by Hart, Jerry
He wanted her to remember him as a stud.
He knew he would miss her.
In truth, he was very fond of her.
Mom had told him he may have to change schools because of “zoning,” and that they wouldn’t move until fall of 1992, when the school year began.
Don was devastated by that news.
He didn’t want to switch schools.
He didn’t want to move.
He didn’t want anything to change.
But we can’t always get what we want.
Chapter 7
Don discovered what it was like to be envious of someone when he met Robbie Patterson. Robbie had blue eyes and short blond hair, and he reminded Don of a Hollywood star. He was good-looking and athletic. Don always felt insignificant whenever he was around him.
Shockingly, the two became friends.
Robbie lived with his mom in a townhouse across the street from Windsor Meadow, so he always walked to school. As ’92 rolled around, Don found himself hanging out at Robbie’s often. He had been impressed by his new friend’s collection of baseball cards as well as a pair of boxing gloves. When Don revealed he took karate lessons, Robbie said he too had learned it, though at a much earlier age.
“What belt are you?” Robbie asked.
“Yellow, second degree.”
“Oh,” said Robbie. “I’m a black belt.”
Though Robbie seemed nice, Don slowly started to hate the fact the boy was better at most things. He often insisted he and Don have a foot race, even though Don was heavier and slower. Don tried not to think his friend was trying to humiliate him intentionally, but it was difficult to think otherwise and, eventually, Don snapped. The reason for his meltdown had been so ridiculous, it was almost not worth mentioning.
A pencil. That was all it took.
Don had let Robbie borrow one of his pencils for class and Robbie had refused to give it back.
As school let out, Don went to the teacher about it but the teacher replied, “It’s just a pencil. Stop being a baby and get it back yourself or get over it.”
Don certainly didn’t get over it.
He followed Robbie past the line of buses. “Robbie!” he called over the noise of the many students separating them.
Robbie turned but did not stop. Then he held the pencil up into the air and grinned. Don couldn’t believe the audacity of it. Robbie was taunting him. Don stopped right in front of his bus and watched his new enemy walk away.
“Get on the bus, damn it!” the cranky old bus driver yelled, angering Don further.
He climbed onto the bus and took his seat four rows back. He couldn’t let Robbie’s act go. The fact Robbie thought he could do anything to Don and get away with it was more than Don could stand. Why did Robbie change so much in such a short time?
He would’ve walked to Robbie’s house to retrieve the pencil if he didn’t have to worry about transportation, but he came up with a better idea. He waited for Mom to get home from work. He then asked her to drive him to Robbie’s home. When they got there, Don rang the doorbell. Robbie’s mom answered.
“May I speak to Robbie?” Don asked her. He could see the boy in the living room, sitting on a couch and writing on a piece of paper. With Don’s pencil.
“Robbie’s doing his homework now,” she replied.
Don’s mom watched from the car, which was facing toward hilly Windsor Meadow Street, as if preparing for a quick getaway.
“I know,” Don said. “I came to pick up something of mine he accidentally took.”
Robbie’s mom eyed Don for a second, then went back to the living room. A moment later, Robbie walked up to the front door, pencil in hand.
“What?” he asked, no longer the nice Robbie from months ago but the arrogant bully he would probably grow up to be.
“Give me my pencil back,” Don demanded quietly. Robbie’s mom had gone to the kitchen and was nowhere in sight.
As soon as Robbie handed over the pencil, Don punched him in the throat. Robbie gasped and clutched his throat as he collapsed to the floor. Don leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, “If you take any of my things again, I’ll kill you.”
And then Don ran back to the car and hopped into the passenger’s seat. His mother didn’t say a word as she drove away.
* * *
Don waited nervously in his room, staring at his creepy wallpaper with the boathouse and sailboat. He was waiting for his mom to get a call from Robbie’s mom. It had been an hour since Don’s attack, plenty of time for her to find out what had happened to her son.
But no call came.
Maybe Robbie never told her what happened. Maybe he was planning his revenge. But what about Don’s mom? She had been parked in front of Robbie’s townhouse when it went down. Had she seen what her son had done? If so, she’d never mentioned it. She had glanced at Don sidelong on the drive back home, but never said a word.
Mom and Ethan were in the living room, watching TV. Don had gone straight to his room to await the call that would never come. His heart was racing in anticipation; he almost felt remorse for what he’d done to his former friend. What had possessed him to do such a thing to Robbie? Don still didn’t know.
After the incident with his cousin Candice, and now this, Don was starting to think he was no better than his supposedly evil brother. What if Don himself was evil?
A knock on his closed door startled him out of his thoughts. Mom walked in a second later and sat on the bed next to him. “I saw what you did,” she told him.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No, baby. In fact, I came to tell you I’m proud of you.”
“You are?”
“Yes.” She patted him on his head. “I give you permission to hit someone if they hit you first. Never run away from a fight. And if the school ever calls, I’ll tell them just what I told you.”
He looked up at her. “He never hit me; he just stole my pencil.”
Mom sat in silence for a moment. Then she smiled and said, “Well, that’s okay, too. He did you a personal wrong, and you punished him. Robbie learned an important lesson today: What goes around comes around.”
