They Cage the Animals at Night

by Jennings Michael Burch

  “Who’s Jennings?”

  “The boy sitting across from you, stupid.”

  “Charles! Don’t speak to your son that way.”

  “Well, who the hell did he think Jennings was?”

  “Well, that’s still no way to talk to your son.”

  Mr. Frazier mumbled something into the back of his hand.

  “Donald, this is Jennings. He’s going to stay with us for a while,” she said.

  “He ain’t gonna stay in my room. I don’t want no damn kid sharing my room.”

  “He’s going to stay in one of the guest rooms. Now, say hello.”

  “’Lo,” he mumbled into his plate.

  “Hi,” I said.

  The room fell silent. Only the tinkling of silverware against the plates and some strange gurgling sounds coming from Donald could be heard. He was annoying his father, but Mr. Frazier didn’t say a word. He just looked over at him from time to time and shook his head.

  Martha poked her head in from the kitchen. “Would you like salad tonight, ma’am?” she asked.

  “Yes, Martha,” Mrs. Frazier said.

  Martha pulled her head back into the kitchen and the door closed.

  “Doesn’t Martha eat?” I asked.

  “The help don’t eat in here,” Donald snarled. “She eats the leftover scraps in the kitchen, like a dog.” He laughed.

  “Donald!” his mother snapped. “Be nice.”

  Mr. Frazier just looked over at him and shook his head one more time.

  “Well, she does eat in the kitchen,” Donald defended himself.

  I felt sorry for Martha. I wished I could eat in the kitchen with her.

  We finished dinner and everyone left the table. I stayed where I was. I wanted to help Martha with the dishes.

  “Whatcha doin’ in here all by yourself?” she said as she came in from the kitchen.

  “I was waiting to help you.”

  “Well, now, that’s right kind of you to wanna help poor ol’ Martha. But you needn’t bother yourself.”

  “It’s no bother. I like helping you.”

  I cleared the dishes with her. I stacked them up on one of the counters near the sink.

  “Martha, do you eat leftover scraps?”

  “Mercy no!” she laughed. “Where did you get such a notion?”

  “Oh, nowhere. I was just wondering.”

  “I’ll bet it was Master Donald who put such things in your head.” She laughed. “He’s a bad one, he is.”

  I didn’t answer her with words. I twisted my foot into the kitchen floor instead.

  “Now, you listen to Martha,” she said. “I’m the cooks around here. I always saves the best pieces for myself, and then I serves the rest of the family.” She broke up laughing. “That Master Donald…” She shook her head and chuckled. “Hey!” She suddenly remembered something. “If’n you is goin’ fishin’ in the mornin’, you had best get yourself to bed.”

  “I’ve never been fishing, Martha. Have you?”

  “Land sakes, no!” She chuckled. “You ain’t never gonna gets my bones outta bed at no four o’clock in the mornin’. Lessen o’ course my money pouch is burnin’.” She began to laugh harder.

  I reached over and pulled Martha’s hand from the counter. I kissed it and scurried from the kitchen. I could still hear her laughing as I went down the hall toward the bedroom.

  I lay at the very edge of the bed so I could look out the window. The sky was dark, but the moon was bright. It wasn’t quite full, but almost. I was glad it wasn’t. George always tried to scare Larry and me when the moon was full. He said werewolves came out and bit you. I didn’t believe him, but it was a good idea to be careful, you know, just in case.

  I could see the tall trees on the far side of the yard. They looked more gray than green in the light of the moon. I was thinking about Mom. I wondered how she was, and if I was the one who made her sick. I wished now she hadn’t gotten up when Midnight died. Poor little Midnight.

  Doggie would really like this room, I thought. I know he’d like Martha. I wish I knew some way of getting him. Maybe I could ask Sister Gerard. Or maybe I could ask Sal. Oh, gosh, Sal! I won’t be taking his bus anymore. I won’t get to see him or talk to him. Oh, gosh. First Midnight and then Mom, and now Doggie and Sal. I wonder why everyone I love always has to go away from me. I turned my face into the pillow.

