by R. J. Garcia
My initial moment of new-kid panic was interrupted when a short blond boy rushed up to Finn. He had a number two pencil stuck above his ears and twitched with excitement, announcing, “Mudget got sent home for bringing a knife on the bus.” He looked like a junior-high kid but had a surprisingly husky voice. Finn’s head dipped, a few times, digesting the information.
I asked, “Was he expelled?”
The kid replied, “I don’t know. I sure hope so.”
“Oh man, that would be awesome.” A look of uncertainty swept across Finn’s face and his cheeks burned pink and hot.
A girl came around the corner, but I wasn’t really paying attention. The blond kid’s eyes got big and he hurried off, weaving in between bigger kids. The laces of his untied sneakers skittered across the linoleum. Finn whispered, “That’s Hailee Palmer. Her dad’s the mayor.”
I looked at her. That was my first mistake.
Unlike Silence’s hair, which hung limp and lifeless, Hailee’s long brown hair flowed in soft waves, each one expertly tousled. It was hair from a TV commercial, too wondrous for real life. Silence could have been the pretty girl in the before shot that was cute enough to begin with. Hailee personified the after picture, with immaculate makeup and everything glowing. I’m weird, preferring the before in the scenario. I wanted to cut Hailee’s hair off and make her a regular person. That way seeing her wouldn’t mess me up so much.
“I know this school isn’t always friendly to new students, so let me know if you need anything,” Hailee said, smiling warmly and adult-like.
After an extra-uncomfortable beat, I replied, “I’m good,” and began fumbling with my locker. The combination I memorized didn’t work. A teasing smile played on Hailee’s lips. Nervously, I double-checked the numbers jotted across my palm.
Hailee’s opened her locker. “Are you sure you don’t need help with that?” She grinned at me, making me even more embarrassed.
“I’m sure.”
Finn interrupted my blundering attempts. “You know that’s my locker?”
My face became warm. I saw the girl walk away from the corner of my eye.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” I said, but flicked him a questioning look.
A spark had returned to his eyes, and Finn laughed. He knew it was his locker all along.
“Thanks a lot.”
“C’mon, it was funny. And you should be happy. Hailee actually spoke to you,” Finn said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Concentrating, I spun the numbers in. “Yeah, so?” I flung my locker door open.
“I haven’t talked to her since we dated in kindergarten. You know, before the social order was established. She hasn’t talked to me much since.”
I had to smile. “You dated in kindergarten?” I unzipped my backpack and grabbed the book I needed just before the bell rang and we rushed to class. It was such a small school that Finn and I had most of our classes together. I only had art with Hailee because she was in honors, I guess.
I’m not sure why, but Hailee made me feel oddly aware of my host of deep, dark secrets and social crimes, which included feeling small and insignificant, having a drug-addicted mother, and now being a foster kid and my deepest secret of all. I had never even kissed a girl and wasn’t sure I ever would.
In each class, I suffered the recurring torture of introducing myself. I had to say my name and either tell something about myself or the state where I was from. To both prompts, I replied, “I’m from Chicago.”
By fourth period, when I was asked to introduce myself, a boy answered for me, “That’s Chicago.” A few kids laughed.
Finn explained, “That’s Brandon White. He’s the guy who gives the nicknames.”
“I didn’t know that was a thing,” I whispered. In this strange, little school, it was.
I made it through my first day and week of school.
Chapter 4
Nocturnal Meetings
A sense of fragility filled the air. We were in the woods late at night without any adults. It seemed a little dangerous. The kind of dangerous that makes you know you’re alive. The wind mysteriously moaned. Some of the trees remained bare and stark, still dormant from the winter. Other trees had come back to life but started shedding from the return of the cold. It would have made an ideal setting for a horror movie.
I looked at a jet-black sky through a waning awning of leaves. The crescent moon ghosted down on us, along with a few scattered stars. We stepped on dead leaves and foliage and kept walking. After about fifteen minutes we made it to a clearing. Motionless shadows from the trees showed on the frosted grass.
