Come Fall

by A. C. E. Bauer

  Tina turned toward him. She had been crying again. She didn’t want him to go, either. Maybe there was hope.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she said.

  Salman picked up a dish towel and began drying the pots in the drain.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, “we work on Ozzy’s fence.”

  Salman shivered.

  30—Salman Page

  Absence note

  Salman sat in the back row, copying Ms. R’s newest essay assignment, which was as bizarre as her previous ones. “How do two people link up together to become friends? Provide a thesis, clear examples, and a strong argument.”

  Ms. R began explaining.

  “You may use examples from books, your personal lives …”

  The PA system crackled on.

  “Mr. Salman Page, please come to the office.”

  Ms. R glanced at Salman. With barely a rustle, he stood, walked to the front, and took the hall pass from her. Out the door in fifteen seconds.

  What did the office want?

  Ms. Esterschultz was waiting for him, his school file on her desk.

  “Mr. Page,” she said, “you were absent Monday.”

  That was two days ago. He nodded.

  “We don’t have a note, Mr. Page. We need a reason for your absence.”

  Without thinking, Salman said, “I was canning.”

  “Canning?”

  He could tell from her arched eyebrows that she didn’t understand what he meant.

  “Vegetables, ma’am. We brought in the harvest on Sunday.”

  “And you were required to can them?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Instead of going to school?”

  It dawned on him that this probably wasn’t going to be an excuse she had heard before. One she might not approve of. Not that he cared whether she approved of the Royals, but this was going to attract attention.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She puckered her lips into a frown. No. No question. She didn’t approve.

  “Mr. Page, did you volunteer for this?”

  He shifted. There was no right answer to this question. Either he did and was truant, or he didn’t and the Royals were unreasonable—at least from Ms. Esterschultz’s point of view.

  He concentrated on the lower half of her desk.

  “I see,” she said.

  She drummed her fingers on his file.

  “Next time, be sure your foster parents write you an absence note.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He escaped as fast as he could. On his way to Ms. R’s classroom he worried, though. What if Ms. Esterschultz contacted his social worker? Would she approve?

  31—Lu-Ellen Zimmer

  Big red letters

  Stupid cold! Lu blew her nose for the twentieth time that morning. She’d caught a cold Monday evening and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. Because of it, Dad didn’t let her visit Mom.

  “When you’re healthier,” he said. “We don’t want Mom to catch anything.”

  He had said that Tuesday—three days ago. And Mom was still in the hospital. She was only supposed to be there for a few days, but almost a week had gone by, and they still hadn’t discharged her.

  Yesterday, Salman had tried to be reassuring.

  “Everyone says she’s improving, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And they’ve told you your sister is just fine.”

  “True.”

  “Why would they lie to you?”

  “They wouldn’t,” Lu admitted. “But Mom hasn’t been discharged.”

  “She will.”

  Salman smiled when he said that. His smiles made Lu feel warm. She looked forward to them—to Salman.

  Except they had fought after that. Salman told her that Ozzy was coming back.

  “He treats you rotten,” she said. “Can’t you ask to go someplace else?”

  “There’s nowhere else to go,” he said.

  “There must be somewhere that isn’t as awful.”

  Salman spoke to her as if she were pathetic.

  “I’m almost fifteen. No one asks for grown boys.”

  I’d ask for you, she thought.

  “We have a guest room….”

  “Your parents aren’t going to want a foster kid. Especially not with a baby coming.”

  “My parents love kids.”

  “Well, good for you,” Salman said.

  He left the cafeteria with a scowl. Lu immediately regretted what she had said. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She hadn’t thought how her words might sound to him.

  She’d apologize today, she vowed. And this afternoon, she’d make Dad take her to the hospital to see Mom, cold or no cold.

  She sat in Ms. R’s classroom waiting for the school paper meeting to start. Kids were still wandering in. Blos sat up front, as usual. Salman wasn’t here yet. Lu had a one-page piece ready, just as Ms. R had requested. It provided a glowing report of the designated buddy program. She had even interviewed Vice Principal Phillip: “The d.b. program is what distinguishes Springfalls from the other junior high schools in the area.”

  “Good morning,” Ms. R said. “Our goal is to publish our first edition by the end of the month.”

  She asked students to tell her what they had written. Ruthie raised her hand.

  “I wrote a piece about the band.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you read it to the group.”

  Ruthie turned bright red.

  “Couldn’t I just hand it in?”

  Ms. R smiled.

  “Your article will be read by the entire school. By reading it to us first, we’ll get a chance to help you make it the best it can be.”

  “Okay,” Ruthie said. But she didn’t seem all that okay about it.

  The piece only took a minute or two to read. It described what instruments were in the band, the practice schedule, the planned performance dates.

  “That’s very nice, Ruthie,” Ms. R said. “Does anyone have any comments?”

  Silence. Kids stared at each other. Then a boy Lu didn’t know raised his hand.

  “Yes, Richard,” Ms. R said.

  “I think I might want to know what it’s like to play in the band.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I guess it might be nice if a band member was interviewed, or the band leader, and we got an idea of what a member has to do.”

  Ms. R nodded. “What do you think, Ruthie?”

