“Did Celeste read To Kill a Mockingbird?” I ask.
“She did. We had some great discussions about it.”
“Did she understand what the title meant?”
He nods. “After we talked about it for a bit.”
“What else did she think about it?”
Craig is quiet for a moment, clearly trying to remember. “For some reason it prompted a conversation about religion. She asked what makes people behave if they don’t believe in God.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I assured her that there are many good, kind and well-behaved people who don’t believe in God.”
“Did she believe you?”
“I don’t know. She says that when you submit to a higher power, life is easier, because all your decisions are made for you. That leads to happiness.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her that there are some things more important than just being happy.”
“Like what?”
“Like being free to think for yourself.”
“Did she agree?”
“I’m not sure, but the books are definitely opening her mind to new ways of thinking.”
I start packing the textbooks into my backpack.
“School starts in a couple of weeks, Jon. How are you feeling about that?”
“Not very good,” I tell him.
“How come?”
“I saw what happened to Selig. He flunked out. And I’m sure I’m going to get bullied because of where I came from. That’s something else I’ll have in common with Arnold.”
“Did Matt and Selig get picked on?”
“They haven’t talked much about it.”
“Arnold was a fighter. You can fight back too, just not with your fists.”
“Will you keep on tutoring me?”
He shakes his head. “I’m going to university in a couple of weeks.”
“Really? You never said anything about that.”
“I know. It’s odd, but it was your friend Celeste that got me thinking about it. We ended up talking about religion and spirituality so much that I decided I wanted to study theology.”
“Theology?”
“The study of religion.”
“You want to study religion?”
He laughs. “I’m not studying to become someone like your Prophet. I just want a better understanding of all the world religions.”
“You don’t seem like a religious person to me.”
“That depends on your definition of religion. I don’t call any one religion my own, but I feel like a spiritual person. And Buddhism interests me.”
I have no idea what Buddhism is.
“But honestly, Jon, I think I have done what I set out to do with you.”
“And what’s that?” I haven’t come close to finishing all the chapters in the science and math textbooks like he said I would.
“I’ve turned you into a reader.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, these novels have helped you learn as much about life as the stuff you’ll learn in those science textbooks.”
I look at him, unconvinced.
“Don’t get me wrong. Science and math are important too. And so is history. But good novels will open your mind, change your thinking.”
“It won’t be the same without you to discuss them with.”
“I’ll be back next summer. We can start up again then. But in the meantime, we have a couple more weeks. I’ll let you choose the next novel.”
I get up and swing my pack over my shoulder, but Craig remains seated at the picnic bench, looking serious.
“You okay?”
“There’s something I think I should tell you, Jon. About Celeste.”
“What is it?”
“I wasn’t going to mention it, but then I thought you might hear it from someone else, maybe another guy who leaves Unity.”
I note that he doesn’t use the term Lost Boy.
“And I thought you’d rather hear it from me.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yes. She’s okay. Not particularly happy, I’d say, but she’s being treated well.”
“Then what is it?”
He looks directly at me. “She’s having a baby.”
I collapse back down to the bench and drop my head onto the table. Craig comes around and puts his hand on my shoulder, but he doesn’t say anything else.
When Craig leaves, I find my shady spot under the weeping willow by the river. The kicked-in-the gut feeling has shifted, and now I want to pick up one of the boulders on the beach and hurl it at God. How could He let this happen?
I slump to the ground and cover my head with my arms, trying to push away the images of my father with Celeste, but they only grow stronger—images of him lying with her, doing all the things I wanted to do. He didn’t even love her the way I did. For him it was just another girl to have sex with, to produce more children so he could achieve the highest realm in heaven. It’s all about his place in heaven. Suddenly I hate him. I want to claw and hit and kill him.
I lie back and let out a long wail, then let tears spill unchecked.
After a while the tears dry up, and I notice the anger has melted away. A dull ache settles over me. Deep down, I knew this would happen, but I refused to think about it.
Celeste’s baby will be another brother or sister for me. How many is that now? Wasn’t Mother Sarah expecting one when I left home? It doesn’t matter. I’m not likely to see any of them ever again.
As soon as I open the door, I sense tension in the house. Matthew and Taviana are standing in the kitchen, looking pale. “What?” I ask.
Before either of them can answer, I hear a bedroom door slam, and Selig comes down the hall, carrying his backpack. It’s bursting at the seams. He throws it over his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
“I’m leaving,” he says.
“Where are you going?”
“Brent and Charlie have a couch I can sleep on, just until I earn a little more money.” Brent and Charlie are also former polygs, who rent an apartment together near the town center. They’re older than us, and they’ve been out longer. I’ve heard they’ve resorted to selling drugs to help pay the rent. I’ve also heard they party pretty hard.
The porch door opens and Abigail comes into the kitchen from the backyard. Her face is blotchy from crying. Selig turns to leave.
“Selig,” she says.
