The Summer of Winters

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  “Let go of me,” Dennis said, trying to pull out of Brody’s hold.

  Brody twisted the arm higher, causing Dennis to cry out. “You like picking on weaker kids, huh? Bet you think that makes you tough. Well, I’m here to tell you, you ain’t shit.”

  I stared with my mouth hanging open—fly trap, my mother always called that expression—as Dennis started to cry. I’d never seen him cry, didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing.

  “If you don’t let me go, I’m gonna tell my daddy on you.”

  Brody knelt down on the pavement in front of Dennis. He did let go of the boy’s arm, but he also grabbed him by the chin, holding his head still. “You’re not gonna tell nobody, and if I hear tell that you’ve been picking on Mike again, I’m gonna pound your ass into the ground. You and your little pals.”

  Marquis and Brian had backed up several steps and looked ready to bolt. Sarah watched her brother’s torment with a strange smile on her lips, twirling a strand of her stringy brown hair around one finger. There was no one else on the sidewalk at the moment, no one to come to the bully’s aid.

  Still Dennis tried for defiance. “What are you, Guthrie’s boyfriend?”

  Brody thumped the boy hard between the eyes, leaving a red mark. Dennis stumbled back, his feet tangling together, and fell back on his rear.

  Brody came over to the bench and sat next to me. “I think we’re done here.”

  Dennis scuttled on his hands and knees over to his friends who helped him up. They hovered over by the marquee on the other end of the theater. Sarah stayed where she was for a moment, smiling her gap-toothed grin at Brody, then went off to join them.

  I looked up at Brody, my face burning with shame, wanting to thank him but not knowing the words to express both my appreciation and my embarrassment for needing him to swoop in and save me like a damsel in distress in the first place. He stared back at me, his expression blank. Finally he said, “You shouldn’t just sit there and take it like that.”

  I nodded, ducking my head down again, my humiliation complete now that Brody thought I was the world’s biggest wuss. A few seconds later I felt his hand settle lightly on my shoulder, followed by a gentle squeeze. I felt tears close again, but for an entirely different reason this time. A reason I couldn’t fully understand.

  It was at that moment that Paige exited the theater. “Okay guys, I’m ready to go.” She paused, looking from me to her brother then back to me. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Brody said, getting to his feet. “We were just complaining about how long you girls take in the bathroom, that’s all.”

  “The only reason you boys are so quick is because you don’t bother taking the time to aim.”

  “Hardy har, aren’t you a regular Elayne Boosler. I don’t have all night, you know. I’m dropping you two off then heading out to the bowling alley in town, see if anything’s happening there.”

  “That’s my brother, always wanting to check out other guys’ balls.”

  I thought Brody might get mad at this, but he just laughed, took his sister’s hand and started across the street. He glanced my way, and he actually smiled at me, a sight that burned away my shame and left me feeling warm inside, like I’d just drunk a cup of hot cocoa. I smiled back and followed.

  As we reached the other side of the street, I looked back at Dennis and his friends, but they weren’t paying us any attention. Sarah was whining, “But you promised Mom you’d walk me back home.”

  “We got things to do, pipsqueak,” Dennis said. “It’s only six blocks, you can make it by yourself.”

  Then Dennis turned to his friends and walked away from his sister. I’m sure he had no way of knowing it would be the last time he’d ever see her.

  I would see Sarah Winters only once more, but she would be dead by then.

  ***

  I dreamt about Brody that night. In the dream, I was at the Central Elementary playground, only it had a merry-go-round like the one in Thompson Park. I was on the merry-go-round while Dennis Winters pushed it round and round, only he never jumped on. He just kept pushing until the thing was spinning so fast that I had to hold tight to the handrail to keep from flying off. But after what felt an eternity, my fingers went numb and I found myself hurtling through the air. I landed by the flag pole, skinning my knees as I skidded across the ground like a rock skipping along the surface of Broad River.

  I lay crying, curled up in a fetal position, as Dennis approached me, evil intent in his eyes. But suddenly Brody was there, standing between me and my tormenter. Dennis took one look at the older boy, burst into tears, and ran away down Montgomery Street.

  Brody came over to me and squatted down, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You okay? Can you walk?”

  I wiped my leaking eyes with the back of my hand and said, “I don’t know, it hurts.”

  And so Brody lifted me in his arms and started carrying me out of the playground. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck, and though it was only a dream, I could have sworn I could smell his hair, a mixture of shampoo and sweat. He placed a hand on the back of my head and whispered, “It’ll be okay, it’ll all be okay.”

  And I believed him.

  Of course, I now know that dreams are nothing but lies.

  Chapter Five

  The next day my mother had one of her headaches. She’d suffered from migraines for as long as I could remember, but they’d gotten much worse since my father had left. When they hit, she pretty much spent all day in bed with the lights off and a damp washcloth draped over her face. I’d bring her aspirin and water and try to keep Ray quiet.

  And occasionally run errands for her.

  That Sunday morning she called me into her room, and I crept as softly as I could, keeping my voice to a whisper. “Do you need some more aspirin?”

  She shook her head, which was covered with a green washcloth. “Cigarettes. I need some cigarettes.”

