Scags at 7

by Deborah Emin

  Davy unbuckles his belt and lies down next to me. Undo me, he says and takes my hand and puts it on his pants. It’s hard trying to unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper with one hand. I do want to see what his thing looks like. Davy’s eyes are staring straight at the sky and I see a little brown spot on his neck where he missed when he took a bath.

  I’m scared Davy, I whisper, what if someone sees us? Who’s going to see us? Davy asks. No one ever sees us. We could be on a ship at sea. We could be Adam and Eve. Who are they? I ask and the zipper opens up. He says, Shut up, don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been to Sunday School so you could learn about religion? You need to learn about God, he says. Why? I ask. Pops says there is no God. Oh, he says like he never thought about that before, oh, he says, low in his throat, you’re going to burn in hell, there’s no two ways about it unless you go and learn about God and believe in Him. Well, I don’t, I say, and if Pops doesn’t believe and he goes to hell, then I’ll go with him.

  The zipper is open, I say. He laughs at me and says, Took you long enough. He jumps up and pulls his pants and underpants down around his ankles but he’s standing with his back to me. I can see his bottom, white, like two little hardboiled eggs sitting on the table. I hear him pee. I lie still on the ground just holding my head up as he pees into the excavation below. I listen to him laughing. When he turns around to show me his thing, his little budding twig all red and pink, I get up and stand next to him. So this is it? I say. Yeah, he says, want to touch it? I point at it and giggle as if this was the tickling game and with my finger I poke it. It wiggles. Davy says, Okay, now you know what a thing looks like. He pulls his pants up and buckles his belt.

  We run down the hill together, dirt flies, we yell The Thing, The Thing and giggle all the way to our bikes and ride to his house. Drop the bikes. Jump around yelling, The Thing until Davy’s mother comes out of the house with a man and says for Davy to come with them. They walk to the car in the driveway with Davy holding his mother’s hand. They leave quickly. I stare down the street watching them go away. I pick up my bike and ride to my house. I leave my bike on the front stoop and go into the back yard and lie down under the cottonwood tree where it is cool and fresh and now I wish I had a puppy to play with. A little baby dog all my own.

  15

  Witch’s Well

  D avy and I are standing in his backyard where I know Odessa can find me to call me in for supper. I tell Davy there is a place where he can go and see things he won’t believe. That the place is haunted, that the big kids are the only ones who go there and they only go in groups. They see spooks and the spooks are not human and they can fly.

  Nah, he says, what are you talking about? He kicks his toe into the ground where his mother just planted a rose bush and says for me to show him where this place is and he’ll go there and see for himself. That I can come too, if I want to. I don’t want to, I say. Why, you a chicken, you little chicken, you are chicken, he says. I know that he doesn’t know how spooky Witch’s Well is and I say, I bet you’re scared to go alone and that’s why you say I can come too.

  I say, A little girl was found in the lagoon one Halloween, a girl from my class, Lizzie Brown. She was in her costume and she was dead and no one knows what happened to her. Who says? he says. I say, Why don’t you believe me? Davy says, Because you’re scared to go and you’re just saying this. I tell him back, real fast, I know more about some things than you do. Lizzie was a friend of mine and she probably went to see the spooks on Halloween and they threw her underwater.

  Okay, he says, if I go do you want to come with me? I don’t want him calling me chicken again so I say, Yes, after dinner tonight. It’s spooky at night, I say, and he laughs at me and calls me a girl.

  Odessa’s holler finds me and I jump up and then rush home yelling over my shoulder, See you after dinner.

  I sit through dinner and let Mama and Pops talk. Money is acting reckless, Pops says about her colored boyfriend. They talk quietly about it so that Odessa doesn’t hear how worried they are about Aunt Money. Pops says, It’s no good to go squandering her youth, as Mama says, What does anyone do with their youth but throw it away as if there was an endless supply of looks and time. But you don’t understand Bev, she is flirting with disaster. Let’s change the subject, Mama says, and asks Pops if he has talked to Boomer yet about his new ideas.

