Knack (Benjamin Brown Book 1)

by Tom Twitchel

  Straightening up, she waved her hand in front of her face and took on a mock serious air. “A whole minute? Mmm. I’m not sure I can stay that long sir. Let’s proceed.”

  She kept the straight face on until I got the door open and then she dissolved into giggles.

  Relieved to be home at last, I hoisted the bag up onto the counter by the sink and swung off the backpack letting it slide gently to the floor. My back ached, my hands were cold and sore and my leg felt like it belonged to somebody else.

  Maddy put the bag she’d been carrying next to the other one and turned around to survey the room. Her raised eyebrows were almost hidden by her hood, which she brushed back. Glossy black hair fell gracefully out of the hood. I would say she was pretty, but her haircut effectively hid half of her face at any given moment so it was hard to tell. She looked out the windows then slowly took in the minimalist furnishing.

  “No TV?”

  “No. We can’t afford one.”

  “No couch?”

  “No, not yet. We’re going to get one when Mom has enough money saved up.”

  “Well, I’m thirsty. What do you have to drink?”

  “Uh, not much.” I looked at the bags we had just lugged up the stairs and the warm liter of Coke in one of them that had seemed like a good idea before I’d had to carry it halfway across downtown. “Water?”

  She gave me an incredulous look, as though I had just started speaking a foreign language she couldn’t understand.

  “You’re kidding, right? Nothing? Water?”

  “Yeah. We don’t…”

  She bounced over to the refrigerator and pulled on the handle.

  “Hey, don’t open…” I started.

  She stood there for a moment, then looked at me, then back into the fridge and then back at me. The almost empty carton of milk that was keeping two-day-old fried chicken company was all that was in there at the moment.

  “Seriously? What, do you guys eat out every night?”

  “No. We just don’t have much money for stuff. Hey, close the door. It wastes energy when you leave it open like that.” Oh, man, I sounded like my mother.

  Closing the door with a flourish, she looked me in the eye and said, “How long has your mother been away? For reals.”

  At that moment, I was seriously regretting letting this force of nature help me with my groceries. You know that uncomfortable stomach lurching feeling you get when an elevator takes off really fast? That’s a good description as to how I felt at that moment. As genuinely sweet as she so obviously was, I was freaked that she was going to uncover my secret.

  “What do you mean?”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she gave me what my mom had called “the hairy eyeball.”

  “I mean there is no way your mom has been in this place recently. What’s in all the cupboards? Nothing? No furniture? Every refrigerator has lots of stuff in it. Plenty of it stuff that a kid wouldn’t eat, and at least half a dozen things with fancy labels on them. You got nothing.”

  “Well, we have furniture,” I said defensively.

  “What? Like those two barstools? That don’t even match?”

  “Hey! That’s really rude. That would hurt my mom’s feelings if she heard you. Besides, if you saw her bedroom you wouldn’t be saying that.” I patted myself on the back for playing my hole card. Then I saw her face and felt like a jerk. She looked like I had just slapped her.

  “I’m so sorry! I say stupid stuff all the time that comes out rude. Really I didn’t mean it,” she said. It was painfully obvious that she was embarrassed and feeling pretty bad, almost as bad as I felt for making her feel that way.

  Nervously patting at the grocery bags sitting on the counter, she mumbled, “Well, I’ve certainly worn out my welcome. I should be going.”

  She moved to the front door and I followed sheepishly behind.

  “Hey, it was nice meeting you. No offense taken. I shouldn’t have reacted that way,” I said, trying to make amends.

  She brightened immediately. “Yeah? Okay, good. I’m always sticking my foot in my mouth. Anyway, I’m going to the pawnshop and look around. If you feel like it, you should come and I’ll introduce you to Mr. Goodturn.” She walked over to the door.

  Opening it, she leaned back, flashed another smile and waltzed into the hallway.

  “Later.”

  “Bye, Maddy.”

