by A. L. Moore
He was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider my answer. I tried to keep my eyes forward, glancing at him now and again to be sure he was still there.
“I’m so used to change, I hardly know what it’s like to stand still," he finally said, kicking at the dirt.
“Have you always been in foster care?”
He shook his head. “I lived with my daddy until I was six but even then, we moved around a lot. He got locked up right after I started school.”
“I bet that was tough,” I said not really able to relate. I didn’t know anyone who’d been to jail.
“It was at first. Being picked up by a social worker and stuck in a house of crazies isn’t most people’s memory of the first day of school.”
“Where was your mom?”
“Never knew her,” he shrugged, keeping pace with me as we disappeared into the crowd of stalks. “She died having me.” My heart broke for him. I wanted so badly to reach out and take his hand, but fear kept it safely by my side.
“What about your grandparents or other family?” It felt like intruding to ask, but I had to know. Surely, there was someone he could’ve turned to. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s none of my business.”
“There was no one else.
“Look, don’t tell anyone else about this,” he said suddenly, stopping in his tracks, his face serious. “I’m not real sure why I told you. I've never told anyone that before.”
“Promise,” I said, crossing my heart. I felt like an idiot the moment I did it, but Katy and I had done it so much it was second nature.
He smiled a little at the gesture. I could be an idiot for that. I didn’t like seeing him sad. Usually when things got too serious, I left the room and let the grownups handle it.
“Why did you tell me?”
I studied his face as he deliberated. “I guess I just wanted someone to know me.” He looked up then, his cheeks surprisingly warm beneath his tan skin. “I wanted you to know me.”
My heart sped at his words and at the realization that I wanted that too. I wanted to know him, and I wanted him to know me. More than anyone ever before.
“Is anyone going to get mad if I hold your hand?” he asked, his fingers already weaving through mine.
“I suppose not,” I said, glancing nervously toward the house. I could barely make out the kitchen window.
We stayed in the field until well past dark that night. It was our own special place and we returned to it often. Like Thomas had said, we were keeping the crows away, and Daddy had to appreciate that.
Chapter 8
The summer came on at the pace of a snail that year. The breeze was downright cool in the evenings, stirring the tree frogs and crickets back to life. It was hard to tell it was June after the sun went down most nights. It was mild, the heat almost bearable, much closer to April weather, or late October. I preferred it that way, but we all knew it wouldn’t last, and we were right. By July, it was scorching, hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement.
Thomas held my hand now without asking when we walked alone in the fields. I enjoyed our walks more than I'd ever enjoyed anything in my life. We always escaped together when the sun was low in the sky, barely peeking from behind hues of pink and violet. During the day, it was a typical summer. I laid out with Katy in the back yard and chased Rusty and Katy's brothers with water guns when it got too hot. Katy and I rode the horses down to the river and wadded in the near frigid water. The boys skipped rocks and tried to build dams. Everything was the same in so many ways, but completely different in others. It was different because Thomas was there, jumping off the rocks while we swam, working on the Johnson’s tractor while Katy and I laid out, and helping Daddy build the new horse pen in front of our house. Thomas did anything he could to make money, but no matter how busy he was during the day, he always found me in the evenings. That was the biggest difference of all.
I always knew he was around when I felt the familiar tug on my hair. I’d taken to wearing it up most days for that sole purpose. Though, it was convenient in the heat, too. Katy didn’t even make a face anymore when I left with Thomas. She was too busy with her own secrets of whatever she was up to with Rusty down by the river after dark. I didn't ask and she didn't tell. No, most of my talking was done with Thomas now, filling him in on the kids we’d be going to school with in the fall and the layout of the high school. I'd been to several basketball games there with Katy, scouting for boys, so I knew the lay of the land pretty well. Still, my favorite days were the days he talked, telling me about the places he’d been and the people he’d met. One time, he'd actually lived next to an alligator farm in Florida. The house had been within walking distance to the beach. I couldn't imagine being able to layout by the ocean every day. I'd only seen it a few times. Unfortunately, the couple he’d been staying with had their own kid and shipped him off to cooler climates. I’d never met anyone with so many stories. I wondered sometimes if they were all true. He had so much fun telling them that I didn’t dare question him. My favorite was the time he'd been cleaning out a lady’s gutters and had gotten his pants caught on a nail, ripping them clean off. Of course, the lady called the cops, thinking he was some kind of pervert, without waiting for an explanation. They'd taken him in for indecent exposure. The police got everything cleared up, but the family he'd been staying with still ditched him.
