Up High in the Trees

by Kiara Brinkman

  I land hard on the ground and fall forward. My hands feel like they’re burning. The boy and girl jump off the swings to get us.

  Chickenshits! the girl screams.

  I grab a dirty white sneaker and run.

  You asshole! the boy yells. Give me back my shoe, you dick! You four-eyed dick! he yells. Does your dick have four eyes too?! You bunch of assholes!

  I’m running as fast as I can and it’s not easy now. It feels like tripping, like I’m going to fall. I have to keep going. Jackson’s running next to me and Shelly’s in front of us. I don’t look back.

  You assholes, the boy and girl are saying, we’re going to beat the living shit out of you!

  I can hear their voices behind us. Jackson’s in front of me now. His blood is dripping and making spots on the sidewalk.

  Come on! Jackson yells.

  I can’t go any faster. I have to pee really bad now and it hurts to run.

  Follow me, he says and passes in front of Shelly.

  Keep running, I’m saying in my head, keep running.

  We go across a street and through a gate into the backyard of a brown house and then we have to climb over a fence to get out. It’s a brown wooden fence and there’s a hole in the wood where you can put your foot to climb up. I have to throw the dirty shoe over first and then I put my foot in the hole and climb. It hurts my hands to hold on to the top of the fence and I slip going over so my leg scratches on the wood. The scratch feels hot on my leg and burns like my hands. I pick up the shoe and run.

  We’re running behind the houses, following Jackson. He opens a white gate into another backyard. After Shelly and I are in, he slams the gate shut.

  We lost them, he says and breathes hard. There’s blood all down the front of his shirt and he’s pinching his nose to make the bleeding stop.

  You’re dying, Shelly says to him.

  Jackson lets himself fall down on the grass. We lie there in the backyard of a tall white house and catch our breaths. My hands are burning and the scratch on my leg is burning, too. I still have the shoe.

  Holy shit, says Jackson.

  I lift up my head to look at him. He’s lying on his stomach.

  Are you okay? I ask.

  Shit, he says again.

  Shelly sits up. Her face looks wet and splotchy red.

  His nose bleeds when he gets nervous, she tells me.

  You don’t know anything, says Jackson.

  I know about your nose, she says.

  I sit up next to Shelly.

  Close your eyes, I tell her.

  Why? she asks. She pulls out a handful of grass and looks at me.

  I look away. Please, I say.

  Shelly drops the grass and then pulls up another handful.

  You’re really weird, she says and then closes her eyes.

  I go behind a tree where she can’t see me anyway. My pee makes a loud sound on the grass. I can’t help it.

  You’re peeing, she says.

  Don’t look, I say.

  She’s looking when I come back from behind the tree.

  You peed, she says and starts laughing.

  I sit down next to her.

  She keeps laughing and Jackson’s still lying on his stomach, not saying anything.

  Jackson, look, I say. I hold up the stupid shoe for him to see.

  He lifts up his head.

  You stopped bleeding, says Shelly.

  Yeah, Jackson says and puts his head back down.

  We’ll bury the shoe, he says, we can bury it here.

  I sit with Shelly and we wait for Jackson to get up.

  Let me see your glasses, says Shelly. She grabs them off my face and puts them on.

  Hey, I tell her, don’t.

  Everything looks blobby, she says and takes them off, then hands them over to me.

  I don’t say anything. I want to go back to the white house now and be with Dad.

  It’s getting dark, says Shelly.

  Jackson sits up then and looks around the yard. The blood on his face is dry and crusty.

  We’ll bury it over in the corner, he says and points.

  We dig the hole with our hands.

  I can’t do it, Shelly says. She stops digging.

  My hands are red and stinging from sharp pieces in the dirt.

  Just put it in, says Jackson, and we’ll cover it up.

  I drop the shoe in and Jackson pats down the dirt on top.

  Then we stand back and look. You can tell that something’s there.

