex. The heat, mosquitoes, and their immobility were starting to wear on Simon’s patience.
Alex glared back towards Simon. “What? I’m thinking about you too.” They looked at John, who was doing an awkward dance, hopping from foot to foot. Alex groaned loudly. “C’mon, it’s not like I don’t have to take a piss too. Just hold it, or are you too much of a baby?”
“Alex!” Simon shouted. “Shut up. You’re not helping things. Besides, I think…” Simon jiggled his hands about a bit and suddenly he pulled them free. “Ha!” Simon raised his chafed and bleeding hands high above his head in victory.
“Untie me, please,” John said, looking Simon pleadingly in the eye.
“Hey, what about me! Mosquitoes!” Alex said. Simon just glared at him then went over to John and started working the knot.
“Jeeze, they tied yours well,” Simon said. John groaned loudly and his hopping became worse. “John! Hold still, I can’t untie you with you moving about like that,” Simon said sharply. John stopped his desperate dance and instead crossed his legs tightly. After about a minute, Simon stepped back in frustration. “Man, there is no way.” Simon took a step back and looked at John, thinking. John crossed his legs the other way, slightly bending his knees up and down. A small wet spot had appeared on the crotch of his jeans. He looked up at Simon and appeared to be on the verge of tears. “Ah ha!” Simon said suddenly, “a rock! I’ll cut it.”
“Hurry hurry hurry!” John said.
Simon ran over to the boulders and picked out a sharp rock. Jogging back, he saw John had resumed his hopping. Just as Simon got back to the trees, John let out a small cry and was suddenly still. He looked up and stared Simon in the eyes. Simon stood and watched as John wet his pants, the small wet spot growing steadily and eventually soaking his pant legs. John just looked at Simon as tears began to drip down his face.
“Great!” Alex said angrily as a puddle formed under John. “You’ve pissed yourself. Just great.”
Simon ignored Alex and patted John on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it man. We’ll sneak back into camp and no one will notice.” John didn’t seem to hear Simon, his head down, staring at his soaked jeans. Simon worked the rock on the rope and it wasn’t long before the tie split into two frayed pieces. “There!” Simon said. John took a couple of steps forward then sat in the sand, staring at the running creek. Simon walked up behind him. “You’ll be alright, buddy.” John shrugged, “I guess no one saw me except you and Alex.” He said Alex’s name like it was poison.
“Hey, what about me? You going to cut me loose, Simon?” Simon turned back and glared at Alex.
“I’m not sure. I’m thinking about letting you stay there until you wet your pants too.”
But Simon didn’t. Instead, he got up and cut Alex loose. “Don’t ever be mean to John like that again, you understand?” He whispered tersely into Alex’s ear. Alex nodded, not desiring to make his savior any angrier.
“Hey John,” Alex said softly. Alex and David were standing in front of John. John looked up cautiously. “You could just soak your pants in the creek, then tell anyone who asked that you fell in. No one would know you wet.”
Simon looked at Alex surprised. “That’s a good idea. Here, come on, John, get up.” Simon reached down and grabbed John’s hand, pulling him up. He led John over to the creek, John walking awkwardly, the soaked jeans chaffing the insides of his thighs. Alex followed close behind. Once by the creek, he shakily unbuttoned the fly and pulled off his pants. “Here, you should get your shirt wet to make it believable, better put it in the creek too,” Simon commented. John looked down and nodded in agreement. He slipped the shirt off and was left standing in the fading sunlight in just his briefs.
Suddenly, John let out a scream of pain and fell to the sand, a vicious red welt rising on his stomach just before he gripped it with his hand, groaning in agony. Simon knew before he even looked up. He turned slowly and sure enough, seven figures silhouetted by the sun were walking towards the three twelve year olds, kicking up an ominous, glowing cloud of sand in their wake.
****************
I did light another cigarette after Nate disappeared. The cold started to penetrate my clothing and for a second, I wondered if Nate had been smart all bundled up. I laughed lightly to myself. I had gotten him to smile; at least that was a start. I slept better that night than I had since Simon’s untimely death.
Looking at the newspaper the next morning, I saw that school was to start the coming Monday. It was Friday. That gave Mia Argrow just three days to prepare her boys for public school. Perhaps there was something I could do to help. I quickly showered and dressed and walked over to the Argrows. The same car I had seen earlier was parked next to the family van. I knocked on the door and settled back a couple of steps when I heard footsteps nearing. A tall, thin man answered the door. I didn’t recognize him.
“Can I help you?” He asked softly.
