by Jo Ho
“Dude, that’s not for another three and a half hours. Chill out.”
Once I had him in front of the TV, I moved to the kitchen, making sure Mark couldn’t hear me, and called Chris. He answered after a few rings, surprised but happy to hear from me.
“Hey hon.”
“Sorry, I know you’re working,” I began.
“I’ve got a few minutes… What’s up?” he asked.
I filled him in quickly, tripping over my words in my haste to get them out.
“I don’t know what to do,” I finished finally.
“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do,” Chris said. “You didn’t actually see anything. What if you’d just turned up at a bad time?”
“But what about what I saw last night?”
“He never actually touched either of them though. I don’t know, babe. I think if you are going to do anything, you need to be sure.”
Someone called his name in the background, and he didn’t sound particularly patient about it.
“I gotta go, I’m sorry. Let’s talk more about this later, OK?” he said.
“Sure, speak later. Love you.” I said.
“Love you back,” he replied before hanging up.
Mind racing, and unsure what I could do, I sat on the couch, blindly watching Mark play until it was time to take him to Ben’s.
They only lived a few blocks away so we walked, the crisp air filling my nose and clearing my head. A cloud of red orange leaves rained down around us, a sight I usually delighted in, though today, I had a tough time feeling anything but guilt and concern.
Arriving at Ben’s house, I stopped Mark before he could run inside.
“Be good, understand?” I told him. “Any problems, you call me.”
Mark nodded, the end of his nose red from the cold. He took a step inside when I suddenly found myself wrapping my arms around him in a hug. I’m not usually a touchy-feely person, so this move surprised even me. Mark squirmed in my arms, pulling away from me.
“Ewwwww,” he said ungraciously. “Get off me!”
I let go, and he bolted inside. Ben’s Mom, a woman I recognized from the party yesterday, smiled at me.
“So nice to see some sibling love. My older ones think Ben’s nothing but an annoyance.”
I could feel my cheeks getting hot from embarrassment. Mumbling something unintelligible, I walked away.
12
Girltalk
Without Mark to babysit, I wandered around aimlessly, trying to get accustomed to my new neighborhood, but I found myself growing increasingly more depressed.
Why had I not trusted my instinct? I should never have gone around there.
When I eventually pulled myself out of my funk enough to look up, I realized I was near the coffee bar.
My mind drifted back to Lacey.
I hadn’t given her much thought in the last few days, but I suddenly felt bad for the way I had reacted at the end of our last meeting. I had a habit of jumping to conclusions, and it was very possible that this was one of those times. I found myself needing to apologize and make amends. Maybe, just maybe, she would be there.
I hurried inside.
Not much had changed. Like my previous visit, only a few people were present, but none of them were Lacey. I was surprised at the disappointment I felt. The barista and her co-worker were back, though something had clearly happened between them as they avoided each other like the plague, which was quite the feat as they only had a five foot or so space to do this with. I was willing to bet money on a date or kiss gone horrifically wrong.
We’ve all been there.
Deciding I was going to treat myself to more than water, I ordered a coffee but still received a weird look from the barista, so that was Lacey’s theory out of the window. Maybe it was the Chinese thing, although this area was pretty multi-cultural so I would be surprised if it was that.
I was happy to see that my table in the dark corner was empty. I had never considered myself a creature of habit before but it wasn’t a label I minded. I took my laptop out of my bag, having grabbed it last minute before we left the house. Chris’s advice had given me food for thought and since I couldn’t make up my own mind, I figured research was in order. Waking it from sleep, I opened Chrome and Googled “What to do if you think a child is being abused?”
Unsettling articles and hits flooded the screen. So many, I was amazed by the scope of them. Sure, I might not always get along with my brother — he can get bratty like any other kid his age — but I would never dream of hurting him. It sickened me that not everyone felt the same.
I read through the articles, noting down their advice. A few warned against pointing the finger at someone unless you were sure — especially if the suspected abuser could be innocent. Rumors were a surefire way to turn a community against them, and suddenly the family you were trying to help could find themselves ostracized.
My stomach churned, making me feel sick. I had no real proof, everything was circumstantial. Did I really want to do go down this route?
A well of hopelessness filled up inside, threatening to spill over. Feeling how dry my eyes were, I looked up from the screen, and only then did I realize I wasn’t alone anymore. Someone was sitting opposite me, waving her hand at me to get my attention.
Lacey.
“Hey! Must be good stuff you’re reading there, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now!” She said this, smiling and well, looking just like the last time. She was even wearing the same wool hat. I was so startled, I didn’t immediately return her smile. She chewed on the corner of her lip, forehead furrowing into a frown.
“Listen, about last time… You left before I could say anything,” she began. She seemed so genuinely concerned, I felt myself softening up.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’d had a bad day and you got the brunt of it. I’m not usually like that.”
“I just didn’t want you to think—” she went on but I raised my hand, stopping her mid flow.
“You don’t have to explain yourself. It wasn’t my place to do that. You were being kind but I jumped to conclusions. It’s a bad habit of mine,” I said apologetically.
