“People overreact to that shit. I used to run away all the time when I was younger. It’s a small town. They’ll find him.”
“Maybe. Still, they’re worried because the kid’s blind.”
Ash stopped short.
“Did…did you say blind?”
30
By the time Berke dropped off Ash at the townhouse, the area was overrun with people hollering Jake’s name. They stalked across lawns and sidewalks, waving LED lanterns through the dusk darkness. In the backyard she found her father. His flashlight beam strafed the edge of the woods, sweeping back and forth as if painting the tree trunks. When she called to him, he jumped.
“Ashlee, Jake’s gone missing!”
“I know. Any idea where he might’ve gone?”
Trembling, he pointed his flashlight at the back window. “He crawled out from there. Trent said the little fella locked the door on him and snuck out. Keep your eyes open. He couldn’t have gone far.”
Ash rushed along the woods, squinting through the dusk. Her legs were killing her, but newfound urgency kept her moving. She hated the fact that the kid had snuck out not long after the incident with Trent. She couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.
“Ash!”
She turned and saw Trent hobbling toward her, angry as a Pantera song. He shined a light in her eyes.
“Why the fuck are you looking around here?” He slammed his cane off a nearby toolshed. “We already got people searching the woods!”
“Fuck off, Trent, I’m trying to help.”
“Then look where nobody’s looking.”
“Okay, okay.” Her heart was spazzing. “Before you guys moved to Jersey, did Jake have any favorite spots around town? Hideouts, hangouts, anything?”
“Nothing nearby.” Trent lowered his light. He stank of nervous sweat. “Ash, if Jake gets pneumonia or something, I’m gonna—shit, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
“Calm down.” Ash squeezed his shoulder. “Think. Where did Jake and his friends hang out?”
“His cousins—Lauren’s nephews—live down the street. Jake used to play in the woods behind their house, but that’s too far off.”
“It’s walking distance.”
“Ash, he’s blind!”
“Right, he’s blind, not crippled.”
Trent shoved her back. “Fuck you, Ash. My son’s missing and you’re taking cheap shots at me. I don’t need this.” He stormed off.
Nearby, people scrambled among the townhouses, frantically checking between bushes and under porches. They yelled, they searched, they came up empty.
Her gut told her to check the cousins’ house and the woods beyond it. There were campsites out there, spots where, as a teenager, she’d experimented with everything from French kissing to Jim Beam. It wasn’t that far. If the kid found the sidewalk with his baseball bat, it was a straight shot to the end of the street.
She ran.
By the time she reached the house at the end of the street, she no longer heard people hollering. Doubt sunk into her stomach, but she pressed on.
The woods looked nothing like she remembered. Years ago, she used to party out here—high school keggers, clumsy hookups, the occasional scuffle. She thought she remembered her way around, but the once-familiar trails were now hidden by underbrush. Every time she followed a path, she soon lost it and found herself backtracking.
Finally she reached a familiar egg-shaped clearing. Her flashlight beam fell upon a set of faint footprints in the dirt. They led past a dead campfire, toward a rotted tree stump on the far end. Something caught her eye, and she jumped when she spotted a pale face lying in the underbrush.
“Jake!” She ran to him. As she got closer, her hopes crumbled. The face belonged to a toppled statue. Probably one stolen from the local church on a dare.
She checked the footprints. They led deeper into the woods. The only thing beyond this campsite was an old treehouse. As a little girl she used to play there with Trent and their friends. Back then they spent entire summer afternoons goofing off at the treehouse. If it still remained, it had to be in tatters.
Even so, it was worth a look.
A nearby deer trail led her into familiar territory. The air stank of soggy mud, and before long she heard faint splashing; the lower end of Snare Creek wasn’t far off. At this point she didn’t need light to guide her, just childhood instinct. It was simple. Follow the clicking waters, take a left at the oversized sycamore, and enter the treehouse clearing.
Sure enough, there it was.
