Sam's Theory

by Sarah Mendivel

  I focused on the moment, still resting my hands on the door, searching for a single thing to be encouraged by. I sighed deeply now, the way James did, grateful that my hands felt warm again.

  It’s okay, Sam, I repeated. Everything will always be all right.

  I pushed myself off the door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

  Nothing.

  I waited for a minute, second guessing my decision. I suddenly felt embarrassed about being at a stranger’s house so late at night, even if it was way up in a tree. I rubbed my forehead to stay calm and shoved my other hand into the pocket of my hoodie. I looked up at the door, shook off my idea to knock again, and stepped toward the ledge to leave. Why would someone want to help me anyway?

  Grrr!

  A low, threatening growl suddenly surfaced from the below me. My stomach jumped into my throat and I could feel myself choking on my own fear.

  What the heck was that?! Was that an animal? What made sounds like that? A wolf? Maybe a bear? Had it been following me this entire time, or did it just now find me? What did it want with me?

  Before I could decide what was stalking me, I saw a light flicker from inside again. I heard floorboards creak and a shadow slowly appeared behind the windows.

  As I held my breath, I watched the old, brass doorknob begin to turn.

  The door whined open to reveal a surprisingly small hand. As the door continued to give way, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  The moon splashed against the silhouette of an old woman. My eyes squinted in hopes of making out more of her features, but the forest air was intent on keeping her hidden.

  “Hello,” said the stranger in a kind, yet careful, voice.

  I fumbled for the words to introduce myself. “Hi, um, hello. I, uh, I’m Sam.”

  My face flushed with embarrassment, acutely aware that I had just blown my shot at a graceful greeting.

  “Are you lost, child? It’s late,” the woman responded.

  I perked up, dedicating myself to the moment. “Yeah. I mean, yes. I, uh, well, I’ve been walking for a couple days and then saw your house. There’s something down there, like a growling something, and I don’t know what it is, so I climbed up here and thought maybe I could just sleep on the deck of your house for tonight, or something. I don’t know what it is or where I am,” I tried telling her about everything all at once, knowing how crazy I probably sounded.

  “Mm hm. Come in child, let me get you some tea,” she invited.

  Surprised by her request, I gratefully stepped inside the house. Before the door closed behind me completely though, I heard a final growl from the forest floor. Terrified by its persistence, I closed the door quickly. It made a slam louder than I had intended to and I looked up at the woman, suddenly feeling ashamed for being so assertive with someone else’s space. My fear was too big to control though, and when she turned to walk away from me, I quietly snapped the lock into place.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I stood in the doorway, not sure if I was shivering from the nighttime air or the strange situation I had just walked into. I zipped my hoodie as far up as it would go and took in the space around me.

  Standing boldly in front of me was the trunk of a tree that reached from the floor to the ceiling. The walls around it climbed several stories high. Large windows replaced the roof and exposed a pattern of stars outside.

  Long, sturdy branches held differently sized shelves in place. The largest shelf faced the front door and was illuminated by candlelight. Entranced, I took a few steps forward to peer at an old compass and a variety of trinkets around it. Tiny puddles of crystallized sap were frozen near the edges of the shelf, telling of its old age.

  Dangling above me on smaller branches were dozens of blown glass ornaments of all colors and sizes. Candlelight glistened off their translucent edges and highlighted how artful the entire entryway was. I could tell there was much more to see beyond the branches, but the dark hid most of it from my view.

  “Here,” said a voice from behind me. The old woman stood in the shadows offering a cup of tea. I grasped it thankfully, not remembering the last time I drank or ate anything normal.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly before drinking the entire mug in one gulp.

  “Thirsty?” she quipped.

  I felt a bit embarrassed, wishing now that I had taken my time drinking it in front of her. However, before I could reply, my mug felt heavy again. I looked down and saw that it was full.

  Weird. Was I going crazy?

  Confused, but too afraid to show it, I closed my eyes and drank what was there. The steam of the tea felt warm against my face and smelled of cinnamon.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw that the woman had stepped into the light. Although she was about the same height as me, her frame was much smaller than mine. She had hair that swirled into long, black curls. As she walked, I noticed a single streak of white hair loop through one of her strands. It fell over a pair of round glasses that framed her kind, but knowing, eyes.

  Draped in a silk dress, I admired how the artsy material complimented a key-shaped necklace hanging from her neck. Her face was aged by smile lines and the heavy, black rims of her glasses spoke to the natural strength of her presence.

  “Here,” she suddenly commanded. “Let’s sit in the library and finish our tea.” Her ring-laden hand motioned toward a round entrance to the right of us. I politely held my mug close to me in hopes that she wouldn’t notice my tea was gone again so quickly.

  I watched her walk through the circular door frame and disappear into a darker room. Hesitant to follow a stranger into a dim room, I stood still weighing my options. Seeing as how there weren’t many to choose from, I walked toward the room and wondered when it would be appropriate to ask for more tea.

  Suddenly, a light grew in the room and revealed a towering wall of books. Taking a few steps closer, I could see the woman poking at a pile of sleepy logs in a fireplace. She prodded them until they awoke and lit the entire room with bright light.

