“What’s up?” Mom demanded. She didn’t sound happy to see me. She never is if I come by when she’s at work.
It was suddenly hard to say it. Mom was standing there with her arms folded next to a tampon machine in a bar bathroom that smelled like cigarette smoke and old perfume. It wasn’t a comfortable place to talk about something harsh. I found myself on the set of my own play again.
0o0
DANNY: There’s … I have a problem.
CALLIE: It couldn’t wait until I got home?
Danny shakes his head.
CALLIE (softening a little bit): Honey, what is it? I can’t talk long—Hank will start shouting. Whatever it is, we can figure out what to do.
DANNY (deep breath): Myron’s been spying on me.
CALLIE: Spying on you? What’s that supposed to mean?
DANNY: He hid a video camera in my room and one in the bathroom. He’s been selling movies of me on the Internet. And not just me. He has movies of lots of … of other teenagers. Including Eryx. He showed me the web site and the videos. And that’s not all of it.
Beat. Callie doesn’t react. Danny takes this for encouragement and plunges ahead.
DANNY: He’s been selling Eryx. You know—for … sex. To tourists and hunters. And he was going to sell me. There were two men, but I hid under my bed and Eryx said I wasn’t home so Myron set the men up with just Eryx and I heard them with him but Myron said tomorrow he’s going to take me over to one of the guys and make me do the same stuff. Mom, we have to get out of there and call the cops and—
Callie smashes Danny hard across the face. He staggers back in pain and surprise.
CALLIE: Shut your lying mouth!
Danny stares at her in shock, one hand on his face. Mom is livid.
CALLIE: After everything Myron has done for you. For us. He’s been nothing but wonderful to us. He got us out of the shithole we were living in, he treats me with respect, and he takes you to nice places. And now you’re making up filthy lies about him because you and Eryx can’t get along? Let me tell you something, mister—you’ve been nothing but selfish ever since Zack died. Do you think the universe revolves around you? Have you ever thought that I might deserve a little happiness? That I might have needs?
DANNY (yelling): Those guys raped Eryx and I’m supposed to be next!
CALLIE (hissing): Shut up! You want your lies to get me fired? (She unlocks the bathroom door and flings it open. Eighties music floods the room.) Get out! And when I get home, I want to see a letter of apology to me and to Myron on the kitchen table.
Danny still can’t believe what he’s hearing. A beat passes. Then he slowly exits. Callie sighs, checks her makeup in the mirror, and follows. Curtain.
0o0
Okay, I did it. I wrote down the shit that happened with Myron and Eryx and my mom. I didn’t die. That’s a good sign. My handwriting’s a little shaky in some parts, but I think my pulse rate is getting back to normal. I feel a little better now that I wrote it down, anyway. Still not ready to sleep, though.
0o0
Next I biked down to the Greyhound station. Lake Trick has one because the seasonal workers need a way to get up here, and because some tourists come by bus from the Traverse City airport. My backpack felt both heavy and light because it contained everything I owned, and it wouldn’t be enough. A couple of chunky gray buses were parked in the lot, and diesel fumes hung in the air like a headache.
the gray bus line crawls toward the scary freedom lady
we stare at time, trying to stay awake for fate
and choices i don’t want to make
a mother loves a fleshy salesman more than her son
he saved me and I had to leave him
i’m next
three hundred has become a tiny number
where am i going?
the freedom lady will want to know
abruptly there’s a word for people like me
runaway
“Where do you want to go?” the ticket lady repeated.
I had no fucking clue. Anywhere but Lake Trick, but that wouldn’t help me buy a ticket. The bus station’s automatic door opened, letting in a push of chilly autumn air. The street would be cold tonight, and winter was coming. Michigan is no fun once the leaves run away and the sky drops a cold lake full of snow over you. You have to be indoors, and I had no indoors anymore. The board behind the ticket lady listed the next several buses and their destinations. One of them caught my eye.
“Miami,” I said, then added, “I’m visiting my grandmother down there,” to make everything seem easy and normal. No reason to call the cops, nothing to be suspicious about. We’re good.
