by Hart, Jerry
All those acts of violence, the unexpected anger….
Don saw the Stonebrooks standing in front of Chainsaw House, looking wildly around. When Mrs. Stonebrook spotted Don, she said, “Where have you kids been? You were supposed to wait here.”
“We’re sorry, Mrs. Stonebrook,” Don said. “We just went down the street to say hello to a friend.”
He hoped she bought his apology; he tried to make it sound sincere. After a moment, her heated expression cooled.
“Your mother would have killed me if I lost her boys,” she joked. “You guys want to hit this house? It seems pretty popular.”
Don looked behind her to the old couple and the man with the burlap sack over his head. “No thanks. It looks too scary.”
Chapter 10
May of 1996 concluded Don’s middle-school years, and when he returned from summer vacation, he would be a high-school freshman. He was most excited about going to school with Monica as well as his best friends Nick and Sym. Don couldn’t help but smile every time he thought of Monica. Not even the curse could bring him down.
Ever since last Halloween, nothing unusual had happened to Don or his family. Don knew not to let his guard down—every time he did, strange things happened—but he accepted there were some things completely out of his control.
Dad picked the kids up a few days after school ended and drove them back to Melbourne. Don was looking forward to seeing the boggy house off the highway and swimming in its gloomy pool. He was also looking forward to all the movies summer had to offer.
It was night when the van finally pulled into the driveway. Ethan had been snoozing in the cushy backseat and sprang to life the moment Dad turned off the engine. The brothers jumped out and grabbed their suitcases from the back as the house’s front door opened, spilling light onto the yard.
Yvonne greeted them with a one-year-old baby in her arms.
She laughed at Don’s expression. Dad laughed too and said, “Her name’s Elizabeth. She’s your new baby sister.”
A new sister. It was one thing to know Yvonne was pregnant last summer, but to see the baby now was another. Don was truly happy about the addition to the family.
Another family reunion was planned for August, and Dad promised beach houses and barbeques.
In other words, this summer would be the best one yet.
The house seemed exactly the same as last year, only now there was a treadmill in the sitting room. There was also a nice new couch in this room. It had a floral red-and-green design. Yvonne instructed the kids to never, ever sit on it.
Dad had what he called “the Internet” set up on his computer in the living room. Don had heard of this Internet but had never used it before. He spent most of his first few days checking out movie Web sites.
Uncle James, Aunt Lydia, Candice and Nina arrived during the first week of June, and though Don was happy to see them, he wasn’t happy about having to give up his room. His aunt and uncle took his, while Candice and Nina took Ethan’s. The brothers were forced to sleep on the foldout couch in the living room. It was Connecticut all over again.
Though the couch-bed wasn’t all that bad, having to wake up with everyone else was. The living room was the first place everyone went in the morning, and Yvonne snapped at the boys to put the couch back in order. Don also had nightmares when he slept close to Ethan, nightmares about talking dogs who bit the heads off of rabbits. After three days of that, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
The plan he’d come up with seemed like a good one: Lay a blanket over the new couch before lying down. That way, it wouldn’t get dirty. He doubted Yvonne would mind, and even if she did, tough shit! He didn’t think he could take another nightmare.
As he spread a blanket on top of the cushions, Yvonne walked in the sitting room and yelled, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
At first, Don was too stunned by the volume of her voice to respond. Finally, he said, “Why can’t I sleep here? I put down a blanket.”
“What did I tell you?” she snapped. “Get your ass in the sitting room!”
“We’re already in the sitting room.” He remembered how she’d told him about the difference between sitting rooms and living rooms. Yvonne’s eyes grew wide with anger, but before she could yell again, Don had grabbed the sheet and pillow and left the room.
He planted himself on the couch next to his cousins and stared at the TV. He was so mad, he couldn’t speak. His heart raced. His aunt and uncle were in the kitchen, talking with Dad. They all stared at Don, but he didn’t care. He was too busy fighting the angry tears that threatened to spring forth.
Ethan was on the floor near the computer, staring at him as well. Don wanted to kick his little brother. He decided he would sleep on the floor that night. Maybe then he would sleep peacefully.
The next day was his visiting relatives’ last so Dad decided to take them out to dinner. Don, still fuming from the argument with Yvonne, decided to stay home. Dad left twenty dollars on the kitchen counter and told him to order a pizza if he wanted.
Don liked having the house to himself, and spent most of his time surfing the Web. He’d tried ordering a pizza on the phone, but when the pizza guy asked for the address, Don drew a blank. He told the guy never mind and hung up. He then went outside, saw the house number and the street sign, then called back. The pizza guy told him they didn’t deliver to that area and Don should call another place closer. Don could see the pizza place way down the highway from the front door and thought he’d called again, telling the guy that he was just down the street. After a while, he gave up and went hungry.
After a few hours of being alone, he started to get scared. He knew it was silly for a fourteen-year-old boy to be afraid of being alone in a house, but he couldn’t help it. He kept hearing strange noises outside, and the background noise of the TV didn’t help to distract him.
