Prison Boy

by Sharon McKay

  “Ol’ May, can I help?” asked Pax. He crouched on his knees in front of her. He felt sorry for her. It wasn’t her fault she had the giant disease.

  “Get away. Get away!” she screamed. “You are dirty boy. You bring bad luck.”

  Chapter 13

  The bicycle shop closed down. No one knew why. There was just a piece of paper tacked to the door that read “Closed For Good.”

  Pax cleaned inside railway cars at night and wiped car windows for change during the day. Dodging trucks and cars for a few coins was hard work. Sometimes drivers tried to run him over for fun. Pax needed a better way to make money. All he thought about, day and night, was how to get Kai into a good school.

  Teacher said that there was a school that offered scholarships, a real school in a big building with many teachers. Teacher said that there were many good schools in their country. Maybe Kai could sit an exam?

  “Does it cost money to write the exam?” asked Pax.

  “Yes, but if he gets in, he still must pay more for his uniform and supplies.”

  Bell’s old money box still had five hundred American dollars in it. Was that a lot of money or not so much? He jingled a few coins in his pocket. He bought rice and vegetables that night but no meat.

  Pax put the container of food down on a mat in Ol’ May’s hut and the three of them scooped out the rice with their fingers.

  “You good boy,” Ol’ May said. Neither had said anything about her son, or about how Ol’ May had called Pax a dirty boy. Anyway, that was weeks ago.

  Ol’ May looked at Kai and said, “See, Pax, Kai looks at you like dog with big soppy eyes.” Her laugh sounded like wood burning under a pot, all crackles and pops.

  Pax shook his head. “Kai is not a dog,” he muttered.

  “Yes he is. Look at how he follows you. It’s a wonder he does not sniff your behind.” This time her laugh knocked her backwards. She rocked on her great ass.

  “He is not a dog,” Pax repeated, his voice rising.

  “Ruff, ruff, a little brown nose sniffing at your bum-bum,” howled Ol’ May as she righted herself.

  Kai looked at Pax and held his breath. He waved his palm as if to say, No, no, Pax. Don’t get mad. Please, please.

  “KAI IS NOT A DOG,” Pax yelled.

  “Ruff, ruff!” She brushed away great globs of tears that rolled down the folds of her face.

  “Stop it!” Pax lurched forward and slapped her across her cheek. It was the sound of a dry stick cracking over a knee. His hand left a long red streak. The shock on her face lasted only a moment.

  “Pax, no,” cried Kai.

  Ol’ May heaved herself up with a great fart, pulled back her banana-leaf-sized hand, and landed it on Pax’s head. He flew back and slammed into the wall of the hut. Ol’ May’s hut was built with old tires. The mud that held the tires in place cracked.

  “Pax!” Kai screamed.

  The wall gave way and Pax landed outside in the ditch. Kai’s eyes were round. His jaw hung open. How could a boy fly through a wall? He was astonished.

  Ol’ May looked out through the hole and laughed so hard piss ran down her leg.

  Pax stood and shook like a dog. Filthy water dripped from his clothes. His eye began to swell. Kai’s head swung back and forth to Ol’ May, Pax, Ol’ May. He tried to speak but just stared.

  “Fix that wall or I will kill you next time,” Ol’ May bellowed.

  The next evening Pax started back to Ol’ May’s hut at sunset. He had washed many shop windows and had a few coins in his pocket. He was tired, bone-tired. His eyelids drooped as he shuffled down the path. Tonight he would not go to the train station to clean.

  Kai ran down a lane towards him. The algebra book and encyclopedia were clutched to his chest.

  “What are you doing here? Why are you carrying those?” Pax pointed to the books.

  “Ol’ May is gone,” said Kai.

  “Gone! Where would she go?” asked Pax.

  Kai shrugged. “I was playing and she came out of the house with a big bag and her mat and then she ran down the road.”

  Pax thought for a moment. Ol’ May could not run anywhere. Her thighs would bang against each other; her lungs would burst. And then he knew. Knowledge was fuel. Pax sprinted down the lane. His legs carried him forward with the force of a lion after prey.

  “Pax, wait. WAIT!” Kai called after him.

