by Pepper Pace
"I don't believe this," Jill said. "He'd rather have Cousin It?"
Raina threw her head back and laughed from her gut. It wasn't a muffled chuckle. It was the sound of joy ringing from her soul! As her head fell back, so did her hair and her face was open and uncovered. Everyone on the floor turned to look at her in awe. She was the center of attention. She finally understood! Who cared if she showed her scars or hid them? Everyone knew they were there!
Raina pulled back her sleek black curls into a knot at the nape of her neck. Humming slightly to herself, she picked up one of her new gel pens and began to write.
THE END
The Way Home
I didn’t think of myself as unpopular, even though the only friends I had were the friends you have during school hours. It didn’t bother me to be fourteen and not have a slew of girlfriends to go to the mall with or talk on the telephone with until all hours of the night.
Truth be known, I was different than most kids. Reading a good book or drawing a picture made me happiest. Most times I kept my bedroom door closed; I was locked away in my own world.
It’s not that I wasn't close to my family; it was just Daddy and my two younger sisters, and we were very close. Mama died of breast cancer right after Angeline was born. Angeline never even knew Mama, which kind of screws with your mind…I mean, there were so many wonderful memories of Mama that I had; like her smell, her smile—how could I share that with Angeline? I figure that Angeline would always just see me as her Mama. I wondered if she would grow up and think back on my smell, or the way I smiled at her.
Sometimes I thought so hard about stuff that it would be dark outside when I bothered to look up from the book that I was supposed to be reading.
Daddy really tried to make it up to us because our Mother was gone. It made for a very unconventional childhood. I mean, Daddy never laid down a lot of rules—he never had to. All of us were A students, well behaved, never in any trouble. I know what it means to be an old soul. People had been calling me that since I stared down into my mother’s lifeless face at the funeral home, then looked up at my Daddy and said, ‘That’s not Mama—maybe her body, but she’s already gone.’ I was seven. A strange childhood is when you go to bed when you want because you know it’s all up to you to get up for school on time. It was normal to receive a letter from my Dad trying to explain the facts of life and asking me to check the boxes describing which items I had questions about: A. Your Cycle, B. Sex. C. Boys. D. STD’s. I didn’t check any box and that was that.
Me being the oldest made looking after the family my job. I never minded being left with all of the responsibilities of the family. Our meals consisted of whatever I wanted to cook, we wore whatever I wanted to buy, and our house was decorated however us kids wanted. This was normal to us because who did we have to compare it to? We just needed to leave Daddy alone during the week so that he could work.
But on Saturday mornings Daddy would take us wherever we wanted; out to eat, or swimming, the zoo, an amusement park. But what I liked to do was fish. I know that sounds pretty lame when your Dad will let you do any and everything that you want, and all you want to do is fish. But fishing is a way for you to still be with your family, but to also be quiet. I can open a book and either read it or just think my own private thoughts.
Seemed like all I ever thought about was love. Of all that I had, or could ask for, there was only one thing that I did long for and that was to be in love. It was all the romance books, I’m sure. I was probably much too young to be reading some of the books I had, but I was addicted to the idea of being in love.
Of course, I was only fourteen and didn't have half the body needed to attract even the geekiest boy at school. I was tall, too thin, wore glasses and I kept my hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. Not that I’m ugly or anything. I have light brown eyes and pecan coloring. Whenever I do let down my hair it’s black and wavy, falling down over my shoulders. Thank god Daddy never had to give any of us hair relaxers!
I won out this one Saturday and we were going fishing, so I packed a book to read. I chose a V.C. Andrews novel. Then I put on jeans, a sweatshirt and my usual baseball cap.
We always got to the lake at the crack of dawn. Daddy unpacked us some breakfast sandwiches from McDonald's while I set up our lawn chairs. Beatrice, who was ten, moped at first because she’d wanted to go to the zoo. Eventually she relaxed with her sausage biscuit and fishing pole.
An hour later I caught a bluegill but threw it back because it was too small. Daddy sent me to the little general store for wax worms and the old lady at the counter called me son.
By noon it was starting to warm up. I got a bologna sandwich and coke out of the cooler. There weren’t very many people at the lake that day so I was a bit surprised when I saw a boy about my age walk pass, especially since I hadn’t seen any other kids my age fishing. He wasn’t holding any fishing gear although he was dressed in dirty jeans and a shirt. In fact, he was dirty himself. He looked like something that had come out of a coal mine.
His blond hair was long and covered most of his face, except for his gray eyes, which I could see clearly between the strands of unwashed hair.
The boy was staring at me like he wanted to say something. He even hesitated; his mouth opened but in the end he just walked away without ever speaking.
