by Leah Pileggi
Why did I have to go and say that? “Well, me and Pa worked a couple days on a hog farm. Pa did some shoveling and cleaning up. But mostly I …”
I coulda maybe made something up, but I figured Mr. Criswell could tell I didn’t know nothing ‘bout hogs.
“I mostly played with a big old cat that hung around. And I fell off the roof of the barn.”
Mr. Criswell seemed like he was nodding in agreement, or maybe his head just sorta bounced up and down a little bit all by itself when he laughed.
“An expert,” he said.
I was thinking, Shut your smart mouth, but my gut knew he was right.
“Get yourself a shovel there.” He pointed off a ways.
Henry said, “Looks like you’re set, Jake.” And then right after he took off, I seen a scrawny old yellow gold cat chasing after him. I looked away from that cat so fast I ‘bout snapped my own neck. No more cats and no more roofs.
I found myself a shovel and a wheelbarrow that looked and smelled like it rode a lot of manure around in it. Mr. Criswell opened the gate and walked on into that sea of pigs. They rubbed up against his legs and gave off little snorting noises. In the middle of the big pen, a short stone wall run through, cutting the pen in two. A small wood slat gate led to the other side.
“We gotta move ‘em through the gate to the other side to clean up. Get on in here and give me a hand.”
I set down the shovel and went on in. My first step inside and I looked down at my boot in a pile of pig shit. I was gonna be wearing that smell on my boots forever. “Damn.”
“Watch your mouth,” said Mr. Criswell. “Hogs are smart. They pretty much know where to do their business. But sometimes they make a mistake. And there’s no way to work around hogs without getting some of that mistake on you.”
The pigs swarmed around me, snuffling and poking at me. “How do we get these here pigs moving?” I asked.
“Well, most of them are interested in people, Jake, so they’ll just follow us.”
I worked my way through the crowd toward Mr. Criswell, and sure enough, the pigs was following. And then the one that had went after my laces, he was at it again. He was black with a white spot shaped like a egg on his back, and if I hadn’t started moving so fast, Egg the hog woulda ate that lace right outta my boot. I tripped my way into the other side of the pen. Mr. Criswell shuffled in behind me and then so did Egg and all the other hogs. ‘Cept one. That one just stood there facing the other way, waving its tail at me, showing me its rump.
“That one’s stubborn,” said Mr. Criswell, shutting us and all the rest of the pigs in the clean side. “You go on over there and bring her in.”
I stood still, hoping maybe Mr. Criswell might change his mind, but then Egg started in on my laces again. So I quick stepped through the gate, closing it behind me.
That stubborn pig had wandered on to the far end of the pen near the wallow. I didn’t want to go there, so I lifted my foot and made them laces flap. Thought maybe she’d go for ‘em just like Egg.
Nothing.
So I stepped on over and flapped them laces right in front of Miss Rump’s big old stubborn pig face.
Nothing again.
“Come on, piggy,” I said. I whistled and clapped my hands and started running back toward the other pigs. Still nothing. So I got behind that pig and give her a shove. She backed into me, and down I went. The wet soaked in through the seat of my pants.
I was mad. “You dang old pig. Get moving.” I pinched her with all my strength, right on that muddy rump. She sprung ahead, running around in circles, and I was running around after her ‘til finally she was headed straight for the gate. Mr. Criswell just stood there, and I thought for sure there would be a collision. But at the last second, he opened the gate and that mean old sow strolled right on in.
I give Rump my best evil eye, but she was already trotting to a nice clean patch of hay.
Seat of my pants dried kinda stiff while we mucked out the used side. I never done so much shoveling in my whole life. Manure’s heavy. And my crooked arm had some trouble holding that shovel and then got to shaking the more I worked. We cleaned up that side. Well, it weren’t what you’d call clean really. It was just sorta plain dirt at that point.
Another wheelbarrow was for hauling straw and hay and dried-up grasses. I filled that thing I don’t know how many times, and we tossed that dried stuff all around so’s that side would be ready tomorrow.
“Time to eat,” said Mr. Criswell. Even with all that smell and dirt around me, my mouth started watering.