Katy and Rusty called Thomas my boyfriend. I’d never had a boyfriend before, so I wasn’t entirely sure if they were right. It didn’t seem like it. Not like I thought it should be. We weren't like the people on television that couldn’t keep their hands off each other. We were nothing like Katy and Rusty, who nearly brought up my lunch on a daily basis. I was still Breelynn and he was just Thomas, the high school boy I looked forward to seeing more than anyone else in the whole wide world.
***
I hadn’t taken food over since the first time, but I'd overheard Rusty complaining about eating the last piece of jerky the day before. I would’ve probably taken some over regardless with all that Mama had cooked tonight. We had enough drumsticks to feed a small army.
I didn’t have to knock on the window. Thomas was on the back steps with greasy, metal car parts spread out next to him.
“Making a Frankenstein?” I kidded, expecting to startle him. He got me all the time. I didn’t of course. The screwdriver in his hand never faltered an inch. He just glanced up and smiled my favorite smile.
“Mr. Johnson’s going to give me twenty if I can get this motor working again.” He wiped his greasy hands down the side of his jeans.
“That’s a motor?” I asked skeptically, moving one of the curved pieces with my toe.
His smile grew, playfully nudging my foot away. “It will be if you don’t wreck the parts.
“What’s in the basket?” He looked up, thoughtful.
“What basket?” Rusty said on his tiptoes, peering out the back-screen door behind Thomas.
Thomas shook his head without turning around. “Man, you’re like a dog with that nose of yours. Did you smell it or were you just eavesdropping?”
“Just some drumsticks,” I said, handing it to Rusty as he pushed the metal-framed screen door against Thomas's back.
“Thanks,” Rusty said, chomping down on a leg. “Man, your mama sure can fry some chicken.”
“Hey, don’t eat it all,” Thomas called, but Rusty had already disappeared back inside the house.
“We’ll see,” Rusty called back with a chuckle.
Thomas was back into the motor, tweaking a screw here and there. “Thanks,” he said never taking his eyes from the job at hand. “Boy eats more than a garbage disposal.” I loved watching him work, his eyes drawn in deep concentration, and his hands moving with purpose. It had always fascinated me to watch Daddy take something broken and make it new again. Thomas had the same gift.
“No problem,” I said, my eyes inspecting the glitter in the asphalt. “I looked for you earlier,” I hedged. It was the first day si
nce we’d started our walks that he hadn’t shown up. I’d sat at the edge of the field until the sky had turned dark, waiting.
“Damn it!” he said, blood trickling out of his thumb. “Sorry about that.” He shook the blood into the grass. “I was tied up with Mr. Johnson. I looked for you, but you must’ve already gone inside.”
“That’s okay,” I said, wishing I hadn’t brought it up. It wasn’t like it was a date or anything.
He ripped off the end of his white t-shirt and tied it around his thumb before grabbing the screwdriver and going back to work. He was clearly busy, and I didn’t want to be a nuisance. I called goodbye to Rusty as he passed by the door with a drumstick hanging from his mouth. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, turning back to my house.
“Can you get out later?” he asked when I started away. “Like after your parents go to sleep.” All I could hear was Katy’s voice answering for me, “Sure she can,” but I wasn’t Katy. A million thoughts went through my head in seconds. Bad things happened late at night. At least that’s what I'd always heard. But this was Thomas. Then again, if Daddy woke up, he'd use Thomas's body as fertilizer. “I promised to have the motor ready by morning, and the Tyner’s won’t let me bring it in the house. If you can’t…
It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll get out,” I said quickly, causing his hands to still and a smile to curve his full lips. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Edge of the field,” he said a gleam in his emerald eyes. “Around midnight?”
