by T. J. Klune
I put them back in my pocket. I didn’t want to take the chance of losing them.
And then he said, “Hey! Hey there! You! Hey, guy!”
I looked up.
There was a boy standing in the dirt road, watching me. His nose was twitching and his eyes were wide. They were blue and bright. Short blond hair. Tanned skin, almost as much as mine. He was young and small and I wondered if I was dreaming again.
“Hello,” I said.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m Ox.”
“Ox? Ox! Do you smell that?”
I sniffed the air. I didn’t smell anything other than the woods. “I smell trees,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, no, no. It’s something bigger.”
He walked toward me, his eyes going wider. Then he was running.
He wasn’t big. He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten. He collided with my legs, and I barely took a step back. He started climbing me, hooking his legs around my thighs and pulling himself up until his arms were around my neck and we were face to face. “It’s you!”
I didn’t know what was going on. “What’s me?”
He was in my arms now. I didn’t want him to fall. He took my face in his hands and squished my cheeks together. “Why do you smell like that?” he demanded. “Where did you come from? Do you live in the woods? What are you? We just got here. Finally. Where is your house?” He put his forehead against mine and inhaled deeply. “I don’t get it!” he exclaimed. “What is it?” And then he was crawling up and over my shoulders, feet pressed against my chest and neck until he clambered onto my back, arms around my neck, chin hooked on my shoulder. “We have to go see my mom and dad,” he said. “They’ll know what this is. They know everything.”
He was a tornado of fingers and feet and words. I was caught in the storm.
His hands were in my hair, pulling my head back as he said he lived in the house at the end of the lane. That they had just arrived today. That he had moved from far away. He was sad to leave his friends behind. He was ten. He hoped to be big like me when he grew up. Did I like comic books? Did I like mashed potatoes? What was Gordo’s? Did I get to work on Ferraris? Did I ever blow up any cars? He wanted to be an astronaut. Or an archeologist. But he couldn’t be those things because one day he’d have to be a leader instead. He stopped talking for a little while after he said that.
His knees dug into my sides. His hands wrapped around my neck. The sheer weight of him was almost too much for me to take.
We came upon my house. He made me stop so he could look at it. He didn’t get down from my back. Instead, I hitched him up higher so he could see.
“Do you have your own room?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s just me and my mom now.”
He was quiet. Then, “I’m sorry.”
We’d just met. He had nothing to apologize for. “For?”
“For whatever just made you sad.” Like he knew what I was thinking. Like he knew how I felt. Like he was here and real.
“I dream,” I said. “Sometimes it feels like I’m awake. And then I’m not.”
And he said, “You’re awake now. Ox, Ox, Ox. Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
He whispered, as if saying it any louder would make it untrue, “We live so close to each other.”
We turned toward the house at the end of the lane.
The afternoon was waning. The shadows were stretching. We walked among the trees, and up ahead, there were lights. Bright lights. A beacon calling someone home.
Three cars. One SUV. Two trucks. All were less than a year old. All had Maine license plates. Two thirty-foot moving trucks.
And the people. All standing. Watching. Waiting. Like they knew we were coming. Like they’d heard us from far away.
Two were younger. One guy was my age. The other guy maybe a little younger. They were blond and smaller than me, but not by much. Blue eyes and curious expressions. They looked like the tornado on my back.
There was a woman. Older. The same coloring as the others. She held herself regally, and I wondered if I’d ever seen anyone more beautiful. Her eyes were kind but cautious. She was tense, like she was ready to move at any moment.
A man stood next to her. He was darker than the rest, more like me than the others. He was fierce and foreboding and all I could think was respect, respect, respect, though I’d never seen him before. His hand was on the woman’s back.
And next to them was… oh.
“Mark?” I said. He looked exactly the same.
Mark grinned. “Ox. How lovely to see you again. I see you’ve made a new friend.” He looked pleased.
The boy on my back wriggled his way down. I let his legs go and he dropped behind me. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the beautiful people like I had a right to be there.
He started spinning his storm again, voice rising up and down, words forcefully punctuated without pattern. “Mom! Mom. You have to smell him! It’s like… like… I don’t even know what it’s like! I was walking in the woods to scope out our territory so I could be like Dad and then it was like… whoa. And then he was all standing there and he didn’t see me at first because I’m getting so good at hunting. I was all like rawr and grr but then I smelled it again and it was him and it was all kaboom! I don’t even know! I don’t even know! You gotta smell him and then tell me why it’s all candy canes and pinecones and epic and awesome.”
They all stared at him as if they’d come across something unexpected. Mark had a secret smile on his face, hidden by his hand.
“Is that so?” the woman finally said. Her voice wavered like it was a fragile thing. “Rawr and grr and kaboom?”
“And the smells!” he cried.
“Can’t forget about those,” the man next to her said faintly. “Candy canes and pinecones and epic and awesome.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Mark said to them. “Ox is… different.”
I had no idea what was going on. But that wasn’t anything new. I wondered if I’d done something wrong. I felt bad.
