As I stepped into the room, I caught sight of David on my bed. It was obvious the little guy was about to leap from my bed to his own bed, which was about four feet away.
“David!” I shouted. “What’re you doing?”
David looked up guiltily at me from the shadows of my bottom bunk. “Nothing.”
This one’s dumber than Ethan! I looked at the four-year-old moron. “Nothing? Right. Get off my bed. Now.”
“No,” David said, his eyebrows and mouth turning down in a scowl.
“David,” I said. “Get off. Now!”
“I don’t wanna. And you hafta say please.”
Stupid little freakin’ dumb kid! My thoughts grew murderous as I stomped over to my bed. I grabbed for David, but the little freak dodged. “David! Off!”
Next door, Prince began to bark. Stupid little dog. How could Laura like that overgrown rat?
“You get off!” David shouted, fear and anger in his eyes.
I stepped back, surprised a little. He was afraid of me? I forced myself to calm down a little. “I’m not on, dummy!” I lunged and finally got a hold of David’s skinny arm. I yanked hard, knowing I was being too rough, and David came flying off my bed, landing hard on the floor. The little punk started to cry.
Through his blubbers, David yelled at me, “You’re a jerk! I’m telling!”
Fury exploded in me. I was just trying to stop the little idiot from hurting himself! And now he was crying like a little baby. I clenched my teeth in anger and crouched in front of the sprawled kid. “You tell and I will seriously hurt you.”
A part of me wondered if I really could do something like that, remembering in a fraction of a second that I hadn’t been able to hurt Luke even when he was strangling me. No, I wouldn’t really hurt him, but he couldn’t tell on me. “I’ll break your leg.” Why did this dumb little idiot have to be such a whiner? Why couldn’t he have parents to watch over him? I grabbed David’s arm again. “Did you hear me? I’ll break your leg if you tell.” As I said the words, I felt anger so strong in my arms that I knew I could snap the cry-baby’s leg easily. It’d be like breaking a branch. But my skin crawled at the thought.
“No you won’t! You’ll get in trouble!” David shouted.
“You shut up! And I will. You better shut your mouth or I’ll do it right now!” My face was hot and I felt myself shaking. I squeezed the little kid’s arm. “Did you hear me? You tell and I’ll do it right now!”
“You’ll do what right now?”
The sudden, deep voice from behind me sent tingles from my neck into my scalp. I jumped up and spun around.
Abraham stood in the doorway, his long, graying black hair framing a face that looked like Saul’s only older. “Joshua, what will you do?”
“Uh..” I tried to think fast, but the anger seemed to have frozen my brain.
“He said he was gonna break my leg! And he was hurting my arm!” David had scrambled to his feet and was now scurrying toward Abraham.
A twinge of guilt caught at me as I watched the fear in David’s eyes.
“What?” Abraham’s brown eyes went from David to my face. “What did you do to David?” At this, Abraham raised one of his long arms and gestured for David to come closer. Abraham draped his arm over the small boy and crouched lower. “David,” he said, “now what did Joshua do?”
I stood there, trying to figure a way out of the trouble I knew was descending on me. Stupid little kid! I was just trying to keep Davy from hurting himself! That was it! “No, I didn’t mean to hurt him!”
“What’s that?” Abraham asked, his gaze moving back to me.
“David was gonna hurt himself. I, uh.. I got scared and grabbed him. I guess I was too rough. But I was worried.” It was true, even if I felt like I was lying. I knew my voice was sincere enough too.
Abraham stood up straight, his arm still draped on David’s back. David turned a baleful glare at me, his eyes filled with tears still.
Geez. I didn’t want to hurt him. He— I stopped and tried to figure out why I had gotten so mad so fast.
“Joshua, I heard too much of what happened here to be able to believe that. And I’m distressed to see how skillful a liar you are,” Abraham said.
“I’m not lying!” I said.
“David,” Abraham looked down at the little boy with a benevolent smile. “You go find Joan and tell her I said you could have a cookie with milk. That’ll make you feel better.”
