It Started with a Whisper

by A W Hartoin

  Mom poked my shoulder. “I see that smile, boy.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I know the picture’s rotten, but they don’t really need a picture, do they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How many llamas do you think are running around loose in this neck of the woods?”

  Damn. She was right, but there was a chance Beatrice was dead. Greenbow might’ve killed her. Nobody was seriously entertaining that possibility, except April and me. I couldn’t tell Mom about Greenbow, because that meant admitting I’d been off Ernest’s land and there was no way I was doing that.

  Aunt Calla divided us into teams and ordered us to put a flyer in every shop window. We’d meet at the Dairy Delight afterwards. The operation took an hour, since Evansville wasn’t very big. Frank and I were the last to arrive. The rest of The Pack licked soft-serve ice-cream cones and rubbed their missed drips into the wooden picnic tables outside the Dairy Delight.

  “Finally,” said Luke. “You took forever. We’ve been thinking. It’s time for another visit to Miss Pritchett’s.”

  “Oh.” I found a bit of shade and flopped down on the sticky concrete to try and eat in peace.

  “Yeah,” said Luke. “It’s been a while since we screwed with her and Caleb came up with a brilliant plan.”

  Caleb bowed his head. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  “No, Luke. It’s not right,” said April. “She’s hurt.”

  “Her accident was at least a week ago. Right, Puppy?” said Caleb.

  “What accident?” We looked up and saw Shasta standing at the edge of the overhang. She had on a silver bikini top with a multitude of matching bracelets and a pair of white shorts that made her tan look incredible. A new henna tattoo curved its way around her calf in flowers and complex swirls. I wrenched my eyeballs away and tried to concentrate on my ice cream, but my gaze kept wandering back to Shasta’s slender leg and up to her thigh.

  “Our neighbor had a car accident,” said Caleb.

  “You mean the teacher, Miss Pritchett?” she asked.

  “Yeah, about a week ago,” said Luke.

  “Really? I hadn’t heard that.” Shasta looked down at me. Her long dark hair hung loose around her shoulders like the Madonna’s veil. Her face impassive, but her eyes intense.

  “Puppy saw her and said she was pretty beat up,” said April. “Didn’t you, Pup?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What happened to the car?” Shasta said.

  I licked a drip off my hand. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, was it the front end or the rear?” asked Ella.

  “I didn’t look.”

  “If the car wasn’t beat up, how do you know she had a car accident?” said Shasta.

  “It could’ve been the truck.”

  “No, it couldn’t. I just saw it down at the liquor store. It was fine.” Shasta held her hand out to me, her bracelets clinking. “Maybe I just didn’t see the right side. Let’s take a look.”

  I took her hand without thinking, and then wished I hadn’t. Her hand was cool, despite the heat of the day, and mine was so sweaty it felt like I’d dipped it in olive oil.

  Shasta pulled me down the sidewalk until I was nearly jogging and had to suck in the thick air. Waves of heat curled up off the concrete and distorted the view of the street. My cone drooled down my hand, but I didn’t have time to lick it. We turned the corner onto Main Street, Shasta dropped my hand and pushed my shoulder.

  “So I guess you didn’t leave Greenbow alone?” she said.

  “No, but we didn’t get caught.”

  “Yet.” Her eyes were dark with an emotion I couldn’t read.

  “We’re not stupid.”

  “You went off Ernest’s land.”

  “He wanted me to go,” I said without thinking.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not nothing. Who wanted you to go?”

  “Nobody. Come on.”

  I walked away, hoping she’d follow. She did, for the three blocks to the liquor store. I turned into the alley next to the store, and then leaned on the brick wall.

  “Did you see Ernest?” Shasta chose a spot on the wall next to me. She looked straight ahead at the opposite wall of the card store. Tiny sparkling beads of sweat decorated the bridge of her perfect nose, diamonds on a wedding band.

  “No,” I said.

  “You can tell me. I won’t say anything,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Well, the truck looks fine to me.”

  “We didn’t see the other side,” I said. “Let’s take a look.”