I tried to pull my hand away, but the kid wouldn’t let go. “Hey,” I said to him.
He looked back at me, blue eyes wide. “Ox,” he said. “Ox, I have got to show you stuff!”
“What stuff?”
“Like… I don’t….” He was sputtering. “Like everything.”
“You just got here,” I said. I felt out of place. “Don’t you need to…?” I didn’t know what I was trying to say. My words were failing me. This is why I didn’t talk. It was easier.
“Joe,” the man said. “Give Ox a moment, okay?”
“But Dad—”
“Joseph.” It almost sounded like a growl.
The boy (Joe, I thought, Joseph) sighed and dropped my hand. I took a step back. “I’m sorry,” I said. “He was just there and I didn’t mean anything.”
“It’s okay, Ox,” Mark said, taking a step down from the porch. “These things can be a bit… much.”
“What things?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Life.”
“You said we could be friends.”
“I did. It took us a bit longer to come back than I thought it would.” Behind him, the woman bowed her head and the man looked away. Joe’s hand slowly slid back into mine, and it was then I knew they’d lost something, though I didn’t know what. Or even how I knew.
“That’s Joe,” Mark said, pushing through. “But I think you know that already.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Didn’t get his name. He was talking too much.”
Everyone looked at me again.
“I wasn’t talking too much,” Joe grumbled. “You talk too much. With your face.” But he didn’t leave my side. He kicked the dirt with his sneakers. One of his shoes was about to become untied. There was a ladybug on a dandelion, red and black and yellow. A breeze came and it flew away.
“Joe,” I said, trying out the name.
He grinned as
he looked up at me. “Hi, Ox. Ox! There’s something I—” He cut himself off, sneaking a glance up at his father before he sighed again. “Fine,” he said, and I didn’t know who he was talking to.
“Those are his brothers,” Mark said. “Carter.” The one my age. He grinned at me and waved. “Kelly.” The younger of the two. Somewhere between Carter and Joe. He nodded at me, looking a little bored.
That left two others. They didn’t scare me, but it felt like they should. I waited for Mark, but he kept quiet. Eventually, the woman said, “You’re an odd one, Ox.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, because my mom taught me respect.
She laughed. I thought it beautiful. “I’m Elizabeth Bennett. This is my husband, Thomas. You already know his brother, Mark. It looks as if we’re to be neighbors.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I said, because my mom taught me manners.
“What about my acquaintance?” Joe asked me, pulling on my hand.
I looked down at him. “Yours too.”
That smile returned.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Thomas asked, watching me carefully.
I thought yes and no at the same time. It made my head hurt. “Mom’s coming home soon. We’re eating dinner together tonight because it’s my birthday.” I winced. I hadn’t meant to say that.
Joe gasped. “What? Why didn’t you tell me! Mom! It’s his birthday!”
She sounded amused when she said, “I’m standing right here, Joe. I heard. Happy birthday, Ox. How old are you now?”
“Sixteen.” They were all still staring at me. There was sweat on the back of my neck. The air was hot.
“Cool,” Carter said. “Me too.”
Joe glared at him, baring his teeth. “I found him first.” He stood in front of me, as if blocking Carter from me.
“That’s enough,” his father said, his voice a bit deeper.
“But… but—”
“Hey,” I said to Joe.
He looked up at me with frustrated eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Listen to your dad.”
He sighed and nodded, squeezing my hand again. His shoelace came untied as he kicked the dandelion.
“I’m ten,” he muttered finally. “And I know you’re old, but I found you first so you have to be my friend first. Sorry, Dad.”
And then he said, “I just want to get you a present,” so I said, “You already did,” and I didn’t think I’d ever seen a smile as bright as his at that moment.
I said good-bye then and I knew they watched me as I walked away.
“PEOPLE MOVED in?” Mom asked me when she got home.
“Yeah. The Bennetts.”
“You met them?” She sounded surprised. She knew I didn’t talk to people if I could get away with it.
“Yeah.”
She waited. “Well?”
I looked up from my history book. Finals were next week and I had tests I wasn’t ready for. “Well?”
She rolled her eyes. “Are they nice?”
“I think so. They have….” I thought on what they had.
“What?”
“Kids. One’s my age. The others are younger.”
“What’s that smile for?”
“A tornado,” I said without meaning to.
She kissed my hair. “And here I thought you being older would mean you’d make more sense. Happy birthday, Ox.”
We ate dinner that night. Meatloaf. My favorite, just for me. We laughed together. It was something we hadn’t done in a while.
She gave me a present wrapped in Sunday comics from the newspaper. A 1940 Buick shop manual, old and worn. The cover was orange. It was musty and wonderful. She said she saw it at Goodwill and thought of me.
There were some new pants for work. My others were starting to fall apart.
There was a card too. A wolf on the front, howling at the moon. Inside, a joke. What do you call a lost wolf? A where-wolf! Underneath she’d written seven words: This year will be better. Love, Mom. She drew hearts around the word love, little wispy things that I thought could float away if they but caught on my breath.