As David dashed to the door, Abraham turned back to me. “Joshua, you will need to come with me.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” I shouted. But I sure wanted to, didn’t I?
“And you need to control that anger,” Abraham said, his mouth going tight and thin in rebuke. “Now come with me.”
Why couldn’t he listen? I wanted to smash something, yell at him, but I knew I couldn’t. I hadn’t even done anything. I’d been trying to stop David from breaking his leg!
As I followed Abraham down the stairs, I wanted to snap the railing off. From discovering that Mary read awesome books to some kind of serious punishment in less than ten minutes. Lovely.
We walked through the hallway to Miriam’s too-bright office door. I took a deep, quiet breath and decided, as Abraham led the way into Miriam’s office, that the best thing to do would be to suck it up. Twits on a string. Do your worst. I stood glaring at the floor as Abraham told his story.
“Joshua,” Miriam said when Abraham was done. “How could you hurt a little one like David? He is too young to understand what he does, so it falls to those of us who should be mature to be gentle with him.”
I lifted my gaze to her face and nodded, trying to force my face into an expression that resembled penitence.
“I’m afraid this cannot go unpunished. You need to know the gravity of doing physical violence to another person,” Miriam said.
Did other people outside of the Faith talk like that? I tried to keep my expression blank, but she must have seen something in my face.
“Joshua Raphael, you aren’t even listening to me, are you?”
“No. I mean—yes, I am,” I said quickly.
“I can see that the seriousness of what you might have done if Abraham had not stepped in has not penetrated your conscience yet,” Miriam said.
“No it has. I mean, I’m sorry,” I said, stumbling over the words. Her tone was unmistakable. She was working herself up to something.
“Not enough,” she said. Miriam and Abraham exchanged looks. “Listen closely now. You will write two-thousand lines and you must have them done before this week is over. That means by Sunday.”
“Two thousand?” She can’t be serious. Nobody had ever gotten that many lines. “That’s—that’s…”
“That’s a punishment that fits the crime,” Miriam said. “And you will be spanked.”
Spanked? Brush or spoon? I wasn’t even sure which one to hope for. Fourteen times, for how old I was. Fear hit me like a kick in the gut. “What?” I tried to stop, or at least I knew, somewhere, that I should try, but two thousand lines and being spanked? No way. “What crime? That little idiot was gonna break his leg! I stopped him!” I had to get out of this.
“Joshua, you watch your mouth!”
“Joshua, that is no way to talk,” Abraham said, sharing a look with Miriam.
“I’m telling the truth! He was trying to jump from my bed to his! He’s lucky I came in when I did!”
“Nevertheless, you lost control of your temper. As you are doing right now,” Miriam said, her head thrown back so that it was like she was looking down at me from the top of her sloping face.
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“And you are speaking disrespectfully to us right now. This makes it worse.”
I snapped my mouth closed and swore mentally. Sometimes I wanted to throw her formality right back in her face. Abraham could use a couple choice words too.
“So, first a spanking here. And then you will write two-thousand
lines. They will read, ‘I must control my temper at all times and in all places so that I will represent God in a more perfect fashion.’”
I ran the words through my mind and my mouth took over again. “What? That’s huge!”
“You will do it and you will control that mouth!” Miriam said, her voice louder.
I felt the hole I stood in getting deeper. I didn’t care. This is stupid! This is beyond unfair!
“You are also expected to do the dishes after the adults eat. For a week,” Miriam said. “This service is to teach you respect for those who do so much for you.”
So much for me? Who the hell is she kidding? My cheeks burned. An image of the archangel Michael smiting the third of the hosts of heaven suddenly came into my head. I’d like to smite you! It burst from me in a shout. “Do so much for me? You do nothing for me! You keep me trapped here. You keep all of us trapped here! You were happy when Mal died!”
“Joshua you shut your mouth!” Miriam said, her voice almost as loud as mine. Her usually pale face grew pink. “You’re making your punishment worse!”