He stops but doesn’t turn around. The kitchen grows completely still, but no one says anything. Eventually Abigail breaks the silence. “Keep in touch, Selig.” Her voice is hoarse. “I’ll be praying for you.”
He turns at that, regards her for a moment and walks back across the room. He hesitates and then pulls her into a clumsy hug. She wraps both arms around his skinny frame. They hold each other like this for few moments before he breaks away, swats at his eyes and, without another word, turns and goes out the front door.
Abigail drops into a chair, slouches forward, and the room becomes quiet again. “He wasn’t attending school,” she says.
I glance at Taviana and Matthew, wondering who ratted him out.
“Charlie is his cousin,” she continues. “At least he’ll have a roof over his head.” She releases a huge sigh. “I always feel like I’ve failed when this happens. But I can’t make exceptions.”
Jimmy’s truck pulls into the driveway, and a moment later he comes into the house. “What happened?” he asks, taking in the sad faces.
“Selig’s gone,” Abigail says.
“Gone?”
“Moved out.”
“Oh.” Jimmy sits in a chair beside Abigail and puts his arm around her. “You did your best,” he assures her.
She covers her face with her hands. “Did I? Maybe it was too much to ask him to complete school. Maybe he really couldn’t do it.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t realize how important it is,” Jimmy says. “Wh
en he’s been on his own for a while, he may decide to try again.”
“It will only get harder the more time that passes,” she says.
“Well, maybe by then he’ll be able to complete the work online, like Tavi is doing, and go at his own pace.”
The room goes quiet again. No one really believes that will happen.
“I’ll make supper,” Taviana says and opens the fridge.
“I’ll get some vegetables from the garden,” I offer.
Jimmy follows me outside. “What happened?” he asks as I pull up carrots.
“I don’t know. I got home right before you. Selig was heading out the door.”
“There must have been quite the fight between Selig and Abigail.”
“I know. The way Taviana and Matthew looked when I came in the door, you’d think someone had died or something.”
“Abigail was the best chance Selig had,” Jimmy says, breaking a red pepper from its stem. “Nothing good will happen at Charlie and Brent’s.”
Ten
I flip through the pages of the biology textbook before I pack it into the bag with the others. I only completed nine of the fifteen chapters. Math was worse—I got through less than half of that textbook, and even fewer chapters in the physics one. Even with that, I don’t remember much of what I read. School starts tomorrow, and I’m totally not ready. Did Mrs. Kennedy really expect that I could get through all that shit in just one summer? I wasted my time reading novels—I should have been reading the textbooks instead. Stories aren’t going to help me pass an algebra exam or help me understand ecology and ecosystems. Why did Craig insist I read them? The Prophet may be right about novels. I flop on my bed and pull my pillow over my face.
Craig said Celeste gobbled up the books he brought her. We even went to a used bookstore before he left, and I watched him choose more for her to read over the fall and winter. I can’t imagine how she gets them into her house—my house—where kids and mothers are everywhere. She must tuck them into the folds of her dress and sneak them in, one at a time, and then stash them in a good hiding place.
Well, Celeste doesn’t have to learn geometry or memorize senseless grammar rules. I guess I could have cut back on the hours I worked this summer in order to study more, but the money was too good, and it felt sweet to do something physical and that comes easily. Abigail helped me open a bank account and explained what interest is. I love seeing how quickly my balance grows, even after paying her for my keep.
Craig left for university last week. He showed me how to set up an email account on the library computer so we can stay in touch. He suggested I use my savings to buy a cell phone so we could text each other, but I can’t see why I would. Emailing is free.
“You’re looking pretty glum tonight, Jon.” Taviana passes me the garlic bread.
I just shrug. We’re all at the table, eating supper. Alex has taken over Selig’s place.
“Worried about school?” Abigail asks.
“Yeah, I guess. A bit.”
“The good thing about school,” Jimmy says, “is that there’s way more girls there than on the job site. No offense, sir,” he says to Alex.
“No offense taken,” Alex says between mouthfuls.
I nod and try to smile. I know Jimmy’s just trying to cheer me up. But it’s easy for him. He doesn’t start school tomorrow.
“What about you, Matthew?” Abigail says. “This will be your last year,” she reminds him. “Unless you go on to college.”
Matthew just nods and reaches for another piece of bread.
Abigail wipes her mouth and pushes her chair back. “Well, Alex and I want to support you boys as best as we can. With that in mind, Alex brought you something that I think will cheer you up. You too, Taviana.” She nods at Alex, who smiles back at her. “Go on—take a look in Selig’s old room.”
I look at Matthew and then Taviana. They are as puzzled as I am. Together we head down to the end of the hall. In Selig’s vacated bedroom, a desk has been set up under the window with a laptop computer and a printer on it. We look back at Abigail and Alex, who are watching us from the hallway, big smiles plastered on their faces.