Don sat there, speechless. Was he really hearing what he thought he was hearing? Was his mom giving him permission to beat up people for little crimes like stealing pencils? It looked that way, but he decided he would keep his anger in check from now on. If he could.
* * *
That night, he dreamed he was walking through a dark forest. He wore his Ninja Turtles pajamas and a pair of socks, and he could feel the grass and rocks under his feet. Everything seemed so real.
But it couldn’t be real.
Don continued to walk, but to where he did not know. The moon loomed overhead in the black sky, and he could barely see where he was going. Though he couldn’t stop his feet from moving, he could turn his head and look around. He saw something white behind the trees to his right.
It was his grandparents’ house.
Oh, no, he thought as he realized where he was going.
The cave.
The one grandpa had told him about. The one where the evil spirit resided. His feet sped up suddenly, carrying him down a hill. There was a stream running down this hill, and the sound it made was almost soothing. He couldn’t calm down though, because at the bottom of the hill was a large hole in what looked like a rock formation.
It was the cave.
He stood in front of the cave at the bottom of the hill. He could still hear the stream, but the sound of it was drowned out by the furious beating of his heart. His insides burned like acid and his whole body was paralyzed with fear.
Shiny eyes stared out at him from the dark cave. He wanted to scream for help, for Dad. The eyes came closer, but Don could not see who—or what—they belonged to. Whatever it was, it seemed to be getting closer. Soon it would have him.
“You’re one of us,” a voice said from the darkness of the cave. “Soon you will join your mother and brother.”
“No,” Don managed to say.
“Oh, yes, you will. It’s only a matter of time.”
And then Don woke up.
* * *
When school let out in May, Mom showed Don and Ethan where they would all be moving. It was one story, like their current home, but smaller and with no fence. The house was less brick and more white panel, with a black front door. It was completely symmetrical and kind of bland; Don wasn’t enthused. But they had to move because Mom said she couldn’t afford the other house anymore.
Don told Nick about the house and how it was only five minutes away, across the intersection in fact. They would still be able to frequent the arcade at the laundromat.
Dad showed up the first week of June to take the kids to Connecticut. Don almost dreaded summers with him because he was not a fan of Yvonne waking him up in the morning by pouring her bowl of cereal in the kitchen. Don desperately wished for his own room, seeing as sleeping in the living room was such a hassle for everyone. Plus, he hated sharing the couch-bed with Ethan.
Don was also not a fan of Yvonne turning on the TV in the morning on the weekends and telling the kids they had to wake up. When would Dad get a house of his own? Don knew it was difficult for his father to settle down because his job moved him around a lot.
The trip to Connecticut was as pleasant as always. Don lounged on the backseat and stared out the window the whole time. Dad promised the kids this summer would be more fun. He told them about a park that had just been built down the street, and about how Yvonne quit her job and would take them shopping or to the movies whenever they wanted.
Just what Don needed: more Yvonne.
But Dad had been right—this summer was more fun than any of the previous ones. The new park was very nice, with swings and jungle gyms and slides. Whenever she could, Yvonne would drive them there, but oftentimes Don and Ethan would have to walk. It was a thirty-minute journey, but also scenic, with hills and trees and beautiful houses to be seen along the way.
Yvonne had taken to exercising more often and took strolls to the boardwalk every other night. Don hadn’t even known there was a beach nearby until that summer, and he and Ethan would join her sometimes.
The summer of ’92 had been the best one in Connecticut. Don came to like his dad’s girlfriend more; she had a Nintendo and taught him and Ethan how to play Centipede. She even taught them how to play jacks on the kitchen floor since that was the only place without carpeting.
Don even became more comfortable around Ethan. The boys built forts out of the couch cushions after pulling the bed out.
When Don wasn’t going to the park, he was watching making-of featurettes of summer movies. He loved watching Danny Devito transform into the Penguin in that new Batman movie.
Directly outside the apartment loomed the rock wall. Don still hadn’t climbed it, but hoped to do so before returning to Georgia. All he had to do was convince Dad to help.
For most of the summer, Ethan had been well behaved, but that changed one day. He and Don enjoyed their walk to the park as usual. They had even made a few friends at the park over the summer and looked forward to playing with them. On that day, however, the usual crowd wasn’t there, so the Scotts sat on the swings and watched some guys building a chain-link fence around the park. There was a white-haired man standing just past the fence, staring in Don’s direction.
“That’s my swing,” a voice behind Don said. He looked back and saw a kid his age standing only a few feet away. “Get up.”
Don only stared. The kid looked mean, with short brown hair and a sleeveless white t-shirt to show off his pale, skinny arms. “I don’t see your name on it,” Don retorted as he swung back around to watch the fence builders.
A moment later, something struck the back of Don’s head. It wasn’t big enough to hurt, whatever it was, but it caught his attention. He looked back to see the boy holding a few small white rocks that made up the park’s landscape.
“Get up!” the boy ordered. None of the other kids seemed to notice what was going on.
“Stop it!” Don said as the kid threw another rock at him. It missed, but only because Don ducked. He thought about throwing a rock back at the bully, but was afraid of getting into trouble.
