by A W Hartoin
I cupped the mound of chocolate with the palms of my hands. Bits of chocolate melted when they touched my skin. After I dumped it in the measuring cup, I leaned against the counter, licking my palms.
Ella and April went on cooking like I wasn’t there. No words passed between them. They didn’t need to speak when accomplishing a task. They’d even correct each other’s mistakes without acknowledging one had been made.
My sisters’ silent communications brought my thoughts back around to Luke and Caleb. Maybe that was why Luke could counteract all of Caleb’s attempts on his hair. He knew beforehand. If it was true, my attempt was also doomed. Caleb knew my plan and would communicate it to Luke, unknowingly. No telling what Luke would do to me for trying it.
It just wasn’t worth it. He probably wouldn’t have any more accidents anyway.
Caleb waved to me from the porch. I licked the last morsel off my thumb and went out to him.
“I thought you’d never get done. Come on. We need to get a plan together.” Caleb opened the door and ushered me outside. “So when are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t need to. Maybe he won’t have any more accidents.”
“Are you nuts? Of course he’ll have more accidents. He’s Luke,” said Caleb with a shove to my shoulder.
“I know, but don’t you think—”
At that moment a tremendous bang came from the driveway, followed by a whooshing noise. We looked at each other and then ran towards the noise. Before we got two yards, Luke ran screaming past us with the top of his head on fire. We chased him around the house. As Luke rounded a corner, Frank tackled him and thrust his head into the trough. A hiss of steam rose from the water and the two geese that were floating in the trough honked and flapped their wings. Frank pulled Luke’s shoulders back and an arc of water sprayed from the top of his head. The two of them collapsed in front of the trough while the geese hissed and charged them.
I kicked at the geese. “Get out of here!”
They flew a few feet away, but continued to crane their heads at Luke and Frank, their bills wide open, tongues flapping with loud hisses.
“So what were you saying about Luke and accidents?” Caleb rubbed his hand over the remnants of his own hair. His eyes examined his twin’s long, singed mane.
“Never mind,” I said.
Luke struggled to his feet and Caleb reached to give him a hand. Luke shoved his hand away. “I’m fine.”
“Fine? You’re not fine. You’re an idiot. You just set your own head on fire,” said Caleb.
“Screw you. It’s my head.”
Aunt Calla came off her porch. “What was that noise? So help me God, if you blew anything up.”
“Luke set his head on fire.” Caleb crossed his arms, smiling at Luke.
Luke flipped Caleb off as Aunt Calla raced over to him. She jerked his ear, bringing his head down so she could examine his scalp. “It’s a miracle. Nothing’s burnt except his hair, what’s left of it.”
Aunt Calla let go, and Luke walked into the house past Mom, who wrinkled her nose. “Oh, what a stink. What’d you do?”
I helped Frank up and slapped him on the back. “Awesome, man.”
Cole walked up. He stood shuffling his feet and looking guilty. Mom and Aunt Calla crossed their arms.
“Well, are you going to tell us what happened?” asked Caleb.
“It’s not my fault. It wasn’t my idea,” said Cole.
“We know that, dumbass,” I said. “What happened?”
Cole told us how the car wouldn’t start and Luke had the bright idea to squirt ether through the carburetor to give it a jump. Cole was behind the wheel and when he pressed the gas, there was a bang, a whoosh. The next thing he knew, Luke was running away with his head on fire.
Caleb shook his head and whispered to me, “It better be tonight.”
I nodded in agreement.
The sooner the better.
Chapter Thirty-three
LUKE SAT AT the end of the table, eating a sandwich and refusing to talk to anybody. Johnny Cash’s greatest hits played in the background, but the corners of Luke’s mouth remained down, even as “A Boy Named Sue” started. The stench from his hair snuck up my nose, making me grimace. Once up there, it was the kind of smell you couldn’t get rid of. I don’t know how he could stand it.
Caleb brushed the crumbs from his lap. “Last chance,” he said to Luke. “You want me to cut it?”