  Mom had announced just two weeks ago that she was going to quit smoking, but I wasn’t surprised that she was starting up again. My mother was always quitting, and it never lasted long. The longest I could recall was a month.

  She waved her hand toward her closet. “I’ve got a ten dollar bill in my purse. Run up to Buford Street and get me two packs of Marlboro Lights.”

  Dutifully I took her purse from its “hiding place” behind a box of old sweaters and rummaged through it until I found the ten. I started to leave the room, but my mother called my name softly.

  “While you’re there, get a candy bar for you and Ray.”

  For once my younger brother didn’t pester me to tag along. He was still smarting from not being able to go to the movie the night before, and I left him in a pout. The Buford Street Drug Store was only a block and a half from our house, closer than the Fast Fare convenience store (and without the unpleasant associations), so I didn’t really need my bike. However, I decided to run next door and see if Paige wanted to come with.

  I stepped up onto the stoop and rapped on the screen door, which rattled in its frame as if it were about to fall off. That had happened to our screen door, and Mr. Mahaffey never replaced it. I waited a minute or two then knocked again. Neither Mr. Moore’s Chevrolet nor Mrs. Moore’s lime-green Pinto were parked against the curb, and I was starting to think no one was home. I had just turned away when the door opened.

  I turned back to find Brody standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with noticeable pit stains. He leaned against the jamb and stared down at me, not saying a word.

  I didn’t say anything at first either, like we were just participating in some weird staring contest, then I stammered, “Um, is Paige home?”

  “Nah, she went with my mother to Big Lots to pick up some curtains and stuff for the house.”

  “Oh, I was just gonna see if she wanted to walk with me to the drug store.”

  “Well, I’ll tell her you came by when she gets back home.”

  I nodded and
headed back toward the sidewalk but then Brody called out, “Hey wait. I need to pick up a few things myself. Let me throw on some shoes and I’ll walk with you.”

  ***

  We didn’t speak for the first block, just walked side by side up Jefferies Street. My mind kept turning back to the dream I’d had the night before, and it left me with a weird fluttery feeling in my gut. I wondered if this was what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. When we turned right onto Laurel Street, I blurted, “Did you have fun bowling last night?”

  Brody’s whole body tensed for a second, and he shrugged with one shoulder, kicking at a rock and sending it careening into Ms. Poole’s yard. “It was okay…not as much fun as I’d thought it might be.”

  “Well, the movie sure was fun.”

  Brody stopped abruptly, placing a hand on my shoulder to halt me as well. I looked up at him, but his eyes weren’t on me; he was staring at his shoes, shifting from one foot to the other. “I, um, I want to thank you for joining us last night.”

  I was stunned and not at all sure what to say. After all, he was the one who’d done me the favor by taking me to the movies; why on earth was he thanking me?

  Brody grimaced as if he were in pain, then said, “Really, I’m glad you went along. It was…good for Paige to have you there.”

  Good for Paige? I had been wondering all this time why Paige would bother hanging out with a friendless geek like me; was it possible that in Columbia she’d been friendless as well? She was my first real friend, but maybe I was hers, too.

  We didn’t speak the rest of the way. The cigarettes were kept behind the counter right up front, but I followed along as Brody headed into the store. The pharmacy was in the very back, the rest of the store filled with all manner of items. Household tools, paint, sodas and candy bars, a paperback rack, and even a toy aisle. We went to the candy aisle. Brody looked over the selection of bubblegum while I snagged a Snickers for Ray and a Zero bar for myself. I looked longingly at the bin of individual Hershey’s Kisses. Sometimes when I was here alone and there was no one else in the aisle, I’d unwrap a few and eat them quickly, depositing the crumpled silver foil wrappers back in the bin. I always felt guilty because I knew it was stealing and therefore wrong, but the little chocolate drops proved too tempting for me to resist.

  Tearing my eyes away from the Kisses, I looked back to Brody, who had taken a pack of Hubba Bubba and was now sifting through the packs of Garbage Pail Kids cards. He grinned sheepishly and a blush crept into his cheeks. “Paige loves these things. Thought I’d buy her a couple packs. She’s trying to get an Adam Bomb.

  He then went over to one of the cooler units and snagged a couple of Cokes in glass bottles. As we headed back toward the front, we passed the paperback rack, and I paused, seeing that they’d gotten in a Stephen King collection called Different Seasons since the last time I was here. It was a relatively new book, one I hadn’t read yet, and I took a moment to salivate over it.

  “You want that book?” Brody asked.

  “I’m sure they have it at the library. I’ll check it out next time I go.”

  “Hand it over, I’ll get it for you.”

  “No,” I said a little too loudly, causing an old woman looking at greeting cards to glare my way. I just felt Brody had already done enough for me; if I let him buy me the book, my mother was sure to think I was presenting myself to the Moore’s as a charity case. “I mean, I heard it’s not even really horror like his other stuff. Probably boring.”

  Brody shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Up front, I went first, placing my candy bars on the counter and asking for the two packs of cigarettes. After I’d paid and got my change, I stood off to the side, waiting for Brody. The cashier, a woman named Ann who I thought looked uncannily like a nurse character on Julie’s soap, rang up the purchases, and when Brody dug his money from his pants pocket, a shower of change cascaded to the floor, rolling every which way.

