Speak of the Tiger

by Martha Deeringer

  “Sounds like a teenager’s dream,” Justin’s mom said.

  * * * *

  Lee stayed home from school the next day. There was one day left on his suspension, but the principal insisted that his parents bring him to school on Friday before he would be allowed to go back to class. As he walked up the driveway after getting off the bus in the afternoon, Justin wondered what Lee had been doing all day. He found him in the guest room, lying on the bed with a book. The room was as neat as it had been when Lee came to stay with them, the bed smoothly made.

  “What you reading?” Justin asked, stepping inside the open door.

  Lee closed the book self-consciously and laid it face down on the bed beside him.

  “It’s just a book I checked out of the library to do research with. Your mom took me to my house today to get some clothes and my backpack.”

  “Did your parents leave you any messages?”

  “No. We don’t have an answering machine.”

  “Man, I bet they’re worried.”

  “I doubt it,” Lee said. For the first time since he arrived at Justin’s house, anger showed on his face. “They’re too busy making money to worry about me.”

  Justin tried to imagine what it would be like to be alone for a week without his parents. His heart ached for Lee, and for a moment he felt anger at them, too.

  “I’m sorry, man,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” Lee said. “Let’s don’t talk about them. ‘If you speak of the tiger, it will come.’ Another of my grandfather’s Korean proverbs. Besides, all I have to do is look at the pictures in this book, and I feel like the luckiest kid alive.” He handed the book to Justin.

  Justin sat down in the rocking chair across from the bed, remembering that his mom had rocked him in it when he was a little kid and got hurt or upset about something. Putting the book on his knees, he thumbed through the pages with his left hand. Pictures of Holocaust victims leapt out at him, some of them the ones Lee had copied for the group project on World War Two.

  “God...these are horrible,” he said.

  “You got that right,” Lee agreed. “I guess there are times when dying would be easier than living.”

  * * * *

  On Friday morning Justin’s mom took both boys to school.

  “It doesn’t make sense for you to miss this much school because your parents are out of town,” she had said that morning. “I’ll go to the office with you and talk to the principal.”

  Justin went to the gym while his mom walked to the school office with Lee. The kids on the bleachers were seething with Friday morning energy.

  “Hi, Justin,” Mrs. Farr said as he walked past her. “You’re looking lots better. Why don’t you sit down here on the bottom row? It looks like ‘worms in hot ashes’ up there in the bleachers today.” She had to lean close to Justin when she talked to be heard over the din.

  Justin grinned. He sat in an empty spot at the bottom of the bleachers and noticed a pair of feet moving down from above to sit beside him. Charlotte smiled at him as she settled herself on the bottom row next to him.

  “Hope Mrs. Farr didn’t see that,” she said, trying to look innocent. “We’re not supposed to move to a different seat.”

  “I think you pulled it off,” Justin said. “What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to find out about Lee. I went down to his house to talk to him after school yesterday, but there was a note on the front door that had your phone number on it.”

  “Yeah. He’s staying with us,” Justin said, filling her in about the call from Lee at the police station. The bell rang before he had time to add details.

  “Cripes,” Charlotte exclaimed as they headed for their lockers. “I wonder what will happen when his parents get home?”

  “Me, too,” Justin said.

  When he passed the office on his way to class, the principal’s door was closed. His mom and Lee were nowhere in sight. He figured they were in there behind the closed door.

  By the time he got to Mrs. Farr’s class that afternoon, he was pretty sure that Lee wasn’t going to classes today. There had been no sign of him in the hall or at lunch. As he suspected, Lee’s seat was empty when the tardy bell rang.

  “World War Two projects will be presented on Monday and Tuesday,” Mrs. Farr announced. “It’s time to sit down with your group and decide who is going to do what parts of the presentation. Each of you will have a three-minute limit. Get all your ducks in a row today so we can begin first thing Monday.”

  Chair desks slid noisily across the floor as everyone assembled into their assigned groups.

  “Does anyone know if Lee will be back Monday?” Corrie asked.