  “Come. You can sit in one of those chairs,” she offered without looking up from the fire.

  I walked into the room and onto a wool carpet that blanketed most of the floor. The library was a tremendous display of art and books. Floor to ceiling windows were braced together by long planks of honey-colored wood.

  There was a small desk in the corner of the room that held a gold-plated kaleidoscope, half-empty ink bottles, and pieces of driftwood. The wall above it displayed old topographical maps and manuscript pages.

  A few feet from the fire rested two leather chairs. Although matching in style, it was clear one had been used far more than the other. I made my way to the chair that appeared the least-used and sat down in its chocolaty leather seat, hoping it was the correct choice.

  While the woman busied herself with the tea, I began to feel my exhaustion and wanted desperately to doze off in my chair. I bowed my head in hopes of secretly closing my eyes for a minute, but instead caught sight of my cup.

  It was full again! How did this keep happening? Was I really so tired that I was imagining things now?

  “Theory,” the woman said abruptly.

  I cleared my throat and put my tea down, trying to appear casual amidst my confusion. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “My name, in case you were wondering,” she said while sitting down in the used chair across from me. “It’s Theory.”

  “Oh, sorry, right. Theory,” I fumbled, trying quickly to recover.

  “Mm hm. What’s yours?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’m Sam.”

  “Sam,” smiled Theory. “That suits you.”

  I smiled back, feeling awkward and trying to figure out what she meant. “Thank you.”

  “Mm hm. So, where did you come from, Sam?” she asked.

  “I, uh…” Shoot. I wasn’t prepared to answer this question. I couldn’t tell her anything! What if she called the police and they tried to take me back to Residential? What if He fo
und me again and made me pay for escaping?

  Theory sat looking at me, waiting for an answer. Her gaze was intent and direct. She stayed silent until I finally stumbled out with the truth. “I, uh. I kinda ran away.”

  “Mm, okay. From where?” she seemed unfazed by my response.

  My heart started to race and I could feel my palms sweating. I was afraid of losing the grip around my cup. I started second-guessing my stay here. Maybe I could leave and just find another tree to sleep in. There’s no way I could tell her the whole truth. Perhaps I could tell her just enough to let me stay the night, or maybe until I was supposed to meet Dodger.

  “Sam?” Theory asked, snapping me out of my anxious thoughts.

  “Yeah? Sorry.”

  “Where did you run away from?”

  I took a deep breath. “Mm, my foster home.”

  Theory nodded and sat back. “I see.”

  I quickly tried to justify myself. “It just wasn’t a good situation. I’m fine, though. I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

  “Mm hm. And where are your parents?”

  Images of violence and arguments flashed through my head like a strobe light. “They just…mm…weren’t really ready to be parents.”

  “I see. And how long were you in the woods for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A couple days, I guess.” Her questions and casualness were making me nervous. I finally crumbled. “Listen, please don’t tell anyone. I can leave right now if you want me to. It’s just that there was something outside and it scared me, so I climbed up this tree and knocked on your door. I won’t tell anyone where you live, I swear.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that earlier. Do you know what was chasing you?” she asked, without missing a beat.

  I thought back to the growling and shivered. “No. Whatever it was, I think there were two of them. Well, or more? I don’t know. I just know they were making this weird noise and kept circling around the tree below me. It freaked me out.”

  “Ah. Well, it sounds like something unpleasant has caught your scent while you were out and about. It must have been hard to make it so far in this freeze with just a sweatshirt on.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m okay. I don’t get cold very easily,” I said, half annoyed that she was grilling me.

  She nodded slowly, analyzing my response. “Heated by the rage of an orphan, I suppose.” I glared at her defensively. What could she possibly know about my situation? She met my stare and softened her tone. “Are you headed somewhere in particular?”

  I tried to match her shift in conversation by answering calmly. “Yeah, kind of.”

  Theory chuckled and raised her voice sarcastically. “Well, let’s not speak in too much detail here. We wouldn’t want to wear ourselves out from being overly vulnerable. You know, it’s only the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere…where no one exists but us!” She winked in jest. I immediately thought of Anna. There was something kind and comfortable about this woman, even if she did ask a lot of questions.

  I smiled, appreciating her humor, and tried to loosen up. “Okay, okay.”

  What the heck, I thought. She was right. We were in the middle of nowhere; or, at least far enough away from home for me to be really lost.

  I decided to give in. “I’m meeting someone at Lake Isabel on the first day of spring. He said it was about a mile-and-a-half from Warrior Peak. I thought I knew where that was, but I’ve been hiking for a couple days now and I think I’m lost.”

  “On the contrary! We are sitting very near to that area.”

  “No way? Wow, go figure.” I couldn’t help but be elated at the coincidence. Suddenly I felt the heat of hope warming my spirit.

  “Yes. It seems you have a natural sense of direction. Although, spring is a bit far off, isn’t it?” she tilted her head.

  “Yeah, well…we made this plan a while ago, but stuff got really messed up and I couldn’t hang in anymore. It’s hard to explain, but, I just had to leave.”

  “I see. And, who is ‘we’?” she probed.

