“Cripes!” I slammed the refrigerator and stormed into my room. I decided to call my mom, had the cell phone in my hand. I didn’t know whether I would beg her to take me back or tell her off for sending me to Podunk land.
A sudden sharpening of my senses stopped me. I froze. I heard crickets and birds, smelled dust and the rich damp earth. Muscles squirmed beneath my skin. It was happening again. Oh, God, I couldn’t stand it. Frantic, I yanked open the bedroom window, climbed outside, and sprinted for the line of palm trees. My legs felt like they shattered with each step. I dove for cover, and then writhed in agony. I thought it would never end.
Then it did. I looked at my silver paws, and then placed them over my eyes. I needed help. But there was no one. There was nothing I could do.
A breeze ruffled my fur. I smelled flowers, stagnant water, and rabbit spoor. I heard insects in the brush and opossums in the trees. A bird let out a screech that made me feel I was in Africa.
The wind invited me to run with it. I refused. I didn’t want to wake up naked and lost again. Drenched in sweat, I stood and stepped out of my shoes. My bulky jogging pants slipped off my narrow hindquarters. Then I realized I still wore my T-shirt. I tried to grab it with my teeth, but only succeeded in spinning. I tried again and spun the other way.
A snarl twisted my muzzle. This was ridiculous. I threw myself onto my back, then wriggled and kicked, my hind legs digging my chest. The shirt would not come off.
I sat defeated in my Recycle America tee. The amazing wolf boy. No wonder no one wanted me.
The tears started. I couldn’t stop them. I cried like I hadn’t a friend in the world. It sounded like I bayed at the moon.
* * * *
I awoke in the bushes, covered in dew. The sky was a soft gray. Birds sang in the trees.
My eyes burned, and I rubbed them as I looked toward the silent house. A blue pickup truck with an extended cab sat in the gravel driveway. I wondered if it belonged to my uncle. I had heard that my mother sent Bob money to buy a truck. I’d assumed it was a tricked-out show vehicle. This one looked like it was accustomed to hard work.
I dressed in a hurry, and then crossed the yard and climbed through my bedroom window. Noise came from the kitchen. My stomach fell. I was almost as apprehensive about seeing my uncle as I was about turning into a wolf.
I went to the kitchen. Uncle Bob stood at the sink making a cup of instant coffee with hot tap water. He had steel gray, over-the-collar hair and a thin build.
I cleared my throat. “Good morning.”
“Cody. Good to see you, boy.”
He held out his hand, and I shook it. His palms were heavily calloused. I wondered what he did for a living.
“Hey, you got tall,” he said with my mom’s smile.
I tried to smile back, but it felt like a grimace. Yeah, I got tall, seeing’s how the last time he saw me I was four years old.
“You have grass in your hair,” he said.
My hands jerked up, and I stammered, “Oh, I was, ah—”
“Want some coffee?”
“No, sir,” I said, and then blurted, “There’s nothing to eat.”
He slurped. “What, you didn’t eat last night?”
I frowned. Had he expected me to exist on airline food?
“I ate.” He patted his stomach. “Had me a nice rabbit dinner. Nothing better than fresh caught.”
“You like to hunt?”
“Sure. Don’t you?”
I’d never been hunting in my life. But I hoped to fit in, so I said, “I fish.” Although I hadn’t since I was ten.
“Fish?” He scrunched his face. “To each his own, I guess. Why don’t we go into town and get some breakfast.”
“Can I go like this?” I indicated my damp sweat pants and stretched out tee.
He shrugged. “This is South Florida. You can go in your skivvies if you want.”
We walked together into the gray morning. My nose twitched with flower-scented humidity.
“This will give me a chance to show you around.” Uncle Bob circled the cab of his truck.
I sat shotgun and buckled in. The first thing I noticed was the truck didn’t have a radio. The second was a baseball bat on the floor. I didn’t think it was there for sport. A knotted leather cord dangled from the rearview mirror. Feathers and animal fangs decorated its length.
“What’s that?” I motioned.
He winked. “Trophies.”
I nodded like it was normal to keep mementoes of road kill. I saw why my parents considered him a black sheep.
We lurched along the rutted roads that led out of the neighborhood, and finally pulled onto asphalt where we picked up speed. Outside my window, the landscape turned alien. It wasn’t like I’d never been in Florida. I visited Miami Beach plenty of times—blue water, white sandy beaches, high-rises. This was nothing like that. One minute we’d be in a jungle so thick you couldn’t see past the trees. The next, we’d be in a flat expanse of scrub and sawgrass that stretched for miles.
As if he sensed my bewilderment, my uncle said, “This here’s the northernmost tip of the Everglades. We got our share of ’gators. They’re surprisingly fast on land so don’t antagonize them. We’re also getting a nasty population of Burmese pythons.”
“Snakes?” Was this a joke? “I thought they lived in the rainforest.”
“Well, people think they can dump any old thing.” His voice trailed.
“Like that urban myth,” I said. “Alligators in the sewers.”
