Violet looked into his big brown eyes. He’d said goodbye to a lot of people in his short life. “I promise, Ben.”
She was reminded of what a tiny, quivering mess of a thing he’d been when he arrived at the age of two.
Holly, their mother, took a trip to Mexico and found him. Fell in love instantly, is how she tells it. After all the paperwork and red tape, she brought him home where fourteen-year-old Violet had been waiting patiently. Bits of that feverish little boy, now almost completely transformed, remained in Violet’s memory.
Ben would dart through the house, pausing to poke his head around corners and say proudly, “Hola!” before giggling impishly and running off.
And dinnertime. When putting a plate of food in front of him, you had to be careful to draw your hand away quickly. He would bite with the skill of a scavenger fighting for his share. He would grab fistfuls and shove them into his mouth like a caveman. Chewing voraciously, he swallowed as fast as he could. Holly learned never to ask him if he wanted more, because he would say yes, yes, yes every time. It took him months to learn that he didn’t need to fight for it anymore.
Bits of this instinct still leaked through when he was startled or uncomfortable. He still shied away from the touch of people with new faces, and sudden noises caused him to whimper. Four years had passed, though, and six-year-old Ben was endlessly more confident than his two-year-old counterpart.
He was a quiet boy, a bit secretive. He was curious like his sister, but where she wanted to know everything she could get her hands and ears on, he would often wait patiently and trustingly for the information to come to him.
Violet had an image of Ben as a kitten that might run off on its own if startled. Just tear out into the forest and hide underneath some small shelter. She feared the survival instinct he had perfected as an orphan might come back to haunt them. She wondered if he would bite at her hand if she tried to share a plate of food. Hopefully she would soon find out – somehow in all of the terror and strangeness, her tummy began to rumble.
Until Jeremy came back, they would just have to sit and wait. Maybe eat some more of those damn potato chips lurking on the edge of their cotton-sheeted lagoon. Who provides chips as sustenance? How could he have thought they would be enough? For a moment, her disgust overpowered her fear.
She continued holding onto Ben, thinking about how sad it was that she shouldn’t have given a seemingly friendly stranger a ride home. Her Girl Scout good deed gone all wrong. What sort of karma was that?
9
Jeremy was miserable after leaving the cellar. He felt like the Boogeyman, the Abominable Snow Monster, Boo Radley. A misunderstood freak who would take forever to learn to love.
Violet and Ben had looked genuinely scared when he brought in that dog, which had been the point. But he didn’t calculate how awful it would feel to cradle a dead dog in his arms for so long. The shattered bones crunched as he shifted the dog’s weight against his body. He could feel squishy bits where he knew none should be. He’d wanted to cry for the poor dog, especially after calling him Buster. Instead, he remained stone cold, barely allowing his voice to falter.
Jeremy went outside to the barn and got out a shovel. Buster II deserved something of a proper burial.
His mind wandered as he lowered the spade, stomped on it, heaved the loosened soil over his shoulder and started again.
How did I get here? He wondered. What started all of this? The dirt was heavy and he found himself wanting a helping hand. But, just as he had been since childhood, he was alone.
He remembered something then, about why children are the cruelest humans of all.
One day, a few boys ventured over to Jeremy, who was about to visit the corner store for a cold drink. He was thirteen years old. He remembered, because he was riding the bike that he’d saved up for and bought for his birthday. It was green, and the cheapest one he could find. There weren’t any fancy gears, no kickstand or bell or basket, and the seat was as uncomfortable as someone shoving their fist up his ass. But it was his bike; he had earned it and now he owned it. His next priority was to buy a lock because he didn’t trust anyone in that town.
That’s why he was skeptical, even more so than usual, when three of his schoolmates sauntered over to tell him what a nice bike he had. Jeremy gripped his handlebars and thought of ways to escape.
“Thanks,” he said softly. He hoped they would leave it at that. He didn’t even entertain the idea they might want to stay and play with him; he’d given up hoping for that.