Luke stared straight ahead and Caleb shrugged. He glanced at me, inclining his head slightly. I nodded in reply, and Caleb left to get on the computer to chat with Jewel. The rest of us ate, not daring to say a word to Luke. The incident with the car was the stuff of legend, but laughing about it was out of the question. It was funny, hilarious, but amusement was far from my thoughts. Luke proved he needed his head shaved and I had to do it. My plan was simple enough, except I needed to get Luke to take the Ambien and I didn’t have a clue how to do it. Luke wouldn’t willingly swallow it. I considered stuffing the pill in his sandwich, but Luke might bite it.
I propped my elbow on the table and rested my cheek on my palm, trying to think of a solution, but my eyelids grew heavy and my mind blank. Then something touched my lower back, proceeded to my shoulder blades and back down again. Up and down. Up and down. Soft, faint, but so soothing, like the hand of my mom when I was sick. I fell into enjoyment and couldn’t think. Then a breeze, like a breath, blew in my ear. The crumbs from my sandwich danced across the table. It grew stronger and the hairs on my arms stiffened and rose. The wind. It’d been so long since it’d made an appearance, I’d begun to think of it as a dream or wishful thinking like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy, but there it was, clearing the table of my debris.
The crumbs danced right off the edge of the table and into Ella and April’s laps. They had their heads together, speaking in low tones about their ice cream and whether or not to test it. Cole and Frank were watching my sisters, Frank openly and Cole through sly glances. Carrie tried to talk to Cole, but he grunted at her and kept looking at Ella. None of them noticed the wind.
Johnny started singing “Ring of Fire” and Mom glanced at me with an eyebrow raised. It took a second but I realized I was singing under my breath, something I never did, but I couldn’t stop. My lips wanted to sing.
“I fell into a burnin’ ring of fire. I went down, down, down and the flames went higher.”
A small sound shifted my attention from Mom, the sound of marble grating on marble. On the counter behind Luke was a collection of mortar and pestles in various colors and sizes for grinding up spices. Aunt Calla sometimes used the big ones to grind plants to make her homemade dyes. I’d used a small green one to grind vanilla beans for April and that was the one making the noise. The pestle moved slowly around the edge of the mortar, making the faint stone-grinding-on-stone sound. I sat transfixed. It was clearly moving. Did no one else see? It was no more than two feet from Luke’s elbow, yet he didn’t turn to look.
Then wind and caressing suddenly stopped. At the same moment, thunder cracked over the house and a heavy rain broke out, pounding the tin roof. Wind slammed doors and tore at curtains. In an instant, everyone was running around the house, closing doors and windows.
I watched the melee, but didn’t join it. I kept singing and stared at the green mortar and pestle. An icy wind blew in from the window above the sink. I gasped at the cold and thrust my hands in my warm pockets. The pill bottle slid neatly into my palm, and a realization curved my face into a gleeful grin. Of course. Grind the pill up with something else. Why didn’t I think of it before?
I closed the window over the sink and glanced around at the empty kitchen. I grabbed the mortar and pestle, opened the bottle, and dropped one tiny white pill in it. I checked. Nobody saw me. They were either outside or on the other side of the house. I crushed the pill into a fine white powder, added a chunk of strong dark chocolate, and blended the two until they were smooth.
I pulle
d out a pot, sugar, cocoa, vanilla, and milk. In five minutes, I had a pot of hot cocoa bubbling on the stove. I got mugs, choosing a large, obvious one for Luke. I poured the powder into Luke’s mug, cleaned out the mortar, and pushed the mug to the back of the counter amidst apples and various canned goods that never got put away.
“Why aren’t you helping?”
I spun around. Ella stood in the doorway to the dining room with her arms crossed.
“Why? What’s left?”
“Nothing.” A deep furrow appeared between her brows.
“Then why do you care?”
The rest of The Pack came into the kitchen behind Ella. Aunt Calla, Mom, April, and Frank were soaked and shaking, but the rest were dry, although ruffled. Mom sniffed the pot of cocoa and patted my shoulder. “Good idea, Puppy. Pour some for me while I change.”
