by C Lee Tocci
“Yes, yes.” The woman was impatient. A rattle of paper. “Here it is. Do you want to count it?”
“I just hope it’s enough.” Baxter muttered.
“It’s what we agreed on.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that it’s enough. Now let’s get the body into your car and then I’m heading for the border.”
“It won’t fit in the trunk.” The woman said. “Put it in the backseat. It’s only got a three hour ride up the coast.”
She felt herself being carried, only to be set down again, this time on a softer surface. A door slammed and the voices became muffled.
The girl was only vaguely aware of the car moving. Her body tingled and twitched. The air inside the body bag was getting warmer and when the zipper began to open, she was surprised to realize that it was her own fingers sliding it down. She stared at the ceiling of the car, her eyes blinking and focusing. Her own hand fascinated her for several minutes as she flexed her fingers before her face. Finally, she pushed her way out of the body bag and sat up.
The car was travelling along a winding road. On one side, the ocean stretched to the horizon, while on the other, rock cliffs sped by. She waved to the rocks, greeting each one silently, wishing she could meet them one by one, touch them and learn their names.
There was a woman in the front seat, driving. The girl could see her face in the rear view mirror. The girl smiled widely at the woman.
“Yea arg grigar gig,” said the girl.
The woman glanced in the mirror, her eyes widened in terror and she screamed.
The road veered to the right but the car continued straight. It sailed through the air before bouncing, hood first, against the rocks below.
A passing tree reached in a broken window and wrenched the roof off the car. Now the girl was no longer inside the car but was falling by herself tumbling towards the rocks below. But she wasn’t frightened. She wanted to touch the stones, to meet them one by one.
And the stones greeted her gladly, cushioning her fall, cradling her gently.
She watched as the car continued to bounce its way down the slope before stopping with a muffled thud and a flicker of flames.
The girl watched until the flames died out. Then she turned her attention to sky above her and the trees around her and the stones beneath her. There was so much to see from where she lay, she did not move for a long time.
Hush spoke the Earth Stone. Rest and heal.
So she did.
Chapter Eleven
Trouble in Naircott City
Todd’s scalp was buzzing. This was not a good sign. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to rub away his uneasiness. It didn’t work. He broke into a run.
Normally, it took him ten or fifteen minutes to get from the middle school he attended to the elementary school where the rest of the kids went. This afternoon, he made it in five.
He rounded the corner at a dead run, his book bag slapping painfully against his back. From out of the alley that ran alongside the drycleaners, shot eight-year-old Nita. She stopped as she reached the sidewalk, looking back and forth, hopping with indecision. Then she saw Todd and she jumped up and down, her arms waving in panic.
“Todd! ¡Aquí! ¡Apuro! ¡Ellos matan Donny!” Nita was so frantic, she was speaking in Spanish.
“In English, Nita!”
“There is no time for English!” she cried, grabbing his hand and dragging him in the alley. “¡Venga aquí!”
It took Todd only a second to grasp what was happening in the alley. Donny sat curled up against the wall, his head hidden behind his arms, his shirt torn and bloody. One boy had eight-year old Devon pinned with his arms behind his back while three other boys threw stones at Donny.
Todd shrugged off his book bag as he ran. It flew behind him as he tackled the biggest boy and the two of them scrabbled in the gravel. Todd was on top for the moment, but he knew it was only because he had surprise and momentum going for him. It only took a couple of seconds for the other boys to react and Todd was quickly outnumbered.
“¡Ayúdenos! Help us! ¡Por favor!” Todd could hear Nita calling out in the street.
Somehow, Devon broke free from the kid holding him and started swinging at the back of the boy straddling Todd. The bigger boy shrugged him off like a fly. Devon, too small to be much help in a fight, was thrown against the wall.
“Boy, we could use the cavalry right about now,” he muttered as he rolled to his feet.
“Do you think so?” Todd snapped. An elbow pressed down against his cheek. He turned his head and bit it. A satisfying yelp was heard from one of his attackers.
