Rusty Knob

by Erica Chilson

  My eyes drop to look at Kaden’s shiny teacher shoes. “What you said… what you did… how you made me feel… it had its intended impact. I couldn’t keep living that way anymore.”

  “I’m glad you made the right decision,” comes muffled to my ears because my pounding heartbeat is drowning out all other sound.

  I wince, knowing I didn’t make the right decision at all. “You can thank Warren for that. Trust me when I say my decision was piss-poor.”

  Kade shifts on his feet while ducking his head to get into my line of sight. But I can’t look up at him. “Ignorance is not the absence of intelligence. Rather, it is the absence of knowledge. Just open your eyes wider, is all. You have no reason to be ashamed of your roots, Wynn. Your past will shape you far more than those who grew up here in town. You’ll appreciate every meal and every dollar you earn.”

  “I feel that already.” My shoulders curl in on themselves, shrinking me further.

  “Your father is scum. I’m sorry to say that, but it’s the truth. You need to hear me when I say that isn’t how it is in every house in the hollers. They are dirt poor people who don’t have an education enough to realize they can have more if they tried to achieve it. That’s all. When sons like you and I try for more, their pride gets bent. They are good people who love their families, and they don’t know any better because their eyes are shut. You just drew the short straw with the piece of shit abuser you call daddy.”

  I finally look up into Kaden’s earnest, hazel eyes. “Why do you always act like you hate me?”

  Kade steps back and straightens up taller. “Because you were blinding yourself on purpose, pretending you couldn’t see the truth. It’s like what you were saying to Penny at the Circle K on Friday Night. You weren’t meeting your potential. It was on purpose, and it pissed me off.”

  “Understood,” I agree, shaking my head up and down. I cram my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, and pull out what I came here to do. “Here.”

  Larger, warm hand wrapping around mine, I shiver a bit while the transfer takes place. “Seriously?” Kade’s eyebrow hitches and his mouth quirks up in the corners. “How are your math scores?”

  “What?” I grumble, bewildered. “I just took it last month. I got a 760 for my SAT math score. Not perfect, but prit’near.”

  “Well, that explains it.” Kade hangs his head as if he’s disappointed in me. I can only see the arch of his nose, and the top of his head. I never noticed how he wears his thick curly hair in a bun like a girl, but his slow movements draw it to my attention. “It’s those missing forty points that have you giving me my twenty bucks back, plus the bar of Ivory. Seems like I’m coming out ahead on this.”

  Blushing bright red, I mutter, “Huh?”

  Voice quiet yet solemn. “Yeah, I drank the Gatorade for two bucks and some change, and bought this here soap… but now I have my twenty bucks back, already pissed the Gatorade down the toilet, and I’m holding a bar of Ivory. Seems like we aren’t even, are we?”

  “You shittin’ me?”

  Kade looks up abruptly, face splitting into a huge grin. “Obviously your math skills leave something to be desired, or else you’re a proud sonofabitch who’s putting me in my place. Which is it, Wynn? Should I be thanking you for handing me my ass, or should I get you a math tutor?”

  I look away quickly, blushing to the roots of my hair. “I’m handling… I mean, handing you your ass,” I drawl, chuckling a bit underneath my breath.

  “I’ma keep this soap on my desk.” Kade twists to the side, placing the bar of Ivory by his nameplate. “I like it when students give me gifts. I’ll have to find that Gatorade bottle and keep it as a souvenir to remind myself about the time Wynn Gillette bought me a drink.”

  I have the sudden urge to fan myself like the mommas and mamaws in church during a sermon. I look away, unable to gaze at Kade’s grin. I clear my throat. “So, what’d you get on your SATs, Mr. Smarty Pants-Teacher Man?”

  “Not as good as you,” Kade admits without putting up a fuss. “I haven’t known Royce since I was a boy like you have. My eyes weren’t as open as yours are. I met him when I was a sophomore, and he turned my life around.”

  Shocked but not shocked, “Royce paid for your schooling?”

  “Yeah, and I’m paying it forward.” Kade gestures around his schoolroom. All the kids– townies and hillbillies –are playing together and getting along. “I used to be a bit like Penny, thinking dogs on leashes were ridiculous. It took me a long while to assimilate.”