  “Hey! Get up if you’re coming with me,” Donald yelled. I pulled my head from under the pillow.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said. “Hurry up.”

  I staggered to my feet in a daze. I was still asleep. I had a battle with my left eye. It kept closing on me. I needed some water to help me win. I flipped on the light of the little bathroom.

  “Egad!” It nearly blinded me.

  I found the water and woke myself up.

  “If this is what it’s like to go fishin’…why does anyone go?” I mumbled.

  I finished up in the bathroom and got dressed. I met Donald in the kitchen.

  “If you want anything, get it,” he snarled. “But hurry up!”

  “No, I’m all right.”

  He picked up an old dented pail with one hand, and the fishing poles with the other. He pushed open the pantry door with his foot.

  “Let’s go,” he said as the door slammed behind him.

  I glanced up at the kitchen clock before I slipped out the door. It read ten after four. Wow! I thought. I was never up at this hour before. I was starting to get really excited about my first time fishing.

  “Are you sure the fish will be awake by now?” I asked.

  “Fish don’t sleep, stupid!”

  “Never?”

  “Never. They take naps once in a while, but they never sleep.”

  “Gee, I didn’t know that. I wonder how they can stay awake so long?”

  “Did you ever try to sleep underwater?” he asked.

  We reached a rise in the road. The rest of the way was downhill. There at the bottom, breaking the darkness of night, were dozens of tiny lights shimmering off the water. To my left I saw a long string of green lights that seemed to stretch for miles.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “All those green lights.”

  “That’s the Whitestone Bridge.”

  “Oh, wow. I never saw a bridge.”

  “You never saw a bridge? Where you been?”

  “I don’t know. I just wasn’t anywhere around a bridge. That’s all.”

  When we got to the bottom of the hill. I could see a long wooden pier jutting straight out into the water. Our feet made a clomping sound against the old thick boards of the pier. We reached the end and Donald set the pail down.

  “This is it,” he said.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “What?”

  He looked out at what I was looking at and shrugged his shoulders. I stared out at the shimmering lights against the water and the wide open space that lay in front of me. It is beautiful, I thought.

  Donald handed me a pole. “I’m not going to bother teaching you how to cast,” he said. “Just drop the line straight down.”

  He helped me unreel my line. I was fishing for the first time. I was very excited.

  “I hope I catch something,” I said.

  “Well, don’t expect much the first time,” he said.

  He filled the old pail by lowering it down to the water with a rope.

  “What’s the water for?” I asked.

  “That’s to put the fish in. Just in case we catch any. This way they stay fresh.”

  I stood by the wooden rail with one foot on top of the other and waited. Donald did the same. As the morning sun began to rise, I could see more and more things. I saw a long row of boats, all tied together.

  “Look at all those boats,” I said.

  “Shhhh,” Donald said with his fingers to his lips. “That’s the marina,” he whispered.

  “Oh. That’s where yo
ur father keeps his boat,” I also whispered.

  “That’s right,” he again whispered.

  “Why are we whispering?” I asked.

  “We’ll scare the fish away if we don’t,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  Donald’s reel began to spin with a whine. “I got one!” he shouted.

  I was so excited. His pole bent as the fish took his line. My eyes were wide open. He reeled in the line and bent the pole. He did it again and again until he pulled up the fish and swung it over to the pail.

  “It’s a shark!” I shrieked. “You caught a shark!”

  I had seen sharks in the movies, so I knew what they looked like. But I always thought they were bigger. This one was about ten inches long.

  “It’s a sand shark,” he said. “I’ll throw him back.”

  “No, don’t do that!” I said. “I want him.”

  “But it’s only a sand shark. I catch them all the time.”

  “Oh, but I want him. Can I have him?”

  Donald chuckled slightly but didn’t say anything. He unhoooked the sand shark and slipped him into the pail. I sat back on my heels and watched the fish swim around in the pail.

  “You better watch your line,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah.” I jumped back to the rail. I was more determined now than ever. I wanted to catch something, too.

  Suddenly there was a tug at my line. “I got something!” I shouted.