Looking up, she saw the treehouse suspended in the early dark. It hung there like a sad memory, the shadows working hard to disguise its age. A lifetime ago, it had felt like a vast cabin that could house every kid in the neighborhood. Now it looked no larger than a discarded cardboard box.
Following her phone’s light, she approached the tree. Boards nailed to the trunk served as a ladder. She pocketed her phone and pressed her toe on the bottom board. One-handed climbing proved awkward, but her head soon poked above the floorboards.
“Jake?” She squinted into the darkness. “You here?”
No reply.
Fuck.
Then came a scratching sound. Could be the wind. She grabbed her phone. Shining its light, she spotted an old burn mark on the back wall. The wood around it had rotted to an ugly gray color. She tilted the light downward on a bright red Phillies jacket.
“Jake!” She laughed with relief. “Holy shit, the whole town’s looking for you.”
The kid stood. Said nothing. He walked toward her, his bat stretched outward.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Come on, your dad’s worried. He—”
A whoosh cut through the air. Then the floor smashed right in front of her. Splinters flew. In a panic, Ash shifted backward. Lost her balance.
For a moment, she was in freefall, her stomach rising.
Then she landed. Hard. Her tailbone caught the worst of the impact. As the pain registered, her momentum whipped her shoulders backward, slamming her head against the dirt. A nauseating dizziness flooded her.
“Ah…fuck.”
“Leave me alone!” Jake yelled. “I’m not going back.”
Ash sat up, gently reaching between her dreads to feel the back of her head. It stung. She winced. When she stood, her tailbone throbbed. She drew breath through clenched teeth.
“Go away!” Jake smashed his bat against the treehouse floor.
“Cut that out!” she snapped. “You almost cracked my head open, you little shit!”
“I don’t care!”
“Well you should! Fuck!” As the pain faded, she realized yelling at the kid wouldn’t help. It only gave him an excuse to act up. Time for a new strategy. “Listen, tough guy. I’ll give you a pass this time. I’m normally pretty ruthless, but if you come down, I’ll let you off easy.”
“I’m staying here!”
“Fine, then.” She scooped up her phone. “I’ll call your dad.”
“Wait, don’t!” The anger in his voice shifted to worry. “I don’t want him here. This is my spot.”
Ash snickered despite her pain. His spot. How cute. Like he’s marked it with his piss or something. “Your spot, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re wrong. This has been my treehouse since before you were born.”
“No it hasn’t.”
“Sure has.” She approached the ladder. The boy turned his head and squatted, evidently listening as she drew closer. The bat trembled in his two-handed grasp. She aimed her light behind him. “You can’t see it, but there’s a burn mark on the back wall.”
He paused. “I remember that mark. You put it there?”
“Yep. Tried burning down the treehouse once.”
“What? Why?”
“Didn’t want to give it up. We used to play this game called Kings and Killers—me, your dad, and some kids from town. First one to climb the treehouse became king. Then the others would try to climb up and
kill the king. We quit playing after I pushed your dad out one time.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, broke his wrist.”
Jake’s nose wrinkled. “My dad’s stupid. My mom, too. They keep treating me like I’m too dumb to flush a toilet.”
“That why you ran off?”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “And my dad wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
“We can go back now and talk.”
“I don’t wanna go back.” Jake took a seat at the edge, his legs dangling. He tapped the bat against the ladder. “Ever since I went blind, it’s like everyone thinks I’m dead or something. Like I’m not me anymore.”
“I know what you mean.”
“No you don’t.”
“Actually, I do.” She popped her cast off. “Not sure if anyone told you, but I’m in a band. I play guitar. But I can’t right now.”
“Why not?”
“Here.” She raised her handless arm. “My arm is right in front of you. Touch it with your finger.”
“You’re not gonna pull me down, are you?”
