Devils Within

by S. F. Henson

  Dr. Kingsley ignores him. “Did you know I was the first person in my family to attend college? And my father was the first black student admitted to Lewiston High when they desegregated. There’s a statue of him downtown.”

  “I’m pretty sure no one in my family has gone to college,” I reply.

  “Well, then, you can be the first.” Dr. Kingsley scoots his chair back and crosses one leg over the other. “Not a lot of kids from this area make it to college. It’d be a big honor.”

  Henry stands suddenly and begins stacking plates. “Anyone want dessert? Coffee?”

  Dr. Kingsley scowls. “People are still eating, Henry.”

  Mrs. Kingsley shoots him a look. “Let me help you with that, baby.” She takes the stack from Henry and herds him into the kitchen.

  I wait until they disappear, thankful Mrs. Kingsley is picking up my slack. “I don’t know if college is in my cards.”

  “Why not?”

  I swallow hard. That’s a good question. Because I’m not smart enough? Because guys from The Fort don’t go to college? Because of my arrest record? Because they likely won’t even let me in?

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” The Professor balls up his napkin and flops it on the table. “I’m sure you’re capable of much more than you believe.”

  I’d like to ask him how the hell he knows that. He doesn’t know me or where I’ve been or the big, blank nothing that’s ahead of me. But his tone and casual confidence are almost enough to make me believe him.

  For a split second, I picture me dressed like a Kingsley, with my arm around a khaki-clad Kelsey, standing in front of a sweeping brick house. I’m a scientist—a geneticist maybe—so that I can figure out what makes us the way we are, and if anything really makes us all different, or if we’re all the same at a base level. It’s a good future.

  Too bad it can never happen.

  I blink and the picture vanishes again. The real future is as bleak as The Fort in winter.

  Brandon and his mother manage to keep the conversation light over apple pie and ice cream. They talk about some incident with an overcooked Boston butt over the Fourth of July that has everyone laughing, but I can’t focus.

  I check my phone and am shocked to see it’s almost ten. “I should probably get going.”

  “No rush,” Dr. Kinglely says. “Stay as long as you like.”

  “My uncle will flip if I come home too late. I’ve got chores in the morning.”

  I help pick up the last of the dishes and Brandon runs off to get his keys. Dr. Kingsley stops me in the hall, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I mean it, son. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  It’s the most fatherly gesture anyone has ever given me. In the moment, the only difference I see is what a good person Brandon’s dad is compared to every other man in my life.

  “Definitely, Nate,” Brandon’s mom says, coming up behind her husband and slipping an arm around his waist. “You can stay the whole weekend if you like.”

  “I wish I could, but I really do have to go.” I think I could stay here forever. I haven’t felt this at ease since before Mom died. Maybe not even then.

  “At least come to church and Sunday lunch with us sometime,” she says. “Oh, and take these with you.” She thrusts a plastic container in my hands. “Just don’t let Henry know I’m giving you the rest of the plantains.”

  Brandon reappears, jacket and keys in hand. “Ready?”

  “Thanks for dinner and everything. It was great.”

  Dr. Kingsley gives my shoulder another squeeze. “Any time.”

  “Hold up, I’m coming, too.” Henry jogs down the stairs.

  “Be careful,” Mrs. Kingsley calls. “Remember—”

  “Keep the music down, be polite, make sure my hands are visible, nothing shiny,” Brandon says. “I got it, Mama.”

  It’s the strangest set of rules I’ve ever heard. Now that’s a custom even The Fort couldn’t make up. “Night,” I say and step out into the brisk air, then shiver. I’ll have to talk Dell into another thrift store trip for winter clothes soon. There’s no way around it. Maybe I’ll offer to go to work with him again and earn the money myself. I may never be a scientist, but construction doesn’t seem like such a bad gig.

  I slip into the back seat of Brandon’s Camry. “Sorry I wasn’t much of a buffer.”

  Henry cocks his head to the side. “Are you kidding? You were great. If you weren’t there, Dad would’ve griped about me all night. That’s all we would have talked about.”