  Ruthie crinkled her chin.

  “I didn’t think of that.” She paused briefly. “Can I interview myself? I’m a band member.”

  “What do others think?” Ms. R said.

  “Reporters are supposed to be objective,” Richard said. “Ruthie can’t be objective about herself.”

  Lu wondered about that. After all, her piece was for a photo of her and Salman. Another girl—Lu thought her name was Susan—jumped in.

  “Reporters are never really objective, no matter what they say. Why can’t Ruthie talk about her own experiences, if she’s up-front about what she’s doing?”

  Ms. R nodded to each student in turn. Lu listened to the discussion intently but didn’t join in. The half hour was almost up, and Salman hadn’t showed.

  The first bell rang.

  “Excellent discussion,” Ms. R said. “Please hand in your columns before you leave, and I’ll get back to you with comments before next Friday.”

  Blos approached Ms. R as everyone was leaving.

  “I only have pictures.”

  “That’s plenty,” Ms. R said.

  She went through the prints Blos handed her.

  “You have a good eye,” she said.

  He tapped his right cheek.

  “My right one,” he said, and fled.

  Lu smiled at his literalness. She handed in her piece and wondered where Salman was. He was late. Maybe Tina had made him do some more canning. Lu’d see him at lunch.

  But Salman wasn’t at lunch, either. Bl
os looked as puzzled as Lu felt.

  “Should we meet at his place?” he asked.

  Out the window, the gray skies of this morning had opened into rain. Wind sent leaves swirling almost horizontal.

  “It’s kind of nasty to be out,” she said.

  Blos nodded.

  “Tomorrow,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  Besides, she thought, she had to see Mom.

  As she gathered her pack after lunch, Rob and Sean walked by. Sean elbowed Rob in the arm. Rob grinned and stopped.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Bird Tamer,” Rob said.

  Lu ignored them. She shouldered her pack and began walking toward Ms. R’s class. Rob and Sean followed.

  “The loon’s still hooked pretty tight,” Sean said.

  “Lost the chicken, though,” Rob said.

  “He flew the coop.”

  “She must have given him the wrong scratch.”

  Both laughed. Lu walked faster.

  “You’ll have to find another chicken,” Rob said. “Yours has been roasted for good.”

  Lu whirled.

  “What does that mean?”

  Surprised by her fury, Rob raised his hands, as if to ward her off.

  “He’s been transferred out,” he said. “Didn’t you know?”

  “No. When?”

  “Don’t know. I saw his file this morning when I got a pass from the office.”

  “So? Files are out for all kinds of reasons.”

  “Not with a note that says RETURN TO STATE in big red letters on ’em.”

  Was he telling the truth? She stared at Rob just long enough for him to avert his eyes. Then she pushed between the boys and headed back to the office.

  The school secretary was on the phone when Lu walked in. Lu eyed the piles on her desk. In a bin marked “FOR PICK-UP” she saw three large manila envelopes and a smaller white one. Did one of those envelopes contain Salman’s file?

  Ms. Esterschultz hung up.

  “Yes, Ms. Zimmer?”

  “I’ve been told that Salman Page has been transferred. Is that true?”

  Ms. Esterschultz smiled one of her aren’t-you-a-nice-girl-to-be-concerned-about-something-like-that smiles. Lu hated adults who did that.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m his d.b.,” Lu said.

  Ms. Esterschultz nodded.

  “Of course. Yes, the state called this morning and informed me that he’s leaving the school district.”

  “Do you know where he’s going?”

  “No. But even if I did, I couldn’t tell you. I’m not permitted to disclose other students’ records to you.”

  Lu could tell she was trying to be kind, even if she was no help at all.

  “Thank you, Ms. Esterschultz.”

  Lu left the office and crumpled onto the bench by the office door.

  Salman was gone. Ms. Esterschultz wasn’t able to tell her where.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  She had lost Frances—and a friendship she had taken for granted since kindergarten. But then she had connected with Salman. And somehow, he had helped her connect with Blos. She got abuse for that. From everyone, it seemed. But even so, Salman was her friend. A real friend. Someone she liked who liked her in return. Just thinking about him, right then, made her happy. She wasn’t going to lose him, too. She wouldn’t let that happen.

  The more she thought about Salman, the more she realized that he was going to lose her, too. He’d spent his life moving from place to place. He had no family. His best placement had been with a woman who died when he was five years old. He needed a friend. Someone who wouldn’t give up on him just ’cause he had to move again. Someone like her.

  But how was she going to find him? Not by sitting in this hallway, that was for sure.

  She went to her locker and put on her jacket and cap. Someone had to know where Salman was. He was a boy, not some trash you threw away. She was going to figure this out.

  The bell rang, and kids started rushing to classes. She crossed Rob as she headed out the door.

  “Where’re you going, Bird Tamer?” he asked.

  She glared at him, and he wilted, if only for a second. Then she left. She had more important things to do.

  32—Lu-Ellen Zimmer

  Beaten down and withered

  The rain blew into Lu’s face as she walked home. She’d go to the Royals’ trailer. Maybe Salman was still there. She dropped her pack by the back door and headed for the woods, which appeared forbidding in the storm. But she knew that once she reached the trees, the rain wouldn’t come down as hard.