I nodded and hurried across the street, turning back to get one last glimpse of him before crossing. From the porch, I could only make out his silhouette. I went up to my room early, calling Katy to listen to her usual rant about whatever stupid thing Rusty had said or done. I still wouldn’t listen to the mushy stuff, not that she’d offered any up. At ten-thirty, Daddy, already dressed in blue-checked sleeping pants, stuck his head inside my bedroom door and told me it was time to get off the phone. I felt like he could read the deception on my face, even though I hadn't done anything yet. I waited until I heard my parent’s door close before making my move. The house was quiet as I slipped down the stairs and out the back door. I’d faked going to sleep, but faking a shower only occurred to me now that my hair was soaking through my thin t-shirt.
The field was fairly light thanks to a clear, star sprinkled sky and a bright crescent moon. I sat on the outer row of stalks, out of sight from my house, and waited. The warm night air smelled of rain and my cotton shorts grew damp from the fallen dew on the ground beneath me. The longer I waited, the more my imagination got the best of me. It was as if my hearing had improved exponentially since coming outside. Every twig snap and leaf rustle had me turning my head. A shingle on the back of Katy's barn started flapping and a dog howled in the distance putting me even more on edge. I held my wrist up to the moon. It was twelve thirty. I decided Thomas must still be tied up in that old motor. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, my eyes closed tightly, straight through the corn, not stopping until the stalks stopped brushing my skin.
Unlike my house, the Tyner's house was bright with light, like it was noon rather than midnight. I took one last look at my porch before slipping across the dark pavement. There was a lot of noise coming from their opened door, so I stayed close to the side, hugging the corner behind the bushes. I could hear what sounded like someone organizing pots and pans. That's the only noise that loud I'd ever heard at my house. I peeked into the boys’ room, but the beds were empty, so I crept around back, hoping to find Thomas on the steps. I jumped back into the shadows when the screen flew back against the house. It was Mrs. Tyner, an arm full of clothes leaving her arms. The paint chipped, back steps where Thomas had sat earlier had the makings of a garage sale. Then, the loud clanging started back, only louder this time and definitely not pots and pans. It was hard to make out what all the yelling was about beyond the swearing.
"Bree," Thomas's voice startled me from behind. "What are you doing here?" He looked near panicked, his eyes darting from me to the yelling within the house and back again.
"You never came," I said, my voice drowned out by breaking glass. "What's going on in there?"
His face tighter than I 'd ever seen it, his brows furrowed deeply. "Nothing for you to worry about. Go back home."
"Why are they fighting?" I said, my ears soaking in words I usually only heard on the school bus. "Where's Rusty?"
Thomas stepped to the side so I could see Rusty stooped down by the steps. He looked so small bent into himself there in the darkness.
"Why are y'all outside?"
"Staying out of the line of fire," Rusty said as if it should've been obvious.
"They fight sometimes when they've been out," Thomas said, cracking his knuckles. "It's really no big deal."
He barely had the words out of his mouth when something heavy hit the floor inside.
"Oh, my word!" I heard Mrs. Johnson exclaim in a panicked voice. "I killed him!"
The loud banging was overtaken by her wailing screams. Thomas raced up the front steps and threw open the screen. I started behind him, but Rusty grabbed my arm and yanked me back down next to him with a finger to his lips. We listened in a heavy silence until Thomas reappeared.
"He's just knocked out, but she's already called the cops." The last part of his sentence had more significance to Rusty than to me. Swearing, he pounded his fist into the ground and started pacing the front yard. He seemed more upset about the cops, than relieved Mr. Tyner wasn't dead.
"She wants one of us to take the rap,” Thomas told him.