  Justin opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. He didn’t want to get involved in explaining what was going on with Lee.

  “If he’s not here, we’ll just do it without him,” he said, remembering the gruesome book Lee had been reading. There was no telling where Lee might be by Monday.

  On the way out to the bus, Justin’s mom flagged him down from the front steps.

  “I had to come to pick Lee up,” she said. “He’s not signed up to ride the bus.”

  Lee was already waiting in the backseat of the car.

  “Where were you today?” Justin asked.

  “I had to go to in-school suspension. The principal wouldn’t let me go back to class until the freaks that attacked me can go, too.”

  At home Lee seemed restless, his eyes repeatedly glancing at the phone as though he was willing it to ring. Or maybe he was willing it not to ring, Justin thought.

  “If you want, we could go down to the pasture and ride a little before supper,” Justin said.

  “That’d be cool.”

  To avoid dragging out saddles and spending time on grooming, they slipped bridles over the horse’s heads and rode bareback. Lee helped Justin with Camaro’s bridle, a two-handed job, and then moved the horse next to the fence so Justin could climb up and get on easily. Walking the horses slowly down the hill toward the stream, Justin had to admit that his chest was still pretty sore. It was strange not to have his right hand available, and the heavy cast threatened to pull him off balance. Camaro’s wide girth and flat withers made one-handed riding a little tricky. Lee rode with a loose, relaxed confidence that surprised Justin, as if he had spent many hours riding bareback.

  The late afternoon sun was warm on their faces and turned the streambed to a mirror. Justin stopped Camaro at the top of the bank and sat in silence, watching the flickering mosaic pattern of sunlight and shade under the trees. He was grateful to sit still for a while and let his sore ribs rest.

  “I saw you looking at my knife at the YO Ranch,” Lee said quietly, keeping his eyes on the stream.

  “You did?”

  “I figured you’d run straight to Coach Cox.”

  Justin didn’t answer, and the sound of Twister’s switching tail filled the silence.

  “You’ve got it all, you know that?” Lee said.

  Justin followed Lee’s gaze to the silvery ribbon of water tumbling over stones and the grassy field beyond.

  “I know,” he said.

  “I thought I was going to kill myself. Sometimes I get to thinking that I’m not important to anybody...and that if I did something like that, I would finally get noticed.”

  “It must be hard to live like you do—by yourself, I mean,” Justin said.

  “I get so mad sometimes...and I just want to hurt something...or some one.”

  “Wouldn’t that just make things worse?”

  “I don’t know. But at least things would be different.”

  Camaro kicked at his belly to dislodge flies.

  “Do you think your parents would let you stay with us while they’re traveling?”

  Lee got a wistful look. “No,” he said. “People are already on to them here. They’ll want to go somewhere else. There are too many questions to answer if I stay.”

  “Rats. It would be so co
ol if you could stay. We could ride every day.”

  “Yeah. That would be cool.” Lee looked wistful. “It wouldn’t work though.”

  Lee turned Twister back toward the barn, and Camaro automatically followed. Feeding time was near and the geldings walked quickly through the deep grass, anxious to get back. Justin felt weighted down by the knowledge that so many bad things were happening to Lee, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help. He sensed that a storm was brewing in Lee’s brain, and when all that trapped anger erupted, the results might be pretty frightening.

  * * * *

  As he walked in the back porch door, Justin heard his mom talking on the phone. The delicious smells of dinner cooking filled the kitchen, and Justin went in to take a look at the fare for the evening. It was almost six, time for his dad to be home. Meatballs in brown gravy bubbled on the stove, and a big pot of noodles boiled beside it.

  Lee disappeared down the hall toward his room as Justin’s mom hung up the phone and came into the kitchen.

  “Did you guys have fun?” she asked.

  “We just rode bareback down to the stream and back, but it was fun. I think Lee really likes Twister.”

  “You rode?” his mom said with astonishment, “With a broken arm and busted ribs?”

  “It was fine, Mom. We just walked the horses down there and back.”

