by Donna Cain
He banged on her door. “Heather! Heather! Where’s Brody? Did you let him out?”
Opening the door with her usual scowl for her big brother, Heather replied, “I didn’t let him out. I just came home and came into my room. Now go away. Jake’s picking me up to go to the mall, and I’m getting ready.”
Before he could respond, she had shut the door in his face. He balled up his fists and banged them on the door. “Brat!” He yelled.
He took a quick look around the house and realized his suspicions were right. There was no sign of Brody. Eli was pissed. He always had to clean up after everyone else. He didn’t understand why he was the only responsible one, the one always in charge of everything. It was the third time that week the dog had gotten out. All because Heather had left the gate open in the yard – again. He used to get along fine with his sister, but he had noticed that ever since she started dating Jake she could barely tie her shoes, much less latch a security gate.
He ran through the front door and bounded down the steps and through the front gate to the street. “Brody!” He yelled. “Here, Brody!” Where is he? He wondered why they even had a dog. His mom thought a puppy was just the thing to cheer up the kids after his dad left. All it was, though, was more for Eli to do. With his mom working all hours at the hospital and Heather in a fog of teenage love, the dog would starve if it weren’t for Eli.
“Brody!” “Here, boy!” He yelled again. Eli saw a furry tail disappear behind the Miller’s garage. He had to get the dog quickly. The Miller’s was the last house before the woods and a Border Collie in the woods is not an easy catch – too many squirrels, birds, creatures and critters to smell out and chase.
He ran toward the Miller’s garage and rounded it just in time to see Brody pounce into the rough foliage at the end of the woods. “Crap!” He spat. He ran calling for the dog until he got to the edge of the woods. There he stopped and peered in. There was no sign of the dog or anything else moving. He edged his way through the thick brush and started calling for Brody again. To his right, he saw movement and turned to see a squirrel racing up a broad oak. He started jogging at a steadier pace since the ground had evened out a bit. “Brody, where are you? Come!” He heard a bark in the distance, but it didn’t sound too far away. He broke into a run.
There had been a lot of people in the woods lately – surveyors and builders. Eli had heard they were going to build a new subdivision there. All of his neighbors were upset about it because they liked the peacefulness of their secluded neighborhood. Eli really didn’t care, though. It didn’t matter to him if they built three hundred more cookie cutter houses for three hundred more cookie cutter families with three hundred more squalling kids running around the streets. As long as they leave me alone.
He heard another bark and determined that he was getting a little closer. He could see light up ahead from a clearing, and wondered if that was where the Border Collie had run. Eli was hot from running and sweat poured down his armpits and forehead. It didn’t feel this hot out earlier today.
The barks came at a regular rate as Eli ran the last few yards to the clearing. He came up short when he burst into the bright sunlight. After being in the woods, it seemed like the sun was brighter than normal. He could see Brody on the other side of the clearing. He was sniffing around a parked bulldozer; one of those huge yellow Caterpillars. He guessed the workers had left it there after a day of clearing. Eli heard them from time to time when he had the windows open at his house – the low steady hum and the “beep beep beep” when they backed up. He didn’t mind the noise really, but his mother did. “Those things drive my head crazy!” She had said. Eli didn’t think the machines drove her crazy. He thought the fact that her husband of nineteen years had run off with a much younger version of herself is what drove her head crazy.
Suddenly, Brody issued a low, menacing growl. The fur on his shoulders and haunches stood up, and he dropped his head forward. Eli didn’t much care for being alone in the woods, and this new development didn’t help matters much. Besides, he was wringing with sweat and had the beginnings of a headache. “Brody, come,” he said with all of the authority his sixteen years could muster, “Come, now!”
The dog let out a searing howl, jumped back at least a yard, turned and started to run. Eli’s eyes grew wide as he saw his dog racing toward him with its ears back and slobber foaming from its jaws. He was a little nervous by then and reached for the comfort of the dog as it neared. Almost upon him, Eli realized the animal’s eyes looked frantic. Eli reached for Brody just as Brody flew past him back into the woods. Eli, thoroughly spooked now and imagining all types of fanged monsters on his heels, ran after the dog. Branches scratched his face, and he could feel his heart pounding.
