The Secret Life of Sam

by Kim Ventrella

  “If you say so.” He shrugged, standing alone on the grass, looking small and cruel and like nothing at all. A sudden surge of anger rushed up Sam’s throat, and he lunged, shoving the Boy hard to the ground. And then he was punching him. Each punch hurt his hands, but he didn’t care if he broke every finger, and then he saw the Boy’s face staring up at him and stumbled back, collapsing on the ground and choking on his own ugly tears. It was Pa’s face, but it wasn’t, but it still was.

  They sat there for a while, both sprawled out on the grass looking bloody and crumpled, and the Boy didn’t say anything, which was good, because then Sam probably would have kept right on punching him.

  “How long?” he said, when everything warring inside him had settled down enough to talk. “How long before the doorway closes for good?”

  The Boy watched Sam, considering his answer. “Soon.”

  A cool gust pushed against Sam’s body, bringing a few rain droplets as a warning. Sam ignored it. “What if I wanted to stay there?”

  “Stay where?” the Boy said. Sam didn’t bother to answer; he could tell the Boy understood. “There is no there. Not in the way you mean. It’s a fantasy. Think of it like a waiting room between this world and the next.”

  “But I’ve been there. I’ve seen it.”

  “You’ve seen what I wanted you to see. Besides, it’s not a place for the living. Once the doorway between worlds closes for good, there’s no going back.”

  “Then why? What’s the point of it all? What’s the point of you?”

  The Boy smiled, but this time it wasn’t cruel so much as bittersweet. “I told you: you’ve been given a rare opportunity. The chance to say goodbye.”

  “What if I don’t? What if I never say goodbye?”

  A siren whirred to life in the distance, along with the low roll of thunder.

  “That’s your choice,” the Boy said, and then the sky opened up, burying them under a barrage of stinging raindrops.

  14

  THE RAIN HAD LET UP and the sky had turned a rusty orange by the time Sam made it back to Gina’s Diner. So much for it never raining in Holler, although maybe that was because the rain clouds had followed him here all the way from Louisiana. From down the street, he could see the lights of a police cruiser washing the wet cars and pavement in shades of blue and red. He didn’t want to go back and face Aunt Jo, but the sooner he got it over with, the better.

  Aunt Jo was talking to this police officer who smelled like greasy hamburgers and way too much cologne, and Sam stood there like a blue jay waiting for her to notice him. The officer was saying how in most cases the kid had just wandered off, and how they’d drive around and see what they could see, but how she shouldn’t worry. Her eyes drifted to the left and locked on Sam. Her face registered confusion and then relief, but she didn’t pull him into a hug the way Pa might have. She didn’t yell at him either.

  “This him?” the officer said, following Aunt Jo’s gaze. She nodded, and then the officer said some stuff into a walkie, and Aunt Jo thanked him for his time, and he drove away.

  Sam watched him go, dreading what came next.

  Aunt Jo drew in a long breath and let it out again. “You want to tell me where you were?”

  “Not really.” He regretted it the second he said it, because he was being a huge blue jay and because Pa would be disappointed and because, if he was being totally honest, Aunt Jo wasn’t all that bad. But he was also tired, and he couldn’t right now; he just couldn’t.

  Aunt Jo looked him over, and he could see a conversation playing out in her head, but all she said was, “Okay. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  He expected her to say something pointless and inspirational, like from her positive affirmations tape, but instead she said, “It’s a lot. With your pa gone. It’s a lot for me, and I know it’s a lot for you. You need your space, and I get that. I’ll try to be better about it.”

  Sam didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Then he noticed Edie leaning against the ice machine like she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to be.

  “Just promise me one thing.” The sun peeked through a gap in the clouds, and Aunt Jo shielded her eyes. “If you need to go somewhere, or you just need to take a walk, tell me first. I’m not a prison guard, and you’re old enough to watch out for yourself. But I’m responsible for you now, so I need to know where to find you. Deal?”

  She reached out her hand. They shook on it, which was more painful than it sounds, since Aunt Jo had a grip like a boa constrictor. Still, he was glad when it was done. After that, they sat back down and ate, and nobody asked him where he’d gone or why, and he was glad, and then they all went home.

