Jimmy drives away after dinner. I wonder if he’s going to play some more frolf or go swimming. I’d really like to drive around town with him, listening to music, but instead I take a book out of my bag. I read the title: Essential Biology.
“What’s biology?” I ask Matthew, who is doing math homework at the kitchen table. Selig has gone to the library to work on the computer. Taviana went with him to help with his project on the novel they’re both reading.
“Science.”
“Then why don’t they just call it Essential Science?”
“Because there’s different kinds of science.”
I pull out a couple more textbooks. Chemistry 10, Introduction to Physics. “Like these?”
Matthew looks up from his math problem. “Yep.”
I fan the pages. “How am I ever going to get through all this?”
Matthew sighs. “One page at a time.”
“You’re doing eleventh grade this year, right?”
He nods.
“And Selig is doing tenth?”
“Yeah. We’re the same age, but he’s only been here a few months. Mrs. Kennedy put him in tenth grade. He’s not finding it easy. Neither of us is.” He studies his pencil.
“Do you have tutors?”
“Peer tutors. Other kids at school. They get volunteer credit for it.”
“Do you think you’re going to pass everything?”
Matthew shrugs. “Hard to say. I’m trying. But Selig”—Matthew shakes his head—“is really struggling.”
I look at his math homework. It almost seems like a foreign language. “Is it worth it?”
He returns to his math problem. “I hope so.”
“Someone here to see you, Jon,” Jimmy says. He’s just come in from work. I’m in the kitchen, helping Taviana make hamburger patties for dinner.
“Who?”
“Alex. My boss. He’s in the backyard, looking at your garden boxes.”
I wash and dry my hands and follow Jimmy out the back door. There’s Alex, walking around the garden, checking my handiwork. His truck is parked in the alley.
“Hi, Jon,” he says when I join him. “I see you’ve already finished building your garden.”
“Yeah. And we had enough wood left over for a compost box too.”
He steps over to look at it.
“This is really good work, Jon. I can see your attention to detail even in this small project.”
“Thank you. The guys all helped me.”
“But Jon did most of it,” Jimmy says. “We were just his gofers.”
“I hope you’ll share a few of your vegetables with me when they’re grown,” Alex says, smiling.
“Of course.”
“I’m also hoping you’ll start work on Monday. You’d be on the same crew as Jimmy.”
“That’d be great!”
“I’ve got some half-full cans of fence paint in my truck,” Alex says. “I heard that you also want to do some painting back here.”
“The fence. I’ve begun sanding it already,” I tell him. “Maybe I can get it done before I start work next week.”
Abigail comes down the steps, and Jimmy introduces her to Alex.
“You’re a lucky woman having these fine young men living under your roof,” Alex says. He smiles at her.
She smiles back, and her face is transformed. No more bulldog. “Taviana is making burgers,” she says. “Why don’t you stay and have one with us?”
Alex removes his hat and runs his hands through his wisps of gray hair. “Well, I’m just coming off work. I’m not really dressed for dinner.”
“It’s just an informal barbecue,” Abigail says. “No need to worry about how you’re dressed.”
“Well then, if that’s the case, sure,” he says. “And I can admire these fine garden boxes a little longer.”
We sit in creaky lawn chairs to eat our burgers. Abigail has made fresh lemonade, and Taviana whipped up strawberry shortcake for dessert.
“This is the finest meal I’ve had in a long time,” Alex says. He sits back in his chair, looking relaxed. Jimmy is helping Taviana in the kitchen, and Matthew and Selig are shooting baskets.
“It was just burgers,” Abigail says, sitting beside him and looking just as relaxed. “But Taviana has real skills in the kitchen.”
Alex asks Abigail about her job as a care aid in the nursing home. He probes into her decision to leave Unity and take in Lost Boys. She answers honestly. “Providing these boys with a place to live gives my life meaning,” she says. “Not that working in the care home doesn’t, but the boys help me feel connected to my own children, the ones I don’t see anymore.”