  My eyes narrow, causing Kade to huff a laugh. “I was the dog-walking neighbor Penny was referring to. I also stole her fable about townie kids bruising easier.” He flashes me a huge grin, keeping one eye trained on the rest of the room while looking at me with the other. “I’m going to employ that trick on my first graders.”

  Mind spinning, wondering if Royce has been talking behind my back, I ask, “Small world, coincidence, or on purpose?”

  “Small world, Wynn,” Kade comforts me in a soothing yet deep voice that crawls down my spine as it caresses my name. “I live across the street from you in the blue house with the white trim. I’m the jackass walking his tiny pug a billion times– day and night.” Kade leans in and whispers near my ear, causing me to shiver again. “Let Penny in on this secret– dogs chase cars, but sometimes they chase back.”

  “Are you serious?” I mutter sarcastically.

  Nodding like he didn’t hear the sarcasm, Kade’s ear brushes my cheek. He grimaces, and then says, “Splat,” while clapping his hands together in front of my face, breaking our moment. “I love my dog, so I leash him.”

  “Jesus,” I rasp out in a gust, turning abruptly so Kade can’t see my flushed face. “I better get going. I already missed homeroom. I’m sure I’m late to first period.”

  Kade straightens to his full height and takes a few steps back. He clears his throat, and rubs his palms on his teacher pants. “Yeah, guess I better teach these hellions how to read and write. I started in September. It’d be bad to get chastised before I put in a full school year, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I drawl, nodding. My feet are fused to the floor. For some reason, I suddenly want to rejoin the first grade. “I’ll be seeing ya around, I guess.”

  “I’ll be hearing Penny bitching from across the street, I suspect. The quality of the neighborhood just decreased.” Insulted, I step forward, but then Kade’s laughter hits my ears. “I’m joking, Wynn. I like it. It reminds me of my momma.”

  “I’ll rile Penny up some more for ya, then,” I say in parting.

  Flushing Traitors!

  Dazed, I wander from the elementary half of the building into the high school side. I have no watch, and there are no bells between periods in the little school, so I guess first period has already started. My chat with Kade felt like it sped by, yet I know it took quite some time.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Kerry,” I mumble when I sneak into Field Biology. “I got held up in the little school.” I lean against the door, closing it with my back, waiting to be told to either sit or hightail it to the office. I’m not worried, though. All the teachers respect me because I respect them.

  Looking up from her desk, “Not a problem, Wynn,” Mrs. Kerry chirps happily. She marks me present on the roster with a flourish of her hand. “We’re doing a lab today, so join a group.”

  I push off the door with a, “Thanks.” I turn to weave around the lab tables, looking for Jack, and what I spot has me missing a step. “The fuck?” I mutter underneath my breath.

  Rusty Knob High is segregated– the students segregate themselves. The townies in the front, the hillbillies in the back, and the middle is where students hide out. There is a lot of jealousy and prejudice. If a townie tried to sit in the back, they’d get their ass kicked, and whoever they were trying to sit with would have a few broken bones for being a traitor. If a hillbilly tried to sit in the front, the townies would look at him cross-eyed but not do anything about it. However, he would
n’t be present in school for a few days afterward because he would be a traitor. The middle is where people like me sit– someone who belongs to both sides –and can access both sets of their friends.

  Penny always sat in the back. Jack always sat in the front. I always sat in the middle. At the front-most lab table, Jack and Penny are sitting together like the best of friends, and Francis is joining them.

  “What’s this about?” I take the seat that I can only assume is meant for me, and a ruckus starts in the back the instant my ass hits the plastic.

  “Fucking traitor!”

  “Asshole townies are stealing our people!”

  “Gillette always thought he was better than us!”

  “You can keep Warren,” Duane shouts from the table opposite us, “But we’ve always had Wynn.”

  Bren makes a spooky face. “They stole me too. It’s so much fun here. We have cable.”

  I go to cover my mouth to keep my laugh contained but end up covering my eyes instead. “You idiots are playing with fire. They will seriously fuck you up.”

