by Ty Burson
Fight or flight—Steve’s brain only had a second to choose. When Joey roared and knocked over his brother to get to Steve, Steve ran. He ducked under the porch rail and lit out across the yard. Joey and Alphonse leapt after him.
The race was on. Steve was fast, very fast, and agile like his dad. But Joey was no slouch either. Without thinking, Steve went immediately between the parked cars. All he needed to do was get a little separation between himself and his cousins and he could dodge them all day behind one car or another. He skidded over the pine needles and grabbed the tailgate of his dad’s truck. He swung himself up and into its bed right as Joey was about to get hold of his shirt. With a less than graceful leap, he landed on the hood of another car and dropped between it and the pickup. Joey’s shirt snagged on a bumper and hung him up. Steve thought he was home free, but he had forgotten about Alphonse. He ran right smack into the smaller cousin with enough momentum to knock them both down. Steve rose quickly while Alphonse clung tightly to his leg. “Help me Joey, I got him.”
Steve kicked himself free, but now he was stuck. Alphonse blocked his retreat and Joey appeared in front of him. He knew what would happen next. It would be a mess of arms and legs until one of the brothers got on top and then they’d both pound him.
Steve went for Joey, tackling him around his stomach. He heard a satisfying grunt as the bigger boy hit the ground. Steve wrestled for position, hoping he could land a shot and get away before Alphonse came to the rescue. But Joey was tough and had already grabbed one of Steve’s arms when Alphonse slammed into Steve from behind. The bigger boy, aided by his little brother, managed to pin Steve down and began punching. Fortunately for Steve, the pair probably socked each other as much as they did him. Steve did the only thing he could, which was to cover up and occasionally lash out with his feet to see if he could hit someone.
From the porch, there came an ear-splitting scream—Dani. Normally, the Dani scream only meant parent retribution, but this time it brought every adult within a quarter mile of the house to the fight. A few seconds later, a dozen hands pulled the boys apart.
Steve didn’t know what was worse—the thumping he got, or the aftermath. He was pretty sure it was the aftermath. His dad marched him up to the porch while his cousins told everyone Steve had thrown soda on them. Steve tried to explain himself as well, but like every other time he got frustrated, he found himself stuttering, and no one could understand his incoherent response. And, because he wasn’t able to get his side out, and because both cousins did in fact have strawberry pop in their hair, he was blamed for the whole thing. His parents banished him to the end of the porch where he sat with his head resting against the wooden railing and his legs dangling over the edge. “As soon as Granny gets her cake, you’re going home,” his mother said as she walked away.
Weren’t they all going home after Granny had her cake? Steve asked himself, ruefully. But he kept his mouth shut.
At least his cousins didn’t get off completely, Steve admitted. Steve watched as they were sent into the house to wash off the dirt and the soda and, once finished, told to sit at one of the tables and not move. Of course, whenever the adults wandered away, they would smirk in Steve’s directions. Alphonse actually started making faces and pointing at Steve. Steve more or less ignored their goading; they were morons, after all. What bothered him was that every once in a while some older cousin or adult would give him a dirty look, like this was all his fault. And, to top it off, he had gotten so frustrated that he hadn’t been able to explain his side when it mattered.
So now, exiled and fuming, all he could do was mumble to himself over and over, “It’s not fair.” Only it sounded a lot more like “I-I-It’s n-n-not f-f-fair.” He was also thinking about a thousand or so ways his cousins could die, preferably horrible, extended deaths. Well, maybe not deaths. But they could live and suffer, right? Perhaps it was because he was so absorbed in these revenge fantasies that he didn’t notice the ants.
The head of a line of tiny black ants had made its way up a porch post like it was a circular staircase, and came to a stop right next to Steve. Behind that line, another came, then another, and so on until it looked like the ants were standing in a military formation, waiting for a command. When Steve noticed them a few seconds later, he scooted away, looking around to see if they had come for a spare piece of hotdog or perhaps some spilled soda. As he was doing so, Joey caught his eye and gave him an obscene gesture.