I said, “I didn’t know that was part of this here job.”
His head bobbed. “I didn’t mean it’s time for us to eat. It’s time for the hogs.”
But I was hungry. Two more days I was going without real food. I blurted out, “I’m on bread and water for three days.”
Mr. Criswell bent back and looked at me. “What did you do?”
I weren’t gonna sound like a baby this time. “I punched a guy at the breakfast table. A big guy. He’d grabbed me round my neck.”
“What happened to him?”
“He’s in the Hole for five days.”
“You planning on punching anybody else any time soon?”
I never planned to punch nobody. “No, sir,” I said. And then he shared some beef jerky he had in his pocket.
After that, I just done whatever he said, no questions at all. We mixed up grains and what looked like dried-up bits of maybe some sorta cooked-up animal parts with some water from a rain barrel, and we slopped them hogs.
’Fore I knew it, Henry was back at the fence. “Where’s Mr. Criswell?”
Seemed like he done snuck off when I was feeding them pigs. But then we seen him doing his shuffling from the shed with a bundle of something in his hands.
“Afternoon, Henry,” he said.
“Afternoon, Mr. Criswell. Everything okay?”
“Looks like it,” he said. “Jake, you change on into these clothes.” He handed me britches and a shirt. “These here boots are gonna be big on you.”
I took them clothes and went to the shed to change. The boots were my foot and another set of toes longer, but they was nicer made than any I’d ever had.
Mr. Criswell hollered, “Hang those dirty ones on that peg. You wear them when you’re working.”
I come on out. Henry kinda smiled when he seen my too-big clothes and especially the boots.
Mr. Criswell said, “Don’t go getting into any fights with the other men over those clothes.”
I nodded. For a while there I had almost forgot where I lived.
SEVEN
Henry and me started walking back in the sun. We wasn’t saying nothing ‘cause that hot day I knew was coming had wrapped itself around us. My new clothes was heavier than the old ones, and the boots tried to jump off. And I ain’t never worked that much, so I was sweating like I was gonna melt.
I thought ‘bout them pigs. Some of them was okay, kinda friendly, like a pet. I was thinking how it’d be nice to have one of them for my own. But I seen how big they get. Couldn’t hardly fit me and one of them full-growed hogs in my cell together.
Henry snapped me out of my daydreaming. He said, “You’re gonna work with Brother Nance starting this afternoon, Jake.”
I had nothing to say to that. I’d rather muck out pigpens all day long than learn reading.
We was in sight of the round-top wood gate when the dinner whistle blew. I tried running, but them boots made me wobbly.
“Hold up, Jake,” yelled Henry. “They won’t forget to feed you.”
And he was right. Got my meal right on time. Three pieces of bread instead of two. The food lady—her name was Mrs. Ayres—she musta made a mistake. I sucked the last bits of bread outta my teeth, setting on my bunk, leaning back against the stone wall. Then I changed into my only other set of clothes. They was full of holes, but they mostly fit. I set back down and thought I’d finally take a real long look around my space.
Bricks on the floor, three stone walls, and that too-tight-wove metal door. A cage. I stood up and walked the length of my cage. Six not-angry steps long and then ‘bout four wide.
So far I’d only slept on the low bunk, so I hoisted myself on up to the high one. Room enough to set up all right, but I guess I’d knowed that ceiling was gonna make it a too-small place for me to think. I quick hopped down and stretched out on my sleeping bunk. And then I figured out what I’d do with that high-up piece. I’d put my secret prison up there, put that squeaky-voice man in it. You get on up there, you Mouth. And you ain’t getting no food at all. Glad I finally had a place to put him.
Then I thought maybe I’d put something nice up there, too, in its own separate place. A nice-looking piggy, not too big. Named her Emma. She wouldn’t get no bigger and she wouldn’t stink up the place and she didn’t need to eat. She’d just hang around sleeping all day, waiting for me to close my eyes and drift on up and say howdy.
’Fore I knew it, Henry unlocked my cage and we headed next door.
“Hello, Jake,” said Mr. Nance.