  “Justin...I really don’t think you ought to be riding yet.”

  “Mom, it was cool. Don’t have a cow.” Justin busied himself moving the newspaper and the mail off the table so they could eat.

  “Where’s Lee?” his mom asked.

  “I guess he went to his room. Why, did his parents call?”

  “No, they haven’t. I think that’s strange, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Justin said, glancing down the hall in the direction of the guest room. It would be awkward if Lee came into the room while they were talking about him. A car horn honked somewhere out on the highway.

  “I don’t think he wants them to call,” Justin said quietly.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. We were talking about them, and he wanted to change the subject. He said, ‘If you speak of the tiger it will come.’ It’s one of his grandfather’s Korean proverbs. I guess he’s into proverbs.”

  The horn continued to honk, and Lee was nowhere to be seen. Justin went into the living room and looked out the large front window. A white sedan was sitting in the drive in front of his house. Two adults were in the car, and the woman on the passenger side had Lee’s dark, Asian eyes and black hair.

  “I think Lee’s parents are out there,” he called.

  Justin’s mom came into the living room and looked out.

  “I wonder why they don’t come in?” she mused.

  Justin headed for the guest room, but Lee wasn’t there. The bathroom door was closed and Justin knocked.

  “Lee,” he called through the door. “I think your parents are outside. They’re honking the horn.”

  There was no answer, but Justin thought he heard muffled sounds of movement.

  “Lee, are you in there?” he called, knocking harder this time. The sound of his voice echoed down the hallway that led to the bedrooms in back. He tried the doorknob. It was locked. Justin’s mom came down the hall.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, her eyes questioning as she took in the closed door.

  “Lee must be in here, but he doesn’t answer.”

  “Maybe he has his CD player on or something. Lee,” she called, banging loudly on the door. “Is something wrong?”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Open the door, Lee,” Justin’s mom said, using her commanding voice. “Your parents are here.”

  Not a sound issued from behind the bathroom door.

  Justin’s mom hurried to the front door, checking to be sure the guest room was empty on her way past. Justin followed. A trim woman with dark eyes and black hair stood on the porch. Dressed neatly in a jacket and skirt, she flashed an artificial smile when the door opened.

  “Hi,” Justin’s mom said. “Are you Lee’s mother?”

  “Yes,” the woman answered. “Is he here?”

  “Come in,” Justin’s mom said. “He’s in the bathroom with the door locked, and he doesn’t answer when we call him. I think something may be wrong.” She led the way to the bathroom door.

  “He’s in here,” she said. “Lee, your parents are here.”

  Lee’s mother moved to the door and rattled the doorknob.

  “Lee, honey...open the door.”

  An ominous silence came from the bathroom.

  “Lee, you open the door. Now!” she said angrily.

  A portly man in a T-shirt and jeans rushed down the hall and stood beside her.

  “Lee!” he roared.

  Justin backed away. He looked around for his mom, but she was no longer in the hall. Lee’s father moved to the bathroom door and pounded on it with his fist. His face was a mask of anger. Justin backed toward the kitchen. The image of the knife in Lee’s backpack filled him with fear. Justin’s father was coming through the garage door into the kitchen, and his mom was on the phone, giving someone their address.

  “What’s going on?” Justin’s dad asked. “The front door is standing open and...”

  “Lee’s in the bathroom with the door locked. He...he...m-might have a knife,” Justin stammered. “I...I’m scared he might hurt himself.”

  Justin’s dad strode out of the kitchen. Justin followed. Angry voices came from the hallway, but the bathroom door was still closed.

  “Who are you?” Justin’s dad asked the man banging on the door. The man looked wildly at Justin’s dad, taking in his uniform and the gun that was still strapped around his waist.

  “I just want my kid,” the man said. His eyes flicked from Justin to his dad nervously. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Now, let’s all just calm down and discuss this reasonably,” Justin’s dad said. “Has he said anything to you?”

  “No,” the man said. “Are you sure he’s in there?”