To calm himself—and block out the noises—Don went into Dad and Yvonne’s room and played one of his own CDs on Yvonne’s boom box. He’d left his portable CD player in Georgia and often snuck in the room to listen to his music whenever Yvonne wasn’t around. He was fond of orchestral scores, music most people didn’t listen to. Don was often embarrassed by his taste in music, and liked to listen in secret. He knew it was foolish to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it.
Listening to music helped a little, though he kept the light off just in case his family returned. Don didn’t want them to know he was in the room. Shadows played across the blinds in the window, and he could swear he saw something standing just outside the house. He took his CD out of the boom box and went back to the living room, but before he could reach the couch, he saw something that nearly made his heart stop.
The patio door was wide open.
Don hadn’t gone outside at all during his time alone, so he knew he wasn’t responsible for the open door. “Hello?” he called. No response. He slowly walked to the door until he saw the pool just outside. It looked even gloomier than usual.
“Hello?” he called again to the darkness. He then looked past the door, to the two bedrooms at the end of the tiny hall. Was someone—something—in his room? He didn’t know and was too scared to find out. He felt completely helpless, paralyzed with fear.
He suddenly began to cry and felt stupid for doing so. Where was Dad? Why wasn’t he home yet?
A sound from outside startled Don, halting his tears instantly. He reached for the door to close it, praying no one was inside the house with him, when a voice outside whispered, “I want to talk to you.”
Don jumped but didn’t close the door. The voice had sounded far away, beyond the screen walls of the patio. Someone was in the backyard, with the giant trees.
“Who’s there?” he asked the voice.
“A friend,” came the response.
“What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“About what?”
“Come outside.”
Don stepped onto th
e pavement and slowly walked around the pool to the screen wall. He’d turned on the patio light before doing so and now felt horribly exposed. The backyard was pitch black.
“I know who you are,” Don said into the darkness, and he really did know now.
“Truly?” The voice was closer. “Who am I?”
“You’re the dog that talked to my brother last Halloween.” Don took a breath before continuing. “You’re the dog that bit my mom.”
There was a long silence, as if the voice was trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, it said, “Dogs don’t talk, little man.”
Don suddenly felt a chill after hearing Nick’s words to Ethan thrown at him just now. That confirmed it.
“I’m not really a dog,” said the voice. “I just look like one.”
Don jumped back and nearly fell into the pool. The response had come from a different place altogether, a few feet away and farther to the left. “Why are you doing this to my family?” he asked the disembodied voice.
“I’m not doing anything; I’m merely observing.”
“Bullshit!” Don yelled. “You’re making us do things—bad things.”
“I’m not making you do anything you wouldn’t already do.”
“I don’t believe you.” Don had forgotten he was talking to a dog-like entity. He was simply angry now.
“Are you referring to your episodes of uncontrollable anger?” The voice sounded different now. It was high-pitched, with an English accent that was completely unpleasant. “I have nothing to do with those.”
“Liar!”
“Do you really believe I’m being untruthful?” the voice asked, returning to its regular, conversational tone.
The scary thing was, Don believed the voice when it said it had nothing to do with his anger.
“That’s why I’m so interested in all of you,” the voice said. “Your mother was pregnant when I...tainted her. That’s never happened before. But you...”
Don waited for it to finish, holding his breath. “What are you?” he finally asked the darkness.
“Would you believe I’m a demon escaped from hell, looking to conquer the mortal world?”
Before Don could reply, another voice called from inside the house. “Donovan, where are you?”
Dad and the others were back. Don still couldn’t see who he’d been speaking with in the backyard, but he knew whatever it was had gone.
* * *
Things between Don and Yvonne had not improved by the time the family reunion began. The two had bickered over pointless things, but Don’s heart was never in the arguments. The voice couldn’t be proven correct. Don couldn’t accept he was angry and violent by nature. At least, not that angry and violent. While at the beach house, he tried not to let Yvonne’s tantrums get to him. Whenever she yelled at him, he just grinned and bared it.
“She’s the adult and you’re the kid,” Dad had said after one such argument, though he tried to sound sympathetic. “Just do whatever she says.”
Don didn’t respond to his father’s advice at the time, though he didn’t agree with that at all. Why should he have to put up with Yvonne’s crap? It wasn’t fair. But then he thought back to when his dad had spewed his words of wisdom. He had detected a note of defeat in Dad’s voice, and imagined he had it worse than anyone else when it came to that woman.
Don felt sorrier for his dad than he did for himself as he thought about Yvonne officially joining the family.
He tried to forget his worries by losing himself to the atmosphere of the beach house. All of his aunts, uncles and cousins were there, and everyone’s eyes were glued to TVs for the summer Olympics. Don was surprised once, while watching the gymnastics portion on a portable TV on the dining table, Yvonne and Elizabeth had joined him. The back-porch door had been open, and a cool summer-night breeze had blown through the dining room as he and Yvonne commented on the performances. Ethan had taken a break from running around the house with his cousins to join his brother, stepmom and baby sister.
* * *
Dad drove the boys back to Georgia a week later, exhausted but in good spirits. In the rear of the van, the boys exchanged tales about the cute things the baby had done. Don told of a time when she farted while he held her. Ethan said she closed her eyes for a few seconds, only to appear cross-eyed when she opened them again.