"Hell no!" Rusty said "I ain't about to go jail."
"They're both out of it,” Thomas started, “and there's no telling what she's holding. They take her to jail, guess where they take us?"
"Then you do it!" Rusty yelled, red faced.
"Would you shut up before you wake the neighbors," Thomas said, taking a hurried look around as he grasped Rusty's shoulder. "If you'd give me two seconds, I was about to tell you that I'd do it."
"Thomas, no!" I said without thinking, causing both of them to turn to me. "You have a record!" Thomas's mouth dropped at my words. Oops.
"That true?" Rusty asked.
"I'm sorry, Thomas, but they'll take you to jail." He shot me a look that sealed my lips.
"It'll be fine," he assured Rusty through troubled eyes. "As soon as Mr. Johnson comes to, he'll drop the charges. I'll probably be out before sunup." Thomas's voice shook with each word. Rusty wasn't convinced either. His eyes angry and wet, he argued, "No, I'll do it. I've never been in trouble before."
Thomas looked just as scared as Rusty, his hands laced on top of his head, glancing anxiously at me before answering. "I’m already breaking my probation by not having a legitimate job. Judge said I'd do a year if I get brought back in." The first sounds of sirens stifled the multiple questions on my tongue. My parents would definitely hear the commotion. I needed to move.
"Fine," Rusty said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "It's settled then. Get out of here," he yelled angrily at Thomas.
Thomas was torn. He clearly didn't want to leave Rusty. As the sirens grew closer, my knees started to shake. I grabbed Thomas's hand and pulled him from the shadows, darting across the empty street. We both turned to watch the blue lights reflect off the trees in the distance.
"Where are you going?" I asked, now struggling to keep up with him. He moved in large strides that far outstretched mine.
"To the field he said without stopping. If I'm at the Tyner's, the cops will run my record. Come with me."
"I can't," I pulled away. Staring into his frightened eyes, I wanted nothing more than to disappear with him. To hold him. "My parents. The sirens." He nodded, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet as blue lights intruded on our field. "Thomas," I hissed as a much brighter light swept by us. "Come with me." I reached for his hand. The sirens came to an abrupt halt in front of my house
. "Now," I said urgently. "My parents will be waking up."
He glanced from the field to my house, debating, so I grabbed his hand and jerked him toward the back steps. We crept quietly through the dark rooms and somehow made it up the creaking steps without waking the house. We watched the flashing red and blue lights bounce around my bedroom. It felt like centuries before Rusty appeared on the steps with his hands behind his back. Mrs. Johnson was visibly crying, hanging on to his arm as if the whole mess wasn't her fault.
"They're putting him in the car," I whispered to Thomas who was sunk down just inside my closet. He hadn't come out since Daddy had stuck his head in a little while ago. Thomas cursed under his breath. I silenced him, holding up one finger as Mr. Tyner appeared at the door with one of the cops.
"They're letting Rusty out," I said relieved, careful to stay to the side of the window. "Yep. They're taking the handcuffs off." Once the cuffs were off, Mrs. Tyner had her arms around Rusty. Thomas peered over my shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Alright," Daddy said from the hall, turning my doorknob just as Thomas dashed to the floor next to my bed. "The excitement's over," he yawned, stretching his arms behind his back. "Get to bed." I smiled through a yawn of my own and nodded. Daddy closed the door, and I slid under the covers and tossed a pillow to the floor. Thomas grabbed it and sat on the bottom of the bed.
"I should leave," he whispered anxiously when the floor squeaked in the hall.
"Leave now? With my daddy awake? You'll be begging those cops to come back," I chuckled quietly.
"If they come in…" he said, tossing the pillow back to the floor.
"It's the green mile for you," I said solemnly unable to keep from grinning at the look of pure terror on his face. Was my daddy really worse than jail? He peered up at me, clearly not amused. "Kidding," I said. "They won't come in." He pulled the blanket from the bottom of my bed around him and stretched back on the pillow. "Thomas?"