  “We stole one of your girls too!” Duane reaches over to grab Penny’s arm. “But then again, you gave her away when you wouldn’t let her sit in her usual seat.”

  “What?” I jump up, flipping around to face my people. “Is this shit true? Is that why Penny’s up here?”

  “If the bitch wants to live in town, then the bitch ain’t allowed to sit back here no more. Them’s the rules.” Danny Macomb is surrounded by a group of kids who are trying to blend into the background by being quiet, because we are all sick of this shit.

  In little school, we were all friends. Then the stories our papaws, daddies, uncles, and brothers passed on to us bred ignorance. We went from friends to feeling pressured into hating one another because our elders said so. But most of this school hates these unwritten rules, and would just like to hang out with the friends we made in kindergarten.

  “Rules change,” I declare, and then sit down. I ignore the hushed whispers and nasty slurs that are tossed Penny’s and my way. “I’m sorry.” I reach out to tug Penny under my arm. “I knew this was going to happen. I just wasn’t prepared.”

  Mrs. Kerry just looks up from her desk, waiting everyone out. The teachers know better than to get in the middle. This bullshit dies down rather quickly, but always rekindles off school grounds.

  “Well,” Penny snuggles into me for a second, and then pulls away. “I always wanted to know what the view looked like from up here.” She looks around while wiggling in her seat. “Pretty spiffy. I feel smarter already.”

  “Oh, shush!” Francis puts his palm in Penny’s face. “I don’t give two flips about Townie/Hillbilly politics. I just want to know what put that color in Wynn’s cheeks. Our boy looks positively flushed.”

  “Yeah, Wynn.” Bren leans over from his lab station. “Why were you late? But better yet, who the hell were you with?”

  “No comment.” I manage to hold a straight face for all of five second, but then my grin spreads far and wide.

  Eyes going wide, “Holy shit!” Jack thumps me on the back. “Holy fucking shit! Who?”

  “Don’t get too excited,” I mutter. But then I bend forward to hide my face in my hands. “It’s nothing. It’s not what you think.”

  “Fuck too, it ain’t!” Penny tugs at my hand, trying to decipher my expression, so I press my face to the tabletop to cool off.

  “What’s up?” Duane pipes in. “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

  “Wynn?” Jack whispers in my ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine!” I squeak out. “Can we please change the subject? Maybe actually do our lab? Some of us have to keep up their grade-point-average or they lose their funding.”

  “Look at that blush creeping up the back of his neck,” Francis purrs salaciously. “Yum!”

  “It was YouPorn, wasn’t it?” Bren manages to get everyone off my ass by cracking us up. “I knew that would be the cure. Porn cures all wounds.”

  “That’s time, douchebag,” Penny grumbles. “Even I know that. Time heals all wounds.”

  “But porn is quicker,” Bren banters back.

  Red Saturn? Gray Food?

  I walk home after practice, bogged down with a handful of bags filled with little kid clothes from the thrift shop– pants. I got lots and lots of pants. I also found Penny a really nice mirror to hang on her bedroom wall for a few extra bucks. I want to feel guilty for treating myself by buying an oscillating fan, but my room is hotter than Hades. Properly built and insulated houses retain heat, I’ve found out the hard way. I was used to the constant breeze blowing through the knotty, rotten wall boards in Gillette Holler.

  When I thought I couldn’t afford a better way of life, I was looking at the few dollars I managed to save every week. I never took into account that I wouldn’t be supporting my parents’ habits or well-being. These past few days, I’ve saved at least fifty bucks on gasoline. I don’t have to drive fifteen minutes each way every single day to get to town. I just walk everywhere I need to go. Plus, the lack of wear and tear on my ancient truck means I won’t have to buy replacement parts so often. I know Royce is lying about the price of rent, and he’s still paying me way too much for so little work, but it feels good. I don’t feel like a charity case.

  Pride.

  I tuck my purchases on the porch, wanting to surprise the kids after they’ve helped with chores and finished the phony homework assignments I come up with on the fly. I can hear Penny, Hayley, and Hayden chatting inside the house, but they aren’t what greets me first. Our porch has some new additions.

  Sitting on my porch is a green, metal lawn chair that’s older than my daddy. It’s covered with a thick floral cushion, with a sticky note attached to its armrest: Keep your ass comfy while you work, ensuring you’ll work longer.