The ticket lady checked her computer. “You’ll have to transfer buses in Detroit, but you’re lucky—the Detroit bus leaves in ten minutes, and you should arrive in plenty of time to catch the Miami. That’s round trip, then?”
I saw my mistake. Of course a visiting grandson would buy a round trip ticket, but I couldn’t afford to spend the extra. I thought fast. “One way,” I said. “My mom’s already down there and I’m coming back with her.”
I held my breath. The ticket lady just nodded and punched at her computer like teeth and bones clicking beneath a fortuneteller’s fingers. After a second, she told me how much it would be—almost two hundred dollars.
“For the bus?” I squawked. “I don’t want to buy it. I just want to ride it.”
“That’s the fare,” she said.
I was more fucked than I thought. I’d figured on the ticket being a hundred at most. I mean, how expensive was the stupid bus?
“Do you want the ticket, sir?” the ticket lady asked, and I became aware that she and the people in line behind me were staring. “The bus leaves in a few minutes.”
I didn’t know what to do. Money was going to be tight as a flea’s ass, yeah, but I didn’t think it would get so bad so soon, not after I’d grabbed some swag.
“Hurry up, kid,” said a bearded guy from the line. “Some of us have shit to do.”
“Sir?” the ticket lady said.
“Danny!”
Cops! Myron had noticed the missing money and called the police on me! I spun, tensed to run. But it was Eryx, standing near the bus station door like a black angel.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I shouted. I ran over to him, halted, then thought the fuck with it and hugged him. That was when I noticed he had a backpack, too. Eryx didn’t hug me back, and I dropped my arms pretty quick.
“I … I thought …” he began, then licked his lips like an alcoholic who wanted a beer. “I figured you’d come to the bus station. Can I come with you? I don’t wanna stay.”
I thought about the bus fare to Miami. I didn’t have enough for two of us. Maybe we could go somewhere else, though we wouldn’t be able to eat on the way.
Eryx seemed to think I was hesitating because I didn’t want him to come, and his face got hurt. “Look, if you don’t want me—”
“What? Fuck, man, I owe you my … I owe you. Yeah, you can come. You can do whatever the fuck you want. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to do it. I only have three hundred bucks, and the bus to Miami is two hundred each.”
“Why Miami?” Eryx asked.
“It’s far away from here and it’s warm in winter. We can sleep on the beach.” And even as I said it, I knew that was what I wanted—a beach. Water washing over the sand, lapping at my toes, licking me clean. I wanted to feel the ocean hold me up like a soft hand. The idea of going there filled me with both relief and hope.
Eryx dug in his pocket. “I have some money. I know where dad keeps his office stash. It’s not much, but it’ll pay for some stuff.”
I felt happy for the first time in days, and I almost hugged Eryx again, but I didn’t. We got back in line again.
“This is my brother,” I said to the ticket lady. “He’s coming with me after all.”
Eryx’s money meant I only needed to use two of my hundred dollar
bills. We hopped on the Greyhound, and Eryx fell asleep almost the second we pulled out of Lake Trick. Our driver was thin as cardboard, and I wondered if he’d have the strength to turn the wheel, but the bus lumbered down the road like a big raft on an asphalt current. I caught a last glimpse of the wide blue lake as we turned away, and I thought about my other journals.
Seven bits of life
Wrapped in plastic
(Like used condoms)
And tossed aside
But
Preserved
Forever.
Where will this piece end?
It’s still West Virginia outside. Has been for the last three stops. I expected West Virginians to be missing half their teeth and saying y’all and sugar. They don’t. Their teeth are fine. They have an accent, but I can barely hear it. It’s about eight hundred wet, humid degrees outside, and I wish I’d packed shorts. When I left Myron’s house, I thought Mom would get us away to a motel or something and we’d be able to go back for the rest of my stuff later. I never thought that a day later I’d be halfway to Florida with Eryx. All I have in my backpack is a couple changes of socks and underwear, another pair of jeans, two t-shirts, and a totally useless jacket. I have a comb in there too, along with the picture of Uncle Zack and some pens. And my notebooks. I have no idea what Eryx stored in his backpack. He wears it like a quiver.