The beam of the flashlight whirled around wildly as Finn shot it around the surrounding trees. Stray rays of light even touched the treetops.
“Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to meet them?” I asked.
Finn leaned back, resting his arm against a majestic oak tree, near the edge of the clearing. “Yeah. I’m positive. We always meet here.” The massive tree branches spindled out like a giant fan, some of the lower branches almost touched the ground.
Although it was the first official day of spring, the temperatures had dropped. I was the dumb kid who only wore a hoodie. Now that we stopped moving, the coldness knifed its way up my feet and ankles. Before I knew it, the chill took the rest of my body. I shifted all around in a lame attempt to keep warm. “It’s really cold,” I complained.
“You don’t have to tell me. My tomatoes died,” he said gravely.
Shivering, I told him, “You know, your blood can literally freeze.”
“It’s not that cold,” Finn replied, mildly irritated. He stepped toward me, pulling off his black ski cap and gloves, which had the fingers cut out. We were a generation so obsessed with our phones that we couldn’t even wear real gloves anymore. Finn handed them to me. Once I slipped them both on, they helped a little.
We heard a kind of rustling off in the foliage. Confusion registered on his face, mirroring my own. Finn shined the light toward the sound, but we didn’t see anything.
“It’s probably a squirrel or raccoon,” he decided.
“So, um, why do the girls say the woods are haunted?” Silence and Annie told me this yesterday on the bus. I laughed it off. Now I was shaky and somehow on pins and needles. I pushed away images of serial killers and axe murders that bounced around inside my skull from growing up watching good family shows like Criminal Minds.
Finn shrugged, saying, “You know girls. They’re scared of everything.”
Out of nowhere, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Finn screamed like a girl and I scrambled backward and almost fell! Silence and Annie stood behind us, laughing.
“Girls are scared, huh?” Silence asked, crossing her arms.
Finn blinked hard. His annoyance flashed on his face. “No fair, Si!”
Silence gloated. “You’re such a big baby.”
I smiled over at her. “Really funny, but we can’t stay long. It’s freezing.”
Silence moved in closer to me and asked, “Are you a wimp?”
“No,” I mumbled.
Annie broke in, “It is really cold. But a snack might distract us.” She ripped into a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a lantern with a light bulb in it. She set it down and turned it on. Next, she took out a white bakery box.
She handed us each a chocolate-covered doughnut, saying, “One for you and you,” looking serious about the task. My Chicago friends would have brought something to drink or smoke. They were lame junior-high kids living out a part of my childhood I had skipped.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I love doughnuts!” Finn howled.
Annie held her doughnut with her teeth, fumbling to get the box back in her bag. We all ate in the dark, eyeing one another in a semi-circle. Everyone else had on their winter coat. Silence’s eyes fixed on mine and we both watched the other eat until she craned her neck around and whispered to Annie. The two stepped aside, conspiring in a secret conversation.
“I know what will warm us all up. Let’s have a make-out party!” Annie said, finishing with a big, uneasy smile, complete with chocolate braces and teeth. I grimaced and smiled at the same time. Annie turned shy and covered up her face with her hands, peeking at me through the gaps of her fingers.
Silence reasoned, “People in the city probably have parties like that all the time.”
“Probably, but I don’t get invited to them. I mean that much.”
“Well that way, we can keep warm.” Silence pushed the idea, walking toward me, but seemed to lose her nerve, stopping about a foot from me.
“Go on, Silence, hug him. He’s shaking,” Annie said, shoving Silence right into me. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, keeping her head down. Hesitantly, I put my arms around her. My fingers curled under the warmth of her backpack. She lifted her head up. For an awkward second, her nose went into my lips. We both pulled away.
“Why can’t you keep him warm, Annie?” Finn quietly asked, breaking me out of a kind of spell. When I glanced at Finn, even in the dim light, I could see he looked hurt. I walked away from Silence toward him, and a look of gratitude crossed his face.