I stared after him confused, and then went back to my sandwich and book. But I couldn’t get that look out of my head. I suddenly looked down at the sandwich. That’s what he had wanted. Instead he walked away. But exactly how do you ask some strange person that you’ve never set eyes on before for the rest of their half eaten sandwich? And then what happened if you didn’t? Did you just keep walking until you finally dropped dead of starvation? My breath felt strained in my chest.
“Daddy, I’ll be back. I’m going to the restroom.” I grabbed a fresh sandwich and another soda pop.
“Why you taking food to the toilet?” Angeline asked.
“Cuz it’s a long walk,” I responded absently.
I couldn’t see the boy anymore so I hurried in the direction that I thought he’d gone.
I saw a flash of blue jeans entering the woods and I jogged toward him. “Hey!”
He turned surprised and then warily headed towards me. He walked so slow…when we were about a foot from each other we just eyed each other cautiously.
I swallowed. I was normally shy around boys, but there was no time to think about all of the things I should be nervous about so I just asked. “What’s your name?”
He moved from one foot to the other as if I was a teacher that caught him cheating on a test. “Kenny. What’s yours?”
“Jamie.”
He frowned. “You a girl?”
I wasn’t offended. “Yeah.”
“Oh...” He talked funny, like he might have been from Tennessee or Kentucky. He had a twang. I’m from Ohio and I know I talk country, but I don’t have a twang.
“You want this sandwich?” I asked.
Kenny nodded. I gave him both the sandwich and the pop. “Thanks,” he said while taking a moment to stare into my eyes. He turned back to the woods.
That look haunted me. I knew that he had placed me in his memory bank. Maybe one day when he was hungry again he’d replay this moment….
“I…I can bring you some more food! At dusk,” I called after him.
Kenny stopped walking and looked over his shoulder, though not meeting my eyes this time, as if he didn’t want to risk disappointment. “At night, it gets kind of cold.” Then he disappeared into the dense forest.
When we got home Daddy noticed how quiet I was. I wanted to tell him about the boy Kenny. But maybe there was more to his story and I wouldn’t be doing him any favors by bringing an adult into his life. But what was a boy doing sleeping in the woods? And the scenarios my mind came up with weren’t pretty.
After I made dinner I packed the leftovers into some old tupperware bowls. Daddy wanted to know what t
he special occasion was. I’d cooked fried chicken, cornbread, greens, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and peach cobbler. I’ve been told that I can throw down in the kitchen! I just shrugged and gave him a peck on the forehead.
Later, when the girls were in the family room watching tv, I pretended to go to my room, shutting my bedroom door. Then I slipped down the stairs and out the back door with my little shopping bag of food. I got on my bike and as I pedaled, almost wrecking, I wondered why I hadn’t put everything into a backpack.
It was dark out and I didn’t know if Kenny would even still be at the lake. He didn’t seem to have much faith that I’d show up. But then he had told me what he needed so I had to trust that he’d be someplace where I could find him.
I hadn't brought a flashlight, which was pretty stupid since I’d never be able to find him in the woods in the dark. But I was right, Kenny was sitting by the lake. He stood up when he heard my bike.
“I can’t believe you came,” he said when I pulled up alongside him. I handed him the shopping bag. He took it slowly, watching me with gratitude.
We both sat on the cut logs that lined the lake and I watched him dig through the bag. He grunted when he got to the food and he ate every bit of it with his bare hands even though I had packed plastic utensils.
I watched him intently and he was not self-conscious at all. When the food was gone—and believe me, there had been enough for three or four people, he wiped his hands on his jeans and dug through the bag again. I had packed an old quilt that was threadbare but looked warm enough, and some of Daddy’s sweatshirts that were now too small for him.
The sweatshirts would be big for Kenny since Daddy was kind of fat, but at least they would be warm.
He smiled for the first time. “Jamie. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Quickly he pulled one of the sweatshirts on over his thin t-shirt. He smelled. Maybe I should have brought him soap. He swept his hair back which promptly fell right back into his face.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Fifteen.” I saw your Dad…are you going to get in trouble for coming?” He sounded afraid.
“No, my Dad is pretty cool.” I hesitated. “Kenny…how long have you been out here?” He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.
“What happened to you?” Kenny shook his head, swallowing hard. “You can’t talk about it?” I whispered. Wordlessly he shook his head again.
“It’s okay.” I remembered Mama dying and the horrible hospital visits. The idea of hospitals simply terrified me. How could you walk into a hospital and not think about all of the people that have died there? I tried to think of something to cheer him up. “I can come back tomorrow night. We usually have Sunday dinner. I’ll bring you more food.”