“How fast does it go?” the tallest boy, Roger, asked him.
“I don’t know, about as fast as yours, probably.” He really had no idea, and hoped this wasn’t the beginning of a proposition to race. Another thing he hadn’t bought yet was a helmet.
“Mine’s pretty fast,” Roger said.
Here we go, Jeremy thought miserably.
“Say, wanna do a dare?” Roger asked. His two sidekicks, Johnny and Mo stood by, silently smirking.
Jeremy felt like prey. He didn’t know what to say to them.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Depends on what it is.”
“That’s not the way a dare works, mate.” The term sounded unnatural coming out of Roger’s small, tight-lipped mouth, like he was trying out a new word he hoped would catch on.
“Yeah,” Mo chimed in, “You’ll either do it or you won’t.”
Jeremy squirmed. “Well, what do I get if I do it?”
“We’ll leave you alone,” Roger said, “Simple as that.”
He wasn’t sure what Roger meant. Did he mean they’d walk away from him right now and leave him to his cold drink? Or did they mean forever, as in, they wouldn’t chase him with taunts down the hallways every day? That he might not hear Bewaremy and Here comes the Ginger Giant whispered behind his back as he passed them in the hall. And if they stopped, would everyone stop? Would three people really make that much of a difference out of a whole school’s torture?
He was getting ahead of himself. “And if I don’t do it?” he asked.
“We get your bike.” Roger jerked his head in the direction of the brand new two-wheeler. Jeremy didn’t want to take that bet.
“No thanks, guys.” He had no idea what they might dare him to do. They’d probably have him eating worms or sneaking a peek up the woman’s skirt behind the counter. The thought made him feel sick.
“Come on now, Jeremy,” Roger said in a singsong voice. “You might want to rethink that one. I mean, we were just gonna steal your bike anyway, dare or no dare. But we figured it would be only fair to give you the chance to win it back.”
Win it back?
“It’s my bike,” he replied lamely. “I worked hard for it. Save up for your own bike.”
The trio looked at each other with wide eyes and laughter.
“Oh, we have our own bikes,” Johnny piped up. “We just want yours, too. Add it to the collection.”
“Why?” Jeremy asked. He meant it in so many ways. Why do you want another bike? Why are you doing this? Why me? Why am I always your target? Why do you act like you’re so much better than me? Why can’t I defend myself? Why does everyone think you’re so much better than me? Why does it make you feel good to make me feel worthless?
Roger’s answer addressed all his silent questions. “Because we can.”
Jeremy sighed and knew he didn’t have a choice. They might smack him upside the head regardless of the dare, grab his handlebars and make a getaway down the street until all he could see was the retreating green glimmer from the setting sun. But it was worth a try.
“Alright. I’ll take the dare. What do you want me to do?” He held his breath.
They hadn’t thought this part through. Looking at each other dumbly, they waited for someone to come up with a solution. Jeremy took secret pleasure in their tongue-tied silence.
At that moment, a woman walked by the store with a purse dangling from her left hand.
“Steal th
at.” Roger said. “Grab that purse.”
The boys snickered.
Jeremy considered his options. It’s them who would be stealing the purse, he rationalized, not me.
Should he cover his face? It was a small enough northern Ontario town that she might know him. He knew better than to ask for a mask. The boys would laugh at his yellow belly.
“Better hurry up,” Johnny said. “She might live in one of those houses up there, and you don’t want to have to follow her inside.”
Jeremy slowly mounted his bike and contemplated pedalling off into the distance. He knew they wouldn’t give up so easily. If it wasn’t that day, it would be another.
The woman with the purse was a petite Asian lady who looked to be in her mid-fifties. She wasn’t swinging her bag in a childlike, carefree way; she had it secured in her fist and held it alongside her body. Jeremy’s quickly-hatched plan was to ride up beside her and swipe it at the last second. He would hopefully be way down the street before she even knew what hit her. She’d have a hard time identifying him from behind, although his bright green bike might be a dead giveaway. He gulped at the thought of having to paint it another colour so he wouldn’t get caught. There had to be plenty of other green bikes around. He couldn’t be nailed by bike colour alone. Probably.