  Edie stayed at their house again, since her mom wasn’t answering her phone, and they talked about their project some and then made tacos with Tabasco and extra jalapeños. Sam and Edie did the dishes, and then they ate ice cream sundaes for dessert and played go fish, which was kind of funny, because Aunt Jo had the fishing channel on in the background.

  When it was time for bed, Edie went to her room. Sam and Aunt Jo headed up the stairs, and then Aunt Jo stopped and said, “I miss him, too, you know.”

  And Sam didn’t say anything, but he looked right into Aunt Jo’s eyes and nodded, because the truth was that he did know. Pa was her brother and her friend and they’d known each other their whole lives. She had as much right to miss Pa as he did.

  “Good night,” Aunt Jo said after a while. She headed up the stairs, and Sam watched her go. He still felt like an alien on a strange planet, in a house that would never quite be home. He stood there in the cool shadows, breathing in the now familiar scents. Earlier today, he’d thought that Pa would be here with him. And now?

  He’d tried to rescue Pa and failed. He’d spent all day thinking of ways to make it work, ways to prove the Boy wrong, but once again his brain had let him down.

  He closed his eyes and pretended he was in the little white house on stilts, the swamp burbling away outside. He imagined the sounds and smells, wet wood, clinking wind chimes. It all seemed so distant, like a watercolor painting slowly fading away in the sun.

  The next morning, Aunt Jo woke them up bright and early to work in the garden. She fed them pancakes and bacon first, with soda instead of juice, and then sent Sam and Edie out back to pull weeds.

  Pa had never once woken up on a Sunday before ten, unless he was going fishing, but that was different. By the time noon rolled around, they’d weeded and planted and watered. Sam enjoyed the work, partly because Edie was there helping him, partly because it gave him a chance to think. The weight of losing Pa—again—had rested heavy on his shoulders all night, like a hot, sweaty blanket. He couldn’t see any way that Pa could stay, not if it meant that he’d be in constant pain.

  “Earth to Sam,” Edie said, coming up to stand beside him. “You’ve been staring at that rock for five minutes.”

  “It’s a pretty cool rock,” Sam said, looking over at Edie, who had a strand of purple hair clinging to her cheek. Actually, he hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

  “True. As far as rocks go, it’s basically the coolest.”

  “Exactly.”

  Edie laughed, which made Sam laugh too. It felt good to get out of his head for a minute, even if he knew he should be focused on Pa.

  Sam picked dried mud from the spade he’d been holding, and turned to Edie. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “When your dad left, did you ever think about going with him?” The question had been bugging him for a while now. As far as he could tell, Edie’s mom was never home, plus she was an addict. Wouldn’t it be better for her to stay with her dad?

  Edie’s mouth opened, but she didn’t answer. The blood drained from her cheeks, and he suddenly wished he could erase the past few seconds and go back to talking about rocks.

  “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, it’
s okay,” she said, her voice quiet. “He didn’t really give me a choice. He just left one day, and Mom only found out because our neighbor saw him packing up his car.”

  “Oh.”

  “We didn’t even know where he was at first, but then Mom hired some lady to track him down and she found him at this motel in California.” She started gathering up the garden supplies, not looking at Sam while she finished her story. “I thought about going out there, some time when my mom wasn’t around. I even saved enough money for a bus ticket.” She let out a long breath, and her face was so sad and beautiful, Sam wanted to take her hand, but didn’t. “I never used it. What’s the point? I already know he doesn’t want to see me.”

  With that, a breeze blew in, rustling the leaves on the tiny trees in Aunt Jo’s backyard. Sam could feel that the moment had passed, but somehow Edie’s story had given him the answer he needed.

  “Hey, wanna go inside for a while? I’m starving.” Edie smiled, but he could see the sadness lingering at the edges of her mouth.

  “Sure thing. Here, I’ll put that stuff away.”

