“Were any of them nice?”
I understood. The homes in Texas weren’t any better than here.
We talked for a while about the rules of this home and about some other stuff. He told me the dormitory lady was called Frog Face, but her real name was Mrs. Abbott. He told me he was a “juvenile delinquent” and that his parents didn’t want him anymore.
“What’s a juvenile delinquent?”
“That’s a bad kid,” he said. “Someone who’s been in jail.”
“Have you been in jail?”
He nodded his head yes.
“Oh, wow!” I said. “How was it?”
“Are you kiddin’? You take the worst place you ever been to—”
“The Carpenters’ or maybe St. Ter—”
“It don’t matter where,” he interrupted me. “You take that place, and it would be like heaven compared to jail.”
“Oh, wow!” I gasped. “And now your parents don’t want you no more?”
He laughed. “They didn’t want me before I went to jail.”
“What was you in jail for?”
“Trespassin’. I was sleeping in this guy’s barn and he didn’t like it.”
“That’s all?”
“It was his barn,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders.
Ronny reminded me a lot of Stevie. I saw he wasn’t as tough as he made himself out to be. I saw he was just as alone as everyone else was.
“Whatcha in for?” he asked.
“My mother’s sick.”
“Ain’t you got no father?”
“Naa. I got one, but he’s a drunk. I don’t know him.”
He nodded his head as though he had heard the story about a thousand times. He probably had.
“I’m gonna crash out of here,” he said. He eyed the barbed wire along the top of the fence. “Wanna come?”
“Naa. I tried bustin’ out once,” I said. “That’s a tough fence.”
“Oh! You been in here before?”
“Not this place. Another place. They’re all the same.”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“When are you going?”
“Tonight, or maybe tomorrow.”
I nodded my head. He stood up and stretched.
“I think I’ll go pick on somebody,” he said as he walked off.
I smiled and shook my head. I looked around the yard. The old red brick building looked sort of nice with the ivy crawling all over it. It’s too bad it wasn’t so nice on the inside.
Just before lunch I went into the dormitory. I wanted to check on Doggie and get my number. With all the commotion, I hadn’t gotten it.
Doggie was fine. A little cramped, maybe, but he was fine. My number was forty-seven.
I started toward the door, when I heard someone crying. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. I stood up on my tiptoes and stretched my neck. On one of the beds in the far corner there was a large bulge under the blanket. I approached the bed and the bulge.
“Hi,” I said to the whimpering blanket. “Are you all right?”
The crying stopped and the blanket became still.
“Hello, under there. Are you all right?”
A small head popped out from under the covers. He was about eight years old. Tears wet his pale cheeks. His hair was dark brown and all messed up. He had the biggest, widest brown eyes I had ever seen.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I’m ascared,” he cried.
I sat on his bed and touched his thin frail hand. “Ascared of what?” I asked as nicely as I could.
He looked around the room with his big eyes. I’m sure he saw more than I ever could see. He blinked away some of his tears; others got away and rolled down his cheek. “This place,” he sobbed.
“Is this the first place you been to?” I asked. I knew it was a dumb question as soon as the last word fell off my lips.
He nodded his head yes.
I remembered back to the Home of the Angels and my very first day. I got cold shivers.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Aldridge,” he said. He huffed back his breath as he tried to breathe normally.
“That’s a nice name,” I said. “And what’s your last name?”
“That is my last name. My first name is Kevin.”
I laughed a little to myself. I told him my name and went through the same old first-name, last-name business.
“Listen, Kevin,” I said, “I ain’t gonna say it’s good in here, and I ain’t gonna say it’s bad. ’cause it ain’t nothing at all.”
“What do you mean?” He asked. His eyes were wide open.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “It’s just a place to wait, and you gotta make the best of it. You eat and sleep and remember your number, and that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.” I shuffled myself where I sat. “But listen!” I pointed a finger at him. “One thing you don’t do,” I sighed, “is go around all day thinking about leaving, thinking about going home.” I took a deep breath. “Just forget about that!”
“Forget about that,” he echoed.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Forget about that.”
“You been here a long time?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “Well, not this place, but others.” I told him my mother was sick. I told him I had to stay until she was better. He stared at me the whole time I talked. He didn’t say a word.
“Is your mother and father sick or drunks, or what?” I asked.
“They’re dead,” he said with the blankest of looks. “My father killed my mother, then he killed himself.”
I was shocked into silence. I didn’t know what to say to that. All I could think was: This kid better learn the rules real fast. He was a lifer and didn’t know it. I felt bad for him.
I helped him out of bed and took him into the bathroom. I washed his face.
“Now, doesn’t that feel better?” I asked.
He smiled. It was his first smile, and with his big eyes his smile nearly brought tears to my eyes. I looked away and pinched the bridge of my nose.
As we walked to the playroom, Kevin leaned into me. I put my arm around his shoulder. We went into the playroom. As I moved toward the center of the room, some of the kids moved away from me. The “bully” reputation had already started. There wasn’t anything I could do about that. In fact, I was about to make it worse.