It was dark when Dad pulled the van into the driveway. Don had woken up just as they entered Augusta and was ready to play some videogames. He noticed Adrian’s motorcycle parked behind Mom’s car and realized Adrian and Dad were about to meet for the first time.
The front door opened and Mom walked out onto the lawn as Dad pulled the suitcases from the back of the van. “Did you boys have fun?” she asked her sons, smiling.
They immediately went on about the beach house, the Olympics, the new baby—
Mom’s smile vanished quickly. She looked at Dad as he dragged the suitcases to the front of the house. “You and Yvonne had a baby?” she asked.
Before he could reply, Ethan added, “And they got married!”
Mom was completely speechless. Don couldn’t tell what was going through her head. She almost seemed shocked and angry, judging by her expression, but why would she be? The front door opened, and Adrian was standing among them. He had a cap turned sideways, which nearly made Don laugh.
“What’s up, man?” Adrian said to Dad as he offered his hand. Dad shook it.
“Adrian,” said Mom, “this is my ex-husband Patrick. Patrick, this is Adrian.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Dad. “Hilda says you’re very good to her.”
“I try,” said Adrian.
“Patrick got married and had a baby, though not in that order,” Mom added. She seemed slightly happy, though Don felt it was an act.
“Congrats,” Adrian said.
“Thanks. So, tell me, how long have you two been together?”
Adrian looked at Mom. “A few years, I guess.” He put an arm around her shoulders.
“When are you guys going to tie the knot?” Dad asked next.
“That’s none of your damn business,” Mom said venomously.
“Just making conversation.” Dad raised his hands as if Mom had pulled a gun on him.
“That’s not what you’re doing,” said Mom. “You’re rubbing your marriage to that whore in my face.”
“That’s not even remotely true,” Dad said after a moment’s pause. “Nothing’s stopping you from getting married.”
Mom said nothing. Instead, she turned on her heel and went back inside. Adrian watched her go, and then turned back to Dad and said, “Sorry about her.”
“I’m used to it,” Dad replied.
“She can be a handful sometimes.”
“How so?” Dad suddenly seemed very curious.
“I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back.”
Dad glanced down at his kids. “She’s not violent or anything, is she?” he asked Adrian.
At first, Adrian looked confused by the question. Then he looked down at the boys and comprehension dawned on him. “Oh, no, nothing like that. She’s a good mother.”
Dad nodded before saying, “How old are you, Adrian?”
“Twenty-six.”
“You like older women?”
“Love ’em.” He grinned.
Dad grinned without cheer before looking down at his sons. “I’ll be over at Uncle Johnny’s if you two need anything. I won’t head back to Florida until the day after tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Don. He knew enough about subtext to realize what his dad was really saying: Call me if there’s trouble.
* * *
The first day of high school was scary and exciting. Don and Sym waited at the first bust stop to be taken to Augusta High. From what Don had heard from others, the school was so old a lot of his friends’ parents had gone there when they were teens.
Gone were the days where Don and Sym could play with action figures in the relative priva
cy of their seats in the bus’s rear. Don figured if they tried that now, they’d be laughed at by the other kids.
Augusta High was located right off a highway, behind rundown stores and restaurants. It was a one-story building with dirty windows and faded walls. Incidentally, there was a nice-looking tower separate from the main school that acted as an additional wing. It was four stories tall and, according to Sym, only two years old. A canopied path bridged the tower and the main building.
The buses traveled through a seemingly endless number of curves to a parking lot, where it pulled up to the school’s side. Don noticed Augusta High was shaped like a lower-case h, and he saw a small hill next to the tower with four manufactured classrooms that looked like long white sheds with windows.
Just how many students went to this school? Don asked know-it-all Sym.
“Over a thousand,” he replied. “Eighty percent black.”
As everyone unloaded from the buses, Don realized he was surrounded by black kids. There were a few white, Asian and Hispanic, but they were easily lost in the mix. On their way to homeroom, Don and Sym passed Nick and another boy, one Don hoped he’d never see again.
“Hey, Don,” said the hot-tempered Clark Greg.
Don hadn’t seen the boy in years, but he still looked the same. Brown bowl-shaped hair and big, black-framed glasses. The freckles on his nose were even more noticeable.
“Hey, Nick,” Don said, ignoring Clark’s greeting entirely. They were all still outside of the school, by the buses. Kids were rushing through the entrance at the crook of the h.
“This school is so crowded,” Nick said as he looked around. “The hallways are going to be crazy.”
The hallways were, indeed, crazy. The kids were so packed together, it was difficult to get anywhere. Don looked to his right and saw a ramp leading up to the cafeteria. On his left was a ramp leading down to a long hall with many classrooms. He headed that way.
When he finally found his homeroom, he was surprised to find it already full. A few desks were empty near the windows. There was a small courtyard there, with a large oak tree with the roots sticking out of the ground. He watched a black girl exit the school to cross the courtyard. Don figured she wanted to avoid the crush of the halls. Once the girl reached the tree, however, she tripped on one of the roots.