  Edie went inside, and he put the tools she’d gathered up back in the shed. He was glad for the moment to himself, because he needed time to think. Edie couldn’t visit her dad, because he didn’t want to see her. With Pa it was different. Pa needed him. True, he couldn’t see a way to bring Pa back to this world, but what if there was a way that he could stay in the other world? The Boy had said it was impossible, that the other place wasn’t fit for the living, but what if? What if he’d been wrong? What if he’d just been saying that to trick Sam into letting go?

  Even if it wasn’t possible, he had to try. That would be his new plan. His heart beat faster at the possibility and the weight from the night before lifted off his chest. It wasn’t over. Pa wasn’t lost.

  He’d started to head back inside when he tripped over something in the shed that turned out to be an old bike. He touched the handlebars and squeezed the tires, surprised to find them full of air.

  “Haven’t ridden that thing in years,” Aunt Jo said, coming up behind him. She looked him over, like she had in the diner parking lot, and said, “Feel like giving her a spin?”

  Sam couldn’t believe his luck, but the hollow wouldn’t open for another three hours. “Maybe later. I think Edie’s ready for lunch.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  They ate leftover tacos with extra Tabasco, and then Aunt Jo put them to work again washing all the windows. By the time they were done, Sam could barely lift his arms, and he slumped down on the couch next to Edie.

  “I could sleep for a week,” she said, and Sam’s hand accidentally touched her arm, but he pulled it away fast, so maybe she didn’t notice.

  “Me too.”

  The ceiling fan clicked overhead—click, click, click—but Sam was too tired to turn it off. He let his muscles relax for a few seconds, knowing he’d have to hop on the bike soon and get back to Pa. Pa. Who knew how much longer the hollow would stay open. Would this be the day that he would stay with Pa for good? Weirdly, the thought hadn’t occurred to him until this moment. Staying with Pa would mean leaving Edie and Aunt Jo and everything else behind. It was what he wanted, to be back with Pa, but it was all happening so fast.

  “You want to work on our science fair project? We could finish up our design.” Edie reached for the notes they’d been working on earlier.

  Sam checked his watch. “Maybe another time.”

  “Oh, okay.” She put the notebook back on the coffee table. “We could watch TV. Do you guys get anything besides the fishing channel?”

  “Actually, I kind of have to go.”

  “Now?” She pushed up onto her elbows, and so did Sam.

  “Yeah, it’s just . . . I have this thing.”

  “Oh. Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. I mean, Aunt Jo said I could try out her old bike.”

  “I could go with you.”

  Sam stared at his knees. The longer he didn’t say anything, the more the air tightened around his throat.

  Edie’s cheeks turned red, and she started talking fast, gathering up her things. “No, it’s fine. I should go home anyway. I totally understand if you want to be alone. I have homework to do and laundry and stuff, so it’s probably for the best.”

  “It’s not you. It’s just . . .”

  “You have a thing. Got it. No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow, right? After school?”

  “Sure. I mean, definitely.”

  “Okay, so . . . bye, then.” And just like that, she hurried out the door and was gone. Aunt Jo walked out after her and, when she came back in, Sam asked if he could borrow her bike. She said yes, and she asked why he didn’t invite Edie, but he couldn’t come up with a good answer, and Aunt Jo didn’t push it, and then he left.

  Getting to the tree was a lot easier on his bike, except he kept getting sprayed by trucks barreling down the main road, and he was pretty sure someone would run him over, but they didn’t, but he did get honked at twice. The closer he got to the tree, the more the weight of his plan ballooned to monster size in his mind. This was really happening. He was going to stay with Pa.

  There had to be a way.

  First, he thought about tying himself to something, like one of the old posts on the dock, but then he remembered what the Boy had said. If the swamp wasn’t real, if it could change shapes whenever the Boy wanted, then tying himself to something in that world wouldn’t work. Then what? He could tie himself to Pa, but that would end in Pa getting sucked back to this world again, and he couldn’t risk that.

  Think. There had to be a way. When he reached the school parking lot, he hopped a curb and pedaled hard up the hill.

  The tree came into view, dead leaves rattling in the wind, and suddenly he knew the answer.

  The tree was in this world and the other one. It was the anchor, the doorway between the worlds. If he could tether himself to the tree, when he was on the other side, then the invisible force or the Boy or whatever it was wouldn’t be able to drag him back.