  Pops shakes his head no. He says, It’s not possible yet. I’ve got to catch him at that right moment when he doesn’t think I’m just wanting to leave him because I want to distract him from all the things he thinks I’ve done wrong. It’s a big step, Bev. We could lose everything. Mama says, I know, and pats her throat and then touches my cheek. She says, Scags when you finish eating go out and play.

  I swallow my peas like little green pills. I cut up my meat in tiny pieces so I can chew them quickly. As soon as I finish eating, I say, Excuse me please, and Mama nods. I fold up my napkin, run down the stairs to the basement for the flashlight off Pops’ tool bench and then out the basement door I go, running around the house, down the block to meet Davy. I can’t be seen going this far from the house at night.

  Davy is on the next corner and sees me coming. I run towards him. He turns and runs toward Witch’s Well. I yell, Hey wait up. He finally stops at the foot of the hill leading into the woods, and asks, Is this where we go? I say no, this is just the hill, the lagoon is through the woods, down a path. He says, Let’s go, and I lead the way.

  We get to the top of the hill and I turn to look back at him. He is breathing hard and has a streak of dirt from his eye to his chin. I know it is going to get dark in a little while because I see the sun sitting in the trees. It’s hot and buggy and sticky. I smell our sweat. Davy kicks an empty cigarette pack and asks if we’re there yet. I say, I don’t think so. I point to the path between the trees up ahead and he runs by me. I grab onto his belt and let him pull me along. The trees make a tent dripping with dark spots, lighter spots, birds and flying insects that crash into my head. It is so quiet except for my Keds breaking the twigs and stomping on the leaves. I hear my breathing in my head like big gulps of air, like air was water and I was thirsty.

  We get to the top of the hill and the trees arch over us like a blanket about to fall and suffocate us. We don’t talk but sit catching our breaths. Davy kicks at the dirt with the toe of his shoe, while turning his head in all directions. Me too. I’m looking for the spooks. I keep scratching the backs of my legs and swatting away the mosquitoes that make a cloud around me. I hear frogs and see June bugs. The light is gone. I squeeze myself up to myself so that nothing is hanging out for anyone to grab onto. I tell Davy to stop making noise so we can hear when the spooks come. He laughs at me, but quietly, and says, No spooks are going to come.

  I want to leave. I don’t like the hollow sound of the owl. I say to Davy, Let’s go. He takes the flashlight from my hand and holds it under his chin and turns it on. He looks like a skeleton with a big grin. He looks black and white and red. His eyes are gone into his head and his nose looks big and looms over his mouth. He grabs me quickly by the shoulder and I scream. I didn’t expect that. He puts his finger to his lips and says, Shush.

  I hear something. He turns off the flashlight. It is really dark now. We look over the top of the hill where the noise came from and see a light down by the water. I put my hand over my mouth so I’ll keep quiet. Davy hands me the flashlight and crawls on his belly over the edge of our hill. I put the flashlight under my chin and follow him on my hands and knees. We crawl very quietly as if we were invisible in this darkness and the spooks didn’t want to have anything to do with us. The rocks and stones and dirt dig into my hands and my knees and I feel like peeing.

  We’re above the light. I hear a boy’s voice, then a girl’s voice, then another boy’s voice. I cannot see who they are. Davy turns to me, puts a finger to his lips, and lies down to watch. I put the flashlight on the ground between us. I kno
w the big kids are there to see the spooks too and they must be waiting like we are to see them rise out of water and go up and up like balloons in the trees. I hear a lot of breathing and then a girl’s voice as if she’s being strangled, say, slow down, not so fast.

  Davy sits up and looks further down and starts to laugh and tries to hold himself back and hold himself back and I feel his laugh. It gets bigger and bigger inside his stomach, his lungs. I look over the edge. I see three naked kids standing up and I know the spooks have taken their clothes and left them to die. Before I can ask him what’s so funny about that, he stands up and starts to run. He runs and runs, I chase after him, leaving the flashlight, tripping through the darkness. I fall over and get up, a light comes on behind us and voices call out, Who’s there, where are you, but we keep running all the way back to my house.