“Hey, let’s build a fire,” he suggested. I could see they had already constructed a sort of fire pit with stones from earlier visits.
“Okay. Everybody find sticks, twigs,” Silence said, getting onboard with the idea. “I’ve got a lighter.” She took out a small Bic lighter from her coat pocket, wiggling it around.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” I agreed, rubbing my gloved hands together.
I had dropped an armful of branches and sticks into the pit when Annie screamed. I rushed over. Finn and Silence were there, too. She held up a weather-beaten doll. Finn shined the flashlight on it. Its face was worn away. Its dress faded and ragged.
Silence yanked it from her and stared at it. “I thought I’d never find this again.”
“It might really be possessed. Get rid of it,” Annie nervously advised her.
“It’s pretty filthy. Should you even be touching it?” I asked. It looked like something that could have housed spiders.
“Just put it down, Silence.” Finn tried to pull it from her hands.
Silence held onto it with effort. Finn let go. A breeze toyed with a strand of her hair and made her look mysterious.
Annie shook her head in clear disapproval, her lips small and tight. “You’re not bringing that thing to my house.” She grabbed her lantern at her feet, directing toward the faceless doll. “Can’t you see it’s evil?”
Silence stuffed the doll into her backpack. “You’re stupid, Annie! Only people can be evil!” It seemed like a lot of drama about a dumb doll. It was a little funny.
They both got quiet.
“Let’s get more sticks. I’m even getting cold.” Finn’s upbeat voice lightened the mood. He turned to Silence. “That doll’s kind of creepy.”
“Just shut up. Anyway, everyone knows only the redhaired dolls are bad.” Silence smirked at Finn, as cool as ever.
He smiled, impressed. “Oh, really?”
“Come here, Chucky.” She grabbed his arm.
They were getting all touchy-feely, so I went over by Annie and started picking up more sticks. I asked her if she heard about a lady’s body being found in the woods.
“Yeah. We’re like the dumb kids in some slasher movie hanging out here at night,” she said, and started telling me, “And there were women kidnapped in this town a long time ago. And a baby disappeared.” When I asked more about it, Annie looked worried saying, “Just forget about it. I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you.” She sighed. “I talk too much.”
She hurried off, leaving me standing there. The wind had picked up and the leaves rattled around in the darkness. My body heat again dwindled to nothing and I started to shiver when I heard footsteps from behind me and Silence’s voice saying, “Let’s get this show started.”
I joined Annie on a log in front of the pit. Silence sat down next to me until Finn squeezed in between us. She didn’t complain but draped her arm over his shoulder. Finn whispered something to her and she loudly replied, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
There was a pile of sticks in front of us in the stone pit. We all huddled up close together. Annie kept grinning at me but looked down when I smiled back at her. Silence took out her small lighter and picked up a twig from the pile and lit it. The first flame flickered to life. Silence went to work setting several other sticks on fire and dropping them in the heap. Soon we had a real fire going. It was amazing. I never saw a campfire in person. The fire crackled and popped, blazing with shades of orange and white as the warmth slowly returned to my body. The smoke drifted up. It looked like long, grey fingers. I took in the fresh smell of the wood burning.
It was one of those times that you don’t realize it, but you’re making a memory and a pretty good one.
Chapter 5
Other than Saturday
I’m not going to lie. I liked the rush of looking at Hailee. We never talked, except for an occasional “hello” by our lockers. School was just a place I had to go to. After school, I usually went to Finn’s. Somedays, I took Isabella to Finn’s house with me. All the little ones ran around like a big, happy daycare. We stuck in kid-friendly movies, nothing too intense, movies like Rush Hour, Transformers, and The Lion King, and just hung out.
The kids would climb on Finn, pretending he was a windy tree. He’d sway back and forth trying to balance himself. He had this way of making them laugh. He acted like an overgrown toddler and they loved him. Seeing him enjoy them so much made me enjoy being with Isabella more.