It didn’t take long to catch up, and as he pulled next to her he reached out and grabbed for her purse as quickly and violently as he could. Her grasp hadn’t been as tight as it looked. Jeremy secured the bag on his arm, put his hand back on the handlebar, and pedalled as hard as he could.
“No!” she screamed after him. “That’s my purse! He took my purse! Help, someone, help! He took my purse!” She yelled so loudly that Jeremy thought people would surely come streaming out of their houses to see what all the commotion was about. She sounded insane, like if she caught him she wouldn’t know whether to cry or rip him to pieces.
He was the reason she screamed that way. He had done that to her. Looking back (he couldn’t help it), he saw her chasing after him on legs made futile by his wheels.
“Yosonoabeech!” she bellowed. Her accent caused her words to run together, but he knew what she meant.
“Bastard!” she howled after him. That one was clear as day.
“I’m sorry!” he yelled back, uselessly. “This isn’t who I am!” She probably couldn’t even hear him, but he couldn’t help it. His actions were so off-kilter from what he thought he knew about himself that it made him feel ill.
It wasn’t my fault, he told himself. I would never have done it if those boys didn’t make my life miserable all the time.
Her angry voice ran through his head. He never thought he’d be on the receiving end of words loaded with that much hurt and disgust.
His hand and his alone had been the one to reach out and grab that purse. That was the day Jeremy realized he was capable of doing awful things when put under the right kind of pressure.
Jeremy snapped back to the present and eyed the deep hole he had dug. He always seemed to lose himself when digging, as if he was shoveling down into his own depths. He set the spade aside and picked up the dog’s dead weight one last time. Gently, he lowered the defeated body into the bottom of the grave and stared at it. It seemed so sad to pour dirt over the dog, and he regretted not finding a burlap sack or a makeshift coffin. Jeremy took the shirt off his back and wrapped the dog in it.
“I’m sorry you were hit by a car,” Jeremy said out loud. “You’re a beautiful dog, and I’m sorry I brought you here but I’m glad this is where you ended up. It’s nice here. You’re under the shade of a beautiful willow tree.”
He lifted the shovel and began to suffocate the grave with dirt, trying to hold onto the present so he wouldn’t get lost in any more reveries. That was enough remembering for one day.
It felt bizarre to insert such a large body into the ground. From above, no one would ever know. They’d walk right over top without realizing, as he hadn’t brought any cross or stone to mark it with. He looked for a rock. He didn’t want Buster to be walked over unnoticed.
What he found was a big grey boulder. It wasn’t pretty, and he wouldn’t be able to write on it, but it would do. He would always know that it marked the spot of the dog that marked the beginning of his journey with Violet and Ben. Maybe someday the three of them would stand side-by-side at the gravesite and think about how that dog had helped bring them together.
Jeremy smiled.
He started to think about what else had to fall into place before he finished the first part of his plan. He wondered where his cunning had come from. No one thinks they will be good at holding someone captive. He knew he had no right to feel proud of himself, but something inside started to feel good. Increasingly good, in a way he hadn’t known before.
The power of the puppet master. Violet and Ben were stuck where he had placed them. They were under his care and he wouldn’t let anyone harm them. Besides himself, of course.
10
My sister keeps making weird noises. One second I think I hear her sniffling, and the next she clears her throat really loud like she’s coming down with a cold. I don’t know what to think, but I hope she’s not getting sick because who will take care of her?
These chips aren’t even the good kind. Mom would never let us eat them.
I miss her. I miss home. I don’t want this to be where I live. I didn’t have a choice where I lived when I became a Ben Wrigley, like the gum, but I got lucky. That was a really nice place to be. But it would be really unlucky to live here. I’d be scared all the time, and all I would get to eat would be chips. I mean, I like chips. But my mom would kill me if she knew I’d just been sitting here eating them for every meal.