He was about to say something when the head of the black mass made an abnormal, but perfectly executed, right-hand turn toward the rest of the partygoers. The ants were well on their way along the porch before Steve realized where they were headed. He was still watching the trailing ants when he heard Alphonse scream. Moments later, Joey joined him.
The porch erupted in pandemonium. The brothers were yelling and screaming and jumping around, knocking over chairs and slapping at their trousers. “Help me. Help me!” Alphonse screamed.
Joey hollered even louder, “They’re biting me!”
Their mother came flying out of the house, “What in God’s name is it, now?”
Joey screamed, “I’m getting bit, Mom!”
Alphonse pointed to his pants, “Ants, ants!”
Granny came out the screen door right behind her daughter. “Get the hose, Roger,” she yelled. “Get the pants off them boys and hose ‘em down. Not right there! Take ‘em off the porch first.”
The boys were in such agony that they didn’t seem to mind the embarrassment of a bunch of relatives stripping them down to their undershorts right in front of everyone. They sputtered and shivered while Uncle Roger washed away the attackers with a stream of ice cold water, dousing the boys completely in the process. Meanwhile, Granny arrived with some towels.
The whole scene unfolded right in front of Steve, who hadn’t moved and was pretty much as stunned as everyone else. The cousins were herded inside for calamine lotion relief. Once the older kids realized the pair would not die, they began to snicker. “Wow, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve heard one of them say. “Can you get killed by ants?” asked another.
Once the excitement passed, Steve had a few moments to himself, and couldn’t help but feel that something had been off with those ants, and that maybe he should have said something before his cousins got eaten alive. But then he remembered where he was and who was responsible for putting him there, and he decided his cousins had gotten what they deserved.
The adults began to tidy up, righting chairs and generally ignoring the boy at the end of the porch—everyone except his grandmother. She turned and looked directly at him, like he’d done something wrong. But there was also concern on her face. She had taken a step or two in his direction when she suddenly stopped, cocking her ear to one side like a dog, eyes aslant. She stepped over to the railing, leading with her ear, as if listening for something. “Quick,” she yelled, suddenly. “Get everyone inside. Now, I mean it!” Then she ran over to Steve and pulled him up, “Especially you.”
She was still rounding everyone up and shoving them indoors when the chimes started to tinkle. A breeze began blowing, sending napkins and paper plates flying, but Granny ignored that. Pressed against the glass like everyone else, Steve watched as the trees began to sway back and forth, pine needles and ground debris whipping up into the air. It looked as if something massive was coming, and it sounded to Steve like he was on a roller coaster, or like it did when he rode in the back of the pickup, his ears practically plugged up by wind. The massive gust shoved the last of the trees aside, although the wind didn’t directly hit the house; the strongest of it only came as far as the edge of the yard and no further.
In fact, the swirling mass of pine needles and dirt parted around the yard; it started to look like they were in the eye of a tornado. It was almost as if the raging whirlwind was trying to get in and for some reason couldn’t. While it roared its way around and around, unable to get past the invisible barrier that kept it away,
a shadow crept through, piercing the sun dappled yard and stretching forward, like a finger pointing its way toward the front door. Granny slammed the screen door shut behind her as she faced off against whatever it was, gesturing wildly with her hands.
Neither Steve, nor anyone else, could hear what she was saying, not with the wind blowing and the chimes going berserk. Still, whatever she was doing seemed to be working, because wherever Granny stepped, the shadow seemed to retreat, like a wounded animal. Once she made her way onto the yard, she began twirling, like Steve and his friends used to do when they wanted to get dizzy, faster and faster until Steve was sure she’d have to throw up. But, after a few minutes, she started to slow down and her arms dropped elegantly to her sides. Her eyes remained shut. The wind remained, whipping now and again against the edges of the yard, but Steve realized the shadow was nowhere to be seen.