“Well, we all have some of those,” she laughed.
“It’s just, I had met some of the locals earlier, in the park, and they weren’t particularly welcoming.”
Lacey’s expression became worried. “Who was it? What did they do?”
“Oh, just a group of girls, around our age. They were just being stupid. The leader had blonde hair, with pink-dyed tips.”
Lacey sat back, nodding knowingly.
“That’ll be Mandy Burrows and her gang. They like to pick on people but they’re all talk. You don’t have to worry about them.”
I must have looked a little hesitant as Lacey went on the explain.
“Seriously. Mandy runs around the neighbourhood with them, looking tough, but if you ever have any real trouble with her, you just speak to her dad. He’s head of the local paper and isn’t too happy with her constant bad behavior. One word from you and he’ll put a stop to it. He doesn’t believe in bullies.”
“Well that’s one down at least,” I said, somewhat relieved. I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the strong, hot drink.
“So,” I said, hoping to steer the conversation away, “you really like that hat, huh?” Lacey laughed. “Yeah. It’s my favorite because it doesn’t scratch. You wouldn’t believe how much of a difference that makes.”
I smiled, but my heart wasn’t in it. Lacey must have picked up on this as her eyes shone with concern.
“What’s up? You seem troubled?”
I shook my head, put down the coffee cup. “It’s nothing…”
Lacey smiled encouragingly at me. “Well I noticed you said “that’s one down” just now. So what’re the other ones?”
I hesitated, not sure if I should say anything, but Lacey gave me an encouraging look.
“Come on, you know what they say
, a problem shared…”
It was probably her kind expression and the fact that she exuded empathy, but I suddenly found myself telling her everything. The words spilled out of my mouth unheeded or censored. Lacey listened, calm and attentive. She didn’t comment until I finished.
“Wow. No wonder you’re stressed. I would be too,” she finally said.
“I just… I believe it’s happening, but I just don’t think I can do anything about it. Some of these articles say I should have proof before making a giant assumption like this. Once this stuff gets into the open, it isn’t something you can take back, and I can’t be the one who makes life worse for him. Again.”
“Kim, everyone always thinks that, but they are so wrong. You can do something. You spotted it. You know. So now, you can help him.”
I clenched my hands into fists, frustration bubbling over. “But how? What can I do?”
“Can you tell your parents?” Lacey asked.
“No… they have their own stuff going on right now… We… There’s a lot happening at home. I don’t want to bug them with this unless I’m one hundred percent sure. I just feel so helpless, you know?”
Lacey’s eyes softened as she looked at me.
“At least when you’re watching them, they’re not alone anymore.”
Her words managed to cut into the pit of misery I found myself in. I felt a small pang of hope, battling through the darkness. Embarrassed by all the emotions I was feeling, I reached for my coffee but misjudged the distance. My hand only nudged the edge of the cup but it was enough to send half its contents spilling over. Hot brown liquid landed on Lacey’s hand. I gasped, horrified and went to dab at the mess with my napkin, but Lacey just smiled, waving me away.
“It’s OK. It didn’t hurt.”
“Are you sure?” I tried to help, but she shook her head.
“Honestly. Didn’t even feel it. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t believe how clumsy I am,” I admonished myself.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing all you can,” Lacey said.
I wasn’t done trying to make up for burning her hand. Despite what she said, I knew it must have hurt but I guess she just didn’t want me to feel any worse than I already felt. It struck me then that Lacey was a truly nice person. And even if she didn’t want to give me her personal details, I was grateful for what friendship we had.
We sat there for a while, just talking. She tried convincing me to read some history books, but I wasn’t buying, which actually amused her. Seemed she was always getting this response but it hadn’t dampened her own enjoyment of the subject.
When the last of my coffee was well and truly done, we left together. Standing outside, I realized I was feeling so much better about myself and all credit was due to Lacey. She just had this way about her. You couldn’t help but like her.
“So, where are you heading?” I asked.
“Oh, just a few blocks away. I live close by,” she replied.
“So do I. Actually, do you want to come round for dinner? My mom always cooks way too much for the four of us,” I offered.
Lacey tilted her head, studying me. “Are you still trying to make up for earlier?”
“No… well, maybe a little,” I said.
She laughed. “I’d love to but I can’t tonight. Another time?”
“Sure.” I paused then, sentences tumbling through my head, fighting for attention, but all that came out was: “Thanks for earlier. For listening and stuff.”
Lacey smiled again. “You’re welcome.”
She turned to walk away, so I took her cue and was starting the other way myself when she called over her shoulder at me.
“Hey Kim…”
I stopped, looking back.
“Don’t give up on Lucas. You might be the only one who can help him.”
A sudden lump developed in my throat.
“I won’t. Thanks for being a good listener.”
Lacey smiled at me again. “Dum vita est spes est”.
It took me a second but I recognized the words — they were the same as the ones on the plaque in my room.
“What is that, a town motto?” I asked.
