Lost Boy

by Shelley Hrdlitschka

  “What about you?”

  “I did it too. When I first arrived.”

  I’ve noticed that lots of the kids in Springdale, boys and girls, color their hair. “How long do I have to wait to be initiated?”

  Jimmy glances at me. “You want to dye your hair too?”

  I think about it. The Prophet would explode into a billion pieces if a kid from Unity dyed his hair. “Yeah.” I smile at him. “I think I do.”

  “Right on, Jon!”

  At Abigail’s I read for a while, finishing up the chapters that Craig assigned. When Matthew and Selig get home from school, the four of us shoot some baskets and then flop on the couch in front of the TV. Jimmy is in the chair, talking on his cell phone.

  “What a week,” Selig groans. “Three exams, and I bet I flunked every one of them.”

  Taviana comes in and squeezes onto the couch between Selig and Matthew. “I’ve got news,” she says.

  We all look at her. Jimmy ends his call.

  “Abigail is going out for dinner with Alex tonight.”

  “I figured something was up,” Jimmy says. “The guys at work noticed that Alex’s been in a good mood all week.”

  “She says he’s just reciprocating for his dinners here,” Taviana says. “But I think it’s a date.”

  I’d noticed that Abigail went straight to her room when she got home from work and shut her door firmly.

  “Well, if she’s going out, I’ll buy pizza for the rest of us,” Jimmy says. “It was payday today. And have I ever got a surprise for you boys.” He points at Matthew and Selig, smiling.

  Selig frowns. “What is it?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  Jimmy lets Alex into the house when he arrives. We all stare at him. Gone are the work clothes. His strands of hair are combed neatly into place, and he’s wearing clean, pressed slacks and a dress shirt that’s tucked in at the waist. The scent of his aftershave overpowers the fragrance of the flowers he’s carrying.

  “Hi, boys,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. “Hello, Taviana.”

  And then we all do a double take as Abigail comes down the hall. She’s in a flattering skirt and blouse, and her face looks different. I take a closer look and realize that she’s wearing makeup. Her hair has been brushed out loose, with just a clip to hold it off her face. The effect is startling, and we all watch as she greets Alex and graciously accepts the flowers.

  “Thank you, Alex,” she says. “They’re beautiful.”

  Taviana takes them from her and promises to put them in water. Then we all gather at the window and watch as Abigail takes Alex’s arm to walk down the driveway. He opens his truck’s passenger door for her and helps her to climb up.

  “Go figure,” Jimmy says.

  “It’s so sweet!” Taviana has her hand pressed against her chest. She has the same look on her face that I’ve seen on the women’s faces in Unity when one of the girls is being married. The truck drives away, and Taviana picks up a book. “Let me know when the pizza arrives,” she says. “I’ll be reading in the backyard.”

  Jimmy orders pizza, then clicks off the TV and holds up the brown paper bag. “Are you ready for your surprise?” he asks Matthew and Selig.

  They regard him suspiciously.

  “I have your graduation presents.”

  “Graduation from what?” Selig asks, flopping back on the couch. “I’m never going to graduate from high school.”

  “Not school graduation. Graduation from your old way of life. You now wear short-sleeved shirts and shorts. You talk to girls. You’ve seen the light!” He laughs. “You two are now certifiable gentile guys.” Jimmy dumps the contents of the bag onto the couch. He holds up the boxes. “Hair dye! We have Electric Banana and Neon Orange. What’s your choice, Matthew?”

  Matthew laughs. “Electric Banana!” He takes a box and studies the picture on the front.

  “You want to be Neon Orange, Selig?” Jimmy asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How about you?” Jimmy asks me.

  “Why not?”

  Jimmy turns back to Selig. “We’ll do those guys first, and then you can pick your favorite color. If you don’t like either, I’ll get you another one. Maybe blue?”

  “What about you?” Selig asks him. “Aren’t you going to dye yours?”

  “Been there, done that. I’m now thinking of doing something…a little more permanent.” He doesn’t explain further. “Come on. Into the bathroom.”

  Although Selig is clearly not as excited about dyeing his hair as Matthew is, he follows us into the tiny room anyway.