  And that is what my English teacher at school would call a seminal moment.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After she had left, I spent some time staring at the door. It wasn’t just her happy spirit and flair for the dramatic. What was the attraction I felt? It wasn’t a boy-girl thing either. At least I wasn’t sure.

  Maybe.

  Not that I was willing to admit it—least of all to myself.

  It was, I think, mostly the fact that I hadn’t truly connected with anyone since I had run away. Seth had been kind to me, but it hadn’t been like peer bonding. Father Steve, despite his sincere concern for me, had blown into my life and back out in less than twenty-four hours. Everyone else I had met or been forced to interact with had been kept at arm’s length. I missed having someone to talk to and more than that, someone to talk to that was my own age.

  As I put away the meager bundle of groceries, I could feel myself getting depressed. Is this what I was going to experience for the rest of my life? Living alone, hiding secrets, lying to people, hustling money to pay the bills? It felt like that depressing chapter in Pinocchio where he figures out exactly what the Land Of Toys is really all about.

  When I finished, I sat at the counter on one of my mismatched barstools and made a list of food items that Mom used to keep in the refrigerator back home. Then I crossed off the ones that had short shelf lives—and that made me sad. Frustrated and ticked off at myself, I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door to go to the pawnshop.

  To, you know, look around a little.

  And maybe run into Maddy.

  Not that my motivation for going there had anything to do with her.

  Only everything.

  To quote something I would hear from her countless times: “Boys are so dumb.”

  Still sore from running around earlier, I took my time going down the stairs and talked myself in and out of going to the pawnshop several times. But then I found myself on the ground floor and it would be stupid not to go at that point.

  When I got to the pawnshop, I looked through the windows, trying to see if she was inside. That was impossible because of the items crammed into the display area. Grasping the antique doorknob, I easily pulled the door open and limped in. A small bell on a piece of banded metal that hung near the top of the door jumped around and announced my entrance. I had managed to enter without catching my foot on the threshold and I congratulated myself on my uncharacteristic grace.

  That is, until the door swung shut and smacked into my butt, which in turn caused me to stumble awkwardly forward.

  Smooth.

  Glancing around hastily, I was relieved to find that only some dwarf-like old guy perched on a stool behind a counter had seen me get spanked by the door. He looked at me over the top of his incredibly thick glasses and offered a simple hello.

  As quickly as possible, I moved away from the treacherous door. Trying not to be too obvious, I craned my neck and peered around at the tall rows of shelving that ran the length of the shop. The place was a lot bigger than it had looked from the outside, probably because from outside you couldn’t see jack.

  The ceilings were high and there were many items high on the walls, even a few hanging from the ceiling; canoes, tents, Christmas trees and dozens of mounted animal heads. How they would be brought down if someone wanted to buy them was beyond me.

  Moving from row to row, attempting to appear nonchalant, I peered around corners and peeked through shelves but didn’t see Maddy anywhere. A throat clearing noise caused me to glance in the direction of the little old man behind the long glass counter. He wa
s staring at me and when he knew he had my attention, he pointed discreetly toward the back of the store with a screwdriver he had in his hand.

  Whether a person can actually faint from blushing really hard or not, I can’t say, but I did feel a little lightheaded as all the blood in my body rushed to my face. I considered what would be more humiliating, running out of the shop or following the pointing screwdriver to an area marked by a large overhead sign that read “Records and Books.”

  Since I was still recovering from my clumsy encounter with the front door, I opted for “Records and Books.” Besides, I was already moving in that direction.

  As I got closer, I could hear the high-pitched voices of several girls. Before I turned the corner of the shelving, I snuck a look through the shelf nearest the end of the row. Maddy was standing in front of two other girls and jabbering away. The other girls were about the same age. One was tall, blond and pretty in a prissy way. She had an upturned nose and full lips. Her eyes were blue and long-lashed. The clothes she was wearing were bright and new. The other girl was short, doughy and brunette and wore clothes that had clearly been selected because of their similarity to those worn by her tall blond friend although they weren’t as expensive. Her face was round and pale with ruddy cheeks, with eyes that were set closely together.