  Brandon twists in his seat to face me. “You sure you have to go home? We could ride around for a while. Fletch is supposed to be having a bonfire.”

  I know I’ve been about as social as I can for one night. “My uncle really will kill me if I’m not home soon.”

  Brandon meets my eyes. “All right. But you’re coming out with us soon. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  I’m shocked to realize I mean it.

  After the way I grew up, all I’ve been through, who would’ve thought I’d feel more comfortable—more at home—with this black family than anywhere else? If anything could make him rise from the dead, this would be it. I almost wish he and The Fort could see me now. I’m pretty sure this would kill them all.

  679

  “I wish you would just join the team.” Brandon tosses me a water bottle. “I mean, you’re already playing with us every day. You might as well get to play in real games.”

  I’d love to be on the team, but it’s definitely not an option now. We haven’t actually seen a skinhead yet, but they’re somewhere, lurking. The flyers were back yesterday morning, blowing in the breeze, oozing sores scarring the town.

  Once again, I talked Dell into holding off on calling the police—a second papering could still be a fluke. The Skynbyrds could be hitting multiple towns, waiting for me to pop up like one of the moles in that arcade game.

  But I’m sure of one thing. I need to be more careful about hanging out with Brandon. Basketball’s a way to spend time with him somewhere safe, away from The Fort’s eyes.

  Dell tried to get Bev to lay low, too, but she refused to stay locked in her house all day and said she absolutely won’t stop coming over. Dell convinced her to leave work sites while it’s still daylight and to take the back way through the woods to the cabin, at least.

  I shoot a jet of lukewarm water in my mouth and throw the bottle back. “How’s Henry?” I ask, changing the subject.

  Brandon shrugs. “Mostly gone. College is all Pops talks about when he’s around so Henry’s been spending a lot of time by the river, working on his cast, I think.”

  I miss the river—the plop of the lure on the water, the click of the reel, even the damp, muddy smell—but this is good, too. While the musty gym and sweat-streaked dudes aren’t as peaceful as standing quietly on the bank, the gym has its own rhythm. The steady thunk of basketballs and the squeak of rubber soles on polished wood and the swish of the net. It’s calming in a weird way, and I feel better than I have in a long time.

  Since I’ve been playing basketball, I’ve noticed the muscle building in my limbs. Weight lifting has made me strong and running’s keeping me lean. I feel powerful again. Dangerous.

  But I’m not worried about snapping. Dell hasn’t wanted me to be alone in the woods anymore, but between running drills with the team and the adrenaline release from pushing myself with weights, the beast is more satisfied—and exhausted—than ever.

  I’m actually okay with not being on the team. The thawed ice between me and Dell and Bev seemed to spread to everyone. People have been saying “hey” when they pass me in the halls, and the other day Caitlyn actually smiled at me.

  Or maybe I’m thawing. Letting people in the way a kid eats a Tootsie Pop; little by little I’m allowing the folks here to get a taste of my true self.

  “Hey, Bodyguard.” Rainey jogs to the bleachers where Brandon and I are stretched out. He kicks Brandon’s foot. “It’s on, man.”


  Brandon fist bumps Rainey. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Fletch and I have about a hundred water balloons in the cooler, Ellis has twenty cans of shaving cream, and Scott picked up like five dozen eggs.”

  Brandon slaps Rainey’s hand. “Dude, that’s awesome.” He turns to me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “We’re gonna nail the freshmen.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “It’s homecoming week,” he says.

  I squint my eyes and shake my head slightly.

  Rainey drops to the bleachers beside us. “Geesh, Juvie, didn’t you have homecoming at your old school?”

  A buzz of panic rattles in my ribs. I don’t know how to respond. What’s homecoming? “They don’t do that sort of thing in prison.”

  Brandon and Rainey laugh, so apparently that’s a good enough answer.

  “We do it up big, here,” Rainey says. “Every day is a different spirit day. Didn’t you wonder why everyone was wearing overalls today?”

  “I figured you were all rednecks.”

