No Fear

by Nolon King

  “Okay,” she sighed. “What else?”

  “I want to follow up with you. So, lunch next week?”

  “You buying again?”

  “If you say yes.”

  “Then, yes.” And, for the slightest moment, Katie showed her the hint of a smile.

  A miniature victory, but Mal would take every possible win.

  Chapter 11 - Howard Loomis Age 10

  Howie had hoped the middle schoolers wouldn’t see him if he passed across the street from the basketball courts. They got out almost forty minutes earlier than the elementary school kids, and this was the worst part of his walk home, by far.

  “Hey, fat ass!” one of them called out.

  Howie pretended not to hear them. Maybe they’d leave him alone this time.

  He was running out of things to give them and hoped today they wouldn’t demand their tax to let him pass. He’d already given them money, snacks he’d purposely not eaten at lunch, comic books, and toys. If Howie had nothing, they’d usually ask him where he wanted to be punched.

  He chose the arm every time, somewhere Mom wouldn’t notice. Still, sometimes they socked him in the stomach.

  “That must be jelly ’cause jam don’t shake like that!” one of them shouted, followed by a chorus of laughter.

  Howie wasn’t sure what that phrase meant, but it was probably about his belly. The doctors had said he was morbidly obese. Howie had looked up the word morbid and found two meanings. The first was what the doctor had probably meant, something to do with disease. But the other definition applied to Howie as well — an abnormal fascination or unhealthy interest in disturbing things, especially death.

  The doctor didn’t know that, nor did anyone else. What would people think if he admitted some of the things he thought about? What would they think if they saw the drawings he kept under the toy box in the back of his closet?

  Howie hadn’t always hidden his drawings. But Mom flipped out after seeing something he’d made with markers in his art pad when he was only eight-years-old. A naked lady, or his best imagining of one from what he’d seen on the magazine covers at the bookstore, anyway.

  But it wasn’t just a naked lady.

  The woman was cut in half, with blood everywhere. Howie wasn’t sure why he’d drawn her like that, other than his fascinations with both female bodies and death. Mom made him rip up the “obscenity” before she beat him with an old leather belt until he renounced Satan’s influence in the midst of his screaming. But Howie didn’t think it was the Devil. He was interested in women’s bodies and death because they were both so mysterious to him.

  But Mom was never wrong. She said it was Satan’s influence, so it must’ve been.

  Howie tried hard not to think about either women or death anymore. And every time he slipped, he prayed for God’s forgiveness even harder than the last time.

  “Hey, fatty!” one of the kids called again.

  Just keep walking.

  He walked as fast as he dared without breaking into a run. They’d be on him in seconds if he tried, then they would all get a shot at him.

  That’s how it usually went.

  He heard footsteps moving fast.

  Oh, no!

  Howie turned and saw his usual five tormentors running toward the basketball court gate.

  He couldn’t let them catch him but was too slow for escape.

  So, he stopped, turned around, waited. He didn’t know their names. Howie knew one of them. The redhead, an older brother of a kid in his class. Liam always picked on him, too.

  Apparently, the redhead was their leader. “Hey, fat ass. What you got for us today?”

  The other boys laughed as they eyed him up and down. Howie wasn’t good at reading people’s faces, but he knew enough to understand they were mean, despite their laughter and smiles.

  “I don’t have anything.” Howie shook his head.

  “Lemme see.” The redhead held out his hand. “Gimme your backpack.”

  Howie took off his backpack then handed it over.

  The kid started yanking everything out of it, tossing his books and notepads onto the sidewalk. Wind blew the loose papers. Howie went to chase them, but one of the other kids stepped in front of him and thrust a finger hard into his chest. “Let it go.”

  Howie obeyed.

  The redhead looked up at Howie. “What the fuck, man? No comics?”

  Howie shook his head. “I don’t have any more. My mom stopped letting me get them.”

  “Well, tell your mom she’s a cunt.”

  The others laughed.

  Howie didn’t know what a cunt was, but it had to be a bad word.

  The redhead got up in Howie’s face, so close Howie could smell his hot and reeking breath. “Well, this ain’t gonna do. You can’t pass.”

  “But I need to get home.”

  “Then you’d better give me something.”

  Howie looked at the ground. His pencil case was a Star Wars one Mom’s boyfriend had given him. It was special to him, even though he wasn’t allowed to see the movies.

  “You want my Star Wars pencil case?” Howie offered.

  The redhead looked at his friends. They were all being quiet. Howie wasn’t sure what they were thinking.

  “No, I don’t want your fucking pencil case!” shouted the redhead.

  Howie looked around for something else. He couldn’t give them his school books. And his notepads had his schoolwork in them. He’d get in a lot of trouble if he gave those away.

  He felt his pockets then dug inside them, hoping to maybe find some change or something of value.

  The redhead looked down at Howie’s empty hands, then at his pants. “Give me your pants.”

  “What?”

  “If you want to pass, give me your pants.”

  “Um, I can’t give you my pants,” Howie said, laughing nervously.

