Micah was surprised. “Thanks Mr. Malvern. No swats or detentions?”
“Not this time,” he responded. “But we can’t make it a habit. I’ll check you at lunchtime.”
Micah lay on a cot in the dark and windowless room. He slept until Mr. Malvern woke him.
“Are you better?”
Micah shook his head yes.
“Good, I need to go for a meeting at Camino del Rio, so let’s get moving and you can ride over with me.”
Micah did feel better. He got to Mr. Robeson’s science class on time and took his seat. JJ sat behind him, but Lindy’s seat across the room was vacant. Plus, no one brought notebooks. The intercom came alive, and the principal announced the start of a pep-rally in the gym. Everyone got up and headed out the door. Micah followed.
He had never seen a pep-rally. As he entered the old gymnasium, Micah started to follow students up onto the bleachers, but JJ grabbed and pulled him to an area where the basketball players sat during their games.
“Hey numb-nuts, we sit here. You are on the track team, right?” He spoke rhetorically. Micah sat and watched.
Lindy was on the court dressed in her purple and gold cheerleader outfit, throwing pompoms into the air and then catching them with Micah’s St. Christopher hopping when she did. The band was warming up in a semicircle across from the cheerleaders. Mr. Symington and Coach Britt were talking in the center of the basketball court. Mr. Stephens, the conductor, took his place at the front of the band. He raised his arms, the gym became quiet, and the instruments commenced playing the school’s Alma Mater. Afterward, the president of the student body, Jimmy John, walked onto court and everyone stood to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. JJ returned to his seat. The principal introduced Coach Britt who said a couple of words and then nodded his head at JJ, who returned to the center court followed by the track team.
Coach introduced each player and their sporting competition: “JJ competes in the middle distance 800 and 1500 meter runs.” The coach called each boy by name. “Micah Sherwood,” Coach announced his name and he scrambled to join his team mates. “Micah joins us from Tierra Verde. As you may or may not know, our district instituted long distance running as part of Track and Field events several years ago. This is sort of unusual for junior highs. The students at the time approached the coaching staff and asked for long distance running to be part of Track and Field, and the staff saw a lot of talent. I believe our district is the only one in Texas that has the 5000 meter run, and Micah is our 5K contender for 9th Grade.” Micah stood back as Coach continued to introduce the remaining boys.
After a half-dozen cheers and following the school’s Fight Song, the kids were dismissed to their classes, and Micah went to change into his running clothes. This was going to be a short day; he would ride the bus to Tierra Verde at the regular time with the other junior high kids.
Micah practiced his initial pacing—the first few laps. This is where the race was won or lost: too fast, and he would expend all of his energy and be unable to finish with a good time; too slow, and he would be unable to catch up on the final laps. The three long distance runners ran together; challenging each other; critiquing one another.
At 3:35, Micah sat next to Lindy on their bus ride home. They did not talk but only held hands. As they pulled up to the elementary school, Micah and Lindy climbed off the bus while Dane was getting on. The boys exchanged punches as they passed.
Micah had installed some burlap around the barbed wire on the school boundary fence to help people get through. That’s what he told Mr. Dorsey (of course, people meant Lindy). He hopped over the fence first, and then held the cushioned wires apart as his girl crawled through. Cory and Tandy watched and giggled from the creek. Lindy stopped where the log crossed the arroyo. First peering down into the muddy water, she looked first at Micah and then back down into the gulch shaking her head no. Micah grinned, took her hand and led her slowly across the narrow dead tree. They walked past Micah’s bedroom door and headed into the kitchen. Tom had seen the two coming and already had glasses filled with lemonade prepared.
Lindy really did not want to learn to ride horses, she wanted only to sit next to Micah whether on a horse or at the kitchen table. It did not matter to her.
“She wants to see my room. Is it okay for me to show her?” He looked at the old man, whose rule was, “No fillies in the bedroom.”
“This once, but you know to leave the door open, right?”
Micah shook his head yes and looked at his girl. “Let me go in first to make sure it’s clean.”