  She picked her way through fallen branches, brushed past dripping bushes, and finally made it to the creek. She followed its swollen course, taking note of the rough whitecaps as it flowed next to her. At the foot of Salman’s garden, she tried to cross where the stones jutted out, but she slipped and landed on her knees in cold water. Water rushed around her, threatening to pull her down, but she pushed herself up quickly and splashed across to the other side. Her boots were waterlogged. Her pants, soaked. Her jacket, wet almost to the chest. And instead of an easy path through the garden, she ran into a six-foot-high chicken-wire fence strung between stakes.

  No fence was going to stop her!

  She decided to circle the property: she’d follow the bushes along the edge of the garden and, at the first gap, she’d cross through.

  She trudged along, her feet and legs chilled. The rain was letting up a bit, but the wind gusted relentlessly. She ran into a thicket of mountain laurel and thought she was lost, when she saw a large maple tree and, above it, the back of the chicken coop.

  She climbed the small hill to the front of the trailer. A light shone inside and a TV flickered.

  She did not want to speak with Tina but she had no choice. She knocked.

  Seconds dragged. She was about to knock again when she heard someone unfasten the dead bolt. The door cracked open, the chain still on. Tina squinted out at her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Lu shivered on the stoop. Tina looked at her for a second longer, shut the door to unhook the chain, and reopened it, wide.

  “Come in,” she said. “You’re near frozen.”

  “Thanks,” Lu said.

  The trailer was warm. Lu’s glasses, streaked with rain, fogged up. She tried to wipe them with her sleeve. A man sat on the sofa in front of the TV, one of his legs encased in a cast propped up on the coffee table. He looked like a beached sea lion—if beached sea lions wore clothes, drank beer, and smoked cigarettes.

  “Who’s this?” he demanded.

  “A friend of Salman’s,” Tina said.

  “Well, he’s gone.”

  That must be Ozzy. Lu didn’t want any trouble.

  “Sorry to bother you …,” she said. She placed her hand on the doorknob.

  “It’s okay, hon,” Tina said. “You’re looking for him, right?”

  Lu nodded. She noticed Tina’s puffy eyes and red nose.

  “Tell the critter to get out,” Ozzy growled.

  “She ain’t no critter,” Tina snapped.

  Lu opened the door a crack. Tina put a hand on her arm.

  “I’m sorry, hon. DCF picked him up this morning.”

  “I told ’em to,” Ozzy said.

  Tina winced. Lu hadn’t expected to feel sorry for her, but she realized that she did. Anyone could see that this woman hadn’t wanted Salman to leave. Maybe she had liked Salman, in her own way. Maybe she wasn’t all bad. And she was stuck with someone like Ozzy.

  “Do you know where Salman’s gone?” Lu asked.

  “Nope. DCF won’t tell me.”

  Tina sniffed.

  “Is there someone I can speak to at …”

  Lu couldn’t remember the initials.

  “DCF,” Tina said. “I have his social worker’s number. You can have it.”

  “Please,” Lu said.

  Tina went to the kitchen counter a
nd pulled open a drawer. She rummaged around.

  “Why ain’t she gone yet?” Ozzy demanded.

  “She’s going, she’s going,” Tina said.

  She returned to Lu, a business card in her hand.

  “Here. I don’t need it anymore.”

  Lu took the card. On it was printed “Paula Lloyd, MSW, Department of Children and Families.” An address and phone number were printed at the bottom.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Don’t thank us, just get out!” Ozzy said.

  Lu skittered out the door. When she reached the bottom step, Tina exited, too.

  “Wait.”

  Lu stopped. Tina stepped down, hugging herself in the rain.

  “If you speak to him, can you tell him I’m sorry? I’m not the best foster mother, but I really tried.”

  Lu nodded. She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat.

  “I’ll tell him.”

  She watched Tina climb back up the stairs. She turned once in the doorway and waved. Lu wasn’t sure whether rain was rolling down Tina’s cheeks or tears. Lu waved back. As she left, the dead bolt clicked.

  In the few minutes Lu had spent in the trailer, the rain had picked up and the wind had only become stronger. The garden looked beaten down and withered, as if whatever had made it blossom and grow had vanished. She rounded the chicken coop, heading down the hollow, when a gust pummeled her. She bent forward, clutching her hat, and heard a loud crack from the maple across from the coop. A large limb came crashing down. She jumped back, her heart racing.

  The trees all around were whipping in the wind. A smaller branch dangled off another maple farther down. She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Then a bird—was it a crow?—flew across her path, frightening her even more, making her jolt back again.

  She wasn’t safe in the forest.

  She scrambled around to the front of the trailer. She’d have to use the roads. She pulled her jacket tighter, pushed her hat further down over her ears.

  She walked, head down, out the dirt and gravel driveway, now a river of mud, onto the small road. It, too, was lined with trees. She kept to the center, praying no car was going to knock her over. The first intersection was Route 51. If she followed it toward town, she’d hit Main Street. Down Main Street about five blocks, and she’d reach the school, and then a few more blocks till home.