“Um, yeah,” I started dumbly. “I’m, uh, David. I live a couple of houses down and I was just hoping I could talk with Mi…, ah Mrs. Argrow about something. Just for a moment.”
The man looked at me cautiously, then motioned me in. “Sure, she’s in the kitchen.” He took a step back then stuck out his hand suddenly. “I’m John, by the way.” I shook John’s hand and smiled. “Good to meet you, John,” I replied, then followed him into the house.
The floor plan was eerily similar to both mine and Mr. Taylor’s house, as most suburban neighborhoods seem to be. In the kitchen, Mia Argrow was sitting at the table sipping coffee and reading the paper. She looked a whole lot better than the last time I had seen her.
“Good morning,” I said. She looked up and smiled. I stuck out my hand. “I’m not sure if we’ve ever properly met. I’m David, just live a couple of houses down.”
She gently shook my hand. “Sure. Nate worked down at your house a couple of weeks ago.” I nodded in confirmation. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked. I nodded, “That would be great.” She started to stand up, but John stopped her. “I’ll get it,” he said.
“Sit down,” Mia motioned towards the only open seat. I took it, wondering where John was going to sit. He put a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, then walked over to the sink, looking out through the window into the backyard. He didn’t move and I figured he had no intention of joining into the conversation. Mia took a sip of coffee and smiled softly at me. She looked tired, but better, on her way to recovering quickly as only moms can do. “So what did you want to talk about?”
“Well,” I started. I took a sip of coffee and remembered the taste. “Did you get this from Edith?”
“Yes,” Mia replied. “Good, huh? She gave me a pound of it just after…” She trailed off and I knew what she meant.
“It’s very good. Thank you. Nate came over last night,” I decided just to dive right in. Mia looked up surprised.
“When?” She asked.
“Oh, about three in the morning.”
Mia sighed loudly and looked up at John, who was still staring out the window. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“No, no, Mia. I don’t mind. I’m not complaining. I just thought you should know. I was still up, actually, so he didn’t wake me up or anything.”
“He’s been hard to talk to,” Mia said. “I want to help him, you know…” she looked down at the coffee. “But he’s been a rock. John’s tried too, but he wont even open up his bedroom door. At least, it seems…” She paused for a moment. “It seems he’ll talk to you.”
I nodded. “Well, we didn’t talk about much. Music, my troubled love life,” I laughed and was relieved to see Mia smile as well. “Actually, I think he’d be a good musician.”
“Oh?” Mia said, surprised. “I would’ve never known.”
I would have liked to sit and chat, but I didn’t want to intrude on whatever Mia and John had been doing, so I cut directly to the point. “Mia, I came over to offer my help. I saw that school starts up after the weekend. Nate told me you were enrolling him at Central?”
“Yes. We just have to,” Mia said softly.
“I understand. I didn’t know if you wanted me to help you get supplies or something. I have to go to the store anyways today, and I wouldn’t mind a bit picking up what the boys need.”
Mia sighed. I looked searchingly at her. She quickly looked at me, then at John (still looking out the window), then settled on her coffee. “I’d love your help,” Mia finally said. “We’ve had to accept so much of it recently, and it’s hard to receive help, you know?”
I nodded.
“But yeah, why don’t you take Nate out and go shopping.”
“I could take all three. Get them all done at once, give you a rest,” I said.
Mia laughed. “Oh, you’re in for hell. Taking them shopping. Simon always…” she trailed off again. I felt a pain in my stomach and wanted to hold her hand, but I stopped myself. She finally looked up, rubbing her eyes briefly with her hands. “Yes, will you do that?”
I smiled softly. “Absolutely. When should I be by?”
“How about in an hour. I’ll get the boys up and they should be ready by then.”
I nodded and stood. John turned around and started to walk towards the front door. I followed. “Thank you, David,” Mia said as I left the kitchen. I turned and smiled. “No problem. Thanks for letting me help.”
John opened up the front door and followed me out onto the porch.
“Thank you,” he said, sticking out his hand. “It was good to meet you.”
“Sure,” I replied, returning the gesture. “So are you family? Her brother?”
“No,” John replied. “A good family friend. Mia and I were talking about a couple of things. There is a little more to the story than everyone knows,” he said softly.
I looked up at him, startled.
“Maybe we can talk soon. But ultimately, it is up to Mia,” John said, looking at me. He had soft, trusting eyes and I knew Mia was in good hands.
“Sure. Whatever is best. See you in an hour, I guess?”
John nodded then went back into the house. I watched him go, then turned and walked home, items for a shopping list popping up in my mind