  Next to the chair is a newer metal table with a sticky note stuck in the center of the glass top: Keep your shit in order and off the floor.

  A wooden crate is hiding beneath the table, out of foot traffic. It’s filled with tools, paint brushes, cleaning rags, a wooden block, and a couple of packs of assorted grit sandpaper: If you don’t know what this shit’s for, then I don’t know what we’ve been doing these past few years.

  Off to the side is an old-fashioned rocking chair. I already know it’s my next project since it’s covered with three sticky notes stapled together in a long list: Sand me. Do I look sanded enough? Yes? Sand me some more. Do I look perfect yet? Your vision sucks, Wynn. Put some elbow grease into it. I want to look like I did when I was first crafted. Now wash me– wash me until I’m slippery under your fingertips. Dry me like you own me, sugar. Sand me again, ya lazy hillbilly. More of that rinse/repeat action. Time to make me shine– you know where to look.

  Chuckling to myself, my eyes land on a can of clear-coat hiding next to the chair. The can lid is covered in half a dozen sticky notes: I ain’t no fool! You think I’m a fool, Wynn? Sand me again, buddy. That wasn’t good enough. I said I wanted to look freshly crafted, remember? Rinse/repeat. Take the brush and dip it in the honey. Oh, yeah! (I’m not the Kool-Aid man!) Brush me real slow, make it feel real good. Let me dry. Let me dry even longer. No, sit yer ass back down and wait. I’m not ready yet. Now I am. I wanna be roughed up again. Rough me up, Wynn. Run that block of wood covered in extra-fine-grit sandpaper along all my curves, and then caress me with a rag. Now slick me back up again and wait until I’m dry. I’m ready to leave now. Our date has become very disturbing, and I wanna go home to my daddy. Pick me up. You know I like your big hands under my arms. Carry me across town to my daddy’s porch. He wants me facing the road, so we can people-watch together. Ya know, sit there a-rocking, waiting for friendly callers to come a-knocking.

  Royce’s perverted humor is genetic. It’s where Bren got his douchebaggery. Feeling warm inside, I chuckle for a few minutes as I gaze at the task Royce wants me to perform. Before now, what’s turned into a hobby was for survival. I love refinishi
ng furniture and building it from scratch. It’s rewarding and useful.

  I’m shaking my head, still chuckling, when I turn for the door. I need to start my homework and bicker with Penny over who’s going to cook supper tonight. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a little dog walking its owner down the sidewalk, and my body lights on fire.

  “Evening,” I mutter as I duck in the front door, trying my damnedest to hide my blush.

  “Evening,” Kaden’s voice follows me into the kitchen. “Tell Penny they walk kids on leashes at amusement parks.”

  That has my face whipping to the side. “No shit?” Kade’s rich laughter lingers in place as he continues walking his ankle-high dog down the street.

  Face boiling from a flush, I’m relieved to see Penny standing at the stove cooking while the kids sit at the kitchen table with their Crayolas. I try to creep past as quiet as a church mouse so she doesn’t see me.

  Penny slaps the dishrag against the counter when she catches sight of me, causing my steps to falter. “Jesus Christ! What’s gotten into you today? Your face is redder than Saturn.”

  “Saturn is the planet with the rings,” I correct her, hoping to go cool off in the bathroom. “You’re thinking of Mars.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure it’s Saturn,” she mumbles as she turns back to the stove.

  “Yeah, sure.” I smother a laugh. “What’s for supper?”

  “I don’t rightly know.” Penny’s voice is faint as she stares down into the pot she’s stirring. “I’m not much of a cook.”

  I come up behind her, curious now. “Hopefully it’s edible,” I say as I peek over her shoulder. “Why is it gray? Are there any foods that are naturally gray?”

  Penny turns abruptly, glaring at me. “Quit distracting me. What has you so flushed?”

  “It is eighty degrees in the shade today, ya know?” I back up slowly until the table bumps my hip. I sit down in Penny’s seat, and turn to the kids. “How about we play Uncle Wynn’s homework while Aunt Penny stirs the gray food?”