  I blushed, not realizing that I had brought up Dodger. “Oh. My friend, Dodger. I know him from rez.”

  “Rez?”

  “Yeah, rez.” I looked over Theory’s face, realizing she genuinely did not understand what I was talking about. I sat up in my chair and used my hands to explain. “‘Rez’ is short for ‘residential.’ I guess it’s kind of slang we use. Like, ‘he’s a rez kid’ or ‘oh, she’s from rez’. Rez is a group home for kids that…” I trailed off and felt a kick of shame in my stomach knowing that I was one of the kids I was about to describe. It was a whole lot easier to explain the system when you weren’t living right in the middle of it.

  Theory sat for a moment, then graciously took back the conversation I had fumbled. “Got it. Tell me about this Dodger. He sounds important to you.”

  I smiled, relieved about the topic change. And, after all, Dodger had quickly become my favorite thing to think about, talk about and daydream about since I met him nearly a year ago. Not that he had any idea I felt this way, though.

  The sun was setting on one of the roughest days of my life. After I managed to call 911 from my closet, the cops swept in just in time to save me from His wrath.

  One cop tackled Him into a wall, while the other stumbled over the mess of our house to shuffle me out of the room. It felt like I was floating in slow motion through piles of dirty clothes and trash as the cop created a safe passage from the living room to the front yard and into the back seat of a police car. Furious protests from His tussle with the cops bellowed from behind me, shouting for me to “get back here or else.” The further I walked away from Him, the further I disconnected from myself. I sat on the cold leather seat, dazed and detached. A part of me had left the ground and was suspended in another dimension. My body sat in the car, bruised and bloodied, as the rest of me explored the atmosphere outside of it.

  On the drive to rez, the cops tried making conversation with me. They reassured me that I was safe now, far from mistreatment by the hands of Him. They boasted that he had been arrested and charged, that he’d be put away for years for messing me up so bad.

  I didn’t tell them that He would find me again and probably try to kill me. I didn’t tell them that I had tried to get away before by staying with other people, and that He still always found a way to manipulate His way into their houses to have His way with me. I didn’t tell them that arresting Him would only make him angrier and more dangerous.

  The cops then told me how nice my new social worker would be as they steered the car toward a place that I had been trying to avoid since I was little.

  “Here we are,” announced one of the cops enthusiastically. Half asleep, I squinted out the window and saw a crowd of kids huddling near the car.

  The cop who drove opened his door and immediately demanded order. “All right guys, back it up. Everyone back to what they were doing, please. None of your business, here.”

  I was still in a fog when I heard the click of a car door and felt a breeze. “All right kiddo, let’s go,” waved the officer. I looked up at him, trying to match his words to the movement of his mouth. Everything seemed disjointed.

  I reluctantly scrambled out of the backseat and straightened my hoodie, resigning myself to the fact that there was a mass of kids watching me. I rubbed my eyes and took in the gawkers.

  Short, younger kids squabbled over a heavily used soccer ball while looking me over suspiciously. A few teenage girls stared me down, silently letting me know that I was now on their territory. Meanwhile, a handful of scraggly guys shoved past one another to get a look at “the new girl.”

  “All right, all right everyone! Move along and have a little respect,” demanded the officer.

  “That’s right kids, you heard him! Move aside for the newbie,” barked a sarcastic voice from behind the wall of kids. I looked over the line of faces in search of its owner as it continued to mock the cops. “Watch out, watch out. Collecting more orphans for s
ociety to forget about!”

  One of the cops stopped and put his hands on his hips. “All right, Dodge. Enough, son. Why do ya gotta do this every time we come in?”

  From behind a group of kids swaggered a teen with jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his stocky arms. Without looking up, he slapped his hands free of dirt and snarled. “Because it’s too easy to rile you up.”

  The officer pushed past him to speak with the counselor standing nearby. As the teen tipped back on his feet, he smirked and lifted his head toward me. Our eyes locked in an odd and sudden recognition.

  He had deep, shinning brown eyes that matched the dark thickness of his hair. Even with a small scar above the lift of his eyebrow, he had a beauty I didn’t know existed in guys. He seemed to be studying me, too.

  He took a couple steps in my direction, confidently stating. “Hi there, I’m Rodriguez.”

  I struggled to come up out of my daze. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

  He reached toward me, shaking my hand. “Actually, I go by Dodger. I like it better than my last name.”

  I smiled for the first time that day. “Oh, okay. I still just go by Sam.”

  He laughed and let go of my hand. “Well, all right. Sam it is, then. Is this your first time here?”

  My heart sunk, remembering where I was. “Yeah.”

  “It’s okay, friend,” Dodger said. “I got ya.”

  Theory took a sip of her tea. “Were you two in the same Residential placement?” she cleared her throat. “Excuse me. I mean, the same ‘rez’?”

  I smiled, thinking how funny it was to hear her use my lingo. “Yeah, for a while. A bunch of stuff went down though and we got separated. But before he had to leave, we promised each other that we would run away if things got too bad. We set up a plan to meet up at the Lake and finish our idea.”

  “Your ‘idea’,” said Theory, not really asking a question.