When they both broke through the other side of the woods, the Miller’s garage was like a beacon of safety. Eli watched as Brody crossed the street to his own house, ran into their yard and through the opened front door. Feeling safer and a little silly for being scared in the first place, Eli cussed his sister in his mind and made a vow to do something hideous to her favorite CD.
CHAPTER 3
Mr. Just
The hallway after school was chaos, as usual. Mr. Just was monitoring the situation from outside his classroom door. Locker doors banged shut as kids laughed and screamed at each other from down the hall. Linda Baske was crying again about her boyfriend while the quiet ones just tried to get through the hallway unnoticed.
Mr. Just was always amazed at how loud it was. He never remembered his high school experience being this loud. It was like every sound had to be amplified for dramatic effect. “These kids just need to take it easy, Man. Chill out, calm down,” he said quietly to himself. He caught Ms. Leezil’s eye from her classroom across the hall, and they gave each other a look of exasperation. He knew she felt the same as he did. They had talked about this generation of kids over coffee in the teacher’s lounge or drinks at his place. Her theory was that all of the preservatives in the food nowadays was to blame. She said it got the kid’s hormones out of whack. He chalked it up to parents laying down on the job. He thought it was easy to give little Jimmy John or little Suzy Q everything they wanted without having to earn it. Every kid got a ribbon for just being in a race now, not for winning it. “Let’s pat them all on the back every time they do anything,” he thought. “How’s that working out for you folks? You’re raising a bunch of little darlings.”
He watched those darlings now as they pushed, shoved, taunted and otherwise made life hell for each other. Some were worse than others, of course. Every school from every generation had its bullies and dumbasses. The one from his own experience was named Brad Knowles. Brad was a jock and not real forgiving of anyone who wasn’t. That left Phillip Just directly in his sights. Phil was an easy going, laid back type of guy. He didn’t sweat the small stuff. “Live and let live, Man.” That was his motto. His long hair was clean and always tied in a long ponytail – not flying around free. He was chill. He was free. Mostly, he was high. Phil loved life and everyone in it, just as long as he had a smoke. Brad made sure that Phil was pushed around as often as possible to pay for the crime of not being like himself. That meant knocking books out of his hands, spraying his locker with shaving foam, throwing rocks to smack him in the head and all sorts of other punishments. Phil thought of it as an inconvenience, some moments worse than others. He heard at the last reunion that Brad had been killed in a drunk-driving accident. Karma, Man.
He was startled out of his trip down memory lane by the familiar teasing, “Ms. Weezil! Hey, Joe! Did ya see Ms. Weezil with her beady little weasel eyes?”
Of course it was Hansen Reynolds and his group of idiots. The rhyming jab at Ms. Leezil was nothing new and really didn’t take much thought. Hansen just enjoyed it because he thought it was mean. Julie wasn’t even bothered. Growing up Julie Leezil, she had always been teased about her last name. It didn’t even faze her any more.
Something like a chewed up eraser went
flying in Ms. Leezil’s direction and missed her face by an inch. On his own, Hansen was more of a coward who didn’t do much except verbally assault the world with his personality, but when his crew was around he had more courage. Phil didn’t like the direction this was going.
“Hansen!” He yelled. “Over here now. You’re in detention.”
Hansen looked over at Mr. Just and grinned sarcastically. “It wasn’t me, Mr. Just. It was Joe here. He’s the one that did it.”
Joe looked surprised and looked over at Mr. Just. “No it wasn’t! I was headed out the door!”
Mr. Just really didn’t want to play games with the idiot. “Hansen, you don’t think I know you by now, Dude? You’re in my detention more than any other kid in this school. Stop arguing and get in my classroom. The rest of you hit the road. Now.”
He glanced at Julie who gave him a wink then slipped back into her classroom. He would be sure to collect on that debt later this weekend.
Hansen strutted over to Mr. Just’s classroom and told the others that he’d meet up with them at the Hot Dog Hut later. “After I’m finished with my spankin’,” he sneered.
