Claiming What's Mine

by Holt, Leah

  I was twelve when I first met Betty-Sue (Blue) Fable. Twelve would turn out to be my lucky number that day.

  I had found twelve good apples on the ground at Mrs. Vicki's apple orchard. Twelve pennies had been stacked on the bench for the bus, and no one was around to say I couldn't claim them.

  It took me twelve minutes to finish the milkshake I was able to convince the waitress at the diner to give me for free. She really didn't want to, but I batted my little boy lashes and put on my cutest pretty please face, and she couldn't say no.

  She also said I reminded her of her grandson who lived on the other side of the country, so that probably helped too.

  I was a twelve year old boy, with no rules, no one looking out for me, and a father who acted like life would be better if I just vanished.

  My home had cracks in the ceiling and a floor that was uneven. My clothes were more than used, they were second hand to the sixth degree, with holes and tears, resewed buttons and stretched out collars.

  Most of the time I looked like a boy who had his older brother's hand-me-downs. They were all too big, too loose, and too ragged.

  And then there was Blue, a girl who couldn't leave the safety of her front yard because her parents cared. A girl whose home had lacy yellow curtains and flowers on the front porch. A girl in expensive clothes, with hair that smelled like lilacs, and shoes that were made of real leather.

  We had nothing in common.

  And I never planned to see her again.

  Not if I could help it.

  But fate was a funny little thing.

  Chapter Two

  Jayden

  It was pitch black outside, and the moon was just high enough in the sky for me to see shadows and shapes. I could make out the tall spears of cornstalks as they shot up to the clouds, each leaf hanging out into the dark lane like a ghostly hand. A fine mist of fog floated over the long streams of moonlight, dusting the leaves in a soft silver powder.

  If life was kinder, maybe I would have been able to find beauty in those little things, but I didn't. I ignored the sweet and only tasted the sour.

  Tears streamed down my face, my jaw pulsing with pain, my left eye swelling more and more every second, to the point it was almost closed.

  Taking refuge in the cornfield, I could hear my father fire off a shot into the sky, the gun blast echoing around me like an explosion.

  I didn't think he would actually ever shoot me, but he was drunk as shit, I wasn't too sure how much I really trusted his drunken, trigger finger.

  Pushing the tall stalks out of my way, the tears bubbled over my eyes, making everything a hazy black blur. I could feel my lungs as they struggled to take in air and my ribs crack with every inhale.

  I hated the alcoholic who considered himself my superior. I hated that he was supposed to be the one to guide me, the one I was supposed to look up to. He was just a useless waste of human life. He couldn't go one day without hitting the bottle hard.

  And I always paid for it.

  My sister Bethany, she never got it as bad as I did, but that was mostly because he acted like she didn't exist. Once in awhile my father might slap her if she got in the way, but it was never really on the same level. My sister didn't hate him for the same reasons I did, then again, she spent most of her days with Mrs. Grayson, our neighbor across the street.

  But Beth was still the cute little kid, the poor girl with no mother and no one to help her. Mrs. Grayson was her guardian angel, and I was happy she had her. There was no doubt in my mind that woman saved my sister in so many ways.

  My father had no mercy. He claimed it would make me tougher, that I would be stronger, that I should be grateful he was building me up the way he was.

  So what was I running for? Why had he laid his hands on me and turned my face to mush?

  There was a very simple answer to that—it was all for nothing. It was always for nothing.

  My father stormed into the room, arms waving, his words slurred and barely making sense. He started with his hands, grabbing me by the collar and hitting me across the cheek.

  There was no reason for him to be so angry with me. I couldn't understand what he was actually saying, only hearing single words here and there as he hit me again and again.

  But the more he struck me, the more angry he got. He wasn't unleashing his anger and settling down with each blow, the toxic gas that was building inside him was only suffocating him more.

  I did my best to protect my face, scurrying away when he lost his footing and fell back into the wall. I ran like I always did, it was the only thing that ever worked, the one thing that seemed to make it better.