  “Hook him!” he ordered. “Pull up and hook him!”

  I did. I pulled up hard and he was hooked. The reel spun in my hand. Donald shouted orders to me and I followed. I dipped the pole down and reeled as I pulled it up. I did it again and again. I’m sure I got his orders all backwards, but I got the fish. As I started to pull him up, Donald grabbed hold of the line and helped. He pulled the line hand over hand and landed the fish on the pier. It was really big. Much too big to fit in the pail.

  “It’s a striper,” he said.

  “A striper? Is that a good one?” I asked.

  “Yeah, well, it’s okay. It’s not as good as a shark, but it’s only your first time.”

  “Maybe next time I’ll get a shark,” I said.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Donald said as he started taking apart the fishing poles.

  “Are we leaving?” I asked.

  “Sure. We gotta go to school.”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot. I sure wish we had more time,” I said. “Maybe I could catch a shark now.”

  “I got an idea,” he said. “How much money do you have?”

  “Money?” I patted my pockets. “I don’t got no money.”

  “Oh, well.” He went into deep thought.

  “Well, what?” I asked. “What?”

  He sighed a great sigh. “Since you’re poor,” he said, “I’ll let you have the shark for nothing.”

  “Really!” I said. “Oh, wow! Thank you.” I looked into the pail at my shark.

  “It’s too bad you don’t have anything to give me,” he said. “You know…sort of like a trade.”

  “Well…” I thought for a moment. “How about my striper? You can have my striper. I know it’s not as good as a shark, but…”

  “Okay. Let’s trade fish,” he said. “You say you caught the shark and I’ll say I caught the striper.”

  “Is that all right to do?”

  “Sure. It’s done all the time. We went fishing together, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, then…I’ll just tell everyone you caught the better fish. That’s all.”

  Donald slung the striper over his shoulder and then lifted the poles.

  “Come on,” he said, “grab the pail.”

  I took up the pail with both hands and followed him off the pier. As I walked, I watched my shark swimming around. I couldn’t wait to show Martha, and tell some of the kids in my class. We walked back up the hill toward the house. The pail kept getting heavier and heavier.

  “Hey, wait for me!” I called out.

  He had gotten so far ahead of me, I thought I might not find the house if I lost him. I nearly caught up to him, when he started walking again.

  “Hey, wait for me.”

  “The house is right there,” he said as he pointed up the road.

  It was. I struggled with the pail, setting it down every so often. By the time I had gotten to the pantry door, Donald was long gone. I brought the pail and my shark into the kitchen.

  “Whatcha gots there?” Martha asked as she peered into the pail.

  “A shark! We caught a shark!”

  “A shark! Whats you want with a shark? Ya can’t eat ’em.”

  “Eat him! I don’t want to eat him. I want to keep him. You know, for a pet.”

  “A pet!” She chuckled. “Now I thinks I heard everything. A shark for a pet. Well, set him down in the pantry and gets yourself ready for school. Donald is gonna show where to get the bus.”

  I put the pail and my shark in the pantry and started down the hall for the bedroom. I heard Martha laughing.

  “Land sakes! What’ll he think of next?”

  Donald showed me where to catch my bus.

  I climbed aboard and showed the driver my school pass. I sat down across from him and thought about Sal. I was really going to miss him. The Fraziers lived in a different direction than I did, so there was no way for me to take Sal’s bus anymore. Sure, I could talk to Sister Gerard or to Martha, but talking to them just wouldn’t be the same. I couldn’t tell them how I was feeling or what I was thinking, not the way I could to Sal.

  I got off the bus and walked up the hill to school. I went into the yard. The school yard was filled with kids from all the different grades. Each grade had an area where they lined up when the bell rang. I went to the area of my class. I sat at the base of the tall black fence that boarded the yard and I watched the kids play. They were playing tag. Eddie Keegan was playing with them.

  Eddie was the boy who sat next to me in class. He was really the only one in school I ever talked to outside of Sister Gerard. I borrowed paper from him sometimes, or asked him the answer to a question I didn’t know. He would always lend me the paper or answer the question, but he never talked more than that. I guess he never really wanted to be friends with me.