  I knelt down to pick up as much of it as I could for him, the small brown paper bag with the candy bars and cigarettes tucked under my arm, and that was when I noticed something other than change had fallen from the older boy’s pocket.

  It was a small pink hairclip shaped like a horse with a plastic clasp. It stuck out among the change, and I assumed it must have belonged to Paige, although I couldn’t imagine why Brody would be carrying it around in his pocket. And the strand of hair trailing from it was brown, not blonde. I held it in the palm of my hand, staring down at it with a slight frown.

  “Thanks,” Brody said tightly, snatching the hairclip from me. He hastily gathered up his change then headed out of the store, not even waiting for me.

  I didn’t realize it at the time, but my life had just changed forever.

  Chapter Six

  Paige got back home around eleven and we went to play in my backyard. Unlike Ray, she seemed to enjoy the games I’d made up. We played Robin Banks, and she was one of my cohorts called Penny Dreadful (a name she came up with herself). She proved a skilled bank robber, and we retreated to the bamboo forest to count the loot (which was nothing but leaves we’d plucked from the bushes that separated our houses).

  After an hour and a half of playing in the backyard, we went inside where I made us both bologna sandwiches. Whenever Paige’s back was turned, Ray would make kissy faces and I’d shoot him dirty looks. After we finished eating, we got our bikes and headed to the public library so I could dump some books in the Return box out front.

  “I don’t like libraries,” Paige said as we remounted our bikes and road away down Rutledge Avenue.

  “Why not?”

  “They’re always telling you to be quiet. How come? I mean, most people don’t read books in the library. They check them out and take them home to read, so what am I being quiet for?”

  “I guess I’d never thought of it like that before.”

  “Hey, let’s go back to the graveyard,” Paige said when we got to the place where Rutledge intersected College Drive. “I want to ride down that hill again, but this time I’m gonna start way back and pick up speed so I’ll really be flying when I start down.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Who are you, Evel Knievel?”

  “Come on, I’ll race ya.”

  We both started pumping the pedals as we rocketed the few blocks to the Oakland Cemetery. We forced an early afternoon jogger off the sidewalk and she yelled something after us, but we didn’t even pause. Paige beat me to the cemetery entrance by about five seconds.

  “I let you win,” I said and tried to convince myself that this was true, but I wasn’t entirely successful.

  “Sure you did. Tell you what, I’ll let you rest a little before we tackle that hill.”

  We rode up to the Whisonant plot and got off our bikes, sitting with our backs against the large family marker. A couple of tall oaks provided shade, and we relaxed in silence for a few moments.

  After a while Paige turned to me and asked, “So what’d you think of the movie?”

  “It was alright.”

  “I thought it was going to be a lot better. Last year Brody took me to see Poltergeist.”

  “Really?” Now this had my attention. I loved horror movies, and I’d been dying to see Poltergeist, which would probably never happen unless they aired it on TV. Besides, when they aired horror movies on TV they always cut out the best parts. “How was it?”

  “I slept with my parents for a week after. They weren’t too happy with Brody for taking me to see it, but it was a blast. Skeletons bursting up from the floor and floating around in the swimming pool, a woman being dragged across the ceiling, trees coming to life and attacking a little boy. You should have seen it.”

  I wished I had. If only the Moore family had moved to Gaffney a year earlier, maybe I could have seen Poltergeist instead of stupid old Superman III. I realized I was being what my mom called an ingrate and I silently chastised myself.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Paig
e said, staring off to the left, shielding her eyes with a hand as if saluting.

  I followed her gaze. The land to the left of us sloped gently down to the road, and there were fewer graves here. However, halfway between us and the road, peeking out from behind a larger tombstone, was what looked like a foot covered with a purple sock.

  “Do you have a lot of homeless people here?” Paige said, turning back to me.

  “What?”

  “Well, in Columbia there were a bunch of homeless people, and sometimes they’d sleep in parks and graveyards.”

  “It’s awfully late for someone to still be sleeping.”

  Paige rolled her eyes. “Homeless people don’t keep the same hours as regular people. I mean, it’s not like they have jobs or school to worry about. Let’s go take a look.”

  I won’t say I had anything as strong as a premonition, but I definitely didn’t want to go. What I wanted to do was get back on my bike and hightail it home, pretend I’d never seen that purple foot.

  But when Paige got up and started down the slope, I followed. We’d only been friends for a short time, but it was already becoming clear how the dynamic between us worked. She led, I followed.

  As we approached the tombstone—Beulah Granger Beloved Wife and Mother—it became obvious that the foot was too small to belong to an adult. I started to hope it was just a doll; people sometimes put dolls and stuffed animals on the graves of children. But the dates on the tombstone confirmed that Beulah Granger had been no child, had been almost eighty-three when she died.

  We stepped slowly around the tombstone—or at least it felt slow to me, as if we were moving in slow motion—and part of me was already mentally prepared for what I was going to see, leaving me in a numbed state, which was probably why I didn’t react right away.