“I admire your courage,” Alex says. “I’m sure you’ve paid a big price for your freedom.”
Abigail’s eyes fill with tears. “What about you?” she asks, changing the subject. “Do you have family?”
Alex is slow to answer. “I was married for thirty years. My wife died a year ago. Our boys moved away, preferring city life. They come to visit on holidays, and we keep in touch. They’re good sons, but I sure miss them.”
Selig and Matthew whoop as Selig sinks a three-pointer. The evening is warm, and the light is soft.
“Well, I guess I should call it a night,” Alex says. “But I sure appreciate your hospitality, Abigail.” He rises stiffly from his chair. “And I look forward to seeing you next Monday, Jon. I know you’ll be a good addition to the crew.”
He shakes my hand.
“Thanks for the paint,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
“You’ll have to come back soon,” Abigail says. “See if Jon paints as well as he builds.”
“I will,” Alex says.
As I unload the paint from his truck, he snags the basketball on a rebound and makes a jump shot. He’s surprisingly agile. The ball sails through the hoop.
“Ha!” he says. “I haven’t lost it after all.”
Seven
Craig is reading in a corner of the coffee shop when I arrive with a heavy bag of textbooks. He looks up from his newspaper and smiles.
“So it is you!” he says.
“It’s me.” I return his smile.
I’m glad he remembers me. When I called him to make the appointment, I didn’t mention that I thought we’d already met. He said he was happy Mrs. Kennedy had given me his number, because he needed the income. I’d asked Matthew and Selig to join me and share the costs, but they both turned down the offer. Craig agreed to let me pay him after I get my first paycheck.
“What do you want to drink?” he asks as I sit down in the chair across from him.
“Nothing, thanks.”
“We’re expected to buy something if we’re going to work in here,” he says quietly.
I notice the mug on the table in front of him. “I only have enough money for bus fare.”
“No worries. I’ll get you something. Do you drink coffee?”
I shake my head.
“A cola?”
“No.” I never developed a taste for cola. The Prophet frowned upon any caffeinated drinks.
“How about hot chocolate?”
“That sounds good.”
Craig hands me a five-dollar bill. “You order it, and I’ll take a look through your textbooks.”
When I give the girl at the counter the five-dollar bill, she gives me twenty-five cents in change. I look at the coin sitting in my hand. “Something wrong?” the girl asks. There’s a large diamond stud poking out the side of her nose, and the tips of her hair have been dyed pink. I can tell she’s sizing me up too, probably noting that I’m a polyg. It might be time to change my look a bit. Maybe a T-shirt wouldn’t be so bad.
“No. Just thought I’d get back more change.”
“The prices are on the board,” she says, glancing up at the menu chalked onto the wall behind her.
“Yeah, I see them, but—”
“Plus tax.” She looks at the person behind me. “Can I help
you?”
Tax? I collect the mug, heaped with whipping cream. Back at the table, I push the coin across the table to Craig. “Sorry,” I say. “That’s all the change I got.”
Craig doesn’t answer. He’s busy underlining titles on the recommended reading list. He grins when I sit back down. “Some of my favorite novels are on here,” he says. “We’re going to have fun. I’ve underlined the ones you should read first.”
“Fun?”
“You don’t like reading?”
“I’ve never done much reading,” I admit, not wanting to bring up the Prophet’s thoughts on books. “Though I did get a library card last week and took out some books on inuksuk and the Inuit culture.”
“You did?” His face lights up.
I nod.
“We’re going to get along just fine.”
We spend an hour skimming the topics in the first unit in each of the textbooks, and Craig makes a list of the pages I should read and the problems I should try solving before we meet again in a week.
My brain feels sore from concentrating. Finally we pile the books and papers back into the bags. “I’ll go by the library on my way home,” I say. “I’ll sign out one of those novels.”