The other man in the cell set on his up-high bunk, legs hanging down off the side, and kept on reading silent to hisself.
A book and a piece of slate and chalk set next to Mr. Nance on his bunk. “Time for your first reading lesson, son.”
Henry give me a look when he locked the door. It was a shrug and a eyebrow raise that said something like Maybe it won’t be as tough as you think.
Yeah, what did he know.
I set down next to Mr. Nance, and I could see some writing on that slate already.
Mr. Nance seen me looking. “Do you know what letter that is, Jake?”
I don’t know how I knew it, but I did. “That’s a A, Mr. Nance.”
He looked kinda shocked. “Well, I was prepared to start right from the beginning, Jake, but it looks like you already have a start on your letters.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too happy ‘cause I think that’s ‘bout it.” And I was right. I still don’t know how I figured out that letter A.
We worked on letters B and C and started on D, but I was withering after all that hog business.
“Come on, Jake. Work on the letter D, and then I can show you a word that you can read.”
So I kept at that chalk. A, B, C, D. A few more times. My letters looked shaky and uneven-like, but I got ’em down.
“Now what’s that word you say I can read, Mr. Nance?”
He took the chalk and wrote B-A-D. “Your first word, Jake. Do you know what it says?”
“No, sir.”
“Say the sounds.”
“Buh, ay, duh.”
“Now put them together.” He give me a second to think, but nothing hit me. So he told me, “That word is ‘bad.’”
“Bad,” I said. My first whole word was ‘bad.’ Now in a place like that, didn’t that just make sense.
Mr. Nance knew what I was thinking. “I didn’t start with that word on purpose, Jake. It just happens to be a word that I can make out of the letters you learned.”
“Sure, Mr. Nance, I see.”
He had me write that word a few times, ‘til I ‘bout passed out.
“It’ll get better, Jake.”
Mr. Nance went on then and read a passage from his Book of Mormon to me, but it went flowing right on through my head.
Next thing I knew, I woke up in the total dark in my own cell. I heard snoring all down through the block, so I went right on back to sleep.
EIGHT
My second day to work the hogs, Henry come to get me since I still weren’t eating the morning meal with the others. But I couldn’t move. Every muscle in every place on me said, No sir, we ain’t moving. Blisters on my hands had opened, and the ooze had crusted up.
“I ain’t going,” I said.
Henry didn’t budge.
I turned over on my bunk and pretended like I was still sleeping. I could feel him standing there. I still don’t remember getting dressed, but I ended up shoveling again that day, hoping all them hogs would fall down dead and I could go on back and sleep.
I got my food tray again after my three days. I think I musta growed two inches right after that, so them bigger clothes started fitting.
Every morning from then on, Henry walked me on over to the hogs. Either I was getting stronger or there weren’t so much manure to shovel up.
I believed it was just me and Mr. Criswell working them hogs. But one day, after a couple of weeks, I found out I was wrong ‘bout that.
“You stole my boots.”
A boy ‘bout a head taller than me, with black hair flying out in all directions, stood right in front of me while I scooped a big shovel full of hog mess. I never seen where he come from.
“You stole my job, too. This here was my job.”
I blinked hard. Maybe the sun was playing tricks.
“Ma said a man from the pen was working the hogs. You ain’t no man.”
My lips was sealed up real tight so’s I wouldn’t go and say something wrong.
He kept on. “What you in for? Somebody look at you and laugh himself to death?”
I dropped my shovel. Just when my mouth was deciding what to say, Mr. Criswell come from the shed.
“Jake, this is Charles. My son. He used to do your job. But you’re here now, and after the summer, he’ll be going to school.”
I ‘bout saw smoke coming from Charles’s ears.
“He’ll still help out from time to time, when he’s not needed for other chores or when he’s off from school. Isn’t that right, Charles?”
Charles spit. “He isn’t a man.”
“And because you’re twelve, you think you are?” asked Mr. Criswell. Charles turned and walked off.
At least I knew where my clothes and boots come from.
“He said I stole his boots. Is that true?”