Lindy smiled then Tom spoke, “By clean he means no jockeys lying around.”
“You goofy old man,” Micah grinned. “Don’t wear underwear, and you’d better be quiet before I put you in a home.”
Mr. Dorsey smiled and rubbed the boy’s head. “Hey Bucky, you better get a haircut, your Mohawk is a little scruffy; and you want to be respectable at tomorrow’s meet. I’ll take you after you show-off your dirty bedroom.”
Micah left shaking his head. He walked through the barn, past the horse stalls and into his domain. Lindy investigated. She picked up one of his arrowheads, touched his boxing gloves hanging on the wall, saw his rifle mounted in a rack next to his bed. On the dresser was a framed picture of Mr. Sherwood in his paratrooper outfit; his hair cut in a short Mohawk like his son’s.
Her mind drifted back to earlier in the week when the two of them rode on Nellie, stopping at a small hill near the creek. He asked why she liked him. She had trouble answering. Lindy was not sure what love was, but maybe that’s what she sensed. It was strange, he was younger, just a kid. But he carried himself like he was much older. Isabella spoke about his trials at Willow Wood and his sickness. That may explain some of his maturity.
“You are sweet, gentle and kind. I love that about you,” is how she answered. “And I’ve seen you fight. You are fearless and a mystery. You touch me innocently, and I want to nurture you. I trust you.” She was completely open with Micah, something she was unable to be with anyone else, even her family.
After she answered, they sat on the log at the creek. Micah kissed her cheek, held her hand as he laid his head on her shoulder wanting to be nurtured. He knew that he was loved even by his mother, but it was not demonstrative, and he needed the touch and not just the thought or word. Lindy’s hand was soft. Her skin glowed, her flicker sparkled pink interspersed with tongues of clear red and green flame.
Both were lost in the touch of the other until Cory came roaring like a super-modified race car to retrieve his friend. “Are we going to the barber or not?” Cory said as he plopped down next to them. Micah and Lindy jumped with a startle.
“I’ll walk home.” Lindy said. “I’ll see you at St. John’s tomorrow,” and she left smiling and content.
Tom had followed Cory, and he stood watching. Micah was there physically, but his spirit was walking home with Lindy. “Micah and I need to talk. We’ll meet you in the truck,” and Cory jumped up and trotted toward the house.
“We need to have a chat, Bucky. I’m not going to lecture you about where babies come from. You probably know more than I do. But we are going to talk about respect.” Tom sat next to the boy. “A man should always respect his woman, and your lady should respect you. I see how you look at Lindy, how she looks at you. You both are young and innocent—too young for any great intimacy. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, you couldn’t be clearer. Don’t worry. I may be a kid, but I’m not stupid.”
“Yes and from kids come more kids.” Mr. Dorsey was struggling with this conversation. He would rather have skipped it, but Bill Sherwood was hundreds of miles away, and Micah was living under his roof. It was his responsibility.
And Micah was laughing inside at how uncomfortable the old man was with the subject and debating whether or not to have some fun. “Tom, calm down before you give yourself apoplexy. I know all of this. Don’t worry. I respect Lindy. I have a drawer full of condoms,
so everything’s safe and copasetic. I’m not like my brother—don’t need any annoying brats around do we?” And he winked at the old man.”
Mr. Dorsey’s eyes widened until he realized the boy was pulling his leg. “I should kick your ass,” the elderly man stood. “Let’s go before Billy Bob closes.”
Only Tom and Micah sat at the supper table that night, and it was refreshing with no one else around. They talked about the horses, about the race on Saturday, and then the atmosphere became a little more serious. Micah studied his surrogate father before he spoke. “Do you think I’m a freak?”
The question made Mr. Dorsey flinch a little. “Who said that? Of course not, why would anyone say such a thing?”
“No one said it. That’s how I feel. I’m an eleven year old kid, but I don’t feel like one. I’m taking 9th Grade classes. I’m running on the 9th Grade track team, I have an extra chromosome for God’s sake. Isn’t that freaky? I think it is.”