“I’ve recently upgraded my work laptop,” Alex says. “I needed something with more memory, but this one still works fine. I thought the three of you might be able to use it for your studies. Abigail bought the printer to go with it. Cable for Internet access will be installed this week.”
“Hopefully you can use it during the day, Taviana,” Abigail says, “so it’s free for the boys in the evening.”
“You might even want to use it in the evenings,” Alex teases. He throws his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in.
She rolls her eyes. “What for? My sewing machine is all I need.”
We take turns thanking Alex and hugging Abigail.
“Can I fire it up?” Matthew asks.
“It’s all yours,” Alex says. “I’m going back to the kitchen to see if there’s any leftover lasagna.”
“Me too,” Jimmy says, following Alex down the hall.
Matthew sits in the desk chair and opens the laptop. He presses the power switch, and Taviana and I watch as the computer comes to life. I appreciate that Abigail and Alex are trying to help us, but I really don’t know how a computer is going to help me memorize capital cities or figure out what exponential functions are.
Lists with every student’s name and homeroom are posted inside the front entrance of the school. I find mine, and Matthew helps me locate the classroom.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Your homeroom teacher will hand you a sheet with the rest of your courses and their room numbers. Just sit at the back of each classroom and stay under the radar. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria at noon.” He gives me a light punch on the shoulder and then joins the buzzing swarm of students moving through the hallways.
My first stop is at Mrs. Kennedy’s office to return the textbooks. She seems genuinely happy to see me. “Wow, Jon,” she says, looking me over. “You look…different.”
I just smile as I think about who I was when I met her last spring. Still wearing my polyg clothes, with my tidy haircut and pale skin.
“Come by to see me anytime,” she calls as I head down the corridor.
Biology is my first class after homeroom, and I find the classroom easily enough. I take Matthew’s advice and sit in a desk at the back. From there I watch the other kids enter the room. The weather is still warm, so everyone is dressed much as they were last spring. I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and my hair has grown long enough to pull into a ponytail like Craig’s. I don’t think anyone would know by looking at me that I was a polyg. That brings me some comfort, but I can’t hide the fact that I’m older than most of these kids, almost eighteen. I’m probably the tallest person in the room, and I’ve got a strong build from working in construction all summer. I even have to shave every few days. They’ll wonder what I’m doing here. I sink lower in my chair.
A guy plants himself into the desk next to mine, dropping his backpack to the floor between us. Our eyes meet for a moment before I go back to doodling on a fresh sheet of paper.
“New here?” I hear him ask.
I nod but don’t look at him. I’m staying under the radar.
“Where are you from?”
My mind freezes. I wish I’d thought this through. Should I tell him the truth or make something up? “Highrock,” I say, deciding on the latter.
“I attended Highrock Secondary at the start of last year,” he says. “I don’t remember you.”
I shrug, but my ears are burning.
“You sure you’re not from Unity?” he asks. “There’s something about you…”
My ears get even hotter. I glance around to see if anyone has heard him. Should I dig myself in deeper and deny it or just ignore him? Again I choose the latter and continue to doodle.
“Hey, it’s not like I care,” the guy says. “I’m dealing with my own shit. Just wondering
, that’s all.”
I finally look over. At first glance he’s tough-looking, with sleeve tattoos up both arms, a shaved head and a row of gold rings protruding out of his left eyebrow. But when I meet his eyes, I see something else—a wounded kid under that hard shell. I’m way too familiar with wounded boys—Unity is full of them.
I still don’t answer him, but in that moment of eye contact, I feel we’ve made some kind of connection.
“Wolf,” he says.
“Wolf?”
“That’s my name. Short for Wolfgang. Like I said, I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”
“I’m Jon,” I say, and then add, “Without an h.”
The teacher closes the door with a bang, and my first biology class begins.
“So, how was the morning?” Matthew asks. We’re seated at a table in the cafeteria, unwrapping sandwiches. Cafeteria food isn’t in our budget.
I don’t have the words to describe the hopelessness that’s been building in me all morning, so I don’t say anything.
Matthew looks up from his sandwich, but before he can ask anything else, a group of his twelfth-grade friends descend on our table, trays banging down and the boys jostling to make room on the benches. I scoot down to one end, and Matthew is at the other. He looks at me apologetically. I just shrug, feeling completely invisible. Not one of his friends has acknowledged my presence. I look around the cafeteria and see Wolf in a back corner. He has a book propped open on the table in front of him and appears to be reading while he eats.
When I finish my lunch, I get up and walk around and around the school grounds, wishing I was anywhere but here.
“So?” Taviana asks when I get home. “How was your first day?”
“Fucked.” I throw my backpack on the couch and reach for the TV remote. I can feel her standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at me.
I flick through the stations, not really seeing anything. I’m aware of her still standing there and begin to feel a little bad about my reaction.
“I met a guy named Wolf,” I tell her. “He says he’s from Highrock. You know him?”
She nods. “He’s younger than me, but I know who he is.”
Lost Boy Page 9