I poured equal amounts into the mugs. I stirred Luke’s mug and the rest to cover my action. Then they all came for their share. My stomach tightened when Luke reached for the wrong one, but I covered by saying I’d already drank out of it and handed over the one with the Ambien. Luke took it without question and went into the living room. I took a deep breath when Luke turned away from me. My stomach was so tight and painful, I thought I might throw up.
I took my mug and followed Luke into the living room. The Pack was sprawled over every available surface. Mom rummaged around the liquor cabinet and came up with an ancient bottle of peppermint schnapps. She poured a large draught in her mug and Aunt Calla’s. They curled up together under an afghan and didn’t look especially alert. Good for me. I had a lot of respect for their intuition. Some would’ve called it fear. Both were accurate. Mom and Aunt Calla knew things. It would be better for me if they didn’t know this, and I realized it was better for Luke. He sat in front of the TV, growling and sipping his hot cocoa. Ella and Caleb argued over which movie to play. April ignored the two of them and put in an old spaghetti western, one of Luke’s favorites, and then sat by him. “Do you want me to cut the burnt part off?” she asked in a low tone.
“No,” Luke replied without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the screen.
An hour and half later, the movie ended and Luke was asleep. Caleb and I convinced April to leave him alone and let him sleep on the sofa. I went to my room with Frank and Cole, put on sweats, and slipped under the covers. Rain continued to jackhammer the tin roof and drown out Frank and Cole’s chatter. I pretended to sleep until they quieted down. I couldn’t talk or think about anything but cutting Luke’s hair.
When Frank started to snore, I slipped out of bed, and tiptoed to the door. As I opened it, Cole whispered, “Good luck.” He gave me a toothy grin and thumbs-up.
I found Luke alone, lying on the sofa with a quilt pulled up to his chin. I got scissors and a dish towel from the kitchen. I bit my lip as I lifted Luke’s head and pushed the towel beneath. Luke didn’t move or react at all. I cut the rest of his hair off until it was more or less an even half inch long. Then I wadded up the towel and took it to the kitchen. Even the towel couldn’t conceal the rank smell. I crept out onto the porch, opened the screen door, and shook the towel out. The wind and rain whipped the hair away into the darkness. I started to pull the door closed, but in a flash of lightning I saw something move in the woods. I stopped, frozen as the raindrops beat a rhythm against my face. Another flash revealed someone walking through the trees at the edge of the lawn. I squinted and shielded my eyes, pushing the door open farther and stepping over the threshold. Something hit me and knocked me into the door frame. I stumbled backwards onto the porch, and the screen door snapped shut. A green gooey slime ball slid down my chest and landed with a splat between my feet. I peered out into the storm and could just make out Beatrice standing ten feet to the left of the door. Beyond her, the figure disappeared into the woods.
The next morning, Mom’s terrified voice bounced off the walls of my bedroom. Startled, I fell out of my bunk, feet tangled in the old quilt. I kicked off the quilt, ignored Frank’s questions, and ran out into the hall. Caleb shoved past me and sprinted into the living room. I followed him, lurching slightly from my interrupted sleep. I bumped into the door frame and stumbled into the living room behind Caleb. Mom rushed around throwing cushions and shuffling through papers.
“Where is it?” She stomped her foot and looked at Caleb. “Where’s the damn phone?”
“I don’t know,” said Caleb, scratching his armpit. “What’s wrong?”
Aunt Calla’s head appeared over the edge of the couch. “I can’t wake up your brother. Did he take something?”
“Oh, God! Where’s the phone?” Mom ran into the kitchen.
Caleb and I ran to the couch, followed by Ella, April, Frank and Cole. Luke lay on his back. His eyes were at half-mast and he slurred his words. A glob of drool slid down the side of his face.
“Caleb? Did he take something?” Aunt Calla asked again.
Caleb gripped the back of the couch and stared down at his twin.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Frank.
“What happened to his hair?” asked Ella.
Aunt Calla looked down and noticed, apparently for the first time, that Luke’s head was shorn. She stood up, her face flushed, and she went around the sofa grasping at it as she went. Her long hair was tangled with flowers and flowed back over her shoulders away from her fierce face.