We washed the dishes as her old radio played from the open window above the sink. She sang along quietly as she splashed me with water, and I wondered why I smelled like candy canes and pinecones. Of awesome and epic.
There was a soap bubble on her nose.
She said I had one on my ear.
I took her by the hand and spun her in a circle as the music picked up. Her eyes were bright and she said, “You’re going to make someone very happy someday. And I can’t wait to see it happen.”
I went to bed and saw the lights on in the house at the end of the lane through my window. I wondered about them. The Bennetts.
Someone, my mother had said. Make someone very happy.
Not a her. But someone.
I closed my eyes and slept. I dreamt of tornadoes.
wolf of stone/dinah shore
RICO SAID, “Looking good, papi,” when I came to work the next day. “What’s got you going with that spring in your step?”
It was Sunday, the Lord’s Day as I was taught, but I figured the Lord was okay with me coming to this house of worship instead of one of his. I’d learned my faith at Gordo’s.
“Must be some pretty girl,” Tanner called from where he was bent over some ridiculous SUV that could be turned on by the sound of your voice. “He’s a real man, now. You get some sixteen-year-old strange last night?”
I was used to the crude. They meant no harm. That didn’t stop me from flushing furiously. “No,” I said. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Oh,” Rico said, slinking over to me, hips rolling so obscenely. “Look at that blush.” He ran his hand through my hair, his thumb against my ear. “She pretty, papi?”
“There’s no girl.”
“Oh? A boy, then? We don’t discriminate here at the Casa de Gordo.”
I pushed him off and he laughed and laughed.
“Chris?” I asked.
“Seeing the moms,” Tanner said. “Stomach thing again.”
“She okay?”
Rico shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t know yet.”
“Ox!” Gordo shouted from the office. “Get your ass in here!”
“Oye,” Rico said with a small smile. “Careful there, papi. Someone’s in a mood today.”
And he sounded like it. Voice strained and harsh. I worried. Not for me. For him.
“He’s just pissed off because Ox needs the next week off for school,” Tanner muttered. “You know how he gets when Ox isn’t here.”
I felt awful. “Maybe I could—”
“You hush that mouth of yours,” Rico said, pressing his fingers against my lips. I could taste oil. “You need to focus on school and Gordo can just deal with it. Education is more important than his little bitch-fests. We clear?”
I nodded and he dropped his fingers.
“We’ll be fine,” Tanner said. “Just get through your tests and we’ll have the whole summer, okay?”
“Ox!”
Rico muttered something in Spanish that sounded like he was calling Gordo a fucking dickhead dictator. I’d learned I was adept at picking up curses in Spanish.
I walked to the back of the shop, where Gordo was sitting in his office. His brow was lined as he did his one-finger typing thing. Tanner called it his hunt-and-pecker. Gordo didn’t think that was funny.
“Close the door,” he said, without looking up at me.
I did and sat in the empty seat on the other side of his desk.
He didn’t say anything, so I figured it was up to me to start. Gordo was like that sometimes. “You okay?”
He scowled at the computer screen. “I’m fine.”
“Awfully twitchy for fine.”
“You’re not funny, Ox.”
I shrugged. That was okay. I knew that about myself.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he muttered.
/> “Okay.”
He finally looked up at me. “I don’t want you here next week.”
I tried keeping the hurt from my face, but I don’t think I did very well. “Okay.”
He looked stricken. “Oh Jesus. Ox, not like that. You have your finals next week.”
“I know.”
“And you know part of the deal with your ma is that your grades don’t suffer or else you can’t work here.”
“I know.” I was annoyed and it showed.
“I don’t want… just….” He groaned and sat back in the chair. “I suck at this.”
“What?”
He motioned between the two of us. “This whole thing.”
“You do okay,” I said quietly. This thing. My brother or father. We didn’t say it. We didn’t have to. We both knew what it was. It was just easier to be awkward about it. Because we were men.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“How are the grades?”
“Bs. One C.”
“History?”
“Yeah. Fucking Stonewall Jackson.”
He laughed, long and loud. Gordo always did laugh big, rare as it was. “Don’t let your ma hear you say that.”
“Never in your life.”
“Full-time this summer?”
I grinned at him. I couldn’t wait for the long days. “Yeah. Sure, Gordo.”
“I’m gonna work your ass off, Ox.” The lines on his forehead smoothed out.
“Can I… can I still stop by next week?” I asked. “I won’t… I just….” Words. Words were my enemy. How to say that here was where I felt the safest. Here was where I felt most at home. Here was where I wouldn’t be judged. I wasn’t a fucking retard here. I wasn’t a waste of space or time. I wanted to say so much, too much, and found I couldn’t really say anything at all.
But it was Gordo, so I didn’t have to. He looked relieved, though he kept his voice stern for appearances. “No working in the shop. You come in here and you study. No dicking around. I mean it, Ox. Chris or Tanner can help you with fucking Stonewall Jackson. They know that shit better than me. Don’t ask Rico. You won’t get anything done.”
The tightness loosened in my chest. “Thanks, Gordo.”