“Except this ain’t no myth.” He grew quiet for a moment, and then said, “It’s happening all over South Florida. People take things as pets and then tire of them. I heard they’re finding Japanese lionfish off shore. They’re that fish you usually see in home aquariums. If they don’t get them out of our waters, the buggers will ruin the reefs. They’re vicious predators.”
I added to the short list of things I knew about my uncle. He liked to hunt, he was an environmentalist, and he didn’t listen to music.
We passed a few crossroads. None had street signs.
Uncle Bob motioned toward one. “That way takes you to Belle Glade and the sugarcane fields. When they’re harvesting, it smells like burning syrup. If you go down that road, you’ll run into the back end of the safari park. It’s a four-mile preserve, sort of a drive-through zoo. All kinds of animals.”
“Do they ever get out?”
“I never heard of a lion getting loose, but you’ll see a runaway monkey from time to time. And their peacocks are everywhere. You probably heard them last night.”
I winced. I’d heard plenty of strange sounds last night, but I hadn’t been myself.
Bob pointed down another road. “That way leads to the Sunspot nudist camp.”
I sputtered. “As in no clothes?”
“They’re nice people. I don’t want you bothering them.”
I shook my head. “Never met a nudist before.”
“They’re like anybody else.” He grinned. “Only nekked.”
We stopped at a traffic light. There weren’t many other cars.
“This is Southern Boulevard,” Uncle Bob told me. “You’ll find most of what you need along here.”
I nodded and hoped I wouldn’t be around long enough to need anything. He was right, though. There were stores and chain restaurants I recognized. It was like a regular city, only in miniature.
We pulled into a parking lot for the Coffee Café. The pavement was cracked; foot-high grass sprouted through the fissures. There were only two other cars. One of them was a convertible with leather seats baking in the heat. The other had Sheriff stenciled on the side.
I hopped from the truck and circled around. If this was anything like home, cops usually knew the best places to eat. Uncle Bob seemed pensive as we approached the door.
Almost as if he’d waited for us, the sheriff came out of the diner. He had white hair and a mustache. “Morning, Robert. Who do we have here?”
“Hello,
Brad,” my uncle said with no trace of a smile. “This is my nephew, Cody. He’ll be staying with me.”
“How do you do, sir?” I said.
He looked me up and down, ignoring my outstretched hand. “Well, young man. Let me know if you have any trouble settling in.”
“Thank you, sir.” I moved to step around him.
He blocked the door. “We like to think of Loxahatchee as the town that doesn’t ask too many questions. But that’s not to say anything goes. I like to keep things quiet, you know what I mean?”
“Yes, sir. I do,” I said.
“Excuse us, Brad,” my uncle said. “The boy here is mighty hungry.”
We stepped into the café. It smelled of coffee and pancake syrup. The room was dim compared to the bright morning.
I stood in the entryway and replayed the conversation with the sheriff. I had the impression Sheriff Brad didn’t much like my uncle—and by extension, me.
From across the room, a waitress called, “Bobby, nice to see you, hon. I have a table for you over here.”
We squeezed into the booth she indicated. It was by a window that overlooked the street. Stripes fell through the slats of the blinds, the light tinted pink by a transparent Santa Claus painted on the glass.
“How was your birthday? Good?” She poured my uncle a cup of coffee.
“Wonderful. My sister surprised me with the best gift ever.” He gave her a wide smile. “Anne, this is Cody. He’s staying with me. I want you to set him up with a tab, anything he wants, and I’ll tally up at the end of the month.”
They both looked at me as if I should gush with enthusiasm over my uncle’s generosity.
“Umm. I don’t really like coffee,” I managed to say.
Uncle Bob laughed. “Then get him chocolate milk. What kid doesn’t like chocolate milk?”
“One chocolate milk coming up,” Anne said over her shoulder as she hurried away.
They looked so pleased I didn’t have the heart to tell them I didn’t care for milk either. I rarely ate breakfast at home, just grabbed a Dew on the way to school.
When Anne brought my food, however, I was ravenous. I had eggs, sausage, pancakes, and a bowl of white soupy stuff my uncle called grits. It all tasted great. I couldn’t get it in my mouth fast enough.
My uncle chuckled as he snagged a piece of my toast. “I guess I forgot what it’s like to be a growing boy.”
I nodded and polished off my milk.
“After winter break, we’ll take you over to Seminole Bluffs and get you signed up for high school,” he said. “It won’t be like those prep schools you’re used to, but it has a good reputation.”
I set down my fork, suddenly losing my appetite. My prep school, as he called it, was going to get me into Harvard. I planned to become a doctor like my parents. How would that happen now? How could I go to a normal high school, act like a normal kid?
I sensed his eyes upon me and scrambled to hide my emotions. “Do they have extracurricular activities? I was president of the Science Club at home.”
“Sports.” He shrugged. “Home of the Hawks.”