  Maybe.

  Okay, it was a long shot, but it was also his only hope. His palms prickled with possibility.

  He reached the hollow at 3:45 p.m. on the dot. It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed something different about the tree. No dragonflies. Just a few dead bug bodies littered here and there on the grass.

  His heart strained in his chest as he climbed off his bike and pressed a hand to the bark. It was dry, brittle. He squeezed his head into the hollow, fear now pulsing in his brain. Was this it? Had the hollow closed up without warning?

  He pushed in deeper, waiting for the horrible moment when his forehead would touch rough wood, but it never came. The hollow was still open. He forced his shoulders inside, wiggling to the point where he usually tipped forward and started falling. Today, he didn’t feel that strange force drawing him in. Instead, he had to climb.

  Down and down, using twigs and vines as handholds. As he went, the tunnel grew narrower, almost like he could feel it closing in around him. Like whatever magic had been holding the tunnel open was slowly draining away.

  By the time he felt the muggy air on his cheeks and saw a sliver of sunlight up ahead, the tunnel had grown so narrow he had to dig his fingernails into the soft wood to keep moving. Finally, he dropped out on the other side, plucking the splinters from his palms. He took a moment to catch his breath, searching the stooping tupelos for any signs of the Boy.

  A warm breeze whispered through the dense tree cover, bringing with it the familiar scent of swamp water and the soft tinkling of Pa’s beer-can chimes. Still scanning for any signs of One-Eye or the Boy, Sam made his way through the muddy underbrush toward the water. Pa was there, boots dangling off the edge of the dock. As soon as he saw Sam, he shot to his feet and waved. Before Sam could move, Pa hopped in the canoe and was gliding steadily toward him. Despite the canoe moving of its own accord, Pa couldn’t wait, so he used his hands like paddles. A mom
ent later, he was lifting Sam up and holding him tight and saying how he’d never let him go, not this time, not ever.

  Sam brought out his trusty roll of duct tape, which was half as big as last time, and he told Pa his plan to tape himself to the tree and wait for the hollow to close. They worked fast, making big loops around Sam’s belly and fastening him nice and snug to the ancient trunk. Pa paused after a while to examine their work so far, and that was when his forehead crinkled.

  “You say the hollow only opens once a day?” he said, eyes deep in thought.

  “That’s right. At 3:45 p.m. The time . . .”

  “Oh . . . right. The time of my accident.” Pa nodded, but Sam could tell something else was troubling him. “What about tomorrow? And the day after that? Will we have to wrap you up like this every day? And what will you do about school, and Aunt Jo?”

  Sam shook his head. “Pa, none of that matters now. Besides, the hollow won’t keep opening up forever. The Boy told me. Pretty soon, I won’t have to worry about getting zapped back. It’ll just be you and me, here on the swamp.” This seemed to worry Pa more than anything. His gaze drifted up through the treetops, and they both saw the sun hanging low on the horizon, painting the leaves in vibrant reds and oranges.

  “Pa! Keep going! It’s already sunset.” Pa snapped out of it, and together they wrapped Sam up tighter than a burrito in a chokehold.

  They’d just finished off the last of the tape when Sam heard a rush of water followed by plodding footsteps, and there, emerging from the giant leaves, was the Colonel. He stood silent, all fifteen angry feet of him, not two yards away, an arrow protruding from his skull. The Colonel watched Sam with his glowing yellow eyes, then hung his head, and to Sam’s extreme surprise, Pa bent down and gave his snout a pat.

  “What happened to him?” Sam said, because Pa had never explained how the Colonel had ended up here or how come he hadn’t seemed all that surprised to see the arrow.

  Pa plunked down on a nest of vines next to Sam, his eyes taking on the faraway, dreamlike quality they always got when he was getting ready to tell a story. A mammoth dragonfly perched on a nearby toadstool, tilting its massive wings to soak up the last rays of sun. Other insects joined in, mosquitoes trailing two-inch stingers and cicadas creeping down from the treetops, silencing their rattle just long enough to listen.