  Jimmy reads the directions on the box and then gets the mixing bowl out, along with the tube of dye and the paintbrush.

  Taviana has come back into the house and stops abruptly as she walks past the bathroom door. She peers in. I’m sitting on the toilet, lid down, awaiting my turn, and Selig is on the edge of the tub. Jimmy and Matthew are at the sink. “What are you guys up to?” she asks.

  “Dyeing Matthew’s hair,” Jimmy says, pulling on the latex gloves.

  “Oh my god,” she says. “You’ll make a mess. Abigail will kill you.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Jimmy says.

  “Have you ever done it before?” she asks.

  “Well, no,” Jimmy admits. “I had mine done at a salon.”

  “Hang on a sec,” Taviana says and scurries away. When she returns, she’s wearing an apron and carrying newspaper, rags and a pile of old towels. “Make sure you take off your shirts,” she says. “Or you’ll ruin them. And keep a rag handy to wipe your face. Trust me.”

  “You’ve done this before?” Jimmy asks.

  “Yep. Now everyone out. I have to cover the floor and counters with newspaper.”

  The next thing we know, Taviana is wearing the latex gloves and applying the dye to Matthew’s hair. He has an old towel around his bare shoulders and has taken Selig’s place on the side of the tub. “You have to wait fifteen minutes while it does its thing, and then you wash it out,” she says, pulling a flimsy shower cap over Matthew’s head.

  “Cool,” Matthew says.

  “Who’s next?” Taviana asks.

  “Jon is,” Jimmy tells her.

  “Shirt off, Jon,” Taviana instructs.

  “Just put a towel over my shoulders,” I say.

  Taviana stares at me. “You don’t want to take your shirt off.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  Matthew laughs, but gently. “Come on, Jon. This is a graduation ceremony, remember? Shirt off. You’re no longer a polyg.”

  I meet Selig’s eyes, and he shrugs and looks away.

  I slowly unbutton my shirt and take it off. I catch a glimpse of my pale skin in the mirror.

  “Toss it to Jimmy,” Taviana instructs. “We don’t want any random dye drips to wreck it.”

  I ball it up and throw it into the hall.

  “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Taviana asks, wrapping a towel around my shoulder. “What color are you going?” She picks up the second box and reads the label. “Neon Orange. Cool.” She begins the preparations.

  No, I realize as she begins to paint my hair, it wasn’t so hard, except that now Taviana is hovering over me, and I’m acutely aware of how close she is. I can even feel the heat radiating off her. The smell of her deodorant is fruity. My face is level with her chest as she works, and I don’t want anything embarrassing to happen.

  The doorbell rings. Jimmy and Selig hustle down the hall to get the pizza.

  “Save some for us!” Matthew hollers after them.

  “Okay, Matthew,” Taviana says once she’s finished with me. “You can either get in the shower and wash your hair, or lean over the sink and I’ll wash it for you.”

  Matthew’s eyes flick over to me and then back to Taviana. “I might as well shower,” he says. “Protect the sink and counter from getting Electric Banana drips.”

  “I’ll shower after you,” I tell him. I’m not concerne
d about the counter and sink. I just don’t know what might happen if Taviana was leaning over me, washing my hair, pressing up to my bare torso.

  I suspect that Matthew was thinking the exact same thing.

  I’m eating pepperoni pizza in the kitchen, my hair covered with a shower cap, when Matthew comes strutting down the hall, fresh out of the shower. He’s still bare-chested, and his hair is a ridiculously unnatural shade of yellow. He’s used his fingers to spike it up all over his head. Immediately I wonder what I’ve done. What would Celeste think?

  “You look awesome!” Jimmy says, jumping up and highfiving Matthew. “Congratulations! You are now a full-on gentile boy.”

  Matthew grins as he takes a couple of pizza slices out of the box. “Do you like it, Selig?”

  Selig studies him for a moment. “On you, maybe. But definitely not on me.”

  “I think you look hot,” Taviana says, smiling at Matthew. “Your turn, Jon. Into the shower.”