  “No,” Brandon says, “we’re over all the rednecks at County High.”

  “That’s completely ridiculous.”

  Rainey swipes Brandon’s water bottle. “That’s school spirit. Tomorrow is Decade Day.”

  Brandon jerks the bottle back. “Anyway, the big thing is the float. Each grade builds one for the parade Friday. If they can.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rainey grins. “Sabotage. It’s usually sophomores versus freshmen, and seniors versus juniors, but sometimes the sophomores and juniors prank each other.”

  “We’re heading over to the freshmen build site tonight and declaring war,” Brandon explains. “You in?”

  It sounds like a terrible idea. Exactly the sort of thing that could trigger me, especially with the Skynbyrds waiting. But I’m just getting in with these guys, and I still haven’t hung out with Brandon like I said I would.

  Besides, it’s water and shaving cream, not bricks and lead pipes.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Awesome!” Brandon claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something black.”

  The only black clothing I own is the T-shirt Dell bought me that first day. I finally talked him into another thrift store trip for winter clothes, but the store didn’t have much. The cashier said to come back in a couple weeks after people cleaned out their closets for the town’s fall yard sale.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Dell says when I come downstairs. “What if they’re following you?”

  “If the Skynbyrds were following me, we’d know by now. The rest of The Fort would’ve already been here.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “The guys and I are just working on the float.”

  Dell’s mouth turns down in his trademark scowl. “Then why are you wearin’ black?”

  “That’s what they said to wear. It’s a spirit week thing.” The lie rolls off my tongue. Guess all that training at The Fort gave me a useful skill after all.

  Dell folds his arms and looks me up and down. “Fine, but you spot one pair of combat boots and you call me immediately.”

  I hold up my hands like I’m surrendering. “I swear.”

  “And you’ll be at the Stevenses’, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Tires crunch outside and Brandon honks.

  “Keep your phone on you,” Dell says as I walk out the door. “Anything’s off and your ass better be dialing.”

  A shiver works down my spine. I push thoughts of neo-nazis out of my mind and jog to the idling Camry. Brandon tosses a plastic bag over the seat as I climb in the passenger side. “Extra provisions. This is going to be so badass.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “We work on the float for a while, so if anyone asks we can say we were there. Then we’ll leave some guys behind to protect our stuff while the rest of us drive to Annie Williams’s house to wreak havoc.”

  Good. I’m positive Dell is going to ask about the float. This way I can give him details.

  We turn off the main road soon as a giant weathered barn with SEE ROCK CITY painted on the roof comes into view.

  Kelsey always wanted to go to Rock City. She ate up all that tourist shit. Every time we stopped at a new gas station, she’d beeline for the rack with brochures and pamphlets. She hid them under her shirt. Not that they cost anything, but she didn’t want anyone at The Fort to catch her with one.

  Kelsey used them as bookmarks for our hidden books. She’d lie beside the holly bush, planning our escape route so we could hit as many tourist traps as possible. The Rock City pamphlet was her favorite. She looked at it so often, it wasn’t so much brochure as it was four individual battered pages. “We’re going here first,” she’d say.

  “Why, so you can see the ‘Enchanted Trail’ and ‘Fairyland Caverns’?” I’d tease.

  She’d pout, sticking out her bottom lip farther than I thought possible. “No, so we can see seven states at once. Seven! I’ve only ever seen this one, and it sucks.”

  I never caught anything she said after that point. I was too busy thinking about kissing her bottom pouty lip. I almost did once. Went so far as to lean in, but stopped myself at the last second and pretended to swat a bug on her shoulder. If I’d made a move and she’d kissed me back, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off her, and I couldn’t risk that. I might’ve made him notice her more. One of his favorite speeches was about how women were nothing but distractions from the cause. He definitely didn’t want me distracted. One of his lackeys teased him once about losing his moves after Mom, but he’d shut that down with a sudden punch to the dude’s throat. The guy didn’t say anything else about it after that. Didn’t say anything at all for a few weeks.

  I’ve always wondered if some tiny piece of him really did love her or if Mom stole the only part of him capable of love when she ran.