Phil watched him strut by and felt disgusted. He was the type of teacher who found redeeming qualities in basically every student. Hansen, however, was a challenge. There just wasn’t a likable aspect to the boob at all. He followed Hansen into the room just as the bell for detention sounded. Looking over the list, Mr. Just found no surprises. The usual suspects were all there, since Hansen had joined the group. “What is detention doing for them anyway?” He wondered. They never changed. They didn’t even seem to mind spending their free time in a classroom.
Mr. Just shook his head and settled down to grade the chemistry quizzes from his last class. No surprises there, either. The same kids got A’s, the same kids got C’s and Hansen got an F. He started to think what motivation the kid had for anything. Was there anything at all to drive Hansen Reynolds to excel? The kid had football; that was a no brainer. He was a big dude and could throw his weight around. He received accolades and praise from the coaching staff, but the student body as a whole rallied around him out of fear, not hero worship. What was the kid going to do when the cheers were gone and there were no more games to play? He knew the kid’s home life stank. He had called two parent-teacher conferences already, and, at each one, the teacher was the only person to show up. He had called the home to discuss Hansen’s failing grade only to be told by Mr. Reynolds not to worry about Hansen. “My boy is going to play ball and doesn’t need a grade from a chemistry class to do that,” he had said. The boy was screwed.
Finally, the bell rang ending detention and Phil breathed a sigh of relief. “Friday, thank God, Man.” He thought. “I could use a beer.”
He followed the detention kids out of the classroom and walked over to Ms. Leezil’s door. “Hey, Jules. Did you recover from your trauma?”
“Ha!” She laughed. “It was hardly a trauma. Thanks for the intervention, though. That kid creeps me out!”
“No prob. Hey, I’m in the mood for Mexican. Want to keep me company?”
“I can’t tonight. I’m on duty at the snack bar for the game. How about tomorrow night?” She asked with a little twinkle in her eye.
“Sure thing, Babe. Have fun feeding the masses!”
“Thanks. See you later, Phil.” She winked at him as he left her room.
He went back to his classroom, grabbed his corduroy jacket and messenger bag and locked his door. Going through the visitor’s parking on his way to the staff lot, he thought of Hansen Reynolds again. He couldn’t seem to get his mind off the kid. He was still thinking that Hansen could be saved. He pushed the kid from his mind by planning his weekend. “It should be pleasant outside, maybe I could get in some yard work. Or I could take Jules to that Classic Rock Festival over in Glovercroft,” He thought. He drove out of the parking lot thinking of what to order at Mexicali that night.
CHAPTER 4
Bug
“Sometimes you can hear a house breathe,” thought Bug. “If you’re super quiet, you can actually hear it inhale and exhale.” Bug was lying on the couch with her eyes closed. She was trying to be still. She had muted the TV because she had already seen that episode of her cartoon. She knew, at twelve, she was really too old for cartoons, but she didn’t care. It was her favorite show. Her Rubik’s Cube was solved and on the table beside her. When are they going to come out with another one? This one is super easy.
Born Mary Ellen Hamilton, Bug had never actually answered to that name. Her parents nicknamed her Ladybug in the hospital because she was a tender five pounds, five ounces at birth with a head full of shocking black hair. Her Aunt Nicki had brought a blanket with Ladybugs all over it to the hospital, and, curled up within, Mary Ellen had been referred to as the little Ladybug. The moniker was shortened to Bug over the years, and it was the only name she considered hers. Her looks hadn’t changed much as she grew. She was petite for her age and her long straight hair was still as black as coal.
Bug was an extremely intelligent girl. With that came very few friends. The kids at school were just not excited about math or science the way Bug was. They had more important things to talk about, like sports, celebrities or the latest in the never ending dance of who’s dating whom. Bug just shut them out and did her own thing. It didn’t even bother her, really. She was quite content. She had her parents, Mark and Ann Hamilton, who were very involved in her life. Mark was the editor of the Hallston Daily Journal, the town newspaper. Bug loved when her dad came home armed with exciting stories of things happening in the world; places she had never even heard of before. She couldn’t wait to read the paper with her dad every morning at the breakfast table. They would talk about the day’s headlines and stories until it was time to leave for school.
Ann was a nurse who tried to fit her schedule around Bug’s school day. She worked in the Neonatal Unit at Community Hospital. Bug loved hearing about the new babies when she and her mom worked in the garden, as they often did.