“Police! Freeze!” A deep voice echoed down the alley.
The boys response was immediate. They broke and ran. Within seconds, only Todd, Devon and Donny were left in the alley.
Little Devon recovered first. He ran over to where Donny still lay huddled against the wall.
“It’s okay, Donny.” Devon’s grey eyes were dark with worry. He patted Donny’s arm as if Donny was the younger boy. “Don’t cry, they’re gone now.”
But Donny wasn’t crying. His eyes were glazed and unblinking. His mouth opened and closed, but he made no sound as he rocked back and forth. Gently, Todd helped Donny to his feet.
Even though, at twelve, he was a year younger than Todd, Donny was already three inches taller, but his size didn’t hide his childish mind. When he was happy, Donny acted like a four-year-old. When he was frightened, like he was now, he barely functioned at all.
Todd knew from experience that, with time, Donny would recover. This wasn’t the first time this kind of thing happened, he just hoped that this wouldn’t be a major setback. Sometimes it took Donny weeks before he’d try talking again.
“Where’s Marla?” Todd glanced around. “And Jeff?”
“Over here!” Marla’s voice came from the street.
Marla, Jeff and Nita stood at the opening to the alley. At twelve years old, Marla was just beginning to look a bit less like the plump little black girl she had once been, and a whole lot more like a woman. She had always been somewhat popular at the elementary school, but when Todd had started seventh grade at the middle school last month, he’d been surprised at how much the older boys noticed her. At the moment, with her hair pulled up into a bushy black pony tail and biting her lips sheepishly, she looked more like the little kid she really was rather than the young woman that she sometimes pretended to be.
“Where were you two?” Todd was justifiably angry. “You know you shouldn’t leave the little kids alone.” That Donny was the tallest and the second oldest was irrelevant. He’d always be one of the “little kids.”
“I’m sorry, Todd.” Marla shot Jeff a glance that was both apologetic and accusing. “I had to go looking for Jeff.”
“And where were you?”
“I had things I had to do.” Jeff wasn’t apologizing. He stared back at Todd defiantly. Eleven years old, Jeff had bright copper curls, twinkling green eyes, a charming smile, and the personal ethics of a coral snake. Whatever he’d been up to, Todd was sure it wasn’t for the greater benefit of mankind.
“Jeff’s in trouble!” Nita cried gleefully. “He cut class!”
“Where’d you go?” Todd asked.
“None of your business.” Jeff answered.
Todd moved towards Jeff, fully intending to make it his business, but Marla stepped between them.
“Not now, Todd,” she hissed. “We’re going to have to run if we’re going to catch the bus.”
Todd didn’t push the issue, but he kept glaring at Jeff until Devon’s voice broke the standoff.
“Where’s the police officer?” Devon looked up and down the street.
“Oh, that was me.” Jeff smirked. He deepened his voice menacingly. “‘Police! Freeze!’”
“I’m guessing you’ve heard that a couple of times before,” said Todd.
“C’mon guys.” Marla grabbed Donny’s arm and started jogging down the s
treet. “We’ll miss the bus.”
They had been standing for five minutes in various degrees of guilt and discomfort. Mrs. Callow glared and sniffed and stared at wall above their heads. Mr. Callow kept his nose buried behind his newspaper, as he always did. They had missed the bus and had to walk the three and a half miles back to Dalton Point. Todd, Donny and Devon were a mess; their clothes torn and dirty, bruises and cuts on their faces and arms. Jeff managed to look both innocent and benign at the same time.
“It wasn’t our fault,” Todd said at last, staring at his feet. “There were these kids picking on Donny---”
“Quiet!” Mrs. Callow quivered with anger. “Look at your clothes! Those were new last month!” Or as new as anything else they’d bought at the thrift store. “If you think we’re replacing them, you’re wrong. Do you know the rules about fighting?”
“We weren’t---” Todd tried to explain.
“Quiet!” Mrs. Callow wasn’t interested in listening to anyone except herself. “No supper for you three. And extra chores for all of you. Now go upstairs, I don’t want to see any of you for the rest of the night.”