“I couldn’t grab you with this arm if I wanted to.”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Stick your finger out.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he poked her forearm. With one finger, he traced her flesh all the way to the wrist. When he reached the stump, he paused, confused. Then he patted the forearm on both sides before gripping her stump.
He gasped. “Wh-where’s your hand?”
“Long story.” She sighed. “All you need to know is that right now I’m no guitarist. Hell, I’m nobody at all.”
“Me neither.” He released his grip. “I miss baseball. I wanted to play for the Phillies someday. But now…”
Ash could imagine his empty future. Poor kid couldn’t even watch baseball, let alone play it. She swore to herself that when she visited Snare, she would demand extra eyes for him.
The wind picked up, drilling through her jacket. She hugged herself against the frigid gusts.
“Sure you want to freeze out here?” she asked. “If you come down, I’ll let you lead the way back. I might even trust you to flush a toilet when we get home.”
He smiled a little.
“Seriously. You’re a smart kid. It’s gotta be hard to find this place without eyes.”
“Not really. Me and my cousins played blindfold tag out here.”
“Still, to remember where to go, and to get here without looking—you’d have to be super smart.”
Now he grinned big.
“Wow, is that a smile?”
He laughed.
“Thought so. Come on. Before my other hand freezes off.”
Jake dropped his bat and started down the ladder.
31
Trent stared into the shadowy woods, wishing he could somehow command the tree branches to sweep the forest floor and find his son. At least ten neighbors were searching among the oaks and birches, but they needed more manpower. Earlier he’d ventured in himself, but the clumpy, uneven terrain dropped him flat. This goddamned leg. Jake’s in there somewhere, yet all I can do is stand around and watch others lead the search. Some father I am.
“Is that him?” a woman yelled.
Trent whirled around. Two silhouettes trotted down the sidewalk, one much shorter than the other. The moment they stepped under a streetlamp, Trent’s heart burst like a grenade in his chest—gunpowder, shrapnel, everything. He couldn’t believe it. Ash had found Jake.
“Champ!” Trent stumbled toward them, dropped to his good knee, and wrapped his son in a crushing hug. Jake’s arms hung apathetically at his sides, but Trent held on, tight as he ever had. “Jake, you scared me. So much.”
“Jake!” Lauren sprinted over and tackled the pair into the grass. Trent groaned as pain ravaged his leg. He lost his hold on Jake, and Lauren wrestled their son into her arms with a motherly squeal. She smothered him with kisses while neighbors cried out in celebration. Dad ran over and scooped Jake into his arms, laughing as they spun in a delirious circle.
Trent sat there, regretting that he’d never been able to lift Jake like that. The sight hollowed his stomach. He sat there sulking until he noticed Ash heading away from the group, ditching them like a suspect fleeing a crime scene. Although Trent felt obligated to stay put, he wanted answers. He gimped after Ash and grabbed her elbow.
“Where’d you find him?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where, Ash?”
“Next street over.” Before he could comprehend the idea of Jake making such a trek, she added, “Hiding under an SUV.”
“An SUV? A full street over?”
“That’s right. Pretty sure Jake can manage without his parents hovering over him 24/7.”
“Hey, don’t flip this on me. You don’t know Jake—you’re not there when he bumps into walls and coffee tables. He struggles getting around. He needs our help.”
“That’s not what he told me.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Ask him.”
“I can’t.” Trent clenched his teeth. “He won’t speak to me. He hasn’t in three months.”
“Then grow a fucking set and convince him to.” She tore her arm from his grasp. “I got shit to take care of. That is, unless you plan on trading your leg.”
Trent chewed his lip.
“That’s what I thought,” she said.
“You know what? Maybe I will!” His comment surprised her. Surprised himself too. Though it sounded like a heat-of-the-moment outburst, the past hour had him seriously reconsidering Snare’s offer. If he’d had a working leg earlier, he could’ve searched the whole town instead of uselessly standing around. “I might. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” She shook her head. “Maybe’s not good enough.”
She turned and headed for the house.