Steve leaned in, pressing his forehead against the glass. Granny’s hair was a nightmare, like grey lightning bolts, her chiseled features seemed stretched and harsh and her eyes were no longer a soft, gentle brown, but two black orbs that drank in the light. Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the wind fled, and in that instant, the illusion was gone; Granny was Granny again, and Steve’s dad burst through the door to help his mother.
Chapter 12
The party was over. Steve’s relatives collected their precious Tupperware and went home; most of the adults climbed into their cars still answering the fevered questions of the younger cousins with calm, reasoned explanations that made very little sense. If the afternoon’s events had freaked them out, they didn’t show it. Steve’s parents remained inside talking to Granny while he and his sister sat on the porch. Dani wouldn’t shut up about the magic wind and how Joey and Alphonse deserved to get bit and how all the older cousins liked her new glasses.
“Quiet, would you? I want to know what they’re talking about,” Steve urged.
Even though Steve could hear voices, he couldn’t quite make them out. Frustrated, he went off to see what damage the wind had done to the yard. Dani called down after him, “Hey, you’re supposed to sit here with me. You’re gonna get in trouble!”
Steve ignored her and walked over to where the winds first appeared, right between two medium-sized pines to the left of the dirt gravel driveway. He blinked against the setting sun, which was right at eye level. He shaded his eyes and looked up into the trees. Limbs were bent, some were broken, and pine needles were scattered everywhere on the ground below. Still, none of the trees were tall enough to cast that shadow he had seen earlier. Maybe something in the sky, Steve thought, looking higher. Dani shot up right behind him, scaring him, “Wow, we had a hurrycane!”
“You mean a hurricane,” Steve corrected, testily. “No, we didn’t.”
Dani tilted her head, “Then it was a tormato.”
Steve walked on, not bothering to correct her; after all, it wasn’t like he knew what had happened. Everything outside the tree line looked pretty much the same, he noticed. As he worked his way around the yard in a large circle, Dani, who was following, blurted out, “Hey, look, it’s one of Granny’s statues.”
Steve saw that Dani was right. A smiling ceramic squirrel holding its ceramic nut had been knocked on its side. Steve picked it up and swept the dirt away, then carefully replaced it. A thought came to him and he retraced his steps, paying close attention to the ground this time instead of the trees. “Dani, look, Granny’s statues circle the whole yard.”
“Yeah, aren’t they cute? I’m gonna ask Granny if I can have one. Do you want me to ask her if you can have one too?”
Steve looked at her like she had a third head. He started to explain what he was talking about, but finally mumbled, “Forget it.”
“What do you mean forget it?” she asked. “You mean Granny’s statues kept the wind out, like a magic wall!”
He looked at her sideways. How did she do that? Steve wondered. One second she’d be spouting eight-year-old nonsense, and then, boom, she’d pop off with the right answer. “Yeah, something like that,” he mumbled back at her.
Dani ran back up to the porch for more of her soda before Steve could talk to her about what that meant. Steve simply shook his head and continued with his investigation. Yeah, he thought, it is like a magic wall. But why would Granny need one? And how did she do it?
As he made his way around the edges of the yard, he noticed that all the figurines were more or less evenly spaced, every five to six feet, or so. At each piece, he stopped and swept it free of debris, careful not to move them; he was afraid that he might mess up whatever made them work, in case the wind came back.
As he moved from figurine to figurine, he thought not only about the wind, but also about the ants. Where had they come from? Were they a coincidence, or did they have something to do with the wind? This is crazy, he decided. Magic walls and an ant legion and an impossible shadow. But then he remembered the seagulls and the dog and the water spout. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so crazy; it certainly couldn’t be a coincidence.
Maybe he had superpowers! The ability to control ants! He mulled that over and decided he hoped that wasn’t the full extent of it. If he had superpowers, then wouldn’t it be better to like move things, or control other people’s brains? Now that would be cool! He wondered what his superhero name would be if all he could do was control ants, though…
His mother called to him, interrupting his train of thought. “Steve, get up here right now! You were supposed to stay right here!”