“Good on you,” Craig says. “My work this summer is to get you through these courses, but my personal goal is to get you excited about books.”
“I just hope I learn to read faster,” I tell him as I hoist the heavy bags. “Otherwise I’ll never get through all this.”
Craig pats me on the back as we head out into the sunshine. “Yes you will.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon sanding the fence. At dinner, Matthew and Selig discuss their applications for summer jobs and the high school softball game they’re going to that evening. Jimmy is taking Taviana to meet his friends and play some frolf. They’re celebrating Taviana’s new job at the library. I’m invited to join both groups, but I’ll never get through all my homework for Craig if I don’t start it tonight.
After helping with the dishes, I take my library copy of To Kill a Mockingbird into the backyard, make myself comfortable in a lawn chair and turn to the first page.
I’m up early on Monday morning to water my garden before heading to work with Jimmy. The sky has clouded over, and the air temperature has dropped. It’s a good day for framing houses.
Alex dropped by on Sunday with the excuse of bringing me an old pair of work boots and a carpenter tool belt. He arrived late in the afternoon, and I suspect he was actually looking for another dinner invitation, which he got. He could have given me the boots and belt this morning. As it turned out, he was able to inspect the newly repaired and painted fence, which, I admit, I’m proud of.
At the job site, a new neighborhood on the edge of town, Jimmy introduces me to the two other framers, Charlie and Ross. Alex is overseeing a number of houses in the new subdivision, so he gives us our instructions and promises to return later.
It only takes a short time before I’m back in the rhythm of building, and I relax, glad to be doing something I know I’m good at. We measure, saw and hammer until midmorning, when Charlie calls for a coffee break. He and Ross pour coffee out of thermoses and light up cigarettes. Jimmy and I guzzle water from our bottles and dig out the cookies from our lunch bags.
“You’ve framed before,” Charlie says, taking a long drag on his cigarette. I’m guessing both men are in their early thirties, older than Jimmy but younger than my father.
I nod, secretly glad that he’s noticed. I’m a whole lot more comfortable doing this than reading textbooks.
“How long have you been out of Unity?” Ross asks. His arms are covered in tattoos, and he has a gold stud in one earlobe.
“Two weeks.”
“Had any fun yet?” he asks, grinning.
“Ross,” Charlie says. There’s a warning tone in his voice.
“Just wondering if he’s still pure,” Ross says, blowing out a long stream of smoke.
Jimmy changes the subject. “I hear we’re in for a long hot summer,” he says. It’s a lame comment, but he’s trying to protect me from Ross’s prying.
“That so?” Ross says, grinding his cigarette out with the toe of his boot. “Who’d you hear that from?”
“The meteorologist on the news.”
I look at him. “Meteorologist?”
“Weatherman. Or woman, in this case.”
“Speaking of women,” Ross says, “how many wives does your father have, Jon? I’ve always fantasized about having a whole harem of them, like you guys do.”
“Ross,” Charlie warns again.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. I look directly at Ross. “He has five.” Then I remember. “Make that six.” I swallow hard and look away.
“My father had six too, last I heard,” Jimmy says.
Ross reaches over and whips up the front of Jimmy’s T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” Jimmy takes a step back and tucks in his shirt.
“Just wondering if you had six belly buttons. You know, one for each mother.”
To my surprise, Jimmy laughs. “Good one.”
Jimmy is so comfortable with his friends, with these co-workers and just generally with life outside Unity, that I often forget he was once a polyg too.
Alex’s truck crunches on the gravel driveway. The older men screw the lids back onto their thermoses while Jimmy and I stash our lunch bags in the cooler.
Alex hobbles over to inspect our work. He pulls off his cap and scratches his head. “You got a lot done already this morning,” he says, nodding. “Keep this up, and I might be able to set you loose early on Friday afternoon. With pay, of course.”
The men grin, and Charlie takes up his hammer and starts pounding nails again. “C’mon, you guys,” he says. “I’ll buy the first round on Friday if we get off early.”
