by R. S. Scott
“Not really. Just church songs and stuff.” My ankle was tender with sharp pain shooting into my toes and knee. “He talks to my mom a lot and stuff, but it is scary going outside at night.”
We walked in silence for blocks.
“Back in March, I tried some weed. I don’t remember what happened. I was really scared afterward.” Tony did not turn to me, but walked on.
“During school? Like after practice with Richard Nelson and his bros?” I quickened my pace.
“They boiled some stuff and made me drink it, I think. It was bad. I threw it up, but they forced me to drink more.”
“Shit. Richard did this? Richard Nelson?”
“Yeah, after practice, I missed the bus and walked. He picked me up and took me to his house. He said he wanted to show me something.”
“So, you threw up the weed?” I laughed hysterically. “Why would you do that?”
“Fuck you!” Tony walked off. I fell behind then.
“They didn’t do anything to you, did they?” I hobbled quickly and caught up to Tony. “Like poke at you and stuff?”
“Shut up! Let’s go.”
“They boiled the weed? They didn't smoke it? You sure it was weed? Might have been peyote.”
“Hurry up! Stupid kid,” he said and walked off quickly.
I hurried to walk by Tony’s side, “So they made you drink it? Did you say no?”
He rallied on silently, ignoring my inquiry.
“Did it taste bad?”
“Shut your mouth! What the hell do you know about stuff like that?”
CHAPTER 2
Wade lived with his father Daryl Monroe and sister Tracy Monroe in a small house with a dead pickup truck in the driveway that was permanently hoisted up by cinder blocks. The roof had tires on it to keep the tiles from escaping with the wind, a steel post and a length of rusted chain held a sedated bulldog that seemed comforted by our presence. The dog groaned as it rolled onto its back and we made our way to the front door.
“Tony, why Wade? He’s an idiot-and-a-half. He stole a pocketknife from the store last week. They were looking for him.”
Tony rang the doorbell and smiled widely. “He’s going to get us some beer.”
“Oh.” I held my backpack close.
“Who is it?” The rustic echo blared from behind the front door.
“It’s Tony and Steve. We’re here to see Wade.”
“You’re Keller boys. Just a sec.” The raspy voice struggled with the door locks. “Come on in.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Tony stepped in then pulled me inside with my shoulder strap.
Wade’s sister appeared, with her the distinct aroma of fresh cornbread. She slowly removed her apron. Her lips were red like the midnight is black, she smiled coyly. “Hi, Steve. What have you been doing? You here with this idiot?” she glared at Tony.
“Bitch! Where’s Wade? We’ve got business to get on with.” Tony did not look in her direction. Tony didn’t like Tracy. Tony marched past her and into a kitchen area to find Daryl. Laughter and chatter erupted from the kitchen as I stayed by the front door.
“Yes, I’m here with Tony, the goblin,” I pointed in Tony’s general direction. I fidgeted, as I was terrified of tall laughing females. “We, um, hitchhiked from Seba this morning to get some beer, I think.”
“Oh, so Tony conned you into this, huh? Poor Dear. You still going to school here at Winslow High?” Tracy towered over me.
“Yes, I’m starting my sophomore year next month.” I glared at the floor avoiding direct eye contact.
“What classes are you taking?”
“Just the basic stuff, more English, math, and wood shop.”
“Oh, I loved wood shop. When I was there, we made these little birdhouses. Mine was made of cedar and had this cool rotating door on the side where the smaller birds can crawl in away from the squirrels. Did you know squirrels try and break into birdhouses?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” I said trying hard not to make eye contact.
“I painted mine cream and light purple. Do you want something to drink? I can’t give you a beer, but if you ask, I can get you one?”
“I’m good. I drank a soda a little while ago.”
“How about some tea, then? Some of the roadside stuff from the Rez. It’s really good.”
“Naw, I’m good, I’m just waiting for Tony, so…”
“OK, Shyboy,” she took my hand and led me into the kitchen. She sat me at the dining table and placed a cup of hot tea in front of me. “Sugar?”