A while ago we stopped in some nameless concrete city at another bus station with another Denny’s across the street from it, and the driver said we had 45 minutes. I was so hungry I was ready to chew the seat cushions. It was ten o’clock in the morning, and I still hadn’t slept since yesterday. My mouth felt sandy. Eryx finally woke up and wanted to know where we were. I told him, and said we needed to eat. I was hoping for McDonald’s—cheaper—but Denny’s was the only place within walking distance. Not even a grocery store or 7-Eleven where we could score some Little Debbies snack turds or something.
Eryx and I crossed four lanes of monster traffic that honked and snarled at us the whole way. We finally got to the Denny’s and I reached for the door. Eryx grabbed my arm.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Going in,” I said.
“Not us,” he said. “Come on.”
He pulled me around to the rear alley, where everything smelled like rotting bacon grease and the pavement was slick and mean. Two huge Dumpsters glowered near the back door, which I realized was really Denny’s asshole.
“This is where we eat,” Eryx said. “You watch for trouble, I’ll dive for breakfast.”
He scrambled into one of the Dumpsters before I could say anything and rooted through shit. I looked around, nervous. What was I supposed to do if someone came out? Whistle a warning? Hit the guy? A screen door from the kitchen leaked the sounds of talking and shouting and clattering dishes, but no one came outside. In a few minutes, Eryx resurfaced with two foam containers. He handed them to me and climbed back out of the trash. He had grease spots on his clothes.
“There,” he said, taking one of the containers back. “People forget their leftovers a lot. Makes good eating.”
I lifted the lid of my container. Half a ham-and-cheese omelette, some hash browns. The cheese had congealed into a barf-like lump and the hash browns looked like bird shit. They had dried-blood ketchup on them. I hate ketchup on hash browns. And for all I knew, the original customer had licked the omelette and the busboy had sneezed on it. I felt sick. Yesterday this would have been my garbage. Today I was figuring on eating it.
Eryx was eating something brown with his fingers. “Hurry up,” he mumbled, mouth full. “I don’t wanna be here the next time someone takes out the trash.”
I picked up the cold omelette with my fingers and made myself take a bite. It was slippery and too salty. I took another bite, and hunger took over. I quickly downed everything, even the ketchup, wiped my hands on my jeans, and tossed the container back into the Dumpster. Okay, I’d eaten garbage. At least I was full—and the meal was totally free. Lesson learned. I looked at Eryx with more admiration.
“What made you think to do that?” I asked as we trotted out of the alley. “I was gonna go inside and waste money.”
“Dad and I were homeless for a while,” he said. “Back when I was six or seven.”
“You were? How did—”
“Shit, it’s hot,” he interrupted loudly. “I should have packed some shorts.”
I took the hint and shut my ketchup hole.
Now we’re on the bus and Eryx is asleep again. He sleeps like the dormouse from Alice in Wonderland. (Yeah, I sometimes read more than Greek mythology. Fantasy is better than reality. Fucking sue me.) It’ll be another 24 hours before we get to Florida. Has Mom figured out I’m gone by now? If Uncle Zack was still alive, she’d probably have called him. She might think I was staying at a friend’s house—if I had any friends. Has she called the cops yet? Can they track me down and make me go back there? I don’t want to find out. I wish this bus would go faster. Or slower. I can’t figure out which.
I need something else to do.
0o0
Ganymede stared down at the knife Minos held at his throat. The king’s full weight was still pressing him to the ground. “M-Majesty?” he gasped. “What the hell?”
Minos whanged Ganymede with his free hand on the side of his head. It hurt like a bitch, and Ganymede saw little explosions. “Don’t swear in front of the king, you little snot,” Minos barked. “No more games, no more performances. You’ll learn who’s in charge in Crete, little Trojan.”