“You didn’t steal anything, Jake. I gave those to you, and Charles knew that.”
I seen Charles again later, lurking around giving me that same evil eye I give Rump. But I weren’t giving him his job back. It was my job now. I was ‘specially sure ‘bout that the next day, ‘cause I had to miss.
I was eating my breakfast slop at the table, setting as far from every man as possible, like I always did. The stone-quarry men started off. Some of the others who cleaned the kitchen or chopped firewood or done laundry, they set off, too. But Henry weren’t there like usual to walk me to Mr. Criswell’s.
I asked Miles, “Is Henry late?”
He shook his head. “Sick” is all he said.
“Well, who’s gonna take me to the hogs?” I asked.
The Mustache, whose real name was Len, said, “Not today. We don’t got no guard to walk with ya.”
“But who’s gonna do my work?” And then I knew who would do my work. I jumped up. “I gotta go. That’s my job!”
Len said, “You want to get writ up in the punishment record book for back talkin’?”
“What? I just want to get to my job.”
“One more word.” And then I knew there weren’t nothing I could do. I was gonna set locked up in my cell all day ‘til dinner, and Charles was gonna take away my job.
Back in my cage, I set on my bunk, thinking ‘bout not thinking. I decided I’d close my eyes and fly on up to the upper bunk and visit Emma. Before I done that, I put Charles in with the Mouth, and they was having some sorta altercation. I made sure to lock up that part of my secret room.
So me and Emma was just floating on some clouds, chewing on straw, when I near ‘bout jumped outta my skin.
BOOM!! The whole block shook. And then the men who was left in their cells set up a holler. “Yippee!”
Was they cheering for the world to end? Mr. Nance and his cell mate wasn’t next door to ask. So I kept my hands over my ears and I curled up tight. I laid like that ‘til all my muscles ached.
Finally I set up. The building hadn’t fallen on my head, but maybe it still
would. I had to think, so I got up and started pacing. Back and forth for a real long time. Then I tried to climb up the metal door. Don’t know where I thought I was going, just trying to move to someplace different. But my feet slipped on that metal. I went down hard on my backside and then went on back to pacing with a sorta limp.
No more explosions, so I tried to think ‘bout Emma again, but that was wrecked.
I laid down on the cool floor.
I stood upside down on my hands.
I picked at a scab on my elbow ‘til it bled.
And then I cried. Not like anybody coulda heard, but the water just come pouring out, running down under my chin and dripping on the floor. And then I didn’t have nothing else I could do but close up my head and sleep.
The dinner whistle woke me up. Mrs. Ayres brung my tray.
“Ms. Ayres, what was that—I mean I heard …”
“That boomin’ noise, Jake?”
I really did hear it.
She explained the whole thing, and I laughed like I’d knowed it all along.
“Nobody’s really in charge when the men and guards go up to the stone quarry,” she said. “They’re supposed to blast the rock just enough to loosen it up. They load the big pieces on the wagon and roll them down here and cut the stones clean to finish building the outside wall.”
Then Mrs. Ayres moved as close to my ear as she could on the other side of the door. She whispered, “Sometimes the men get in their minds to use all of the dynamite at one time. I’ve heard tell they dig a bunch of holes and stuff it all in. Then they light the fuse and run like the dickens.” Her fingers opened wide beside her face. “Boom,” she said, kinda quiet.
So that’s what I heard. The rock getting blasted into tiny little bits, not any of ‘em good for wall building. The men got yelled at, but they’d say the dynamite was bad, and the guards didn’t know any better. They’d all come on back down with a empty wagon, and their work was done for that day.
At least the men had got out. But I quit feeling sorry for myself when I found out what happened to Henry. He missed a day ‘cause he had a bad tooth. The next day he was back. Looked like he had a cheek full of nuts, like a big old squirrel. And he sounded like his mouth was stuffed full of cloth. “Tha barber din know what he wath doin’. Wook.” He pulled his lip to the side, and I seen a swole-up mess. “It boke.” And I could see there was still a piece of tooth there where it weren’t supposed to be. “So now I got ta go back.” He winced.