  We run and run until my front yard where Pops is standing on the lawn waiting for me. He laughs when he sees the two of us. Davy is laughing so hard and I’m trying to look like a good girl so he won’t know I lost his flashlight and that I went too far from home.

  Hey Pops, I say and he says, Scags, let’s go inside now. It’s getting late. Davy taps me on the shoulder and then runs off. Pops asks, Where have you been? Oh, nowhere, I say. What were you doing? He asks. Oh, nothing, I say, and run into the house ahead of him. Mama is on the phone with Aunt Money, I can tell, and I think, the spooks can’t get me now and I’ll never be called chicken again.

  16

  Mr. Arthur

  I t is Saturday morning and I leave the house. Mama has gone shopping with Mrs. Arthur. Pops is down in the basement working at his tool bench. Odessa shoved me outside because it is such a nice day. I am on my way to Davy’s when I pass by Julia’s house. Mr. Arthur is painting the shutters. He has a small white cap on his big head and a pair of torn shoes that are all cracked and without laces, dotted with paint. He whistles, he is always whistling, as if he knew every song ever written. I never know what song is coming from between his lips.

  So I say, Hey Mr. Arthur, What’s that tune? He stops whistling and looks at me over the tops of his glasses. I see little specs of paint in his raised eyebrows. He says, Some Enchanted Evening, like I should know, but I don’t. I like it, I say. He starts to sing in a very deep voice, Some enchanted evening, you will meet a stranger, you will meet a stranger across a crowded room.

  He laughs and says, Pretty isn’t it? I like Duke of Earl, I tell him and go in a low voice, Duke, duke, duke of Earl. He laughs at me and says, Kids don’t have any taste for the finer things. He asks, How are you doing Scags? Do you miss Julia?

  Of course I miss her, I say, but I’ve got plenty to keep me busy. Although a letter from her would be nice.

  Yes, Mr. Arthur says, she doesn’t like to write letters but she did mention you in her last one and said to say hi.

  Where are you going? he asks me. I say, To my friend Davy’s house. What are you going to do with him? he asks. We’re going bug collecting. Mr. Arthur asks me if I want to help him paint. I look at him on his ladder and I think how Julia says to me that I talk to him too much and listen to his stupid stories. She doesn’t like me to do that. She tells me I don’t have to live with him and his orders all the time, that stepfathers are no fun because they’re not your real father even though she has to call him Dad. Julia says, He’s only my Dad because he married my mother. Anyway, she’s not here to talk to.

  Mr. Arthur isn’t from Skokie or Chicago. He’s from Brooklyn, which is far away and in another state. I’ve never been there but Julia and Mr. and Mrs. Arthur go there in the spring for Passover and stay at Mr. Arthur’s sister’s house who lives in Queens. Wherever that is.

  I say to Mr. Arthur, Is Brooklyn big, as big as Chicago? Mr. Arthur whistles a long high pitch and says, Brooklyn is bigger than you know and part of New York and New York is bigger than you know. It has five boroughs and is a different world from Chicago. He stops painting. You’ll have to come with us one year. I’ll take you to the top of the Empire State Building.

  Keen-o, I say and start to walk away. Mr. Arthur asks me, Do you want to hear a story about my first job in Brooklyn? I’ve never been there, I say and Mr. Arthur says, Well use your imagination. See in your mind miles and miles of apartments. There’s a place called Coney Island where there is a huge roller coaster and right there the ocean.

  Mr. Arthur says, There was a man named Mr. Slitzky who lived in the apartment building my family lived in. Mr. Slitzky owned the newspaper stand on the corner. He needed a boy early in the morning and late in the afternoon to help him put out papers, make change, and keep the other boys in the neighborhood from stealing candy and fruit. I was a big boy at ten but I didn’t grow much after that.

  Mr. Arthur says, I didn’t want to work but I had no choice. I was the oldest and had three younger sisters. What my father wanted me to do I did. I started working in December and it was cold. I hopped from one foot to the other to keep my blood flowing. I had to leap over the counter and chase down little boys who stole the candy and it was so cold I thought if I had to hit them that my fist would shatter.