  Avoiding direct contact with them, I moved to a wall of shelves that was loaded with old books. I glanced at titles and pulled one or two while I eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “Why did you come here then?” Maddy asked in an irritated tone.

  Another voice, likely the blond, said, “Well, we were talking to Melissa, and she said that she heard you telling Isabel that you came here a lot and that you actually bought records here, so we decided to check it out. It’s a free country.” Her voice was syrupy sweet, but it didn’t mask the fact that she was all about throwing shade.

  “Free country,” a third voice chimed in—brunette for sure.

  “Are you going to buy a record Chantel?” Maddy asked.

  Blondie, apparently Chantel, said, “Seriously? Why? I mean like why? You would need a record player and do they even sell those anymore? Besides, downloads have much better quality and I usually listen over headphones anyway.”

  “Yeah, headphones have like their own speakers you know,” said the brunette, who apparently didn’t engage in a lot of original thinking.

  I sneaked a peek over my shoulder. Wrinkling her nose while looking at Maddy’s clothes, Chantel said, “Are those boys’ clothes? I mean, when you’re wearing them you actually look like a boy.”

  The brunette snickered at her friend’s cruel comment.

  “Well, Chantel, since you and Amy have looked around and figured out that you have no need for classic vinyl recordings, you and Amy can just leave; don’t you need to rejoin the coven or something?”

  I risked another look over my shoulder. Maddy was smiling, but not in the way I had seen her smile earlier. My aunt, Barbara, had a big gray cat that would occasionally bring a half-dead mouse into the house; the cat would drop the mouse on the floor in a corner and lie down next to it while lazily swatting it when it tried to escape. Maddy’s smile reminded me of that cat.

  “Coven?” asked Amy querulously.

  “It means like a bunch of witches! Shut up!” snapped Chantel, obviously angry over the coven crack. She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Maddy. “I’ll go whenever I want and when I’m good and ready.”

  “Yeah. We’re not done looking at stuff, Madison,” said the short and dumpy Amy, trying to win back a few points with Chantel for not knowing what coven meant.

  Maddy didn’t acknowledge Amy but said to Chantel, “Good and ready Chantel? Isn’t that what Adam says about you?” Both girls’ mouths dropped open at that. “And you should teach your mascot, Amy here, to close her mouth. She might end up catching a fly in that huge pie hole of hers.”

  Chantel’s cheeks flushed and Amy closed her mouth with a loud “clomp.” No doubt trying to think of a snappy comeback and failing, Chantel’s jaw tensed and her lips practically disappeared in a fierce scowl. Spinning on her heel, she twisted away from Maddy intending to make a dramatic exit. Instead, she bumped painfully into a table. Scowling even more furiously, cheeks flaming red, she stalked stiff-backed out of the record area and moved quickly to the store entrance. Amy glared at Maddy, turned her nose up and waddled after Chantel. The little bell at the front door jangled angrily a moment later.

  The entire scene had been a minor revelation to me. Girls could be just as mean as boys could but they were so much more snarky about it. Guys would just come out and tell you they didn’t like you and how they were going to kick your ass. Girls sort of beat around the bush. I found it all pretty interesting. Getting caught up in watching them leave and thinking over the nuances of female sparring I had just witnessed, I hadn’t noticed Maddy walking up behind me.

  “Were you just waiting for the right time to come to my rescue?”

  She was looking up at me with a smirk.

  “Uh, no. You didn’t look like you needed any help.”

  Her smile widened. “Not with them, that’s for sure.”

  “How do you know them?”

  Turning back to the records and flicking through them, she answered, “They’re just girls from my school. Came here just to bug me.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “You get brownie points for not going all macho and trying to protect me.” She smiled her big smile. I felt my face flush.