His mom looked like a teenager, in a way, with a few wrinkles drawn on. She had long blond hair that she would wear in braids or pigtails. She was in her bed a lot, with the TV blaring, or on her cell phone. Her bed also doubled as a makeshift changing station. A large jar of A and D Ointment and a box of baby wipes sat on the bedside table.
His mom pulled her braids out. Working her fingers through her crimped waves, she announced, “It’s my brock time. I love you, boys!” She had an accent and always pronounced “break,” “brock.” I figured she was Swedish but hadn’t asked Finn about it until I noticed a picture of his mom hanging up in the hallway. She looked young in the photo, maybe nineteen.
“Where’s your mom from?”
“She’s from Iceland. My dad met her when he was in the navy. He’s from Summertime. He married my mom and brought her here when she was pregnant with me. I could have been born in Iceland.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“Nah, I wish.”
I saw a few photos of his little brothers and sisters hanging in the hall, but none of Finn. Then I noticed a big silver frame with the photo of a boy, around our age, in it. He had a large moon face and slits for eyes. “Who’s the ugly kid?” I asked.
“That’s Mudget,” Finn casually replied.
I laughed a little. “Sorry, but your family hangs up a picture of your bully. That’s messed up.”
“Mudget’s my stepdad’s son.”
I couldn’t really read his expression. Mudget was his stepbrother? Weird.
“Does that mean Mudget visits?” I wondered out loud.
“He used to, but he hasn’t lately. My stepdad mainly complains about having to pay child support.”
That may have explained why his stepbrother had it out for him. He must have thought Finn was stealing his father-son moments. All he was really getting was his beatings.
When Finn’s stepdad Sheriff Bears would come home, the entire mood of the house darkened. Before Polar Bear would come home at five, Finn’s mom would rush in the kitchen on high alert and start cooking.
First and foremost, Polar Bear was a giant. His hair was a peculiar, pale blond. It was the same hair color that all his birth children had inherited. On the little ones, it looked shiny and wholesome. His bleached blond mane, cut too short, made him look more menacing. His powder-b
lue eyes added to his intimidating persona.
He told me, “Call me Polar Bear. That’s what everybody calls me if I’m not on duty.” With his size and almost-white hair color, I could see the resemblance. And it seemed everyone in this weird town had a nickname. He bragged, “I’ve been sheriff for ten long years. Let someone try to screw with my town.”
Finn’s little brother’s horseplay elevated a notch when their father came home. Three-year-old Gunther and two-year-old Aaron jumped on the expensive sectional until it quaked. The plush material was already ripping at the seams. Polar Bear looked on with approval until one of the boys cried.
His stepdad arrived home at five o’clock sharp. Isabella and I would leave. A lot of times, Finn would come with us and hang out for a while at Holden and Reese’s place.
Life with Holden and Reese was calm, for the most part, even boring. One evening when I went upstairs to get a snack, I heard Reese sending Isabella to her room. I froze in my tracks. Holden asked Reese, “What’s going on?”
“She gave her doll a bath in the kitchen sink, over the clean dishes!” Reese exclaimed.
“Come on honey, that’s what little girls do. You could just use the dishwasher,” Holden said, trying to calm her.
“And Tommy keeps wearing his shoes inside and I tell him not to. Finn takes his shoes off, but his socks are filthy. Why did we get new carpet?” Reese broke into tears, only collecting herself enough to say, “You know I like them, but I want our own babies.”
I told myself I would help more. Still, I waited; until I was sure they’d left. I slipped my sneakers off, dropping them off the side of the railing where they landed in two, small thuds on the downstairs’ floor. I crept into Isabella’s room. She rested on her bed, not sleeping, just pouting.
“Listen, Isabella, we’re going to have to be good. If Reese tells you not to do something, don’t do it. You know they can send us to a worse place. A place where people beat us and even starve us to death.”