  The books were heavy. Kai could not keep up, but Pax could not stop. His heart hammered in his chest, sweat flew off of him, his arms pumped, propelling him faster and faster. “No, no, no,” he muttered through clenched teeth. He rounded corners, leapt over baskets and crates. He broke through a line of laundry and got caught in an electrical cord that hung too low. He slashed at it as if his hands were knives. Merchants cried out; people yelled. He didn’t stop until he came to Ol’ May’s broken-down hut.

  Pax leapt up the steps and lurched into the room. There was nothing, not a pot, not a bowl. He flung back a thin curtain.

  Her piss-pot was full. It was a stinking, filthy brew. He kicked it over with his foot. The liquid splashed across the small space and up the walls. He pulled up the floorboard. Gone. Empty. Ol’ May had found the money box. She had stolen it. She had taken their future.

  That night Pax lay in the dark in Ol’ May’s hut. But he was angry, angrier than he had ever been. Angrier than when Bell had died and betrayed him. They had nothing now.

  As the moon rose Pax got up, sat outside Ol’ May’s hut, and looked at the hole in the ground where the Pink House had once stood. That life was gone, as if it had never been. Pax looked up at the night sky and thought of praying. Teacher’s words floated back. “If you need anything, pray to God and He will help you,” he had said.

  “God? God, are you there? Can you hear me?”

  The stars looked like little holes in the sky. If he pressed his eye against one, could he see the other world? Could he see heaven?

  “God, can you see us?” he whispered. His words drifted away.

  Praying did not help. He clenched his hands into tight balls. He would just have to work twice as hard. He thought of Mister and his car. But what if Mister was a drug dealer? What if Pax was caught with drugs? He would be hanged, and what would happen to Kai then?

  Over the next weeks Pax got a job pushing a wheelbarrow filled with vegetables through the streets. He hauled crates on his back, trapped rats, and carried water.

  At night, as Kai slept on the floor of Ol’ May’s hut, Pax counted the coins. He made barely enough to feed the two of them, but Kai still went to school for three hours a day. There was no one to take care of Kai after school and so Pax worried. Kai was given more rules. He must return from school and stay inside the hut. “You must listen to me. Boys left on their own, without family, might be stolen. Boys disappear,” said Pax. He thought that his words might scare Kai, but they didn’t. Kai knew that, no matter what, Pax would keep him safe.

  One day, like every day, Pax returned from work exhausted and bone-weary. He carried a half loaf of bread. That was all he could afford. They had not eaten meat in weeks. He saw Kai standing on the road in front of Ol’ May’s hut. Kai’s face was stained with tears.

  “Tell me?” Pax kneeled down in front of him. Kai shook his head.

  At that moment two men came out of Ol’ May’s hut and stood on the wooden steps. “This place belongs to us now.” The tallest man stepped forward. He threw the algebra book and encyclopedia onto the path. “Take them and go.”

  Exhaustion disappeared. Again. “We live here. This is our place,” Pax yelled, his voice quavering with fury. The bread slipped out of his hand and fell into the dirt.

  “No, Pax,” Kai cried. He stood between the man and Pax, put his hands on Pax’s stomach, and pushed.

  The man jumped away from the hut, pulled back his leg, and kicked Kai in the back. Kai fell into Pax’s arms. Rage surged through Pax.

  “Get out of the way,” Pax muttered as he pushed Kai behind
him. “This is our house.” Pax lowered his head like a little bull and charged at the man. He hit the man in the chest. Shocked, winded, he fell back, his arms fanning the air. Pax had never boxed before but his hands seemed to know what to do. He clenched his fists and lunged towards the smaller man. The smaller man pulled out a gun and smiled.

  “Pax!” Kai screamed.

  Pax reached for Kai.

  “Please, Pax.” Tears circled Kai’s eyes.

  Pax stood still, suspended. Kai picked up the bread and handed it to Pax. Heads high, the two walked down the path towards the street.

  Chapter 14

  There were hundreds of street children, some lying beside the train tracks, some in back alleys, most on the pavements beside roads.