  One of the other kids stepped forward, a skinny one with a blue T-shirt, long brown hair like a curtain in his face. “Give us your pants or we’ll kill you.”

  Kill?

  Howie stared at the boy. Surely, he didn’t mean kill kill, did he?

  “Kill?” Howie repeated.

  The redhead nodded. “We will kill you and your cunt mom. Give us your pants.”

  He couldn’t let them hurt his mom. She was strict and Howie was scared of her, but he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

  More laughter as he unbuckled his pants.

  He struggled to get the jeans over his sneakers, but then finally got them all the way off. Howie was afraid if he removed his shoes, they’d ask for those instead of, or in addition to, his pants. He’d already gone home without his shoes once, when they were stolen from his locker, and Mom beat him so bad he couldn’t sit for two days.

  He fell on his ass trying to pull off his jeans.

  More laughing.

  Finally, he got his feet free of the pants.

  “Nice tighty-whities,” said one of the kids, pointing to his underwear.

  Howie stood then handed his jeans to the redhead.

  He threw them to the kid in a blue T-shirt.

  “Eew,” he said, quickly tossing it to someone else.

  They played hot potato. Howie hoped if he sat and waited, they’d eventually get bored and throw the pants back at him.

  Instead, they all took off with them.

  “Next time, you better bring two things!” the redhead called over his shoulder.

  Howie stared at his school supplies scattered on the sidewalk and grass, then scrambled after them, stuffing them back into his bag. He still wanted to chase the papers, but not in his underwear.

  He needed to be inside before Mom got home from work.

  Howie realized with horror that his house keys had been in his pocket.

  No, no, no, no!

  Tears tickled his cheeks as he realized he’d have to wait a few hours for Mom to get back. She’d see he was in his underwear, and he’d get beaten for sure. />
  So, he stood on his doorstep, sobbing like a big fat baby.

  That’s what he was doing when his neighbor, Stephanie, walked by with her brown wiener dog. She was in eighth grade. Had long brown hair and big brown eyes. Super cute.

  Stephanie did a double take when she looked at him. The second time, she laughed.

  But when she noticed he was crying, she stopped and came over to him.

  Howie put his hands down to cover his underwear because girls shouldn’t see a hint of boys’ naughty parts.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as her dog sniffed at his socks.

  Howie shook his head and tried to use words, but a pathetic cry was all that came out.

  “What happened?”

  He managed to tell her between gasps and sniffles.

  “What? Oh, my God. What the hell? Come inside. I’ll get you some pants.”

  Howie was surprised by her kindness. And that she had pants to lend him. Did Stephanie have a brother he didn’t know about? Or was she going to give him something that belonged to her father? He was tall and skinny, so his pants probably wouldn’t fit.

  Howie followed Stephanie to her house.

  They stopped at the doorstep. Howie said, “What if your parents see me?”

  “They’re not home. Come in.”

  He followed her inside, then she closed the door behind them.

  Her house was nice. A bit messier than his, but most homes probably were. Mom ran a tight ship, always demanding perfection. Cleanliness is next to godliness, she liked to say, and sometimes beat into him.

  “Come upstairs.” She took the steps two at a time as her dog stood at Howie’s feet, still sniffing him.

  He followed, her dog at his heels.

  Stephanie handed him a pair of purple sweat pants with a heart on the front, and told him to try them on. “Sorry, I don’t have anything more masculine that would also fit you.”

  Howie went into her bathroom to put them on. He was surprised to find they fit him.

  He left the bathroom then walked to the open door at the end of the hall. She was standing there in a bra, slipping into a T-shirt.

  He’d never seen boobs in real life. “Um … I’m sorry.”

  Howie ran down the stairs.

  Stephanie followed him, laughing. “It’s okay. It’s just a bra.”

  He nodded, unsure of his words. He was thinking impure and evil thoughts, picturing her bra and what her boobs might look like underneath.

  Dear God, please forgive me.

  Please forgive my wicked thoughts.

  I am a wretched sinner who does not deserve your forgiveness. But please forgive me, anyway.

  Howie closed his eyes, repeating the prayer in his head as he tried to think of pure things and forget the beautiful girl in front of him.

  He felt his naughty place stiffen.

  No, no, no, no.

  He scurried to the couch then sat down, trying to hide it, working to think of anything else that might eliminate the wicked thoughts and the sinful feelings that chased them.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice closer.

  Howie opened his eyes.

  She was sitting next to him on the couch. She put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Um, yeah, just … I’m sorry. I should go home.” Except he didn’t have his keys. “But … I can’t get into my house.”

  “The keys in your pants?” she asked.

  Howie nodded.

  “You can hang out here until your mom gets home.”

  “Are you sure? Your parents won’t mind?”

  “They wouldn’t care. Besides, they don’t get home until later tonight.”

  “They won’t care if you’re here … alone with a boy?”

  She looked at him for a long moment before finally smiling. “No, they won’t care. Why would they care?”

  “Because girls and boys shouldn’t be alone together. It’s a sin.”