  I wipe the steam off the mirror and study my head. My hair is as ridiculously and unnaturally orange as Matthew’s was yellow. I try spiking it up with my fingers like Matthew did, but that’s just way over the top, so I comb it out smooth. Either way, I still don’t look like me, and I definitely don’t look like a kid from Unity. I smile, and the strange face in the mirror smiles back. Even more than walking away from home, dyeing my hair makes me feel like I’m in control of me and not a puppet of the Prophet.

  Jimmy and I shove the pizza boxes and newspaper into the recycling bins while Selig and Matthew shoot hoops. Taviana is back in the lawn chair with her book. Selig has decided against coloring his hair, and Jimmy doesn’t pressure him. I’ve just started to wonder what Abigail will think of our hair. Will she be angry? I should have thought of that sooner. I need to stay on her good side. I have nowhere else to go.

  “What are you thinking of doing that’s more permanent than dyeing your hair?” I ask Jimmy as I sink into a chair beside Taviana with my own novel.

  He leans against the side of the house. “Tattoo.”

  “Really?” Taviana looks up from her book.

  “Yeah. Or a piercing. Or maybe both.”

  “What kind of tattoo?”

  “That’s the hard part. I’m trying to find a symbol that represents who I am and where I’ve come from. Maybe a ball and chain, with the chain broken.”

  I don’t get what he means, but I don’t say so.

  “Not bad.” Taviana nods. “And what would you get pierced?”

  “Probably start with just an ear stud.”

  “Let me know when you do it,” she says. “I’ll come and hold your hand.”

  Jimmy laughs. “Thanks. I might need that.”

  “How much does it cost?” I ask.

  They both look at me. “You want an ear stud too?” Jimmy asks.

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  Jimmy looks at Taviana and grins. “This from the guy who didn’t want to take his shirt off tonight.”

  “He’s coming around,” she says.

  Abigail and Alex return from dinner and join us in the backyard. Abigail’s eyes just about bug out of her head when she sees first me and then Matthew. Alex throws back his head and laughs. “I’m surprised it took you guys so long,” he says.

  Abigail just stares. We smile at her as innocently as we can. “Dear God,” she says finally. “Please tell me my bathroom isn’t spattered in yellow and orange dye.”

  “No, ma’am,” Jimmy says. “It’s cleaner than how we found it.”

  “And you can thank me for that,” Taviana adds. “I hate to think what might have happened if I didn’t come along when I did.”

  Abigail sighs and ruffles my bright-orange hair before settling into a chair. Alex joins Matthew and Selig at the basketball hoop. The evening is warm, and as I watch the three of them shoot baskets, I wonder what my family is doing tonight. Evening prayers, probably. All the little ones will have been called inside for the night. Will my mother be thinking of me? Saying prayers for my lost soul? Or has she ripped my photos out of the family photo albums, determined to forget me? As an apostate, I’m supposed to be dead to her. Dead to all of them. I cringe a little, imagining her face if she could see how I look right now.

  I open up my book and continue to read about Scout and Jem trying to make sense of their motherless lives.

  Eight

  I stare up at the wooden slats of the upper bunk. It’s been seven weeks since I left Unity. My life now consists of construction work, schoolwork and gardening. Something is missing. This freedom that Jimmy promised me is way less fun than I imagined. Dyeing my hair helped—my new look makes me feel different, less like a polyg. And sure, I don’t have to listen to the Prophet drone on anymore about obedience and the priesthood. But not much else has changed. I’m still a laborer, and the schoolwork is way too hard. I like my little garden here, but I had one in Unity too.

  I roll over and sigh. At least in Unity I had the hope of seeing Celeste each day, even secretly. I miss that thrill, my heart fluttering in happy spasms. I also miss my family, the whole big messy mass of them, like a wild creature with many limbs yet all the parts combined to make us one. Dad was the center of that sprawling creature, but it was mom, my birth mom, who was its heart—for me, anyway.

  My own heart has developed a pinprick leak, and my life feels like it is slowly dripping away, leaving me listless.