“Superman’s mom probably didn’t make him stay on the porch,” he grumbled.
As he trudged back to the porch. He looked up to see his mom and dad embracing Granny. “He’ll be all right. Go on home and don’t worry,” Granny instructed.
Steve started to turn around and head toward the truck, but his dad put a hand on his shoulder. “Steve, you’re going to stay here with Granny tonight.”
“How come?” Steve asked. Even though most kids loved spending the night with their grandparents, Steve knew better; no television and a night with his spinning, wild-haired grandmother kind of gave him the creeps.
Steve’s mom bent down and kissed his cheek. “Just for tonight. Granny has some things to tell you, and it’s safer… it’s for the best tonight.”
Steve hurriedly searched for a way out. “I-I-I d-d-didn’t bring anything to spend the night. I don’t have any P-P-PJ’s or um, my toothbrush!” Steve continued like this for a solid minute, saying everything except, “Don’t make me stay here with nothing to do!”
Dani butted in, eventually, “How come he gets to stay? Can I stay too? Can I? Can I?”
Jeanie ignored her, “It’s only for tonight, and your dad will be back early to get you after he drops me off at work. Now give me a hug. Quit, Dani, we’ll stop and get you an ice cream on the way home.”
She gets ice cream, too, Steve thought, this is totally unfair! But he didn’t complain any more out loud, choosing instead to go sulk in a nearby chair that looked like it was made of firewood. Granny walked the rest of his family back to their truck. Dani continued pressing the issue and had to be led, or rather, dragged, away by the hand. Steve’s dad upped the bribe, “How about we get you a double-scoop?” Somewhat mollified, Dani turned back to her brother and stuck out her tongue before diving into the cab.
Chapter 13
After they left, Granny went about straightening her figurine collection. Apparently, she could tell that a few were out of place, even if Steve hadn’t. She waved for him to follow, and he trailed her as she up righted a toadstool here and wiped off a ballerina there. Some of her wind chimes were tangled. There were downed branches and torn up bushes everywhere. Together, she and Steve picked up what they could, but soon the sun began to dip beneath the treetops and the high-pitched hum of mosquitoes began to fill their ears, so they gave up and made their way back to the porch. Granny lit several bug sticks and told Steve to fetch them a couple big glasses of sweet tea.
Granny
waited until Steve had drunk his before finishing her own. “Stevie, I need you to tell me something. Did you go into my bedroom today before your cousins had their accident?”
“No.” Steve almost never went into his grandmother’s room unless the other bathroom was occupied. “Why?”
“I didn’t think so. And you don’t read Portuguese…”
“What are you talking about, Granny?”
“Nothing, a stupid idea. How about we start with you telling me what you want to know?
Steve looked at her funny, “What do you mean?”
“Aw, come on now,” she began, “You probably have a million questions. Let’s have them.”
Steve thought about it: sure, he had bunches of questions, but he wasn’t sure which ones to ask, so he settled on an easy one, “Why did Mom and Dad leave me here?”
“I like that, the most obvious first. I asked your mom and dad if you could stay so we could talk, so I could explain a few things. Anything else?”
“Well…What was that wind? And what were you doing in the yard? What’s with your statues? Is there a magic wall? And what about—”
“Just a minute, Steve, one at a time,” she chided. She paused and considered Steve’s face for a moment. “Maybe you should answer one of mine first, actually.” She set her glass to the side, “You’ve had some strange things happen lately, haven’t you?”
For the briefest second, Steve thought about denying it, but he looked at his grandmother and didn’t think he could lie to her. “Yeah,” he replied. Then he told her everything: the seagulls, the dog, the waterspout, the weird dream, even about watching the ants today. Granny remained quiet and still throughout the entire thing, waiting until Steve was done to ask, “Is that it? Everything?”