Relief, that is how the boy felt once he let loose the question; it had been bothering him for a while, ever since Mr. Malvern proposed skipping him some grades last August. A freak, a weird outlier—that is not what he wanted to be, but that is what he feared he was.
The old man smiled. “It would be a lie if I said you were no different than any other kid. You are, but that doesn’t make you a freak. My God, Micah, you are smart, well liked and popular. Even your enemies want to be ‘you.’ That says a lot about you as a person. You are loved. What did the Wizard of Oz say to the Tin Man? Something like, ‘A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.’ Think about that before you consider yourself a freak.”
Tom patted Micah’s leg in a display of endearment. “You are a child, yet I look on you often like my own private mentor. It’s not something intentional. You teach me so much, much more than I could ever show you. Be gentle with yourself. Be forgiving of yourself. You hold everything in, the good and the bad. You are rarely critical of other people, but you are always critical of yourself.” The two exchanged stares and smiles. “You are full of love. Learn to love yourself!”
Micah shook his head in understanding. “It’s late,” he said to Tom. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s a big day.” He hugged the old man, retrieved Raggéd and went to the barn. He wanted to run through the prairie, but he needed to be refreshed for tomorrow’s race. He showered and then slept.
Micah rode with his friends to St. John’s early the next morning. The school was located off 24th and near the Fritch Highway. Everyone was excited anticipating their wins. The day was near perfect for the 1st part of the meet, but the temperature was predicted to be close to 90° with a few showers when Micah was supposed to run. There was a two hour pause between Tierra Verde’s meet and the junior high contests in the afternoon.
Coach told Micah to rest, that he shouldn’t even be there since his race was a good eight hours away. He watched the warm ups; he helped prep the various venues alongside kids from St. John’s. Mr. Dorsey noticed the big change in his ward, who was no longer shy and introverted. Everyone was his potential friend. He worked with the St. John’s boys as if he were one of their team mates.
The Camino del Rio cheerleaders came early to support Tierra Verde. The girls had staked a goalpost for a “Go Bobcats” banner. They had the sign secured to the ground but had no way of hanging it to the high crossbeam without a ladder. Micah watched Lindy who looked perplexed.
He jogged over. “Have a problem,” Micah asked and then inspected the big homemade cloth sign. It was designed to stretch from one side of the goalpost to the other. He thought for a moment and then grabbed the rope and tied it off on his belt buckle and jimmied up the left pole. He rested on the crossbar as he tied the top of the sign to the post. Then he repeated the process on the right side.
After he finished, he sat on top of the crossbar until Coach Britt yelled and made him come down. “You trying to get killed?”
“Just helping,” Micah responded.
“Help by not killing yourself.”
Micah walked away and then spotted Guy Derocher dressed in the St. John’s colors.
Guy jogged over, “Came to support us?”
“Nope, I came to whop you, but I run this afternoon.” Micah responded.
“In the junior high meet? How you manage that? What do you run?”
“The 5K, the last event.” Micah stood more than a head taller than Guy who was the same age almost to the day. “I’m a replacement; the fella that would have run broke his arm.
“Then you’ll be running against my brother. Kevin hasn’t lost you know.” Guy seemed very proud.
“Yeah, I haven’t lost either, so it should be a good race.” The two stood talking for a while until Guy’s event was announced. Micah followed the boy to watch his race. He would be competing against Beau and three others. Micah stood by the cheerleaders and whispered something into Lindy’s ear. She smiled and pulled the other girls together for a huddle. As the race started, the cheerleaders began chanting “Go Beau! Go Beau!” and tossing their pom-poms around. The closer he got to the finish line, the faster they chanted. He crossed first, well ahead of second place, Guy.
Tierra Verde did well in their meet: they won two 1st place ribbons, one 2nd and two 3rds. The primary school runners wanted to hang around for the junior high meet. The coach loaded up the bus with boys, cheerleaders and Mr. Dorsey, and off they went to have lunch. They filled up the small café on Route 66.
The Coach ordered for the Camino del Rio athletes. Micah got two egg sandwiches. “You’ve got to carb up for energy to win the race,” coach instructed.