“Yes, please, thanks.”
“That’s Earl Grey. Sorry, I lied. How about cream? No?”
“No cream, thanks.”
“So, hitchhiking all this way for beer. What kind of beer?” She sat in the opposite chair smiling.
“I don’t know. Tony would know,” I mumbled looking about curiously.
“You want some food, too? We have leftovers from yesterday, some lame lasagna that’s quite good actually, a bit too much manicotti.”
“I’m good. I ate a hot dog before coming here,” I said.
“I went to Seba one time, early last year, I think. Dad bought a couple of sheep from a ranch there. They are smelly.”
“Yeah, sheep smell like that all the time. They shit everywhere and sleep on top of it.”
“Ew, are you serious? That’s gross.”
“Funny pun,” I complimented her. “Yes, they can be gross animals.”
She smiled, appreciating my observance. “Which math class are you taking? I remember I used to copy off of your algebra homework.”
“Trigonometry, I think.”
“What kind of math is that?” she asked.
“It has to do with measurements of triangles and circles.”
“Sounds easy, I think,” she giggled.
“It’s not that hard if you understand the unit circle and how sines and cosines work.” I sipped my tea as Tony and Daryl emerged from the back room laughing.
“Wade’s at North Park. Let’s go.” Tony stuffed a leather case into my backpack. “Don’t look at this or open it. Let’s go. We need to move.”
Daryl shrugged, “Yes. We don’t want some hoodlum Indians roaming here, now do we?” he laughed.
I finished my tea and put on my backpack while heading to the door.
“Shyboy! Talk to you next time!” Her blond hair flowed in the breeze as she smiled. I waved and walked away.
“I think that slut likes you,” Tony commented.
“Her? What’d she do to you? She seems nice. Why you calling her a slut?”
“North Park, let’s go,” he ignored me.
“Why are you calling her a slut?”
He paused for a moment. “She’s OK, but the rest of that bunch is weird, shitty weird.”
“How shitty weird?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Was that a medicine bag you put in my backpack?”
“No, leave it alone.”
“Well, is it?” I wanted to know.
“Just leave it alone.”
“OK.”
We again walked in silence.
“Seriously, is that a medicine bag? My headphones are in there, too. I might need those later, and I have to look at the medicine bag. Can I see it then?” I pushed.
“No, not then.”
“But I will have to look at it when I get my music out. Can I look inside?” I asked.
“No, don’t mess with it,” he said.
“How about when I need my inhaler?” I asked.
“No, not then.”
“Does it really have grave dirt and bones in it?” I asked.
“No, leave it alone.”
“Skinwalkers have those around their necks I hear. Is that one of theirs? Is it poisonous?”
“No, shut up,” Tony said, getting angrier.
“Are we going to die soon?”
“No.”
“Are we going to die tomorrow?”
&nb
sp; “No.”
“How about next week?”
“No!” Tony yelled.
“So if I’m carrying this, is my backpack now evil and I’m going to die in four days because of that?” I asked.
“No! Will you just shut the fuck up! Come on!”
“Should I write my will?”
“Shut your mouth! Fucking idiot!”
“I should then declare beneficiaries for my Miles Davis record collection, can we find a lawyer?”
“Shut up!”
“I have some early John Lee Hooker and Oscar Peterson, too, how about those? Can they be exempt? Is there an evil clause we can invoke or something?”
“Will you shut up?” Tony said exasperated.
“I was just joking,” I said.
We continued to walk in silence.
“So it is a medicine bag?”
“Shut your mouth!”
“Is it Daryl’s medicine bag? Imagine that, a white guy with a medicine bag!” I laughed hysterically.
“Shut your mouth!”
“It can’t be Tracy’s, she smells nice and skinwalkers they say smell like dead animals. Is that true?”
“Shush.”
“Is it also true that Daryl’s from that sort of family? I bet he turns into a giraffe or a donkey or an ugly sheep or something like that!”