  So there we were, my father shooting off live rounds into the air, as I tried like hell to just disappear.

  The field opened, and I stopped, bending over and grabbing my knees. I hurt all over, there wasn't one piece of my body that didn't ache.

  “Jayden, is that you?” Her familiar voice hit my ears, causing me to snap my back straight and wipe the water off my eyes.

  No crying, Henry's don't cry.

  “Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” My voice broke a little as I tried to calm down and act normal.

  “You didn't scare me, I don't get scared.”

  Yeah, okay, like I'm going to believe that. Everyone gets scared.

  Even me.

  “What are you doing outside this late?” I asked, clearing my throat with a cough. “It's really dark out here.”

  “I'm catching fireflies.” Jiggling a glass jar, she patted over to me barefoot, wearing an ankle length, nightgown. The front was decorated with tiny purple flowers, the bottom fitted with a purple ruffle. “You want to help? We can put them in here.”

  Another shot rang out in the distance, causing my shoulders to shoot up to my ears. Looking out into the field, I could feel my pupils as they expanded, trying to see in the darkness, searching for him in the stalks.

  Blue followed my gaze, watching the night with me in silence for a few moments. The single shot echoed around us until it disappeared into thin air.

  Turning her attention back to me, I could feel her eyes trying to analyze what was going on. She didn't ask me about the gunfire, but I could tell she wanted to. I could also tell she understood exactly why I stumbled into her yard right then.

  The realization embarrassed me. I didn't like that she could put together such small pieces and know so much about me. It wasn't information I wanted her to have, because I didn't want her to fear me or pity me.

  “Well, want to catch fireflies with me?”

  “I don't want to catch stupid fireflies.” The harshness in my voice caused her to take a step back and glare at me.

  “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” she asked, poking her eyes around my face. “Can I help?” Stretching her hand out slowly, I jerked my body, causing her to pull back.

  “There's nothing you can do.” Covering my swelling lid with my palm, I acted like everything was fine. “It's not that bad.”

  “Want some ice?”

  “No, I'm fine.”

  Studying me, Blue angled her head, her lips drawing taut. “If you're fine, then you can catch fireflies.”

  “I'm not catching dumb fireflies!” Raising my voice, my shoulders snapped square. “I need to go, good luck with your stupid bugs.”

  “They're not stupid, you're stupid.” Blue said, snubbing her nose in the air. “Don't help, I don't care, I'll catch them all on my own.”

  Blue twisted the cap off her jar and spun away from me on the tips of her toes. Slow and cautiously, she walked on the very edges of her toes, not making a sound. I was surprised by how silent she actually was, sneaking up on the little blinking beacons and scooping them into her jar.

  “How do you do that?” I asked, keeping my voice low and relaxed as I circled a finger in her direction.

  “Do what? Catch the fireflies?” Glancing at me over her shoulder, she quickly tore her eyes away as a green bulb flashed by her face. �
�It's really easy, all—”

  “No,” I said, cutting her off. “How do you walk around on your toes like that? You're almost standing straight.”

  “Oh, I learned that in ballet.” Twirling in a circle, Blue gave me a big smile. “It's easier if I have my ballet shoes on, but you can still do it like this. Come on, give it a try.”

  “I can't do that, there's no way.”

  “How do you know? You haven't tried yet.” Capping her jar, she set it in the dirt and walked over to me. “Kick off your shoes.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously, take them off.”

  “This is weird.” Stepping on the back of my heel, I pulled my foot out and repeated it on the other side. Bending over, I fixed my sock, pulling my toe back in before she could notice the giant hole.

  Lifting her arm to my shoulder, I flinched automatically. Her expression changed, as if she understood me completely without me having to say a word, or show her the bruises running up my arms.

  “I'm not going to hurt you,” she said gently. Eyeing me, Blue moved her hand slower, resting it softly on my shoulder. “Now, put your hand on my shoulder.”