  This girl was so genuine. There were no rumblings of insincerity under the surface of her sunny smile. She turned to start looking through records again.

  “I wanted to tell you something,” I said.

  Without looking up from her browsing, she said, “So, tell me.”

  Shuffling my right foot nervously, I stammered, “Uh, I don’t want to say it here.”

  That got her attention. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Not here? Where then?”

  Unprepared for that question and suddenly unsure of myself, I pulled my second smooth move since entering the shop.

  I stared at my shoes.

  “Ummm…”

  Facing me, she put her hands on her hips and giggled. “Well, while you’re trying to figure out where you want to tell me this obvi’ big secret, I’m going to introduce you to Mr. Goodturn.” She skipped around me and headed to the counter where the old guy was working on a toaster.

  “Okay, but I…” Me the conversationalist.

  I followed along behind her trying to get my brain and my tongue to talk to each other.

  As we approached the counter, the man looked up from his work and smiled.

  “What can I do for you Maddy?” He stared owlishly through glasses that were so thick they made his eyes seem super large.

  “Mr. Goodturn, this is my new friend, Benjamin. He just moved in next door.”

  Looking up at us over the top of his glasses, he gave me a quizzical look. “Did you move in last month? Top floor? With your mother?”

  That was creepy. How would he know all of that?

  He must have read my mind because he said, “I own the building. You’ve probably met my employee, the superintendent, Breno.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, relieved.

  “What does your mom do exactly? We don’t see her around much.”

  Yeah. No one saw her at all. I had prepared a carefully thought out answer.

  “She’s an independent contractor. She provides in-home care for people who can’t get around. She works pretty late and then sleeps through the morning. I help out a lot since she’s not around during the day.” This major fabrication was the product of thinking of a job that had irregular hours and didn’t have a business address that could be visited. It would make it believable that she wasn’t seen, no one could drop by her place of work since she didn’t have one and most people wouldn’t be rude enough to bother someone who worked nights. I also thought that a single mother working in
the medical profession sounded “real.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Well, nice to meet you, Benjamin. And nice to see you again, Maddy.”

  Maddy smiled at him. “We have to be off. Benjamin’s mom asked me to help make lunch.” I wasn’t sure why she had chosen to say that but was unexpectedly pleased with her for adding a layer of believability to my mom story.

  “Enjoy your lunch then.” He looked at his watch. “I guess it is time for a meal. I think I’ll do that myself! Be careful on your way out.”

  When we were out on the street, Maddy gracefully hooked her arm in mine. It felt good to be close to someone, even if it was this girl who I had just met.

  “So, Mr. Mister, where should we go for this telling you speak of?”

  “Umm, I guess we could go back to my apartment—my mom’s apartment.”

  Giving my arm a playful squeeze, she released it and skipped ahead.

  “Come on then. I have to get back home before it gets dark.”

  As we made our way back up the stairs, I decided that I was definitely getting in enough exercise for the day. Maddy chatted happily while we climbed up. Her parents were away for the summer on an important business trip and her uncle was watching her and the house while they were away. Her parents’ condo was about thirty minutes away by bus. She wasn’t supposed to go any further than twenty minutes out, but her uncle was “pretty chill” and didn’t follow up on her. Maddy loved old music because that’s what she had grown up listening to. Her mom and dad both worked for the Seattle Museum and were “total hippies.” She had a little sister but no brothers. When she wasn’t being pressed into service as a built in babysitter, she was allowed to roam around downtown as long as she stayed away from certain areas. I was curious where those areas were because I considered the pawnshop and the train tracks to be less than safe.

  When we got to the top landing, I paused for breath and Maddy had the good taste not to comment on my need for it.

  Walking up to my apartment and opening the door, I stood back and motioned for her to enter first.

  “Why, ah do declare! Such southern manners in one so young,” she drawled in a fake southern accent.