Mr. Dorsey paid for everyone’s meal.
They got back in time for warm ups, and the boys scrambled to the track. Across from them, the St. John’s boys were doing their routine. He spotted Kevin. Micah went over to his friend’s brother to say howdy. Kevin was about the same size as Micah, both height and weight. He was a quiet boy. Micah put out his hand in greeting, and Kevin grabbed it, pulled it toward him and gave him a bear hug. The three Derocher boys were almost like family. Kevin was sort of the odd-one-out. Greg and Jeff were both 18, and Guy and Micah the same age. But Kevin was in the middle at 14.
“With Greg gone, you still going skiing with us this summer?” Kevin stood back and looked at Micah. “We’re thinking about going to Ft. Cobb in Oklahoma for a week. You can ride with us.”
“Sure, my aunt has a cabin at Ft. Cobb. That would be fun. I can check with her if we can stay there. She will charge us for the utilities, though, but not a lot.” Micah grinned.
“Check the cost, but that sounds good.”
“Sherwood, get your ass over here. Stay with the team.” Coach had a grimace on his face. “Learn to stay where you belong. Stop roaming around.”
At 3:30, Micah was on the line and ready to start the 5K. The race was delayed for about 30 minutes due to a short lived but heavy rain. The track was not in the best shape, and there had been some discussion about canceling the 5K, but the referees decided to let the race go forward. Micah was on the inside lane next to Kevin.
“Good luck Sherwood,” Kevin shouted.
“Same to you.”
The whistle sounded and Micah took off tripping but catching himself. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. He had to push himself harder to catch up. After about two laps, he started his jog. He struggled to focus on the race. The track was in poor condition to begin with, and the gully washer made it a lot worse; there were low and high spots so he had to watch every step. Finally, about a third of the way through, he learned the track and got his repetition down. There were three runners ahead of him, and Kevin was behind.
He was not too worried about the boys in front; they were expending a lot of energy and by the last lap would likely be spent. Kevin, however, was smart and seemed to have his pacing down. Micah sped up overtaking one of the boys. He focused on the next guy, and then passed him, and the same with the third. Now he wait
ed for Kevin to overtake him and he could see him advancing out of the corner of his eyes. He did not speed up. Kevin passed and was a pace ahead. Micah took off. Instantly he was even with his friend, but he was struggling to overtake him. They ran even for half a lap. As they approached the finish line, Kevin moved ahead. A couple of meters from the finish, Kevin remained out front, but then tripped on the uneven surface and fell. Micah won the race.
As soon as he crossed the finish, he heard his team mates yell “Ohiwaye.” But Micah went back to Kevin to check and make sure he was okay. He put out his hand and Kevin grabbed it. “Sorry Kev, that’s not how I wanted to win.”
Kevin had a bloody knee; otherwise he was fine. “A win is a win.” Kevin responded. “Take it, I would.”
After the awards and on the bus home, Cory confronted Micah. “You’re spending the night at my house. Mom and dad want to take us out for supper. You need to bring your Sunday clothes; we will go to Mass in the morning. You can’t say no.”
“I don’t have any Sunday clothes, so I can’t go to Mass.”
“I have some extra. You got to go. Pop is being weird about this.”
“Damn!” Micah said to himself. He was going to run in the desert ALONE that night, and now he couldn’t. “Okay, but I don’t like it.”
That evening, the two boys sat on the sofa in Cory’s room. “I’m taking down the cloth from that mirror. I want to see your man,” Micah rose from his seat and headed toward the fabric covered antique.
Cory said nothing as Micah pulled the dustcover to the floor. It was old and mounted in a frame of dark wood cut with scrollwork, leaves and flowers. It was at least 5 feet tall and something like a grandmother would have. It was dotted with mirror rot.
“Ugly,” Micah said.
“Mom found it in the attic after we moved the house. She didn’t want to get rid of it. She though it would look good in here. I want to throw it away.”
Willow Wood Road: Lavender and Sage Page 21