  “Why?”

  “To help you balance.” Staying silent, I just looked at her with a blank stare. “What, are you afraid to touch a girl? Afraid you'll catch my cooties?”

  “No, I'm not afraid. Nothing scares me, I'm a man.”

  “A man?” Cocking a brow, Blue looked me up and down. “You do realize that we're both still kids. You're not a man, just like I'm not a woman.”

  “Maybe not yet, but I will be one day.”

  “One day, but that's not today.” Shaking my shoulder, she held out her other arm. “Alright, hold out your arm like this.” I stood still, not really moving. “Just do it, Jayden, hold out your arm.”

  “Fine.” Rolling my eyes, I lifted my arm shoulder high.

  “Good,” she said with a smile. I felt her body move, lifting up higher. “Now push up on your toes, but don't think about it, just do it.”

  Arching my feet, I felt stupid and ridiculous for doing what this girl was telling me to do. I felt my toes as they bent at the joint, I felt them fold as I looked up at the sky and watched the stars.

  “See, there you go, you're doing it.” Taking a step to the side, Blue let me go, curling her arms proudly around her ribs.

  Looking down, I was shocked to see that I was actually on the tips of my toes. “I'm really doing it, holy crap, I didn't think I could.” My body started to rock and I stumbled forward.

  Blue threw her hands out and caught me. Using her to regain my balance, I couldn't stop from smiling. It felt good, it felt warm, it sent prickly tingles up and down my arms and legs.

  I hadn't ever felt anything like that before. It was foreign, a weird feeling that I didn't recognize, so I tried to ignored it. Because it was easier to stuff the feelings that hit me than it was to deal with them.

  All that stuff stopped the day I lost my mom, every emotion, every sensation that made you happy or sad, angry or nervous, they all faded away as I forced them down into the pit of my gut.

  “Told you.” Letting me go, Blue bent down and grabbed her jar. “You up to try something else you've never done?” Rocking the jar back and forth, she held it up next to her cheek.

  “I've caught fireflies before, it's just been a long time. My mother and I used to do it.”

  “That's good then, we can catch all the fireflies in the world if you want.” She smiled as she said it, and that smile, well it did something to me.

  My stomach grew warm, my chest constricted, and my heart began to beat just a little bit faster than normal. Little did I know that smile would be something I would come to desire, to need, to crave.

  With thin lips, I smiled back at her. “Alright.”

  Blue and I caught those little blinking bugs until the air grew cool and the moon was sitting high up in the sky. I had no idea what time it was, or exactly how long we had been out there, but I had enough mosquito bites to draw a constellation on my back if you connected the dots.

  “Blue, time to come in!” her mother called from the front porch.

  “I got to go, but here.” Passing me the jar, she started to head inside. “Don't forget to poke holes in the lid so they can breathe. And let them go in an hour or two. We won't have baby fireflies if they all die. I'll see you later, Jayden, this was fun.” Jogging up to her house, she disappeared around the corner and I heard the screen door as it bounced shut.

  After that, things were different between us. I had found a friend, a true friend. Someone who didn't judge me for where I came from. Someone who didn't look at my clothes and cringe, or laugh at my used sneakers from the second hand store.

  She treated me like I was just another kid. She never treated me differently or pitied me even after I told her my mother had died.

  Blue was just normal.

  It was nice. And it was nice to be normal with her.

  Chapter Three

  Jayden

  Fifteen years old

  “You ready?” I asked, looking back at Blue over my shoulder.

  “I don't know, what exactly are we doing?”

  “Did you get your mom to buy a pie yet?”

  “Why are you even asking me that? You know I haven't.”

  “Still? I can't believe you've lived here this long and still haven't had one of Mrs. Vicki's apple pies yet.”

  “My mom bakes all her own, she doesn't see the need to buy something if she can make it herself.”