He smiled slightly, his eyes still sad.
“Kenny, do you think you should maybe go to foster care or something?”
His head was already shaking adamantly. “I can’t go back to foster care, Jamie. I can’t do it again-”
This time it was me that nodded wordlessly. After a time I stood. “I guess I better go.” He came to his feet and helped me gather the bag and tupperware, and then I climbed on my bike.
“You’re not going to tell anybody about me, are you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He smiled. “Okay. Bye.”
I pedaled quickly home and snuck back into the house and no one was the wiser.
***
“Jamie?” Daddy poked his head into my room the next morning. “Didn’t we have any left-over chicken?”
“Oh…I ate that. Sorry Daddy.” He chuckled.
“It’s okay. I’ll just make a sandwich.”
Sunday I started dinner early. I cooked a pot roast with potatoes and carrots, green beans, candied yams and I made brownies for desert.
I could barely wait for dusk so that I could pretend to shut myself away. Finally I got on my bike and pedaled quickly to the lake, this time with a backpack.
Kenny was waiting for me in the same place. “Hey,” I said while climbing off the bike and shrugging out of the backpack.
“Hey.” He helped me with the backpack. “Something smells good.”
“You hungry?”
“Starving!” We sat down on the same fallen tree and this time I noted that Kenny wasn’t in such a hurry to eat. He placed some roast beef into his mouth. “Ummm. You cooked this yourself didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a good cook.” He gave me a curious look. “You don’t have a Mom?”
“She died when I was seven; breast cancer.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged.
“Your Dad…you said he’s cool?”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy.”
Kenny looked at me curiously. “Jamie, why do you dress like a boy?”
I touched my baseball cap. “I…I guess I just feel comfortable this way.”
He nodded and took one last bite of food then put the lid on it. He then reached into the backpack for the other things I had placed in it.
He smiled when he saw the flashlight. “This will come in handy.” Then he pulled out a bar of soap and examined it as if he’d never seen one before.
“I thought maybe you could take a bath in the lake at night.”
“It’s pretty cold…” He spoke while glancing at the water.
“You’re pretty smelly.”
He laughed. “I guess I am.” He looked in the bag again and beamed when he saw the brownies and a thermos of milk. This time he wolfed down one but reluctantly rewrapped the other; I guess he was saving enough food for later.
“You aren’t afraid out here by yourself, especially at night?”
He looked at me surprised. “No. I love it out here. Nobody bothers me…I was going into town for food, but the cops just seem to know that I’m alone. So I always come back here.”
I crossed my arms over my folded knees. “How long have you been on your own?”
“About…three or four months.” His eyes shifted away from me.
“Kenny, what are you going to do when it really gets cold?” I knew he was uncomfortable about my questions…but I just couldn’t fathom him with no one but himself to depend on.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably head down south.” He looked at me again. “Does your Dad know you’re out at night?”
“No. I kind of keep to myself. He thinks I’m in my room.”
“He doesn’t go in to check on you or say goodnight?”
“No. He says goodnight before I shut my door. He knows I like my privacy. I keep to myself.” I wanted to say that I was a loner but saying that to him seemed awfully pointless.
“You don’t have a lot of friends?”
I laughed. “Not really. Most of the guys at school think I look kind of geeky. And most of my friends are geeky…so I guess I don’t care. What about you? Did you have a lot of friends in your old home?”
He shook his head. “This one house I lived in had a lot of kids that were kind of nice. It made me feel like I was in a family.”
“The kids aren’t always like that?”
“No. Mostly there’s a lot of bullying. The older ones boss around the younger or weaker. You have to fight in foster care.”
“What about your foster parents?” I asked, a little shocked.
“For the most part, they want you to shut up and stay out of sight.” He clenched his teeth and I decided to change the subject.
“Can you think of anything else I can bring you?”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re going to come back?” He sounded relieved.
“If you want me to.”
“Well, only if you don’t get in trouble for it.” He looked around. “It does get kind of boring.” He smiled. “And I like the food and the company.”
I blushed. “Would you…want to come t
o my house sometime? It’d be alright. I could tell my Dad that we’re studying or something. I could tell him that I’m going to be tutoring you-”
“I don’t think so,” he said nervously.
“But it’d be okay…if you get bored. Sometimes I get bored…”
Kenny sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
I left shortly after that, promising to return the next night. In bed that night I tossed and turned. How could I sleep in my bed when Kenny was sleeping on a thin quilt in the woods? And what about Daddy; what about my solid foundation? What if something happened to him? Could my sisters and I end up in foster care? I was sick with worrying over it.