When her parents were both working, she had Shasta Port. Shasta was not quite a babysitter – more of a companion really. The big sister she didn’t have. She was five years older and Bug always described her as “super nice and fun”.
Bug was waiting for Shasta to come pick her up. Her mom had asked Shasta to take her for a haircut. Bug didn’t really mind. She liked her hair, but it was too long and starting to get in her way. She closed her eyes and tried to hear the house breathe again, but the moment had passed and all she heard was the ice maker releasing its newly formed cubes from bondage. That made her want a Popsicle, so she hopped off the couch and skipped into the kitchen.
“Hmm, red or orange,” she said to the empty room. “Red, super good.” She un-wrapped her prize and looked out the kitchen window. It was very quiet out. She didn’t hear the sounds of machinery from the other side of the woods. She was actually growing fond of the sounds. She thought the backup beeper was especially nice. She heard a bark and saw Brody, the Andrews’ dog, pop out from behind the Miller’s garage and run across the street and into the Andrews’ house. Eli followed him. Bug liked Eli, but she liked Brody better. The dog had found his way over to her house one time when he had gotten loose. Bug had loved how “super” soft his fur was and how he looked at her straight in the eyes. She and the dog had sat there for minutes just looking into each other’s eyes. It had been relaxing for her. Most people didn’t look at Bug much; she was curiously invisible. That was okay, though. She had Shasta. They talked about a lot of things, everything from Bug’s favorite math class to Shasta’s latest boy crush. Bug didn’t quite get Shasta’s interest in boys, but she liked to hear her talk about them. The one that came up most of the time was Darren. Shasta had liked him since she and Darren were in homeroom together in the eighth grade.
She had sucked the pop down to the stick and her mouth was frozen. As she threw the stick away, she heard Shasta’s truck pull up in the driveway. Bug grabbed her
bag and went out the side door, making sure it was locked behind her. Never can be too careful – even in Meadowview Acres.
She hopped down the steps and flung open the door to Shasta’s Ranger. “Hey, Shasta! “ Bug chirped, her mouth bright red from the frozen pop.
“Yum, Popsicle?” Shasta asked.
“Yup, how’d ya know?” Bug asked smiling.
Shasta just grinned and backed the Ranger out of the Hamilton’s driveway.
“Okay, Miss Bug, off to get that hair trimmed. Where should we go when we’re finished?” Shasta asked, already knowing what Bug would request.
“Oh! Can we get some tots at the Hot Dog Hut?” Bug asked. She loved the tater tots at the Hut. That was the place Shasta’s parents owned. Shasta worked there part time when she wasn’t hanging out with Bug. Bug loved going with Shasta because they always gave her extra tots when Shasta brought her by.
“Sure,” replied Shasta. “I wanted to ask my dad about something anyway.
As they drove down the street, they passed the Andrew’s house. Eli was washing Brody in the driveway beside the house. Shasta was about to honk a greeting but stopped when she saw the frown on Eli’s face. “Somebody’s in a grumpy mood,” she thought. She took a right turn out of the neighborhood and headed toward town.
CHAPTER 5
Shasta
Bug fiddled with the radio as Shasta drove down Main Street toward Curls For Gurls. The song Bug settled on made Shasta kind of sad. It had been a special one for her and Darren. Shasta was still surprised at how quickly things could change in a person’s life. Just a few short years ago, she and Darren were so close. They were best friends. Now, he would barely say hi when they passed in the hallway at school.
They had known each other since childhood. Living in the same neighborhood meant you went to the same schools. That combined with the never ending stream of neighborhood kickball games, cookouts, and Fourth of July parties made it impossible for them not to become friends. Shasta and Darren had an easy friendship. Shasta had a calm and mothering nature. If another kid got hurt playing or felt picked on, she was the first one to offer help or straighten out the bullies. Darren was much the same. He got along with everyone and never caused drama. The two of them always seemed to be picked first when calling teams for neighborhood games. The other kids in the neighborhood eventually thought of them as connected. They wouldn’t say just Shasta or just Darren. It was always Shasta and Darren or Darren and Shasta.