  Kai slept on a piece of cardboard. His head rested on the encyclopedia. Pax lay beside him on the cement sidewalk. Algebra was his pillow. They woke up stiff and tired, as if they had never been to sleep.

  Kai no longer went to the local school. There was a new teacher now. He did not care that Kai was very smart. He demanded money, school supplies, and a new uniform. Kai’s uniform had been left in Ol’ May’s hut, and anyway, he had outgrown it.

  During the day Pax cleaned car windows and Kai stood nearby. He wanted to work too. Why shouldn’t he? All the other kids his age were working. Pax could hear Bell’s words, “First they beg, and not long after that, they sell. And do you know what they sell? Themselves!” That would never happen to Kai, never. But slowly Pax was worn down.

  Money was food. Kai begged. But when the streets emptied and he had collected enough coins to buy fruit and bread, Kai sat and opened the encyclopedia to letter Q. Quantum mechanics.

  “Pax, do you know what photons are?” he yelled across the traffic.

  “Tell me,” Pax yelled back, although he did not listen to the answer.

  “It says that quantum mechanics shows that light and all other forms of electromagnetic radiation come in units called photons.”

  Pax nodded and kept on polishing car windows. And then a miracle. An arm reached out of a car window and handed him one American dollar. Pax looked at the money in his hand. Cars, trucks, donkey carts all threatened to mow him down, but Pax did not notice. One dollar!

  Pax looked over at Kai, who sat cross-legged on the pavement, his head buried in the book. His feet were as black as tarpaper and scabby as tree bark. Pax’s flip-flops would do a while longer, but Kai needed shoes.

  They headed to the laneway of shops and stalls, each one carved into the wall, each with a man or woman sitting guard over their secondhand goods. Kai lagged behind as Pax poked through a dozen stalls.

  “What about this?” Kai held up a Batman T-shirt.

  “A shirt is not a shoe!” said Pax.

  Shoes came in tall barrels. Pax sifted through old sandals, running shoes, worn boots—any type of shoe that might fit a seven-year-old. Kai gave up and sat on the pavement, his back against a wall, the book between his legs and his chest, his knees up around his ears. Shopping was boring.

  “Aha!” cried Pax, like a miner striking gold. He held up the perfect pair of shoes. They were brown with blue rubber soles. They might have been white once but color did not matter. They were the right size and they had LACES!

  “How much?” Pax dangled the runners from his fingertips.

  A woman wrapped in a shawl held up two crooked fingers. “Two American dollars,” she said.

  “One American dollar.” Pax waved the green bill in the air.

  She leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand.

  Pax held the books as Kai slipped the runners on his feet. “This is how you tie shoelaces,” said Pax as he tied the laces tight. Grinning, Kai walked up and down the pavement, hands outstretched as if he were walking a tightrope. He wrapped his arms around Pax and buried his face in his belly.

  “Do you know what’s best about them?” Kai looked up, his face pink with happiness. Pax shook his head. “They are the perfect temperature inside.”

  For the first time in a long time, Pax laughed.

  That night, Kai slept with his shoes on his feet, tied up tight. Pax lay on a piece of cardboard beside him. When they awoke, the shoes were gone.

  Chapter 15

  Days and nights came and went. Saturdays were no different from Mondays since every day they had to eat. Sometimes they were given free food handed to them through a little window in a square, blue truck. Often the cooks inside the truck reached out and hit the children with their spoons. “Don’t be greedy,” they said.

  One morning, as the sky was lightening, Pax and Kai stumbled towards the food truck. Kai rubbed his eyes with balled-up fists. He was still sleepy. Already there was a line of street children waiting, some with bowls in their hands, others with paper shaped into cones. The truck was late. Pax held the encyclopedia under his arm, and Kai clutched the algebra book to his chest.

  Living on the street had changed Pax. Despite being constantly tired, despite feeling as if his bones were rubbery and his insides were crawling with ants, his ears perked at the smallest noise. His eyes darted from side to side. His nose twitched. It was hard to remember simple things, like how to multiply two numbers, but he could sense danger as if it had a sound or a smell.

  That morning, in the blue, predawn light, he spied a car waiting near the spot where the food truck was usually parked. He looked closer. It was an unmarked police car, he was sure of it. And inside were two policemen out of uniform. They were pretending to be sleeping. Pax’s shoulders went up as he backed away.