When I water the garden after dinner I see a soft fringe of green where the radishes are sprouting. Very lightly I run my fingers over the green tops, pleased. Then I settle back at the kitchen table beside Selig and Matthew. There’s an explosion of paper and books on the table.
“I really need a computer,” Matthew grumbles after a few minutes of quiet studying. “It’s too far to go to the library every time I need to look something up.”
“She’s working on it,” Selig whispers, glancing at the door to the living room. We can hear the whir of Abigail’s sewing machine. She’s started taking in tailoring jobs to earn extra cash.
“We’re already at a disadvantage, coming from Unity,” Matthew complains, “and everyone else has computers at home.”
The sewing machine grows quiet. We go back to studying.
“Any callbacks from your job applications?” Selig asks Matthew a few minutes later.
Matthew shakes his head. “You?”
“There’s a dishwashing job, but it’s minimum wage.”
“Better than nothing,” Matthew says.
“You don’t want to work in construction?” I ask them, feeling guilty that I landed a job without even looking for one.
They both shake their heads. “Been there, done that,” Matthew says.
“Never want to do it again,” Selig agrees.
“You’d rather wash dishes?” I ask.
“At least there’s girls working at the restaurant.”
Matthew smiles and turns the page of his textbook. “Exactly.”
When we break for lunch on Friday, Ross pulls something out of the pocket of his flannel work shirt. It looks like a cigarette, but with twisted ends. “Care to join us, boys?” he asks Jimmy and me. “Get the weekend started?”
“No thanks,” Jimmy says, laying his tools down a little too firmly. “Come on, Jon.”
“Relax, Jimmy,” Ross says. “It’s time to break the new kid in.”
Jimmy doesn’t respond. I don’t say anything either. I follow him to his truck. We take our lunches out of the cooler and find a shady spot beside the framed house. Charlie has followed Ross to his p
ickup truck, and they’re both sitting in the cab.
“What was that?” I ask Jimmy.
“A joint. Marijuana.” He unwraps a sandwich and takes a huge bite.
I just look at him.
“They smoke it and get high.”
“Oh.” The Prophet has told us about the gentiles’ drugs, which are worse even than books, according to him.
Jimmy shakes his head. “I don’t care if they use it. I just wish they wouldn’t smoke it at work. It slows them down.”
“Do you think Alex still plans to let us quit early today?”
“Not if he knows those two are smoking pot on the job.”
But when Alex comes by shortly after lunch, he doesn’t realize Charlie and Ross have smoked the joint, or if he does he doesn’t mention it. I don’t know how he could miss the lingering skunk-like smell in the air. He hands out paychecks to the other three. I have to work another week before I get one. “You’ve made excellent progress this week,” he tells us. “We’re ahead of schedule. Jon, you’re a great addition to the team. Go on home now, all of you, and have a good weekend.”
Charlie packs up his tools. “He seems to be in an especially good mood this week,” he comments after Alex has driven away. “Have you noticed?”
No one answers, but Jimmy looks at me and raises his brows.
“Don’t forget—the first round is on me,” Charlie says. “I’ll meet you at the Black Bear Pub in twenty.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” Jimmy says, “but Jon’s underage, and I have plans.”
“Suit yourself.”
On our way home Jimmy stops at the bank to deposit his paycheck and then runs into the drugstore. I sit back and close my eyes. My whole body aches from the week’s work, but in a good way. I much prefer this kind of ache to the headache I get from reading textbooks each night.
Jimmy’s grinning when he returns. He tosses a bag on the truck bench between us. As he backs out of the parking stall, I look into the bag. “Hair dye?”
“Yup.”
“Who’s dyeing their hair?”
“It’s time for Matthew and Selig’s initiation. They’ve both been here long enough.”
“Initiation?”
“Yeah. Time to turn them into real gentile boys.”
Lost Boy Page 6