  Dear Ms. Lambert,

  Dad says that Mother burned all the pictures of her face. In Mother’s box, I only found one picture of her. She’s laughing with her eyes closed and she’s holding a baby. Dad says that the baby is Cass. Mother’s laughing and she’s leaning forward with the baby in her lap and her dark brown hair is long and shining. Behind Mother is a window that’s white with light. Dad says that Mother had to keep this picture because the baby in it is Cass and Mother couldn’t burn a picture of Cass.

  I’m there in the picture, too. I’m a part of Mother, floating where nobody can see me. I can hear Mother laughing. She’s laughing at Dad, who’s behind the camera. Dad’s singing the funny song “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” in a high, shaky voice, because Mother likes him when he does that.

  I know that the picture of Mother is my favorite thing.

  Bye, Sebby

  I can’t find Dad. I told him to stay inside, but I can’t find him anywhere. I’m looking in his room and in the kitchen and also the bathroom. Maybe Dad’s lost in the house or maybe he went outside again. He’s not answering me.

  I keep calling, Dad, Dad, Dad. I think he could be gone.

  Then I look under his bed and there he is all the way back against the wall with the cat.

  Dad, I keep saying.

  He’s not answering me. He’s petting the cat and won’t look at me.

  Bye, I tell him and run away, downstairs and out of the house. I slam the door shut behind me as hard as I can.

  Outside, I hear a bird squawking.

  Be quiet! I yell at the ugly bird noise.

  I run all the way to the blue house and ring the doorbell. I ring it again and again because I don’t want to wait.

  Just a second, their mom’s voice says and I listen to her steps coming closer. When she opens the door, she’s holding Baby Chester. He looks at me and then turns away, like he doesn’t want to see me.

  Hi, Sebastian, their mom says.

  I follow her into the house.

  They’re playing upstairs, she tells me, unless they killed each other. Then she puts Chester down and he can walk by himself. She holds his hand and he takes tiny, wobbly steps.

  I watch them walking together.

  It’s good that you moved here, she tells me, there aren’t many kids in the neighborhood and Jackson and Shelly have done a fine job of scaring away the few who are around.

  I don’t say anything.

  You must be a brave boy, she says.

  I nod.

  Well, she tells me, you can go on up.

  Okay, I say. I run upstairs to the playroom.

  Jackson’s sitting on the floor eating peanut butter out of the jar.

  Hi, he says. He licks off the spoon and then puts it back in his mouth to suck on.

  I look around. Everything is the same as before except the fort in the corner is caved in.

  Where’s Shelly? I ask him.

  He takes the spoon out of his mouth and looks at it.

  How should I know? he asks.

  I’m in my room, Shelly’s voice screams at us, and I’m not coming out!

  I sit down next to Jackson and cross my legs like his.

  So, says Jackson, what do you want to do?

  I shrug. Nothing really, I tell him.

  Here, he says and hands me the peanut butter jar. Just use your fingers.

  The jar’s almost empty, so I have to stick my whole hand in to get the peanut butter out from the bottom. I put
all four of my fingers in my mouth to lick it off and that makes me choke a little, but I don’t care. The peanut butter tastes good.

  You want to watch TV or something? Jackson asks.

  I’m sucking on my fingers.

  Okay, I tell him.

  Come on, he says, we have to go to my mom’s room.

  His mom’s room is at the end of the hall. Jackson runs in and jumps up on the bed. It’s a big bed with a puffy blanket that has blue and white stripes. The curtains on the windows have the same blue and white stripes. I climb up with the peanut butter jar and sit down at the bottom of the bed with Jackson.

  You gotta take your shoes off, he says so I do. Jackson clicks on the TV and goes through the channels fast.

  I like it in this room. It’s all blue and white. The TV is on a short, white table and underneath is a blue circle rug. There’s only one picture on the wall. The picture is of Jackson’s mom standing on a beach with Jackson and Shelly. Shelly is small and naked and Jackson is small, too. He’s holding on to his mom’s leg. His mom’s wearing a blue flower bathing suit and white sunglasses and she’s smiling with her head tilted sideways.