  “My mom. . .” Scrunching my face, I teased her, making my voice high and scratchy as I repeated what she had said.

  Balling her fist, she punched my arm, giving me a dirty look. “Stop it, I don't sound like that.”

  Lifting my arm to protect myself from her blow, I smiled. “I know, I'm only kidding. It's just you have no idea what you're missing.”

  “How much are they? I can ask my mom for money, or maybe. . .” she started to say as she began to dig around in her pocket.

  “No, we don't need money, we're just going to. . .” Pausing, I joggled my head on my shoulders. “Sample one.” It took me a second to come up with a word that wouldn't send her running in the opposite direction.

  Blue was a good girl. She went to church on Sundays, she didn't get into trouble, she went home when her mother expected her, she followed the rules, and she never went against the grain.

  Her father was a pastor, and she was the definition of a pastor's daughter. Except for one little chink in her armor—me. I was able to get her to do things she wasn't supposed to do.

  We spent an afternoon last summer jumping off Isle of Capris Bridge. We shouldn't have hopped the fence, we shouldn't have trespassed onto the Ferguson Railway property, but if we never did things we weren't supposed to do, where was the fun in living?

  We balanced each other nicely, a perfect ying and yang if there ever was one.

  For me, she became my voice of reason. She stopped me from playing chicken with a train a week ago, and it was a good thing too, because my foot got stuck and I lost a sneaker long before the train even reached us. She also helped me get a C on my last math paper even though I was a whole grade higher.

  Blue was smart as shit. She knew things I didn't, she could understand a lot more and never had a hard time in school. She could remember what she read, all of it, every little detail, it was amazing. And some how, some way, we had become best friends.

  “So she does samples?”

  “It's sort of like a sample I guess.”

  “I don't understand, what does that mean exactly?”

  “We're going to. . . borrow one.”

  “You mean we're just going to take one?”

  “No,” I barked, scoffing as if I was insulted. “We're not just taking it, we're. . .”

  Shit. Think think think!

  “Making her a different one to replace it?”

  “Yes!”I blurted out. “We'll mak
e another one to replace it. Like a trade, we'll trade them.”

  “If we can make one to replace hers, why don't we just make one for ourselves? I have my mom's recipe, and I'm sure I have everything at home for it.”

  “Because, it's not the same. You won't understand until you try it.” Waving her off, I went back to scouting the store. “It's fine, I do this all the time, I promise.”

  Blue gave me a strained smile, her eyes saying she wasn't sure she should believe me. But I was pretty convincing, I knew that. I might not have been good at math or history, but the art of persuasion I could ace with my eyes shut.

  “I don't believe you, if you did this all the time, we wouldn't be sneaking around. We'd be able to walk in and just ask.”

  Damn it, Blue, just stop asking questions already!

  “Will you just trust me, I know what I'm doing.” Taking a peek at the window, I whispered over my shoulder. “You're going to go in and start asking her questions about that dumb goat picture hanging over her cash register. All you have to do is keep her talking. Sound easy enough?”

  “We are going to make her another one, I don't like the idea of just taking it. I don't steal, and neither should you.”

  “This isn't stealing, it's pie. It's not like it's money or something.”

  Poking my side, Blue gave me a serious look. “Don't be a jerk, stealing is stealing. When it's not yours and you take it, it's stealing.”

  “We're not stealing, it's more like borrowing. I promise, we'll make another one to replace it.”

  Blue had book smarts, she could tell you all the presidents in order and what every symbol on the periodic table stood for, but sometimes, and mostly with me, she lacked the ability to read bullshit, even if it was staring her right in the face.

  And there were a lot of times where I just talked with a mouth full of shit. Like right then, I had no plans on making another pie, but I'd tell her that later.

  Or maybe she was just naive, maybe she didn't want to see me for the person I really was. It was possible she wanted to believe that I was a good person, that I'd do the right thing. I just wasn't that kid. No one gave a shit about me, so why should I care about anyone else?