  “Kai, stay close,” he hissed. The other children milling about looked like shadows and moved like ghosts in the early light.

  “Pax, what’s wrong?” Kai whispered.

  “Nothing.” He was lying. Pax grabbed Kai’s hand and turned to run away.

  They heard footsteps—clomp-clomp—the sound that boots made. It happened in an instant. They came from behind. The police were dressed in black and wore plastic face-shields. Clomp-clomp. They circled the children. The children began to dart in all directions. There was screaming and panic as one child, then another, tried to break free.

  “Hold tight,” Pax cried out.

  A police truck pulled up to the curb. The back doors opened. Two, then three boys were tossed inside like sacks of rice. A policeman planted a gloved hand on Pax’s shoulder. It was as if the claw of a great flying beast had him pinned.

  “Where are you taking us?” Pax cried out.

  The answers were grunts and rumbles. In a surge of strength Pax pulled away from the policeman’s grip.

  The voice of a street boy rose up above the clamor. “They are taking us to prison,” he cried.

  Prison? Pax weaved and dodged but held Kai’s hand firmly.

  The police waved their sticks. They formed a line. A policeman spoke through a megaphone. “A new apartment building will be built here. Come with us and we will take you to a safe place.”

  Pax looked every which way, his head turning as if on a spit. He was panting. Another policeman raised his stick to a small girl. She was screaming. This was their chance.

  “Drop the book,” cried Pax.

  Kai held his algebra book closer to his chest. Pax dropped the encyclopedia and knocked the algebra book out of Kai’s hand. Kai cried out.

  “Hold on.” Pax lowered his head like a bull about to charge and lunged through the police line. “Run, Kai,” he cried.

  A policeman’s stick came down on the side of his head. Dazed, Pax put his hand to his head. Blood poured through his fingers. He dropped to his knees. Groaning, eyes closed, he rolled onto his side.

  Kai flung himself over Pax’s body. Whomp, whomp, whomp—the policeman’s stick sliced the air and cut through Kai’s thin shirt. Kai cried out.

  “Leave him alone.” Pax lifted his bloody head from the pavement. He rested on his hands. One knee went up and then the other. He rose up like a monster from the deep, raised his arms in the air, and roared. His face was
contorted in rage. “Get back, Kai,” Pax screamed. Kai scrambled away.

  Pax was as big as a house, as fierce as any animal in the forest. The policeman cowered. Pax lashed out and grabbed the policeman’s stick. The policeman stumbled and toppled backwards onto the ground. Pax could not be stopped. He raised the stick over his head.

  “Pax, no!” Kai screamed. More policemen were coming towards them. Kai grabbed the back of Pax’s shirt and pulled. The policeman on the ground was now up on his knees. “Please, Pax!” Kai shouted. There were screams and now smoke.

  Pax stopped and sniffed. Tear gas? He dropped the policeman’s stick and grabbed Kai’s hand. They ran like one person. The shouting increased. Sirens. They ducked behind a car, stopped, then ran again.

  “There.” Pax pointed to an alley. He gave Kai a push, waited until Kai was at the entrance to the alley, then followed. No one knew the paths and alleys better than Pax.

  “Hide.” Pax pushed Kai inside a tiny shack made of corrugated tin and strips of tarpaper. It was no taller than Pax and no wider than the span of his arms. “Are you hurt?” asked Pax. Rays of morning sun shone through the slats. Pax lifted Kai’s shirt. The welts on Kai’s back were thin, red lines but there was no blood, no open wounds.

  Kai shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt.” It was Kai’s turn to lie.

  Pax held him close. “It will be all right. Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  “But it is not nighttime,” said Kai. His lips fluttered, his eyes filled with tears. He was trying very hard not to cry.

  “We must stay out of sight.” Pax was careful not to touch Kai’s back. He reached up and touched the side of his own head. The blood had stopped, but his ear was ringing.

  Pax looked up at the tin that formed a partial roof over the shed. He could see slivers of sky, birds. He wanted to see past the sky to something beyond, something that might help them.