  “What?”

  “Mom says boys can’t be around girls because girls will lead them into temptation.”

  Stephanie laughed again. “What?”

  Howie nodded. “It’s God’s will that girls remain chaste and that boys wait.”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Wow. Um, okay. Do I tempt you, Howie?”

  She did, but he didn’t dare say it.

  Howie wasn’t used to lying, but he felt a deep shame in this particular truth. He shook his head. A headshake was slightly less than a lie.

  “Don’t worry, Howie. I won’t lead you into temptation with my whorish ways.” Then Stephanie laughed again.

  Howie wasn’t sure why she was laughing, but he liked the sound of it. She was nice. Aside from teachers, she might be the first person ever to be nice to him. The first girl, for sure.

  He thought about Stephanie’s boobs again and felt red-hot heat spreading over his cheeks.

  “Want me to order pizza?”

  “You can just order pizza? It doesn’t have to be a special occasion?”

  “Wow, who are you?”

  “Howie Loomis,” he answered.

  She laughed again, then tousled his hair. “You are too cute, Howie.”

  Howie had never been happier than in the two and half hours he’d waited with Stephanie. They watched shows on TV that Howie didn’t even know existed and ate a whole pizza together. All twelve slices. She was so nice.

  He’d almost forgotten the horrible moment that led him to her house.

  “Well, I’ve got to go home now,” he said at exactly ten after six.

  She walked him to the door then they stood on her porch.

  “Well, if you ever lose your pants again, feel free to come hang out.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  Stephanie laughed again, but it didn’t sound mean. “Yes. Or anytime.”

  “Thank you.”

  She leaned in and hugged him.

  A girl had never done that before. He couldn’t even remember his own mother hugging him. That was something he’d only seen other people do.

  It felt good, and she smelled so pretty. Howie could feel her boobs against him. He started stiffen again. He pulled away and smiled, then waved, eager to get away before she noticed his bad part sticking straight up.

  “Okay, thanks!”

  Mom’s car pulled up as he turned toward his driveway. She wasn’t pleased, judging by her soured lips.

  She made him wait on the couch while she changed out of her waitress uniform and into a lon,g gray dress. Then she returned with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Okay, I want answers.”

  “To what, ma’am?”

  “First, why are you wearing girls’ pants?”

  He explained what happened.

  “And you let them take your pants?”

  He felt the hot sting of shame. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they said they’d kill me. And they’d kill you.”

  “Don’t be so stupid, Howie. Nobody’s killing anybody.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “So, that little whore just invited you into her house and gave you her pants?”

  Howie nodded. “She’s not a whore, Mom. Stephanie is nice.”

  “Are you talking back to me, boy?” Mom looked like she might smack him across the face.

  “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  “Were her parents home?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You went into that whore’s house when her parents weren’t home? What did I tell you?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “Because you let those boys take your keys. It’s your fault. You should’ve stood on our porch. Or in the back yard. Could’ve mowed the lawn while you waited.”

  She let out a long sigh as took an even longer drink, then she stared at her son for a long time like she was trying to figure something out.

  “What?” he asked.

 
; “Did … did she tempt you?”

  He thought of Stephanie leaving the door open while she changed into her shirt. He’d thought it was an accident, but … what if Mom was right? What if she had been trying to tempt him?

  “What is it?” Mom asked.

  It was like she knew he was hiding something. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but she always seemed to know.

  “I … I don’t want to say.”

  “Tell me, boy.”

  Howie started crying.

  She set her drink down, walked over, grabbed a fistful of his hair, then yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at her, dark eyes burning into his. “Tell me.”

  He couldn’t hide from her gaze, not now or ever. If he didn’t tell her, she would burrow into his head and find out, anyway.

  “It was an accident.”

  “What?”

  “She left her door open, and I saw her changing. Just her bra.”

  Mom pulled him up by the hair until he was standing on his tippy-toes.

  “And did you look?”

  Howie wanted to lie, but lying to your mother was one of the worst sins. He exploded into tears, not wanting to answer.

  “Did … you … look?”

  He nodded.

  “And? Did you think wicked thoughts? Did your sinful part get stiff?”

  Howie nodded again, wanting to disappear into his shame and die right there on the spot. He was nothing. Less than nothing. A worthless, wicked sinner who didn’t deserve the Good Lord’s forgiveness. He’d surrendered to temptation. Mom had warned him, but he’d ignored her and looked.

  And now he would have to pay.

  “You know what you have to do, boy.”

  He cried, pulling down the sweatpants and then his underwear.

  Mom stared down at his wicked part, shaking her head in disgust. “I am doing this for you. Now beg for God’s forgiveness.”

  “Please, God, forgive me for my wicked, impure thoughts. I am not deserving—”

  He felt the first of the cigarette burns just above his bad part. Howie cried out as she went in for the second burn.

  He went upstairs to his room in tears when she finished. Sat on the bed, removed the pillowcase from his pillow, and slid it over his head.

  You are not what you feel.

  You are not weak.

  You are meant for so much more.