“Will you just shut the fuck up? Shut up!” Tony then stopped, turned, and pushed me. “Shut up about it, fucking idiot!”
“I was just joking about it, OK.” Again we walked in silence for several blocks. “Tracy can’t be like that. She’s too nice, too sweet.”
“Sounds like she’s left an impression. Leave her alone, Kid.”
Wade Monroe was a half Navajo, half Caucasian walking monstrosity. He, too, was into girls and talked on a different level with Tony than I could ever muster. I pretended to be interested as they went on and on about the delicate curves of one gal we all knew, Beth. Beth once kicked me in the shin with the heel of her boot, and I cried. She had missed my groin entirely but on the downswing hit my shinbone. It felt as if an arrow had pierced a nerve directly. I had stumbled and cleared the lengthy swing of her long leg as she had aimed where my head would have been. Her second swing toward my groin was hopeless, except the downward swing of her infinitely hardened boot heel connected perfectly with my shin. I then avoided her at all costs.
We arrived at the grocery store and walked to the liquor aisle. A security guard followed, eyeing my backpack suspiciously.
“Steve, go wait outside. You look like a damn kid.” Wade hollered.
I walked outside and loitered at the entrance like an idiot.
Minutes later, the two left the store empty handed and clearly frustrated. “Let’s go to the other store. And this time, I’ll go in alone, and you two stay away from the store. Damn kids!” Wade seemed irate.
Tony and I loitered outside the entrance of the next store like two morons.
“Tony, how old is Wade? Really?” I whispered.
“Twenty-two, I think. He’s too ugly for twenty-one.”
“How old is Tracy then?”
Tony smiled, “Seventeen, I think. She’s old, and you’re young. Too young, Kid.”
“I’m not a kid, stop calling me that.”
“You don’t know much about anything, now, do you? Math and school and geeky shit, but that’s about it.”
“That’s not cool.”
“See, that’s what I mean. Why do you say things like that? Things that guys don’t say. Learn to shut up!”
We stood in silence for a minute.
“Is there really a medicine bag in my backpack?” I asked again.
“Shut your mouth, Kid!”
“Don’t fucking tell me to shut up!” I returned. “You shut up.”
Again we stood in silence.
I inquired, “What does beer taste like? This will be my first.”
“Tastes good, like drops of rain.”
Wade emerged smiling and carrying a package. He walked past our loitering camp and down the street. I attempted to follow when Tony pulled me back.
“Idiot! They’re watching,” he said to me. “Let’s go the other way.”
We walked back toward the other store then circled back to Daryl’s house where our beer awaited. We arrived before Wade got there.
“Wade! We’re not supposed to be back here. Give us our beer so we can go,” Tony demanded.
“What? No party?” Wade glared at Tony, “You’re not going to share?”
“The kid hurt his ankle, and we have to get home before the sun goes down.”
“Come inside,” Wade laughed, “We’ll talk about it.”
“The Kellers have returned, and you had just left,” Daryl said as he emerged.
“Yes, we’re back, thanks,” I eyed the floor awkwardly.
“Brew, the Kellers have bought us brew.” Wade glared at a silent Tony then placed two twenty-four packs of beer on the kitchen table. I stared at the beer.
Tony looked up hiding remorsefulness within a stoic smirk, “Yeah, drink up then.”
“Hey! Shyboy!” cooed Tracy.
I was not aware she was behind me.
“You’re back, and you brought a party! We need to invite some people!”
“Yeah…I’m…just here with Tony and Wade. And we need to go home soon before it gets dark,” I squirmed gracelessly.
“Dark? The sun is still up. Besides, you can stay here. Tony, you too. Come on! It’ll be so much fun!” bellowed Tracy.
I sat on the dirty, smelly couch, unsure what to do next.
“Shyboy is good with computers. Maybe he can fix yours, D!” Tracy eyed me from across the room.
Daryl gazed at me. “You know about those damn things at all?”