  Shasta grabbed my arm, but I slithered out of her grasp and went around to the front of the store.

  Shasta followed. “We don’t have to…”

  I glanced back when she trailed off, just in time to see her eyes go wide as she stepped back.

  “What?” I asked.

  She grabbed my hand again and pulled me back.

  “Well, well, look who’s here,” said an oily voice behind me.

  Jason Greenbow exited the liquor store. He wore a telephone company jumpsuit and carried two cases of beer with a fifth of cheap whiskey balanced on top. His face split into a wide grin with yellow teeth surrounded by greasy black stubble. He packed a lot of sleazy into that smile, but he wasn’t smiling at me. He only saw Shasta. His eyes went up and down her form, lazy and bold. He had no right. No right at all.

  “Let’s go,” Shasta said, tugging on my arm.

  That’s when Jason Greenbow noticed me. “This your boyfriend?” He made boyfriend sound as plausible as rap star or underwear model.

  “Let’s go.” Shasta pulled my arm, but I didn’t budge. My face burned, hot as the asphalt I was standing on. I’d knock that smile right off Greenbow’s face.

  “You got something to say to me, boy?” Greenbow asked.

  “Puppy.” Shasta pulled again.

  “Puppy? That your name? Figures.”

  A vehicle drove up beside us. “Shasta, we have got to go now.”

  I broke my gaze with Greenbow and saw Marion Klaas in her truck, motioning for Shasta to hurry up.

  Shasta squeezed my arm. “Come on. We’ll give you a ride.”

  Greenbow laughed. The sound was deep and guttural. “I’ll give you a ride, little girl, and you won’t forget it.”

  “You better shut up,” I said.

  Marion honked the horn and Shasta pulled me off the sidewalk into the truck.

  Greenbow shouted after us, “Some other time. I guarantee it.”

  Marion did a U-turn. “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing,” said Shasta.

  “I have a feeling your nothing covers a multitude of sins,” said Marion.

  Shasta wrapped her arms around her torso. She shivered despite the heat of the unairconditioned truck. Marion’s eyes got glassy and she pulled Shasta tight to her side. Shasta covered her eyes and her bracelets slid down her arms, revealing rings of bruises around both of her slender wrists.

  “It’s all right,” said Marion. “We’ll figure something out.”

  I didn’t say anything. For once, I knew to stay quiet. I’d teach that Greenbow a lesson and he wouldn’t forget it. I’d never see Shasta curled up and shivering again.

  The evening was cool and clear. Mom had taken a rare break from working and spent the afternoon making graham cracker crusts and mounds of chocolate mousse. She scooped mousse into the first pie pan and smoothed it with a rubber spatula.

  “Puppy, why don’t you get started on the whipped cream,” she said.

  I poured a quart of heavy whipping cream into the mixer and ignored the sideways glances she kept giving me.

  “Don’t forget the vanilla.”

  “I won’t.” I turned the mixer on and threw a few tablespoons of sugar into the swirling cream.

  “Marion called,” said Mom.

  I poured a teaspoon of vanilla in and watched it b
lend.

  “She says you had a run-in with that Jason Greenbow character.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a run-in,” I said.

  “He upset Shasta.”

  “I know.”

  Mom sprinkled ancho chili powder over the mousse, her secret ingredient. “You stay close to Shasta, okay? He gets near her you stand between them.”

  “You want me to pick a fight with Jason Greenbow?”

  “I want you to protect Shasta. It’s not the same thing.”

  “You don’t want me to keep my head down, stay out of trouble?”

  “When have I ever said that?”

  “Never, I guess.” I went to turn off the mixer and Mom put her hand over mine. The mixer kept whirling.

  “What did he say to Shasta when you were getting in Marion’s truck?” asked Mom.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to pull my hand out from under hers.

  “Marion said he said something. She didn’t quite catch it. It freaked out Shasta. What was it?”

  I flushed and avoided Mom’s eyes.

  “Puppy, tell me what he said.”

  “He said, ‘I’ll give you a ride, little girl, and you won’t forget it.’”