They shuffled out miserably, Nita mumbling in Spanish, Donny still dazed and withdrawn. As they climbed the stairs to their rooms, the voices of the Callows drifted up after them.
“Mouthy brat,” Mrs. Callow huffed as she rattled the pots on the stove. “Well, he’s thirteen now.”
The newspaper rustled. “Yup,” Mr. Callow humphed. “I’ll be glad when that one’s gone.”
Chapter Twelve
Grey Feather
The square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides.
But the diagram was of a triangle. Why are they talking about squares? Todd flipped to the back of the book, desperate to find the meaning of the word hypotenuse. “Is there anything on this planet more horrible than geometry?” he muttered to himself.
“TODD!” Mrs. Callow’s scream echoed up the stairs, making the tip of Todd’s pencil tear through his homework. “GET DOWN HERE! NOW!”
“Well, that answers that question.” He smoothed out his homework and left his book open on his desk before not rushing downstairs.
“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!”
Todd knew that, this time, Mrs. Callow was not screaming at him. He stepped into the kitchen and into a slice of chaos.
A huge black bird was flapping and rawking all over the kitchen. Mrs. Callow huddled under the table and clutched her two grey tabby cats who hissed and whined in protest. Mr. Callow, hiding behind the open refrigerator door, swung his horse racing newspaper at the bird as it dove in and away.
Grey Feather again, thought Todd with a sigh. He recognized the raven by the one grey feather on its right wing. A flock of crows lived in and around the canyon nearby, but only the raven, Grey Feather, was bold enough to enter the house, stealing scraps of food and anything shiny it could find.
“Get that crow out of this house!” Mr. Callow roared.
Grey Feather stepped across the kitchen floor and peered into the open refrigerator, poking its beak into the bottles on the door. It jabbed a hole in the ketchup, then began to peck at the drops as they hit the linoleum.
“It’s a raven, not a crow,” Todd said as he walked over to the window. “Crows are smaller.”
The bird flicked its wings and watched Todd as he pushed the window all the way open and took off the ripped screen.
“I don’t care if you want to call it a crocodile!” hissed Mrs. Callow from under the table. “Just get it out of my kitchen!”
“C’mon, Grey Feather,” Todd said as he stepped away from the window. “Out you go!”
Mrs. Callow screeched again as Grey Feather hopped onto the kitchen table, staring at Todd in that unblinking way that birds stare, as if it was thinking about whether or not to obey.
“Out!” Todd repeated.
The bird rawked once, launched itself from the table and took one circuit around the room. It headed for the open window, but not before making a detour to grab a silver utensil from the counter. With a triumphant caw, it flitted through the opening. Todd choked back a chuckle as he closed the window.
“My can opener!” Mr. Callow bleated as he came out from the corner. “It stole my can opener! The one the racetrack gave me for being their guest of the month!”
Actually, thought Todd, they gave it to you for being the sucker of the month and losing more money than any of the other idiots.
“Give it back!” Mr. Callow grabbed Todd by the shirt and began shaking him. “Give me back my can opener!”
Todd’s head rattled on his shoulders. “I didn’t take it! The bird took it!”
Mr. Callow pushed him and Todd staggered back, knocking his butt against the table. He rubbed his hip. He’d have a bruise there tomorrow.
“He’s your bird! Get it back!” Mr. Callow had a deranged look in his bloodshot eyes.
“He’s not my bird!” Todd was pretty sure that Mr. Callow had completely lost his mind. “He’s just a wild raven from the canyon.”
Mrs. Callow pulled herself out from under the table. Her hair all askew, she stroked her cats maniacally. “They are your birds, you little freak! We didn’t have all those crows in the canyon before you got here. And we never had a bird in the house! It’s all because of you!”
“Me? I was upstairs doing my homework! How can you blame me ‘cause some dumb bird flew in the window?”
“Don’t you dare talk back to her like that!” Mr. Callow roared.