“Punish me as much as you want! I won’t do it! You can’t make me!” I turned to Abraham. “That’s right! You try to spank me or make me write those lines and you’ll regret it!” I tossed a glance at Abraham’s thin arms and wondered if I was stronger than the tall, acne-pocked man.
“Joshua, you will go to your room until we can think of a punishment for this outrageous disrespect!” Miriam said, her voice quieter but harder.
“Joshua, this is no way to talk to your mother,” Abraham said.
That was the dumbest thing I had ever heard. “My mother? My mother? You gotta be kidding me! I don’t even know what having a mother’s like! She’s no mother! If she was a mother then why didn’t she cry when Mal died?”
“Joshua! To your room! Now!”
Miriam’s voice cut through the office and the red in my eyes. Fine. I’ll go to my room. Then you’ll never see me again! I knew in a moment of clarity that if I said it aloud to them that they would watch me closely, probably even lock me somewhere, and that I would never get away.
“Fine,” I spun on my heel and stormed through the door and down the hallway. I ran up the stairs and kicked my door open. In seconds I had my backpack open on David’s bed and was stuffing shirts and pants into it. I grabbed a few pairs of socks, my flashlight, and a Steelers cap I had found on the road years before.
As I slammed through my door again, I saw movement from the corner of my left eye. I stopped and turned.
Mary stood in her doorway, her eyes wide and a book in her hands. She opened her mouth, but said nothing.
“I’m leaving. This place sucks. You should get out too,” I said, wishing I could think of something more dramatic. I hoped the image of me striding down the stairs with my backpack over a shoulder would stick with Mary for years.
I turned and pounded down the stairs, flinging the front door open and running down the slope of the hill toward the goose pond. I looked straight ahead. I didn’t want to see the stupid house or the people in it ever again.
Chapter 12
The urge came fast and I couldn’t stop myself. As I approached the shadows of the woods, I stopped and turned quickly. I scanned the windows of the house, easily finding the window to my room. I counted three to the left, figuring that was the window into the girls’ room.
A tingle shot through me from my brow to my neck. A shape darkened the window. I knew I shouldn’t; knew I should turn and go, making a clean break, but I had to know. I stepped back and to the right, trying to get the glare from the setting sun off the window. There!
It was Mary. The window fogged a little in front of her.
Write something in it. I waited for the moment. Martial drums echoed in my head with a violin accompaniment that made my heart feel like it had invaded my lungs.
Mary just stood there. She waved.
I smiled, something victorious filling me.
This final image of me waving bravely and then turning to walk into the woods would be one Mary could never forget. I waved again, once, firmly, and turned, following the cues of my imagination into the woods.
Darkness clustered tightly against the tree trunks. I hadn’t realized how late in the day it was but the sun had sunk mostly behind the horizon and I had trouble making out the tree branches. Where should I go? Should I try to get out of town tonight or should I find a place to hole up for the night and then head out early enough that I would get a head start on any searchers?
An image of me, obviously a young teenager, walking through Cooperton carrying a backpack flashed in my mind. Wait, that’d make somebody suspicious for sure. If I head out in the morning, people will think I’m walking to school.
I knew where I would spend the night. Only Esther had known about the cabin; as far as I knew, the others had never even known it was there. Mary wouldn’t tell them that I had gone into the woods, would she? Of course she wouldn’t. The cabin would be safe and would help keep me warm against the cold, night wind. As I walked, I tried to make out the trees as they swayed in the wind, the elms creaking as if they would crack apart any second.
I kept moving, running through my plan. All I had to do was get out of the state safely. The cops would never think that me, an almost fifteen-year-old kid, could get out of Pennsylvania without getting caught. But they didn’t know that I was willing to do whatever it took. They didn’t know that I had read Hatchet and other books about surviving in the wilderness. I figured I could make at least thirty miles a day, maybe even more if I walked extra fast.
I could be across the western border of Pennsylvania in a week, maybe ten days.
Would they even come looking for me? Maybe they would forget about me, like they forgot about Esther. Nobody ever even talked about her anymore. They had even stopped talking about Mal right after that stupid memorial service. They were probably getting used to losing kids left and right.