“Zeke, let’s go,” a man called from his car, which was parked on the street a few feet from the swings.
“Okay, Dad,” Zeke replied. “Next time I see you,” he said to Don, “I’m going to kick your ass.”
Zeke turned and started making his way to his car. Don sat motionless on the swing, growing angrier by the second. The anger boiled, making his vision red. He started shaking.
A moment later, a rock went straight for Zeke’s head. The boy dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Don suddenly cooled as he watched Zeke’s dad come running toward his son. The man kneeled over the boy, trying to wake him. “What happened?” he asked everyone. The people around him looked at the unconscious boy, his and her jaws dropped. No one had seen what happened.
Later that night, the Scott family was gathered in the living room, watching TV. Yvonne was sitting in a recliner, a bowl of buttered popcorn in her lap. She promised to walk the snack off the next day. Don didn’t know what that meant.
He and Ethan shared their own bowl. Don usually enjoyed this semi-nightly ritual of popcorn and movies, but tonight his thoughts were on what happened at the park. Zeke the bully had only been knocked out by the rock, but he could have easily been killed.
Don looked over at Ethan, who was reaching into the bowl as he kept his eyes on the TV. Don couldn’t explain why, but he felt as if his brother was actually watching him instead.
Dad was in the kitchen, getting himself a bowl of butter pecan ice cream. Don wanted to talk to him about what happened at the park. Dad turned off the kitchen light and sat down next to Don on the couch. They were all watching an Indiana Jones movie. HBO played it every day, and Don watched it each time. He’d probably seen it sixteen times this summer alone.
“So,” Dad said to Don after a minute, “how are things with your mom?”
“Good,” Don said, and they were pretty good. “Because Adrian’s around,” he added before he could stop himself.
“Her boyfriend, you mean?”
Don nodded.
“That’s good,” Dad said offhandedly. “As long as your mom’s happy, everything’s all right.”
Don couldn’t help but notice the way his dad made that comment, as if there was more meaning behind it.
“I’ve been thinking about having you boys come and live with me for a while,” said Dad, catching Don’s undivided attention. “Your mom doesn’t like the idea, and I can’t blame her, considering I move around a lot. But I’ll settle down soon, possibly in Florida. You boys like Florida?”
Don and Ethan said they did. Dad’s gaze lingered on his youngest son before he continued. “I don’t want to scare you boys, but I think your mom is sick,” he said quietly. “Not physically sick, but mentally.”
“What does mently mean, Daddy?” Ethan asked in his curious-kid voice that Don knew was an act.
“It means she’s sick in her head,” Dad explained. “I think it might have to do with what happened to her before you were born, Ethan. Mommy was bitten by a dog.”
Yvonne tore her attention from the TV to listen to Dad. Clearly, she had never heard this story.
“I think,” Dad went on, “that she may have been infected by something the dog had.”
“What about the rabies shot?” Don asked. Dad was touching upon what he had suspected for a long time now.
“I don’t think it’s rabies. I think it’s something else.” Dad stared at Ethan again. “I just worry about you boys. Your mom made living with her difficult after that incident, which is why I left. I tried to get you two in the divorce, but it didn’t work out that way.”
“Mommy’s not bad,” Ethan said, again in that innocent voice. But this time he was smiling, and that was
not so innocent.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Dad replied. “Very good.”
But for how long would it stay that way? How much did Dad know about what was happening to Mom? Did Grandpa ever tell Dad about the cave and the curse?
“Enough talk about this,” Dad suddenly said brightly. “Let’s watch the movie.”
He helped himself to some of his sons’ popcorn. Yvonne got up from the recliner and went to the bathroom around the corner.
Don decided to tell Dad what happened at the park now. “Dad, Ethan threw a rock at a boy’s head today.”
Dad immediately started coughing on his popcorn, his fingers covered in butter. “What happened?”
“A boy was picking on us today.” Don decided to be as truthful as possible. Being ten, he wasn’t a good liar anyway.
“Well, that boy is no friend to you,” Dad said, looking at Ethan. “But you shouldn’t be throwing rocks at anyone.”
“He threw rocks at Don,” the young boy replied.
“I don’t care. You should’ve told an adult.”
Don wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse for telling on Ethan. It had been such a frightening moment, though, seeing the boy pick up a rock and throw it like that at the bully. Don’s red vision had subsided the moment of impact, and he had felt like he had thrown the rock himself. Or had somehow gotten his younger brother to do it for him.
But Don knew he’d had nothing to do with it. That had been all Ethan.
* * *
Don had a very unpleasant dream that night. He was in the apartment, lying on the foldout couch, and he appeared to be completely alone. The whole place was dark, with only the moonlight shining through the patio door.
He got up and flipped a switch on the wall near the kitchen. The light didn’t come on. “Hello!” he called to the hallway across from the kitchen. There was no response. The short hall was dark, the bathroom on the right even darker.
On the left, around the corner, was Dad’s room. Don slowly made his way to the room, where the moonlight filtered through the blinds just over the king-sized bed. There was no one on the bed, but the room wasn’t empty.