Todd turned in time to see the back of Mr. Callow’s hand slam against his face. This time it was his head that hit the edge of the table. His knees gave out underneath him as his vision went white.
The room was unnaturally quiet as Todd knelt on the floor, leaning onto his hands, his head hanging weakly. The only sound he could hear was his own breath heaving. After a moment, he straightened and felt the bruise on his forehead. His hand came back wet, warm and red.
Looking up, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Callow, staring at him aghast. Mrs. Callow moved first, walking over to the sink to pull a clean dishtowel out of the drawer. She dampened it before handing it to Todd, who held it against the cut.
“Go up to your room.” Mrs. Callow’s voice was monotone. “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”
Todd pulled himself back up to his feet and hobbled out of the kitchen. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and listened to Mrs. Callow huffing wordlessly as she cleaned up the blood and ketchup.
“I’ve had enough,” Mr. Callow said, his voice low and angry. “Tomorrow, you call Ms. Burbank. I want him out of here.”
Anger, like a wave of vomit, built in Todd’s stomach and pushed itself up and out. It wasn’t fair. He was going to get kicked out. And it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.
He pounded up the stairs and down the hall. The entire house shook as he slammed his door shut. He punched the wall, hurting his knuckles a lot more than he did the plaster, and then collapsed onto his bed.
It wasn’t fair.
Chapter Thirteen
The Broken Child
Todd heard the tires crunching on the gravel driveway long before he saw the car, he knew who was driving before it pulled into sight and he knew why it was there before it rolled to a stop. He looked over at the other kids in the yard. They’d all turned to stare at him as soon as they’d seen the car. They knew who it was too. They’d all heard what happened last night.
Ms. Burbank, the social worker, stepped out of the car and turned to open the back door. She reached in to unfasten the seat belt and lifted out a child, placing her unsteadily on her feet.
“Uh, oh,” said Donny. “Girl broken.”
Jeff snickered, but Todd knew that Donny wasn’t trying to be cruel. Unfortunately, his description was too accurate.
The girl could barely stand. Her black hair, what little she had, was short and patchy and looked like it had been hacked off by a lawnmower. Her scalp s
howed through in patches and in those gaps, cruel scars were seen crisscrossing her skin. Her skin was a sickly pale as if she hadn’t seen the sun for countless months and her arms and neck looked thin and boney where they peeked out of her jersey. Her right arm hung limply and when she stepped, her right leg dragged sluggishly.
Yet it was the girl’s face that was most disturbing. The left side looked normal; her brown eyes, despite their sad and vacant gaze, had an exotic Polynesian slant. But the right side of her face was slack and drooping. She looked like she was wearing a mask with one half, horror, the other half, sorrow.
At first, her eyes were glazed and unfocused as she trembled on the driveway, but then her gaze sharpened and she stared hungrily at something behind Todd. He turned to see what it was, but there was nothing there except the fence, with Blue Mist Mountain beyond it.
“Wow,” Todd thought to himself. “Seriously damaged goods.” Most kids by the time they got to Dalton Point, were in rough shape. Either they’d just lost their parents or they’d been raised in the foster system and shuffled around like library books. But this kid looked completely trashed.
Usually, when a new one arrived, Todd had a little pity. But not this time.
This girl was the Seventh. His Seventh. And at Dalton Point, they all knew what your Seventh was. There could only be six resident kids here. A Seventh meant that one must leave. The oldest was going to get pushed to Hardwell, the juvenile facility, jail for those children guilty of the state’s most unforgivable crime: being alone and unwanted.
Todd knew it wasn’t the new girl’s fault, but he still wished her dead. He barely remembered a time that he hadn’t been tossed around like a tumbleweed, but, since arriving at Dalton Point five years ago, he’d started to feel a little less alone, a little more a part of the world, or at least a part of the small group of cast-offs collected here.
Not for much longer. Todd kicked the gravel, sending granite shards flying. Over the years, he’d watched the older kids get pushed out as younger children arrived. He’d always known that someday it would be his turn to leave.