  Jimmy told me that this feeling is temporary, that once I’m in school and meeting girls and taking part in stuff, I’ll be glad I left home. But for now, he said, I have to get myself on track, earn some money and get caught up with school.

  There was a big row in the house tonight. Matthew and Selig brought home their report cards. Matthew managed to squeak through his courses, but Selig, just as he predicted, failed everything except PE and woodwork. At first Abigail was pretty cool about it—just said that he has to go to summer school and work evening shifts at the restaurant. But Selig was totally bummed. He said summer school won’t help him, that he’s too stupid, and he wants to chill this summer. He’s had enough school. That’s when Abigail got mad. Voices were raised, and Selig stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. The rest of us quietly retreated to our rooms. I get how Selig feels. Abigail’s rule about finishing high school might be unrealistic for us polygs.

  On warm Saturdays, Craig and I meet at a picnic table in the park, shaded by trees. I’m now wearing T-shirts and shorts, though it still feels odd. Craig grinned when he first saw my orange hair. “Now you should grow it long,” he said. “Wear a ponytail. Be a real rebel.”

  Good idea. My hair is already getting long, and my brown roots are looking kind of silly. Matthew intends to dye his again, but I’m beginning to think the ponytail idea is a better one, and I’ll just let the orange grow out. Abigail has clippers that she uses to shave the boys’ heads, but I’m picturing a ponytail with an orange stripe at the bottom.

  “I don’t get what the title has to do with the book,” I tell Craig. I’ve finally finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird.

  Craig picks up the book and flips through it. He reads a short passage out loud. “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy…but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

  “Okay, but what’s that got to do with the story?”

  He studies me for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it. “Sometimes authors use symbols to make a point in the story. The mockingbird is the symbol of something innocent, something that doesn’t hurt anyone. So no one should hurt them either. Who in the story could be considered innocent?”

  I think about it. “Scout?”

  “Yep. Anyone else? Anyone hurt by something evil?”

  “Boo Radley, I guess.”

  “For sure. How about Tom Robinson?”

  I nod, but my mind returns to the Prophet’s teachings about black people. He preached that the black race brought evil. For a long
time I took his word for it. I had no reason to doubt him. Now I don’t know what to believe. According to this novel, it was Bob Ewell, a white guy, who was evil, and Tom Robinson, a black man, who was innocent. That’s hard to get my head around, though I have no doubt that there are evil white people among us. Maybe the Prophet is one himself. He’s the one who married Celeste to my father.

  Craig moves on. He reads from a list of discussion questions. “What do you think are the most important things Scout learned during this story?”

  I think about that. “She said you never really understand a person until you walk in their shoes awhile.”

  “That’s right! Now think about your own life. Is there someone who you really don’t understand?”

  That’s easy. “The Prophet, in Unity.”

  Craig laughs. “He’s a complicated one.”

  “Do you know much about him?”

  “I’ve been learning a few things this summer. Anyone else?”

  My mind searches. I think about Celeste, and how she chose to marry my father rather than come to Springdale with me. “My friend,” I say, for lack of a better term. “My friend Celeste.”

  Craig’s brows knit together. “Celeste from Unity?”

  My head jerks up. “You know her?” I’d be shocked if Celeste had talked to a gentile stranger, especially a guy, even if he was the guy building the inuksuk on the beach she was so intrigued with.

  A funny look crosses his face. “I do. We’ve been meeting on the beach, building inuksuit together.”

  I look away, an intense surge of jealousy flooding through me. I used to meet her on the beach. We built inuksuit together!

  He must sense a shift in my mood. “You knew her too. Obviously.”

  I nod. “I’m surprised she’d talk to a stranger on the beach.”

  “Yeah, well, she seemed uncomfortable with it at first. But I sense she’s unhappy. Kind of lost. You know?”

  I nod. “She’s the reason I’m here,” I mutter.

  He leans in to hear me.

  “We were meeting secretly. We were…we were in love.” I’ve never said that out loud before. I inhale a huge breath. Papers on the table flutter as I exhale. The constant ache in my gut flares up. “We got caught. I left before I got sent away. To punish us both the Prophet immediately married her off.”