  Mom let me turn off the mixer and dipped a spoon in the whipped cream. “Perfect.”

  “Are you going to tell Marion?”

  “No need. She won’t be the one to take care of Greenbow. Dessert’s ready. Go round everyone up.” She pushed me toward the door and turned back to the pies.

  As I walked out of the kitchen, Mom began singing softly behind me. “It’s early morning. The sun comes out.”

  Only Mom could turn a rock anthem into a love song to be sung over pie. I left her behind, singing away, and went through the house yelling about dessert. I found Caleb next to the door to Aunt Calla’s porch.

  “Shut up,” he whispered. “Can’t you hear that?”

  I listened. “What?”

  “She’s singing.”

  Then I heard it.

  “The bitch is hungry. She needs to tell.” sang Aunt Calla.

  “So,” I said. “They sing all the time.”

  “Not that song. Don’t you remember what happened to that old lady on Tyler Street?”

  Luke ran in. “Quick. Close all the windows.”

  “What the hell for?” I asked.

  Thunder rolled over the house, shaking the doors and startling me.

  “Where are Ella and April?” asked Caleb.

  “I’ll find them,” said Luke.

  “Puppy, make sure Cole and Frank are inside,” said Caleb. “I’ll start on the windows.”

  I found Cole and Frank sacked out on their bunk beds. I shook them awake. “Get up and help me close the windows.”

  “What for?” asked Cole. “It’s not going to rain.”

  A crack of lightning contradicted him, and we ran around closing windows as a tremendous downpour started. I sprinted to Mom’s porch and rolled down the heavy canvas shades she had made for such emergencies. Outside, the chickens ran to their coop, already soaked. Emily, the good llama, peeked out of her shed, patiently chewing her cud.

  Before I rolled down the last shade, I stopped to watch the storm. It boiled above Camp in great rolling coils of grey. Lightening zigzagged out of the clouds, multi-pronged and wicked. The wind drove the rain in through the screen, pebbling my skin with hard drops.

  “Close that,” yelled Ella. “Mom’s stuff is going to get soaked.”

  The cloud’s shapes were so familiar. Something about them wanted me to remember something I’d long forgotten.

  “Do you see something out there?” asked Ella.

  “I guess not,” I said, closing the last shade.

  Ella and I went back to the kitchen. Everyone was digging into pie, except Frank who was sitting in a corner looking terrified as usual. I don’t know what he was so worried about. The lightning was nowhere near us. He let Cole have his piece and Cole tried to shove it in his mouth whole. Just the kind of thing that would’ve tipped Mom off that he was the one spilling all the milk in the kitchen, but Mom wasn’t paying attention. She was spreading the last of the whipped cream, still singing.

  Chapter Thirty

  TWO PAIRS OF legs stuck out from under the twin’s car, one set on the left and the other on the right. Five ravens hopped around on the roof, pooping and squawking. I tried to wave them away. They just stopped and looked at me, like they would a tasty worm, and then continued with their racket.

  Muffled yells and curses emerged through the ravens’ din and I stifled a laugh. Luke and Caleb had been fighting nonstop for three days. The morning after my run-in with Jason Greenbow, Luke woke up with a quarter of his head shaved. Caleb, fed up with Luke’s stubbornness, had attempted to take care of the situation himself. In retaliation, Luke set Caleb’s shoes on fire, while they were still on his feet. It made no difference to Caleb. A pair of melted Nikes was nothing to him. He wanted Luke’s head shaved before he killed himself. Between the door hinge, the tricycle and the part he shaved, Luke’s head was two-thirds bare.

  I leaned under the raised hood, listening to my cousins trade barbs. Each exchange grew in viciousness and sophistication. Their work ethics reached new heights when fighting and repairs zipped along. The rusty door hinges and locks were clean and squeak-free and I never lifted a wire brush once. Now they were onto an oil leak of mysterious origin.

  A wrench clanked against something hollow. A fresh peal of curses rang out, and then a howl of rage. Luke slid from under the car, his face coated with fresh oil. He ran around the car, grabbed Caleb’s feet, and dragged him out.