“Yeah, a little, depends on what it is,” I said.
“Window…something. Come on. Let’s take a look.” Daryl said, motioning to a rear room.
We marched down a hall to a bedroom, dark and clean with a computer workstation in the corner.
“This piece of crap has given me trouble since I got it. The modem never works right, and the clicking thing keeps breaking,” Daryl said.
“The mouse?” I asked.
“Yeah, that thing with a tail,” Daryl laughed. “You know all about these things, don’t you? This is all alien shit to me.”
I had a gander.
“So, you’re running Windows, but you’re getting a lot of fatal errors. Looks like a mess here with viruses and hardware errors. When was the last time you reinstalled the OS?”
“What’s the OS?” Daryl asked.
“The operating system,” I said.
“Which is what?” Daryl wondered.
“The main computer software that runs the computer,” I said. “Tony!” I get Tony’s attention. “We need to get back home. We need to leave soon.”
“Yeah, OK. We’ll leave soon.” He turned and disappeared down the dark hallway. Loud then louder music blared out from it with far more people than were previously there. I continued evaluating Daryl’s computer.
Minutes later Tony appeared, clearly in a festive mood. “Yo Steve! Your uncle came by earlier. He’s going to tell your parents you’re staying here and will be back tomorrow. It’s party time!” He was already getting drunk.
“Tony! Wait!” I leapt from the workstation past Daryl and chased him down. “So we’re staying here? Here? Have you asked if we could?”
“Of course you can stay here. I have a big house, and your father is a good man. It would be my honor,” Daryl was right behind me. “You’ve lived a sheltered life with your parents, young Keller. Live a little.” He offered me a can of beer. I timidly accepted.
I glared at the floor and gripped my beige backpack, a smiling Daryl in front of me. “He’s going to tell my mom and dad, then?” The cold beer chilled my fingers.
“See, I told you he was cool. Steve, my main man! We’re going to party tonight!” Tony was far calmer than I w
as.
“Tracy, get young Keller here a pint glass. He’s our guest,” Daryl said and patted my shoulder. Tracy smiled and disappeared into the next room.
I marched back to the workstation with Daryl behind me. “It looks like you need a clean reinstall. I can do that if you have all your important stuff saved.” I found the OEM discs that came with his computer.
“Do what you must. It’s just porn shit on there so I can get more.”
The scream was deafening as I awoke from my slumber. The grogginess and heaviness upon my head were paramount. The bed where I lay sprang up and down as I gazed about looking for my shoes. My shirt was gone and my pants unbuttoned. What happened here?
I put my shirt back on as well as my shoes. My head hurt so desperately. It was still dark in that dirty bedroom. Beyond the door were the sounds of a person muffled, of a crackling fire and slight laughter. My backpack was open, my headphones and Walkman scattered about. The medicine bag was gone. I felt unclean, filthy. In the lazy light of the corner lamp, I gathered up my things and tightened my shoes. The room and house seemed dark and cold. I jumped at my shadow as I stood up. Evil was here, and I had to get away from it.
I approached the door and peeked out. Tony sat naked on his knees, covered in a murky powder, his arms bound behind him. He panted loudly with saliva oozing down his chin onto his knees. His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other as a deep growl escaped his lips. Tracy approached carrying a small flask. She wore nothing but murky powder on her hands. Daryl and another sat opposite wearing very little, a small drum between them as the chanting continued. Tony said little, but groaned and pouted like a cornered, injured animal. Tracy fed the flask to Tony while her other hand reached forth between his legs. Tony drank. Tracy stood up and stoked the fire. She turned and saw me. I backed away quickly and sat on the bed.
The door slowly opened and she walked in and smiled. She looked back into the other room momentarily, nodded, and then closed the door behind her.
“Shyboy, what am I going to do with you?” She walked toward the bed, “This isn’t exactly like one of your geometry classes now is it?”
“No,” I said as I glared at the bedroom wall.
“None of that sine and cosine bullshit?”