  Where’s your dad? I ask.

  I don’t know, says Jackson. He’s still clicking through the channels.

  I scrape out the rest of the peanut butter with my hand.

  You like this show? Jackson asks. It’s America’s Funniest Home Videos.

  I don’t care, I say. I just want to lie down on the puffy bed. I am tired all over. The inside of my body is tired.

  You’re in a bad mood, Jackson tells me.

  Yes, I say and lick the rest of the peanut butter off my fingers. I think about how I left Dad alone.

  Are you going to live for a long time? I ask Jackson.

  I guess, he says. He’s looking at the TV. In fifty years, people are going to live on the moon, he says. I’ll probably die up there.

  Shelly comes in and jumps up on the bed with us.

  What’re you guys doing? she asks.

  We’re watching TV, dummy, says Jackson.

  Shelly hits him hard on the back and his back makes a hollow sound.

  Don’t touch me, Jackson says.

  Jackson’s going to drive Mom crazy, Shelly says to me. She slides down off the bed fast and runs out of the room.

  Stay out! Jackson screams at her.

  The peanut butter’s gone, I tell Jackson. Do you have any milk?

  Downstairs, he says.

  I try to watch the TV. A girl swings her golf club and it hits her dad.

  Right in the balls, says Jackson.

  I close my eyes and listen to the TV laugh. Then I let myself fall back on the bed.

  Will you go downstairs with me? I ask with my eyes still closed. I hear Jackson jump down off the bed.

  Come on, he says.

  I get up. All the way down the hall and down the stairs, I think about Dad hiding under his bed. I could go home and hide with him.

  In the kitchen, Jackson’s mom and Baby Chester are playing on the floor with blocks.

  What’s going on? she asks and tucks her hair back behind her ears.

  He wants milk, says Jackson.

  Sure, their mom says, you can show Sebastian where the cups are.

  She’s building a tower with the blocks. She puts a yellow block on top and then opens up her arms and says, Tadaaaaa.

  Chester knocks over her tower. The blocks are loud all over the floor.

  Boom, Chester says and laughs.

  Jackson hands me an orange plastic cup. I hold it with two hands and he pours the milk for me.

  That’s enough, I say.

  I take a sip and then watch him walk over to Chester. Their mom is picking up the blocks that are all over the floor. Jackson holds Chester’s hands to help him stand up and then he lets go.

  Look, he says, Chessie’s standing by himself.

  Be careful with him, their mom says.

  The inside of my cup is shiny orange plastic and when I drink, I can see my face at the bottom.

  Their mom is looking at me when I finish my milk.

  How are you? she asks.

  I like your white sunglasses, I tell her.

  Yeah, she says, I don’t know what ever happened to those. She smiles now. Her teeth are crooked in front, but they are nice, white teeth.

  Mother had brown sunglasses at the beach. She was rubbing coconut sunscreen on my chest and down my arms. I liked the coconut smell.

  I see two Sebbys, I told her and pointed to one dark lens and then the other.

  Mother smiled and pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head. Now there’s only one of you, she said. She reached out and touched the tip of my nose.

  I have to go see my dad now, I tell Jackson and his mom.

  I know if I don’t go home, then Dad will be all alone.

  I don’t want to tell anyone, but it’s here inside of me. I know things that happened to Mother and what she saw.

  I was sleeping, but I could see Mother running in the dark.

  The car came around the corner with its lights shining. Mother closed her eyes and ran into the lights.

  I go straight to Dad’s room and look under the bed. He’s still lying on his back with the cat. We look at each other and this time I don’t say anything. I leave him again.

  In my room, I take out my paper bag from Halloween and find the picture of Mother laughing with her eyes closed. I put the picture in a secret pocket inside of my jean jacket and I go.

  Outside, I hear the sound of cold like the sound in a freezer when you open it up. The grass is frozen and crunches every time I step.

  I find the bike leaning against the side of the house and push it by the handlebars out to the sidewalk. I have to get on fast and start pedaling and then it will be easy once I’m going.