The thing is, she doesn’t even know I’m eating chips, because she doesn’t know I’m here. She must be looking for us. She probably got so mad when we didn’t come home for dinner.
I kinda want to ask Vi if she is alright, but I don’t know if she wants to talk about it. She hasn’t said anything in a long time. I’m glad she isn’t going to leave me here by myself, but scary ideas keep popping into my brain. Like what if she left and meant to come back for me but couldn’t find her way, or what if the Jeremy man wouldn’t let her back in? I try not to think about it.
“Vi? Are you okay?” I know it’s a silly question, because I know she’s not really okay, and I’m not really okay either, but adults always tell us there’s no such thing as a silly question, so you’re always supposed to ask.
Vi raises her head up and looks at me and nods. She’s okay, the same kind of okay I am right now. “Are you thirsty?” she asks me.
I open and close my mouth for a second to see if I am. It’s a little sticky in there. I nod my head back at her and she reaches over to grab a bottle of water. I wish it was pop. I know I need to remember to stay hydrated, because that’s what my mom tells me whenever I’m not feeling well. Stay hydrated. I think it’s because hydrate sounds like hydrant and there’s water in those.
I drink a few gulps of water and wipe my fist over my lips to get the drips.
“Vi,” I say even though I know I shouldn’t say it, “Do you think we get to go home soon? I think Mom is getting worried.”
When I say this, she starts to cry and I feel bad. I know she misses Mom too so I just hug her, and she hugs me, and we sit that way for a while. Then I hear footsteps.
We both suck in our breath a little bit, and make sounds kinda like when you shake a pop bottle and untwist the cap. I don’t know if I want him to come down here or not. I’m scared, but I would like to eat some food.
The lock on the door comes undone and the door opens. I see a big bag in his hands.
“Hi again,” he says and he’s smiling. “I brought you guys something to eat, are you hungry? You must be. Sorry I was gone so long.” He places a bag down on the floor in front of us.
“I made you sandwiches, nice fresh ones from this picnic lunch I was at. I’m sorry you couldn’t go with me.�
�
He mentioned those sandwiches when he came in with the dog, and I wonder why he didn’t just give them to us then.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, but then closes it. Like a fish. He hands me the bag of food. I take out a sandwich and give it to Vi, and then I take one for me. I think maybe I should wait until the Jeremy man leaves the room, but I guess it can’t hurt to eat and listen and watch him all at the same time. Vi just holds on to her sandwich though. Girls are weird sometimes about eating.
“I have something else for you guys, too.” Jeremy was still standing there. He’s so tall and skinny, like a lamppost. His pants are too short. They don’t cover his ankles and I can see his black socks. All of his bendy bits sort of look like doorknobs. I wonder if I could count his freckles.
I have no idea what he has in his bag, but I hope it’s something good and not something scary, like handcuffs or blindfolds or something else dead.
He pulls out some comics and chapter books and pencils and paper and a thing you play music on, but not the new kind, an older one for CDs, I think they call it a Wokman. But we don’t have CDs, and so then he pulls some out. I haven’t heard of any of the people he pulls out, but they all have hair that’s dark and oily, both the men and the women. And then he pulls out some batteries and some headphones, so he really thought of it all.
It feels a bit like Christmas. We’re getting all these presents, and we didn’t even ask for them. Maybe he feels bad for keeping us down here because, really, he should.
I remember when I was littler than now, I saw the news one night. I don’t know why people like to watch it. It’s just boring-looking people sitting and reading stuff, using big words for names and places. But one time, I saw a news about a dad who killed his two kids, and then killed the mom too. That’s three different people. It was the person he had kids with, and his own two kids, and he killed them. That really scared me because it seemed like he did it the same way I squash bugs that buzz in my ear or spiders that spin webs in my room.
Once, We Were Stolen Page 7