  “You did that on purpose!” screamed Luke.

  “You’re the one who loosened the drain plug!” Caleb screamed back.

  “I was under the radiator!”

  “You were under the oil pan, idiot. How the fuck do you get a face full of oil under the radiator?” Caleb shoved Luke’s shoulder as he said it.

  Frank came out the front door and gasped. He acted like my cousins’ brawls were nothing short of terrifying. Of course, Frank’s family didn’t fight. They barely spoke. Frank and I watched as Luke and Caleb got each other into headlocks and stumbled around the driveway, tripping on tools, and bumping into the car. They both got coated in the oil from Luke’s head and kept losing their grips. Caleb managed to get behind Luke and hold him around the chest, pinning one arm down. Luke tried to punch Caleb in the head and they went spinning off the driveway into the weeds.

  We followed, watching as they flopped into the creek bed. It was a small tributary to the larger Indian Creek and only a foot deep. They rolled in the muck, yelping as sharp rocks bit them, but still punching and yelling.

  “Motherfucker!”

  “Kill you!”

  “I’ll rip your hair off!”

  “Assmunch!”

  Dad came up next to me, holding a beer and shaking his head.

  “So…what’s this one about?” he asked.

  “I think they’re trying to kill each other,” said Frank.

  Cole joined us. “Awesome.”

  “They’re trying to kill each other,” said Frank as if we hadn’t heard him the first time.

  Dad clapped Frank on the back, making him stumble forward. “I don’t think they’re really trying to kill each other. If either one decided to kill somebody, they’d definitely be dead.”

  Frank didn’t look much comforted by that thought. He backed up a few steps from the melee in the creek bed. Luke rolled away and tried to get to higher ground when Caleb got a fistful of his hair and yanked him back down into the water with a splash.

  Cole let out a whoop, Frank gasped, and Dad took a swig of beer. At this rate, we’d never get back over to Greenbow’s house. I’d tried to lure Luke and Caleb into upping the ante with Miss Pritchett and Greenbow by association, but they were only interested in harassing each other. I didn’t want to go it alone. I needed something really good, but I wasn’t much of an idea g
uy. The oil cap was the best I had. I needed my cousins’ expertise.

  I crossed my arms. The fight was going on longer than usual. Maybe they’d work it out of their systems and we could get on to something more important like Jason Greenbow.

  After ten minutes, Luke and Caleb lay in the shallow creek, soaking wet and oily. Their faces glowed bright red and their chests heaved with unspent rage. I was about to say something when Luke picked up a tree branch from beside the creek and cracked Caleb on the side of the head with it. Caleb’s face distorted and turned purple. He picked up a rock.

  “Okay. Now they’re trying to kill each other.” Dad handed Cole his beer and jumped into the creek.

  Cole grinned at me and chugged Dad’s beer.

  Then a spray of creek water hit us as Dad kicked the rock out of Caleb’s hand and smacked Luke upside the head.

  “All right, idiots. That’s enough.” Dad towered over the two of them, but they ignored him and stared at each other, still enraged. “Go on and clean up your oil. It’s spewing all over the driveway.” He kicked some water at them and mumbled something about morons.

  Dad had only paused the fight. It wasn’t over. The twins rested for a couple of hours by working on their car and giving each other malevolent glances. I tried to turn their anger to my advantage, but they were too pissed-off to listen. I settled for sneaking their idea notebook out of their room and found an isolated spot under the big elm to look them over. I should’ve known I’d get no privacy. The ravens followed me and hopped around like my pockets were filled with feed.

  After a few minutes of squawking, Ella appeared, peeking over my shoulder and smiling. “Does Luke know you have his notebook?”

  “It’s Caleb’s notebook, too, you know,” I said.

  Ella walked around the tree, swinging her arms and smacking her hands together. “Okay. Does either of them know you have their notebook?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “So that’s a no.” Her smile grew bigger.

  “What do you want, Ella Smella?”

  Ella’s mouth dropped into a frown, and she kicked me in the shin. I clutched my leg and cursed at her. Mom would’ve been proud. I used some pretty colorful language there.