“What’s your number, Kevin?”
“Fourteen,” he said shyly.
“Who’s thirteen?” I shouted.
The room fell silent. A boy raised his hand.
I cleared my throat. My heart pounded. “See that kid, Kevin?”
“He nodded his head yes.”
“Well, anytime we line up for anything…” I paused to make sure he understood me. “…you make sure you’re standing behind that kid. Got that?”
He nodded again.
“And you!” I pointed at number thirteen. “Make sure he’s behind you.”
I took Kevin into the yard. This place would only be a stopover for me. But for Kevin it was the beginning of his days on the inside. I wanted him to at least have a chance at making it. Mark did it for me; it was time I paid him back.
For the next several days Kevin stuck to me like glue. I knew it wasn’t a good idea for him to be with me and me alone, I had to break him away. I was getting to like him too much. In the end it could only hurt him.
We sat below the ivy against the building.
“Listen, Kevin,” I said. “You gotta start playing with other kids.”
“What other kids?”
“Any other kids. I want you to start playing with other kids.”
“Why?” He blinked his big brown eyes at me.
“Oh, gosh,” I said. “Uh…it’s the rules.”
“The rules? What rules?”
“There’s a rule around here that says you gotta play with different kids every day.” I avoided his
eyes as I spoke. “Do you understand?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I like to play with you.”
“Oh, gosh,” I mumbled. “That’s the problem.”
“Problem? Why’s that a problem? Don’t you like me?”
I wiped my face from my forehead to my chin to try to gather some words. “Sure I like you. But if you only like one person in this place, you’re gonna have a problem.”
“I like you,” he said. “I don’t see no problem.”
I searched through my memory for the words Mark used to explain it to me. I was forced to turn my head and look at him.
“You see, Kevin, if you pal around with only one person all the time and that person leaves, then you’re more lonely than before. Understand?”
His big eyes welled with tears. “Are you leaving?” he asked.
“No, I’m not leaving,” I said.
“Oh, good!” he said as a tear fell. It rolled down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicked out and licked it away.
“But that don’t matter, Kevin. I’m gonna leave someday and you’re gonna have to stay. I want you to have other kids to play with when that happens. Do you understand?”
He did. The tears built in his eyes and his lip quivered. A few tears fell, rolling to the corners of his mouth
“Don’t cry, Kevin. I’m not saying these things to hurt you.” I put my arm around his shoulder. “I’m telling you this stuff to help you.”
We sat quietly for a few minutes.
“So I should go and play with somebody else now?” he asked.
I nodded my head yes.
He got to his feet and looked at me. He wiped his face in one great swipe with the back of his dirty hand. He smeared his tears and the dirt all across his nose and cheeks. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t. He blinked his eyes and turned around. He started to walk away. I watched him as he walked toward a group of kids. He turned twice to look back at me. I waved my hand for him to keep going. He shuffled along in his baggy pants over to the kids. Kevin was going to make it, I thought. At least for now he would.
The ivy turned brown as the weather turned colder. It wasn’t long after that before the leaves shriveled up and fell to the ground. The wind blew them around for a while, but then, a little at a time, they sort of piled up against the wire-mesh fence in one of the corners of the yard.
It was late in November; Doggie and I were sitting at the edge of the bed in the dark. I was looking up through the bars at the sky and some of the stars. I couldn’t remember their names. Doggie and I were wondering if Thanksgiving had already passed or was it about to come. I swung my feet into bed and thought about Jerome. I slid beneath the covers. I was able to keep one of his promises, the one about not giving up. But I couldn’t keep the one about asking questions. There wasn’t anyone in here who knew anything. They were all just kids. Half of them were afraid of me, and the other half just plain forgot how to talk. I fell asleep hugging Doggie.
I was jolted awake by a warm feeling all over me. I suddenly realized I had wet the bed.
“Oh, gosh,” I mumbled out loud to myself. “How did that happen?” I got out of bed. I was very embarrassed. I hadn’t wet the bed in years and years. Now I added to the smells of the room. I started to remove the sheets and the blanket.
“What’s going on here?” Mrs. Abbott, the frog-faced dormitory lady, asked.
A chill ran the length of my spine. “Uh…I wet the bed, Mrs. Abbott.”
I barely finished speaking when she cracked me across the back of the head.
“I expect this from the little ones,” she screamed. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll take this from kids your size.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You pissed the bed, that’s what happened. Grab your sheet,” she snapped, “and follow me.”
She stormed across the dormitory floor. I stuffed Doggie into the cabinet and grabbed the wet sheet. I caught up to her in the hallway just outside the playroom. She pushed open the playroom door and flipped on the light. She grabbed my pajama collar and threw me into the room.
“Strip!” she ordered.
“Why?”
She slapped me hard across the face. “Strip!” she yelled.
I started to unbutton my pajama top, when she grabbed hold of it and tore it off.
“When I say strip,” she screamed, “I mean fast.” She slapped me again.
The tears ran down my stinging cheek as I untied the string on my bottoms and dropped them. I covered myself with my hands.