I put my weight on a tree as I stepped high over a fallen sapling. The Douglas fir’s rough bark pressed into my palm, a little sap sticking to my fingers. I had a thought. Maybe some of those grown-ups will get the right idea from Mal and Esther and me. I smiled in the gloom of the woods. That’s right. Some of us aren’t scared of leaving and making a life. A real life.
I wondered how far Esther had run. Was she okay? I thought back to that night at the cabin. She had seemed like she must have had a plan. Maybe she had found out who her parents were and was going to meet them. Maybe she was already with them. By now, Esther was probably going to a real school, making friends and already forgetting about the Fundamental Faith and all the people who had made her life miserable.
I hoped she wouldn’t end up like Mal.
Of course I wouldn’t. I sat on a low branch, suddenly empty of energy. I would never try drugs, not in a million years. Why did Mal do it, anyway? Didn’t he know better? No way would I do that.
How could I? After what had happened to Mal, it would be like betraying him. No, I had to remember him—honor him. He’d made dumb mistakes and—
I felt like I’d been slugged in the throat. I grabbed the branch I sat on and shook it, forcing myself to ignore the explosion that wanted out.
No. I wasn’t going to give in ever. Not to any kind of weakness, especially drugs. I was still going to be a cop. Or maybe even an FBI agent.
As I entered the clearing where the cabin stood, another thought came to me. Would I have trouble getting into a school without parents? Did I need some kind of ID? Maybe I can find someone who I can pay to act like a mother or father. I had no money. I could get a job. But who would give an almost fifteen-year-old without a family or home a job?
Big deal. I would figure it out. I could steal money if I had to. Besides, I knew I could fake my way into a school, forge a signature. I would live on the street if I had to. I set my backpack in the corner under the tarp that we had nailed to two inner walls of the cabin.
One n
ight here and tomorrow, I’m gone. I sat, reaching into my pack for a couple more shirts; it was already getting chilly. I’ll get an early start. I dug around in my pack and was surprised at the rumble in my stomach. Crap. I had left right before dinner. Geez! I should have at least waited until after we ate! I could have at least grabbed some food with nobody noticing while everybody ate! I mentally smacked myself.
I could sneak back and get some food. No, they would be watching for me. I couldn’t go back. I dug through my backpack again. I clicked on the flashlight I had pulled from my bag and opened my book. “They’ll never see me again,” I said to the dark of the cabin. “I’m never going back.”
Chapter 13
My neck felt like a bent, throbbing iron bar. I blinked and pushed myself up, my wrist complaining. I’d fallen asleep while leaning on my hand and reading. I eased my head into a few stretches, trying to work the pain out of my neck.
Something small and wet hit my face. I shook my head and tried to focus.
It was raining. I burrowed deeper into the corner, trying to use the old tarp that was nailed to the logs above my head as a roof. It wouldn’t help if the thing had developed a bunch of holes. I closed my book and tucked it into my pack. Shining the flashlight around the interior of the cabin, I watched as rain drops flashed through its beam to splash onto the dirt floor.
I licked my lips. I should have at least grabbed a cup, or a jug of water. I craned my head forward so I could get my tongue into the downpour. In seconds, water drenched my face and hair. I swallowed what I’d caught in my mouth.
What time was it? I needed a watch or something. Should I get going?
I swept the beam of the flashlight around the cabin. No way; it was raining too hard.
A drop landed on the top of my head. The tarp! I looked up, moving the flashlight’s beam so it lit the way. A small pool had already formed in the sag of the tarpaulin, maybe two feet above my head. “Man, if this gets harder,” I said, looking around for a stick, “I’m gonna get drenched.”
Finding a branch that looked about the right length, I braced it up under the tarp, giving the old plastic a peaked roof. Rainwater spilled off the makeshift roof to splash onto the already muddy ground and run in rivulets away from me. This corner, luckily, looked like it was an elevated spot in the cabin. I had the high ground.
Beyond the Cabin Page 10