  So that I’m not thinking about getting on the bike, I try to think about something else. I think about my grandpa Chuck. I say his name in my head and it sounds funny. It’s not real to have a name for someone you don’t know.

  I’m on the bike now and I just have to keep pedaling so I don’t fall. I ride past the post office and past the restaurant with the sign that says Mitchell’s and then I don’t know any of the places, but I keep going. I have to be far away.

  I ride until I see a pier that’s painted white. I know this is where to stop. Now I have to be careful, because if I stop too fast then I will fall. Gently, I push backward on one pedal and the bike slows down, and then I drag my feet to make myself stop all the way.

  I leave the bike and walk down the pier with the picture of Mother in my secret pocket. The white paint on the pier is peeling off and underneath the wood is old. I don’t like how the peeling paint looks like fish scales flaking off. Too many fish scales. I want to stop and touch where the paint is peeling, but I don’t. I know what to do.

  At the end of the pier, I take the picture of Mother out of my pocket. I kiss Mother’s forehead and look at her laughing face for a long time.

  Then I drop the picture into the water and watch it float. I wait for it to start sinking. It’s supposed to sink down the way Mother’s pink soap bird sank down when she dropped it in the water, but the picture keeps floating. I lie on my stomach and reach down. I touch the water with just one finger to test how it feels. The cold feels like burning and growing, like it’s making my finger stretch out bigger and bigger. Then with my whole hand, I push the picture of Mother under. I hold the picture down and look at Mother’s face underwater. Her face flickers like a light, on and off. I pull my hand out and it feels heavy, like it’s not mine. Mother’s picture stays underwater.

  I stand up with my hand hanging down heavy and I watch the picture underwater. I’m waiting for Mother’s picture to make me jump. Then Mother’s face flickers dark and I jump in to save her.

  The water hurts. I can’t feel the cold like I did when I put in just my finger, but now the water stings. I try to kick. It’s hard to move my legs. My legs are
too heavy or the water’s too heavy. My clothes are sticking to me, pulling me down. I try to kick and swim, but my body aches like it’s tired. I’m holding on to the picture and I’m trying to kick my legs. Water splashes on my glasses so I can’t see.

  I don’t know how to get out. I’m reaching up with my hand, but my hand is so heavy. I have to reach way up to the pier. I’m trying to hold on to the picture. I can’t feel it in my hand anymore.

  There’s a voice calling. I can hear a voice yelling and then the voice is right there close to me. I’m crying and choking. Water’s coming in my mouth and I can’t breathe. The water’s hurting me all over. I can’t feel the picture of Mother.

  The voice pulls me out of the water and then I can see the voice is a man. He’s holding me and running. My body hurts like it’s still in the water. I feel like I’m growing, like my body’s stretching out and out and my head is growing up into space. I think maybe I will float away. I’ll float back up to the trees. Maybe that’s where I’m supposed to be, with Mother and Sara Rose.

  The man is asking me where I live and I want to tell him. I’m trying to tell him. The white house, I think in my head. The white house with the birds. I think of birds. I try to tell him and then my head fills up with light.

  Dad’s holding me. We’re sitting next to the fireplace where it’s warm. I’m wrapped up tight in an itchy, thick red blanket. The blanket’s so tight I can’t move. I can just wiggle my feet and sort of twist back and forth and that’s okay. I don’t want to move. I hold still and let my body be soft and heavy. My body feels tired, like it’s sinking down. The same sinking feeling I felt in the water. I want to sleep.

  Dad’s singing to me in a low voice, the Mamas and Papas song about a gypsy and the dancing bear. Mother used to sing it to me. I close my eyes and think of the bear dancing with rainbow ribbons flying. The bear has big, soft feet the way Dad has big, soft hands.

  Dad stops singing. He’s rocking me and he says my name.

  Sebby, he says.

  I don’t say anything.

  Sebby, he says again, what happened?

  On the phone, Cass says that she’s coming to get me. Her voice sounds mad.