  Every morning at 5:30 we opened the stand, dragged in the newspapers, unbundled them, set them out, and Mr. Slitzky put the coins for change in the coin box. The people came, all the people on their way to work, in the rain or snow, when it was hot or cold, New Yorkers like their newspapers. The cups of cocoa my mother gave me, one for me and one for old Slitzky, was all he ever ate until lunchtime. He didn’t even take one of the candy bars. How did he do that? I loved those chocolates.

  Mr. Arthur chuckles to himself as he paints and talks but this isn’t really much of a story. Then he says, One morning Mr. Slitzky wasn’t at the kiosk waiting for me. I waited a long time listening to people complaining, they wanted their newspapers. I got so cold and angry standing out there that I went back to our building and climbed the five flights of stairs to Mr. Slitzky’s apartment and knocked on his door. I heard him yell and scream at me to open what he called the goddammed door. I turned the knob. It was unlocked and I went in. The room was dark and Mr. Slitzky was still screaming. I turned on a light because I was afraid he’d gone off his nut.

  He was in bed, flailing his arms around. I walked toward him slowly, making certain to stay out of his reach. Slitzky pointed to the floor. When I looked down there were a pair of legs. I had never seen wooden legs before with shoes and socks on them. He kept screaming at me that he had knocked them down, he couldn’t reach them, why didn’t I help him? I wanted to but I was frozen in place. He put on his glasses and recognized me and said, Mort, goddammit, hand me my legs. I did, I picked them up, they were heavy and once he had put them on we went to work like nothing had happened and he never mentioned those legs to me again.

  Well, that was a better part of the story. I tell Mr. Arthur that I liked his story and he asks me if I wouldn’t like to help him paint? Oh no thanks, I say and skip along to Davy’s. I think of those legs, those wooden legs with shoes and socks. Why did Mr. Slitzky put socks on, it wasn’t as if he was going to get cold feet. I shiver a little bit, like when Boomer runs his finger down my spine. I want to remember the story to tell Pops later who will definitely want to hear what old Mort d’Arthur, as Pops calls him, had to say today.

  17

  The Tree House

  D avy comes to my front door and rings the bell. I run to the door before Odessa can and I see him standing there, ready to play with me. Through the screen door Davy asks, Do you want to know a secret? Of course I do. He says, The Dietrich’s are out of town. So what? I say. Davy says, Well Howie and I have been building a tree house and you and I can finish it. Davy says, If you help, when Howie returns he will let you play there too since you helped to finish the damn thing. Davy has taken to swearing in front of me. It might make his Mama upset if she heard him say what he says, but I kind of like it and he says it so well.

  I say, Well I thought we c
ould play catch. He says, Nah, let’s go finish this thing and then we can have a secret place to go to.

  I go outside and follow him down the walk to where he left his wagon. There’s wood and a box of nails and a hammer in it. I get my bike out of the garage. Davy sits on the back, pulling his wagon behind us. I pedal to the Dietrich’s. Davy is quiet and heavy. Then he says, It’ll be fun to climb in the tree, I’ll let you pound in the nails if you can do them straight. I know how to pound a nail, my Pops taught me and I’m no girl, I say. Oh yeah? he says.

  We bounce up the curb and go up the driveway. It is so quiet. No one is around. The lawn needs to be cut. I push on the pedals hard to get us into their big backyard. The tree house is all the way in back. I push the bike and Davy drags the wagon up to the tree. It is shady and silent. The trees are black, heavy, dripping still with last night’s rain.

  Holy shit, Davy says. I say, Now what? He says, Close your eyes. What for? I ask, I know what a tree house looks like. I look at Davy and he’s spit up all over his t-shirt. I look where he is looking and I see a man’s feet dangling in the air wearing black socks and shiny shoes. I look further up, I see his pants with the crease, his jacket, shirt, tie, his hands in fists and then his head which is jutting on the side. He looks like he is trying to scream.