“What did you do?” she asked, her voice low and malevolent. She grabbed Caleb’s shoulders and shook him. It didn’t matter that Caleb was inches taller than her. He cringed and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What did you do?”
“I…I…”
Mom emerged from the kitchen with the phone in her hand. “Caleb, you have to tell us. The paramedics need to know.”
“Well…I…just…”
“I did it,” I said, hoping my voice sounded less shaky to them than it did to me.
Aunt Calla held onto Caleb’s shoulders, but looked at me. “You?”
“I did it.” I forced the words out. “I gave him Ambien, so I could cut off his hair.”
Mom paused for a second and then dialed the phone. She asked for Dr. Jobs and then told him about Luke.
“When did you give it to him?” she asked.
“Last night during the movie.”
Aunt Calla let go of Caleb’s shoulders and went back to Luke, who had closed his eyes and was making little snoring sounds. “You put it in the cocoa.”
When she said it like that, it sounded a lot worse, similar to stealing candy from a sick kid or a bone from a three-legged dog.
“How many?” asked Mom.
“Just one. I didn’t think it would hurt him. You take them all the time.” I glanced around. April was crying. Ella put her arm around her shoulders and whispered comfort into her ear. Frank wrung his hands together, and Cole looked guilty as hell. Caleb just stood there. No guilt. No nothing.
“Okay,” Mom said into the phone. “I’ll let you know.”
“What did he say?” Aunt Calla rested her head on Luke’s chest with her eyes closed.
“He thinks he’ll be fine. If Puppy’s telling us the truth.”
“I am. It was only one. I swear,” I said.
“Dr. Jobs said since it’s only been about seven hours since he took it, he needs to sleep for another couple of hours. It probably hit him hard because he’s never taken it before and he’s fairly light for his size.” She knelt beside Aunt Calla and rubbed her back, up and down, up and down. Then she looked at me, her eyes narrow and glittering. “What were you thinking?”
I couldn’t remember what I was thinking. I never thought about getting caught. “I had to cut his hair.”
“Are you kidding me? You drugged your cousin so you could cut his hair?” She looked astonished. At least I thought she looked astonished. I’d never seen her face with that particular expression before.
“He set his head on fire,” I said. “He almost drowned.”
“I can’t believe this,” she sai
d, resting her forehead on Luke’s leg.
“Don’t blame Puppy,” said Aunt Calla. “I doubt it was his idea.”
“It was. I did it.” In a way, I felt a little insulted. As if I couldn’t think of drugging Luke on my own.
“Who told you to do it?” Mom’s voice rose. Only Luke’s presence kept her from screaming.
“Nobody told me. I thought of it. I’m not some idiot, you know.”
I couldn’t believe I said that. I was an idiot just for saying that. Certified. I was official.
Mom stood up, the muscles on her thin arm standing taut. “Who helped you?”
“Nobody,” I said.
“Puppy, I swear to God. Who helped you?”
“Nobody.”
“Get out. Go to your room. You’re not going to Shasta’s party.”
“Mom. He’s fine. Dr. Jobs said.”
“That’s what you care about, Shasta’s party, not your cousin. You’re not going. You stay in your room, and I don’t know what else. Your father has to decide because I might strangle you. Get out. Now.”
I left, avoiding everyone’s eyes. God, I hated her. Luke was fine. It was not that big of a deal. I probably saved Luke’s life. Why couldn’t I go? Shasta had nothing to do with it, and the summer was almost over. How many more opportunities would I have to see her before we went back to town? Mom could make me stay home, but I wasn’t staying in my room. Maybe I couldn’t go to the party, but I was going somewhere. Greenbow’s. It was all his fault anyway. If he wasn’t such a dick to Shasta, I wouldn’t have had to make the deal with Caleb in the first place. That asshole, I’d teach him.
Chapter Thirty-four
“PUPPY. OPEN UP.”
I unlocked my door and found Frank hunched over and looking furtively around the hall. He thrust a baggie with two chocolate cookies at me.
“Take them. You need them more than I do. I’ve never seen your mom so mad.”
“You keep them,” I said. “I can handle her.”