  “I...I think so,” Justin said. “I mean...I didn’t see him go in, but the door is locked.”

  Justin’s dad pushed his way past Lee’s parents and banged on the door, twisting the doorknob ineffectively.

  “Lee,” he said. “Open the door.” Several seconds of silence passed. “If you don’t open the door now, I’m going to break it open. Stand back out of the way.”

  Justin’s dad waited a few seconds and then threw his weight against the door. There was the sound of wood splintering, but the lock held. He stepped back to get more momentum and threw his shoulder against it again. Wood cracked and the door flew open and hit the wall with Justin’s dad crashing through behind it. Lee’s parents shoved forward together and blocked the door so Justin couldn’t see. He was aware of the sound of sirens in the distance. Pressing forward behind Lee’s parents, Justin could just get glimpses of Lee sitting on the floor in the far corner of the bathroom, his head bent forward onto his knees. Arms clasped above his head, he seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible, to disappear.

  Justin’s dad knelt beside Lee.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked in a concerned voice. “Are you hurt?”

  “What in the hell are you doing with that knife?” Lee’s father shouted, shoving his way around the toilet and grabbing the hunting knife from Lee’s limp hand.

  Justin could no longer see Lee behind the crush of bodies, and he couldn’t hear any response. Justin’s dad reached for the yellow towel hanging on the towel bar on the opposite wall. When he moved, Justin saw a red footprint appear where his dad had stepped. At the same moment, Lee’s mother started to sob loudly. Horror washed over Justin. He backed out of the bathroom and bumped into his mom in the hall. Two paramedics followed her, their arms loaded with equipment.

  “Excuse me,” one of them said as he pushed past Justin and went into the bathroom.

  Lee’s mother a
ppeared, hands covering her mouth and tears running down her face, leaving streaks of black eye makeup.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she cried over and over again.

  Justin’s mom put an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the front of the house.

  Muffled voices came from inside the bathroom, but Justin couldn’t make out most of the words. At one point he heard Lee’s father’s insistent voice, “We’ll take him to our own doctor. He just needs stitches.”

  Minutes ticked by in slow motion. Finally, one of the paramedics came out of the bathroom and hurried outside. He returned with another man wheeling a stretcher. Lowering the stretcher to knee height, the paramedics left it in the hall and went back into the bathroom. In a few moments, they came out carrying Lee between them. With his arms around Lee’s chest from behind, one man supported his upper body while another held his legs. Justin’s dad walked beside them holding the towel around Lee’s arm. Red stains spread across the yellow of the towel, a bright mosaic. Justin couldn’t see Lee’s face as they laid him gently on the stretcher.

  “I’m just going to fasten these straps now, so you won’t roll off if we hit a bump,” the paramedic said in a friendly voice as he reached across Lee’s chest for the strap on the opposite side. In moments they were rolling Lee past Justin toward the front door.

  “Hey, man. Are you all right?” Justin asked.

  Lee’s face was a mask. His eyes were closed, and not a trace of emotion showed on his face. Justin thought he looked unconscious or even dead. Rolling the stretcher carefully across the threshold, two of the men lifted it and carried it down the front steps. The third followed, carrying an armload of medical equipment. Lee’s parents hurried toward their car. In the yard a uniformed officer stood beside a police cruiser talking to Justin’s mother. His dad walked over to join them.

  The legs of the stretcher folded up as the paramedics shoved it into the open back doors of an ambulance. Revolving red and blue lights flickered over the house and yard in the early dusk. One of the paramedics got behind the wheel while the other two climbed in the back with Lee. Justin could see one of them bent over the stretcher while the other closed the back doors. Slowly the ambulance pulled away, turning left at the end of the lane. Only when they reached the highway did the driver turn on the siren and begin to pick up speed. Lee’s parents followed in their car. Justin watched until he lost sight of them behind the trees, and then walked slowly to where his parents stood with the police officer. Writing notes on a clipboard, the officer turned to Justin. He was young with a neatly pressed, tan uniform and short brown hair. His eyes were concerned.