She smiled at me. “Something like that.” Waving, she turned and starting walking away. I headed off in the other direction before it hit me — how was I going to invite her for dinner another time when I still didn’t have her details? I turned around, but she was already gone.
13
Caught
I walked into a dark and empty house.
Where was everyone?
Surprised, I headed into the kitchen to find a note on the table. Mom had gone to dinner with Dad, to take his mind off work matters. And probably to make up for this morning, I thought to myself. I was glad. They needed time together. Back at The Bluff, they used to go on weekly dates but I couldn't remember when they had last done that. For sure they hadn’t since Dad’s accident.
Mom mentioned there were leftovers from the party in the fridge. As if in answer, my stomach emitted a low rumble. I hadn’t had anything since breakfast so I was feeling relieved when I opened the fridge to see how much food was still there.
I grabbed a few of the roast pork buns and nuked them in the microwave, thankful that Mom wasn't home to see me. She was a stickler for things like this, and would never use the microwave to heat them. She would steam the buns, even though it was a lot more hassle and would take triple the time.
When the microwave chimed to let me know it was done, I looked across the yard to see Lucas sitting on the bench again. He looked so forlorn, my heart hurt for him. Guilt raised its ugly head, knowing that I was the likely cause of his misery. As I tore my eyes away from him, I noticed the stash of doggie bags that were still on the counter, yet to be put away. I shoved the food I had just heated up into a bag and went outside.
Moving towards the fence cautiously, I scanned Lucas's house. The lights were on inside, highlighting Stan asleep in a recliner, oblivious to the world. Seeing how relaxed he was when poor Lucas was out here in the cold filled me with a red hot fury. I leaned in close to the fence.
“Lucas… Are you alright?” I began, hating how my voice trembled. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
He looked at me with a weariness that shouldn’t be possible in an eight-year-old.
“It’s OK. You didn’t know…”
The fact he wasn’t in the least bit mad at me, well, that just killed me even more. I swallowed the lump in my throat, desperate to make amends.
“Where’s your mom?” I asked.
“Watching TV in the bedroom…” He hesitated. “She’s not feeling very well.”
I had a feeling he wasn’t telling me the whole truth but didn’t want to push. Everything about this kid plucked at my heartstrings. I held out the doggie bag to him.
“I thought you might like some more food… we still have plenty leftover…”
A grubby little hand shot forward and snatched the bag from me. He didn’t even bother looking inside to see what was there. Just shoved his hand in, grabbed the first thing he could, and put it into his mouth. He ate so fast, I was afraid he would choke. A part of me wanted to tell him to slow down, but I also knew he probably hadn’t eaten in a while so I was content just to stand there, keeping him company.
Suddenly, my cell — which was in the back pocket of my jeans — blasted out a Muse track. It was the ringtone I had given to Chris. The uplifting music seemed inordinately loud out here, and I found myself fumbling for my phone to turn it off, but in the few seconds that it took for me to retrieve it, I saw a blur of movement coming from Lucas’s house.
It was Stan.
Woken up by the loud music, he was no longer sleeping in the recliner, but barrelling towards us!
“Boy, I told you to stay away from them!”
He lurched towards us, slurring some of his words. In the midst of my panic, I realized he was drunk. My suspici
ons were confirmed when his flushed face landed in a bright beam of moonlight. His glazed eyes darted in all directions, struggling to locate us. I shrank back away from the fence, instantly afraid of the fury I saw in them.
But Lucas… Lucas had nowhere to go.
“No matter how many times, you never behave. But you’ll listen to my fist, won’t you?” Stan lunged forward so fast that Lucas couldn’t react. He grabbed him by the arm, yanking it so hard I was afraid it would be torn out of its socket.
“Leave him alone! Don’t touch him!” I yelled, my concern for Lucas over-riding my own fear.
As if he suddenly remembered I was there, Stan strode over to the fence in three quick strides, dragging Lucas behind him. Then, as easily as if he were just swatting a fly, he reached over the fence and back-handed me across my face!
Searing pain exploded in my cheek as my head snapped back. Reeling from shock, I blinked back the tears that had sprung up in my eyes. Never had I ever felt anything like that before. I looked over the fence to see Stan almost had Lucas inside the house. I froze, not knowing what to do. Throughout it all, my phone kept ringing. Showering the scene with a cheerful soundtrack that only made it seem more surreal. I watched Lucas, sobbing now, as Stan pulled him away.
You can’t let this happen! He’ll kill him! Come on Kim, think… THINK!
I answered my phone.
Before Chris could speak, I yelled into it. “Call the cops, Chris! Send them to my house. Tell them the neighbor’s little boy is in danger — he’s drunk and I think he’s about to beat him, bad!”
Chris’s voice came down the line, baffled. Hesitant. “What? Are you sur—?”
“NOW CHRIS! Hurry! I’m going after them.”
I shoved the phone into my pocket, keeping the call connected. I could hear Chris’s panicked voice yelling at me to stop, but I couldn’t. Maybe it was the conversation I had had with Lacey earlier, or the fact that the last time this kid had a beating, it was down to me. Whatever it was, I was determined that it would not happen again.