  I should’ve kissed Kelsey when I had the chance. Now it’s too late.

  Brandon jerks the car off the road and bumps through the field, jarring me back to the present. He parks in front of the barn, in full view of the road. “We build here because it’s wide open. Harder for a sneak attack.” He grabs the bag from his back seat. “Last year, we couldn’t drive, so we camped here and waited on folks to come to us. We bombarded them from the hayloft.”

  I laugh and follow him inside. Pretty much everyone from our class is here, clustered around a flatbed trailer wrapped in chicken wire. Caitlyn and Fletch stand by a bale of wire and a pile of wood, arguing.

  “We are not building a giant hot dog with EAT ME, COUNTY on the side,” she shrieks.

  Fletch shakes his head. “Obviously not. ‘Eat me’ goes on top in mustard and ketchup.”

  “Argh!” She throws down a can of spray paint and stomps over to her boyfriend.

  “You forgot your paint.” Fletch shakes the can and pretends to spray it on a group of girls. They squeal and run away.

  Rainey spots us and jogs over. “Hey, man, did you get the stuff?”

  Brandon pats the bag. “Right here.” He opens it slightly to reveal white feathers.

  Rainey frowns. “That’s it?”

  “Be glad you got this much. I had to rip apart two guest pillows.”

  “Better than nothing,” Griff says, from behind us. “We’ve got everything else loaded in the truck. Miranda spread the word that we don’t even know what we’re building, so the freshmen think we’re caught up with that tonight.” He and Rainey fist bump.

  “What are we building?” I ask.

  The guys all look at me funny.

  “Doesn’t matter. The freshmen always win. The grades that can actually drive spend more time sabotaging than building.”

  “Although Fletch’s hot dog idea is gold.” Ellis pops up from behind a stack of wood. He jams his iPhone on a portable speaker and cranks the volume. A few people around the bonfire out back start dancing, but most just sin
g along while they wrap chicken wire around a flatbed trailer. I turn to help and almost smack into Caitlyn.

  She narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  I shrug. “Helping.”

  “Hmph.” She eyes me almost exactly the same way as Dell. “You’re dressed like you’re going to pick on the freshmen.”

  Shit. She’s going to rat us out to the principal or someone.

  “Let me know before you leave,” she says. “I have some cans of Silly String in my car.”

  I stare at her, stunned. She doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Grab that chicken wire behind you and follow me. Help us build the nurse before y’all go.”

  “Nurse?”

  “Yeah, like half of County has come down with some flu, so our theme is ‘Quarantine the Crows.’” She picks up four packs of multicolored tissue paper.

  We spend the next hour constructing a giant tissue paper nurse in a hazmat helmet. Caitlyn and her boyfriend have actually been nice to me. Or I’ve just chosen to see them that way instead of making assumptions. Now that I know Caitlyn has problems she’s dealing with, too, it’s easier to think of her as a human being.

  I’m tucking white tissue paper into the nurse when Brandon taps my shoulder. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” I push my last bit of paper into the nurse’s stomach and follow him to Griff’s truck, picking up Caitlyn’s Silly String on the way. Fellow sophomores climb into two trucks. Some of the guys from the basketball team are already in Griff’s, plus there are a few others I’ve never talked to, including a couple girls. Brandon and I climb in and he bangs on the truck’s side.

  “What about Scott?” I ask.

  Brandon inclines his head toward the bonfire. “He’s busy.”

  Scott has Maddie pressed against his tailgate, where they’re practically licking each other’s throats.

  I’m not entirely sure what to say to a guy whose crush is making out with his friend. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about all that interracial dating stuff.” I almost smack my forehead. Of all the things I could say, that’s what pops out?

  To my surprise, Brandon laughs before I can apologize. “True, man, true.” He slaps the side of the truck again and Griff peels out of the field. Cold night air whips through the truck bed, freezing my ears. Anticipation has us all quiet. Not that we could hear one another over the rushing wind anyway. I shiver and fold my arms against my chest.