Before long the entire Hudson family went inside. Lauren made Jake a TV dinner of SpongeBob-themed chicken nuggets. She, Trent, and Dad sat around the table telling Jake how worried they’d been. Dad mentioned that two Scranton cops had driven in to help with the search. He said those officers might’ve been needed elsewhere to stop crimes.
Jake didn’t react.
That set Lauren off.
“Don’t you dare act like this is no big deal.” When Jake kept eating, she slammed both palms on the table. “Guess what, mister. No iPod for a month.”
Jake dropped a nugget. “No!”
“I mean it.”
“You can’t take it away!”
Lauren gave a humorless laugh. “Watch me.”
“That’s not fair! There’s nothing for me to do around here—nothing I can do because you and Dad won’t let me do anything.”
Her eyes widened behind her glasses. “That’s not true.”
“It is!” Jake left his chair and charged down the hall without bumping anything. He rounded the staircase railing and thumped up the steps.
Trent found him lying on the air mattress in the spare bedroom. When he entered, Jake pulled the sheets over his head.
“Champ?” Trent leaned against the doorway. “Can I talk to you about something? It’s not about you running away, I promise.”
No response. As usual.
“There’s this doctor around here. Apparently she can heal anything, my leg included.” He let that sink in for a second. The bedsheets twitched. “I’ve thought about getting surgery, but if it doesn’t go well, I could be stuck here in town. Stuck for a long time.”
Jake held still.
“Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you because you’re still mad at me. Hell, maybe you’d rather I stay behind.” Trent scratched his cheek scruff. “I don’t want to leave you, though. Not ever.”
Nothing.
Trent sighed. He remembered what Ash said about growing a set and convincing Jake to talk.
Only one sure-fire way to do that.
“Jake,” he said. “That doctor can fix y
our eyes.”
The sheets twitched. Jake gasped.
“If you want—”
The sheet fell away. “I want to see again.”
Five words. A new record.
Trent entered the room and lowered himself to the floor. He knelt beside Jake, studying him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten this close without smacking into a hostile vibe. Now he received Jake’s curiosity. Warm, healthy curiosity. And hope.
Jake leaned forward. “Can she really fix my eyes?”
“Yeah.” Trent rubbed his son’s shoulder. Jake didn’t flinch, so Trent took the next step and wrapped both arms around him. The eyes might be off the market, but that wouldn’t stop Trent. If Ash couldn’t convince Snare to conjure up an extra pair, Trent would find another way.
Somehow.
“You’ll see again, champ.” When Jake returned the hug, he added, “I promise.”
32
Karl tossed a third consecutive cigarette as the front door opened behind him. Warm air rushed out, along with Ashlee, who shuffled down the porch steps without a word. After all the excitement following little Jake’s return, Karl never got a chance to thank her for finding him. God only knew how much longer the search would’ve lasted if she hadn’t.
“Ashlee!” He called to her from the porch, but she was already halfway across the parking lot. “Wait up a sec.”
“Make it quick.”
“Wanted to thank you,” he said, rushing over. “Good thing you found Jake. How’d you know where to look?”
She shrugged. “I used to run away all the time, remember?”
Karl smiled. “Where you running to now?”
“Berke Toyama’s house. We’re gonna take down the cameras.”
“What?” The good humor flushed out of him. “Ashlee, Candace will notice. She checks that camera app of hers like it’s Facebook.”
“Gotta get them down somehow. We can’t just hope she changes her mind.”
“No. No, we can’t.”
“Then I’m going.”
“Hang on.” Karl raised a finger. When Ashlee was younger that always quieted her. He needed to think. Much as he hated to admit it, she was right. They couldn’t hope for a miracle. When Candace made a decision, she stuck to it like cement. Her resolve had held their group together all these years, but now he needed her to back down. Reasoning with her wouldn’t cut it. He needed to apply pressure somehow. “Might have an idea.”
Bad Parts Page 12