  “Hey, Eddie!” I called as he ran past me.

  He stopped and backed up to me. He kept his eye on the kid who was “It”—he didn’t want to get tagged. “Yeah?” he said.

  “I went fishing this morning.”

  “Fishing! This morning?”

  “Yep.”

  “Where?”

  “In the water. Near the Whitestone Bridge,” I said proudly. He sort of looked at me funny. Like he didn’t believe me.

  “I did,” I said. “I really did.”

  “Oh, yeah. What did you catch?”

  “A shark!” I said. I knew he’d be impressed by that.

  “A shark!”

  “Uh-huh.” I smiled.

  “Hey, everybody!” he shouted to the others. “Listen to this. Burch caught a shark!”

  The kids stopped playing tag and gathered around me.

  “Burch went fishing this morning and caught a shark,” Eddie told them.

  I stood there proud and smiling, but not for long.

  They started to laugh at me. None of them believed me.

  “I did,” I insisted. “I have him in a pail.”

  “A pail!” one of them laughed. “You put a shark in a pail?”

  I was embarrassed. They laughed and laughed. They began to make fish faces at me and call me a liar. I left the yard and went into school. I knew Sister Gerard was in the classroom, so I stayed in the hallway just outside the door. I didn’t want her to see me crying.

  The kids teased me before the class got under way, but I did my best to close them out. I made believe I was in the dining room at St. Teresa’s.

  At lunchtime, when all the kids left for the lunchroom, I stayed behind as usual, but this time I had something to
eat. I took out a sandwich and an apple. Martha had made me a bologna sandwich with butter and lettuce. “Ech!” I took off the lettuce and scraped off the butter as best I could. I wasn’t used to eating butter or lettuce, so I didn’t like it very much.

  While I was drawing a picture of Doggie and Midnight, the kids started to return from lunch.

  “Shark! Shark!” one of them yelled.

  “Don’t touch Burch’s inkwell,” someone else said. “You might lose a finger.”

  Sister Gerard came into the classroom, and the teasing stopped. She gave out a reading assignment.

  “Michael,” Sister Gerard called.

  “Yes, Sister.” I folded up the paper as I got to my feet.

  She waved her finger for me to come up to her. I was sure she caught me drawing.

  “Yes, Sister?”

  “Your brother brought you some clothes,” she whispered. “They’re over at the convent. Remind me after your lesson this afternoon.”

  “Yes, Sister. Which brother?”

  “George.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you.” I started toward my seat.

  “And, Michael…”

  “Yes.” I turned back.

  “Don’t draw when you’re supposed to be reading.”

  After my extra lesson Sister Gerard gave me a shopping bag.

  “I think you should see if he brought you everything you need,” she said.

  I started to take everything out of the bag: there was a pair of pants and a shirt, two socks that didn’t match but they were okay. They didn’t have any holes in them. A pair of underpants, and Doggie.

  “Oh, Doggie!” I cried. I hugged him up to my cheek.

  Sister Gerard smiled and left the room.

  “Hi, Doggie. I’m so glad to see you. I was afraid I wouldn’t be seeing you again for a long time.” I hugged him again. “That was really nice of George to remember you.”

  I repacked the shopping bag, leaving Doggie’s head sticking out the top. I left the convent and went up to the church to visit St. Michael. I stopped just outside the front door.

  “Now, Doggie,” I said, “we’re going into church to see St. Michael. He’s my guardian angel. He might scare you a little at first, but he’s actually very nice.”

  I took Doggie into church to see St. Michael. I knelt by his altar.

  “Hi, St. Michael,” I said. I looked up at his peaceful face. “This is Doggie. I know I’m a little too big to have a stuffed dog, but he’s not just a stuffed dog. He’s my friend. Ever since the Home of the Angels, when I first got Doggie, I haven’t been able to think of him any other way but my friend. I promised Sister Clair I’d always love him and take care of him. I will. He’s one of those special animals, you know. The kind Sister Clair never wanted to find lying by the wayside.”