Ganymede could hardly breathe with Minos’s body pressed down on top of his. He could feel Minos’s hard-on pressing against his stomach like a poisoned spear. Fat drops of rain heavy as blood spattered the ferns in the copse. Fear squeezed his ribs. This new Minos was strong and terrifying and loved other people’s pain.
Cannonball thunder boomed overhead and a curtain of cold water poured from the sky. It seemed to surprise Minos, and his grip on the knife loosened. In a flash, Ganymede twisted away so the blade was no longer at his neck. He saw an exposed bit of pale flesh near his mouth and without thinking, he slashed at it with his teeth. Minos howled and snatched his injured wrist away. The move put the king off balance, and Ganymede, quick as an acrobat, heaved Minos aside and rolled to his feet.
Before Ganymede could gather himself to run, Minos snapped an order, and the three lithe dogs moved in to attack. Ganymede pulled his remaining spear from the strap holding it to his back and whipped it at the first dog. The point pierced the animal’s breastbone and came out its back. It went down, yelping and gasping, trying to scramble to its feet even as bloody foam curdled around its mouth. Rain continued to pelt downward through the leaves as the other two dogs rushed him. Ganymede stepped aside at the last moment, let the first dog overrun him, and managed to kick it in the head as it went by. The second dog leaped for Ganymede’s throat, but Ganymede got his left wrist up, and the dog grabbed his forearm instead. Bright pain ripped through skin and muscle, but Ganymede scarcely felt it. He brought the knife around with his free hand and stabbed the dog in the side. It was only a glancing blow, but the dog yelped and released him.
Both surviving dogs backed away, wounded and wary. Sheets of lightning crashed across the sky, turning the entire world white. Minos got to his feet, his clothes and hair plastered to his body. He drew his sword, his face a murderer’s mask.
“I’ll mark you as mine forever, boy,” he shouted over the rain. “I’ll carve my name in your meat so even my daughter will know who you belong to.”
Lightning flashed again. Ganymede turned and ran. Ferns and twigs whipped across his bare legs as he dodged around trees and tried to keep his footing. The rain made things slippery, slowed him down. No one out here to help him, no way to rescue him. He was on his own.
Ganymede fled, trying to think of a plan, something he could do, but his mind couldn’t get past the idea of simple escape. He was aware that the trees were thinning and he was r
unning uphill. Was that a good idea or a bad one? He couldn’t tell. All he knew to do was run and run and run. The dogs were barking behind him, and he heard Minos crashing through the undergrowth as well.
The hill grew steeper and rockier. The trees were now few and far between, replaced by rocks and boulders. Rain plastered Ganymede’s clothes and hair to his body. The dogs should have caught him by now. Either the blows he had dealt them were slowing them down, or Minos was holding them back. The rain fell so hard and heavy it became a blinding wet blanket. Ganymede’s slippery sandals slid on the slope and he kept going more by feel. He barked his shin on a rock, gritted his teeth at the sharp pain, and continued running.
The rain eased up a bit. A bolt of lightning split the sky, and the crisp, too-bright light illuminated the edge of the cliff less than a yard in front of Ganymede. He pulled up short and pinwheeled his arms. The hill just stopped, leaving a rocky bank scattered with rocks bare as bones all the way down to the stony ground far below. Ganymede regained his balance and spun around. Adrenaline and fear zinged through every limb and finger. Minos was striding up the hillside, his face as angry as the storm. The dogs followed him. A single oak tree clenched the cliff top a few feet away, and Ganymede made for it, hoping the leaves would give him some shelter from the rain and the trunk would protect his back. He had no idea what to do, what would happen. He drew his knife and wondered what would happen if a prince of Troy killed the king of Crete. Trouble was, Minos still had his sword.
Minos stormed up the hill until he was a few feet away from Ganymede. He seemed barely winded by the run. “Lay down your little blade, boy,” he snarled. “And then get down on your knees.”
Ganymede didn’t move. He kept his eyes on Minos, his knife ready. There were tricks to fighting a sword when you only had a knife. Ganymede’s teacher had shown him. Unfortunately, Minos probably knew them, too.
Danny Page 7