“Sit on that table,” she ordered.
I sat on the table. She threw the wet sheet over my head.
“Stand up,” she snapped.
“On the table?” I asked.
“Of course on the table, you dumb bastard.”
I got to my feet with the wet sheet draped over me. The light went out.
“Don’t sit down till I tell you to,” she ordered.
The door slammed. I stood in the dark. The longer I stood, the colder I got. I was sure she wasn’t in the room, but I listened anyway. I didn’t hear anything, just some outside street noises. I sat on the table and drew in my legs. I wrapped my arms around the top of my knees. I was freezing.
I sat on top of the table for the rest of the night. Each time I thought I heard someone in the hall, I stood up. By morning the sheet had dried. I was tired. The sunlight poured in through the glass-paneled doors, casting shadows on my sheet. My embarrassment turned to fear. The kids would be coming soon. They’ll see me here. I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t get off the table and sneak into the dormitory. “She’ll know I’m not here when she comes in,” I talked out loud to myself. “She’ll see me and the sheet aren’t on the table. I better stay here.”
I heard the awful sound of the marching feet in the hallway. The thunderous sound of the feet got louder and louder. The door opened. As the kids filed in, they laughed. I could hear the girls giggling. Some of the boys poked at me through the sheet.
“Now, kids,” Mrs. Abbott announced, “this is a bed-wetter.”
The kids erupted with laughter. I guess it didn’t matter to them who was under the sheet, bully or no bully. This was funny to them, and they were going to laugh.
“And here’s what he looks like.” Mrs. Abbott snapped the sheet from me.
I lunged off the table to their laughter, only to be caught by the arm and hurled against the table by Mrs. Abbott.
“I didn’t tell you to get down!” she snarled. “Get back up there.” She slapped me hard across my thigh.
As I climbed back on the table, she slapped me across my bare behind. The kids roared with laughter. I stood on the table with my hands covering myself. I jammed my eyes closed. I refused to cry.
“Put your hands on top of your head,” she barked.
I opened my eyes in shock. I looked directly at her. Her face was red with anger. She pulled a thin strap from her waist.
“Put your hands on your head,” she said slowly and angrily.
I closed my eyes and put my hands on my head. The girls giggled. Mrs. Abbott whipped me hard across the leg, behind, and back on one shot with the strap. The sting stiffened me. I clenched my teeth together. Her second shot caught me across my stomach and chest. The laughter and giggles died down. I stood vowing not to cry or flinch, no matter how many times she hit me. I kept my eyes closed tight. I didn’t want to see anyone. This way I could shut them out and make believe they weren’t there.
I was dead tired. I stood on the table in the darkness of my closed eyes and my own mind. I didn’t move. Hours passed, but still I didn’t move.
Suddenly someone tapped me on the leg. I stiffened.
“Get down from there,” she said.
I opened my eyes. It was the lady who was in the office the first day.
“Get dressed,” she said.
Without a word I jumped from the table. I left the playroom and went straight int
o the dormitory. Apparently everyone was at lunch. I got dressed, put all my things into the laundry bag, including Doggie, and left the dormitory. I pushed open the playroom door and then the yard door. I crossed the gray-stone courtyard and scaled the wire-mesh fence. I pulled myself to the top with my laundry bag tucked tightly in my belt. I carefully climbed over the barbed wire, then dropped to the ground. I was out.
I didn’t know where I was going. I only wanted to get away from there. I walked for about an hour along some highway. I was tired and hungry, but I wouldn’t stop. I wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. I took Doggie out of the bag.
“We’re out, fella,” I said. The tears ran down my cheeks, and I wiped them away on my sleeve. “I don’t know exactly where we’re going, but it’ll be away from there.”
He was happy about that.
We walked for at least another hour before I saw a sign for Boston Road.
“Doggie!” I shrieked. “Maybe we’re near the zoo.”
I followed the highway to the Boston Road exit. When I reached the street, I stopped. I asked a man where the zoo was and he pointed me in the right direction. I held in my excitement until I walked a good distance away from him.
“Wow!” I yelled.
Doggie was very happy, and so was I.
“We don’t ever have to leave the zoo, Doggie. We can stay there till I get big.”
The sun was nearly down by the time we got there. The zoo was closed, but not for me. I went to my old door and slipped in. I carefully avoided the guards on patrol. I made my way on and off the path until I found a clump of pine bushes. I remember Stacy telling me that pine bushes would always stay green. That meant they would give me enough cover for hiding. The pine bushes were very soft underneath; they made a great place to rest. I was starving, but I was more tired. I propped the bag under my head and brought Doggie to my cheek.
“We’ll get some food tomorrow,” I whispered. I closed my eyes. “I know Jerome and Sal think running away can be a habit, but they weren’t on that table.”
I was listening to a strange scratching sound as I woke up. I lay perfectly still. I opened my eyes and looked around. There was a gray squirrel about five feet from me.
“Hi there,” I whispered.
He looked up at me and stood on his hind legs for a moment. Then he went back to his scratching.
They Cage the Animals at Night Page 25