My shoulders deflated. I liked sports, but I’d never be mistaken for an athlete. Too thin. And in spite of my dad’s assurances that I would grow to be taller than him, I was average height. Still waiting for that growth spurt. Uncle Bob stared at me, so I cast about for something else to say. “Will a bus pick me up?”
“Don’t think it comes out my way, now that you mention it.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you have a driver’s license?”
“I have a learner’s permit,” I told him.
“Good.” He stretched and draped his arm over the back of the booth. “I saw something the other day you might like. Hope it’s still for sale.”
I looked at him, my stomach doing a little flip. Was he buying me a car?
“Finished?” He motioned at my empty plate. “Let’s go have a look.”
THREE
We left the café and drove along a side street lined with pink and aqua houses. Icicle lights hung from the garages. Deflated plastic snowmen lay puddled on the driveways. A flock of wild parakeets flitted from tree to tree like a green cloud.
Uncle Bob pulled the truck up to a house with a yard sale out front. Rows of folding tables filled the lawn. Grass grew around their legs and gave the impression that the tables were permanent fixtures. They were piled with everything from clothing to dishes.
A man came out of the garage with yet another box of stuff to add to the disorder. He wore cut-off jeans and a Dolphins football jersey. His dark hair hung in a long ponytail down his back. I thought he looked Native American.
Uncle Bob got out of the truck and slammed the door. The man glanced over, and his broad face broke into a smile. He hugged my uncle like a brother. They slapped each other’s backs.
“Open for business the day after Christmas?” Uncle Bob said. “Aren’t you cutting the holidays a bit short?”
He shrugged. “Ah, well, it’s not my religion.” Then he looked at me. His eyes narrowed.
“Cody, my nephew,” Uncle Bob told him. “He’s down from Massachusetts.”
“He has your aura.” The man nodded as he circled me. “Yes, indeed.”
Uncle Bob draped his arm across my shoulders and dropped his voice. “Cody, Howard here is a friend. Best friend you can have. If you ever get in trouble, anything at all, he’s the man to see.”
“Day or night.” Howard raised his hand in a solemn promise.
I nodded and wondered how friendly either of them would be if they knew my secret. “Thank you, sir.”
“Welcome.” He glanced about as if he just noticed his yard. “I’d like to chat, but I have more junk to display.”
“Need a hand?” asked my uncle.
“No, I’ve got it. Why don’t you two look around?” Howard returned to his garage.
As if that were his cue, Uncle Bob set off through the cramped rows. It wasn’t easy to keep up. I couldn’t imagine why we were there. Howard labeled his wares junk, and he couldn’t have been more right. He must have an army of kids to accumulate so many cast-offs.
My uncle cocked his head as he peered beneath the tables. At last, he said, “Here it is. This is what I was telling you about.” He pulled out a rickety bicycle.
I took a step back. “It’s a bike.”
“Yeah. You’ll need something to get around on.”
“But it’s a bike. I don’t need a driver’s license to ride a bike.”
“You need identification. I don’t want you to pedal around without ID.” He rolled the bicycle back and forth. Both tires were flat. “Hey, Howard. How much?”
“Twenty-five dollars,” Howard called back.
“No, no, no. How much for me?”
“Thirty.”
Uncle Bob sat on the bike. It gave an ominous creak. “I’ll give you ten.”
Howard raised a hand in acceptance and disappeared once more into the depths of his garage.
With a wink and a grin, Uncle Bob handed me the bike and slapped me on the shoulder. “What else does he have around here? Do you need anything?”
I could have laughed. What could I possibly need? Here I was in South Florida with a suitcase full of winter clothes. “Hangers. For the closet.”
Bob slung a thick, red blanket over his shoulder. It looked hand woven. He peered into a box. “Ah, bed sheets. How about these?” He pulled out a set of mustard-yellow sheets printed with Scooby Doo.
I made a face. No way would I sleep on something like that.
“Come on.” He laughed. “What kid doesn’t like cartoons?”
We ended up with quite a haul. Besides the bike and bedding, we picked up some bowls and plates for the kitchen and some extra towels for the bath. I found a decent pair of jeans and a few T-shirts.
Howard claimed we owed eighty-eight dollars, but Uncle Bob talked him down to twenty-seven. We packed everything into the back of the pickup and said good-bye.
A
s I climbed into the truck, I felt dazed. Everything happened so fast. It was like if I bought those few things, I was agreeing to stay. Only I couldn’t stay. I wanted to go home.
“Just one more stop.” My uncle smiled as he drove back toward Southern.
I bit my tongue. My frustration erupted in an overwhelming anger at Uncle Bob. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t fair. He was trying to be nice. My exile probably messed up his life as much as mine. The people I should be mad at were my parents—but every time I tried to be, I saw my mother’s puffy, red eyes. I couldn’t blame them. I couldn’t blame anyone.
Uncle Bob pulled into the lot of a Walgreens Pharmacy. Red and green bells hung from the streetlights, and silver tinsel decorated the window. He backed into a spot, parked across the line, and took up two spaces. It didn’t matter. No one else was around.
“Coming in?” he asked as he hopped down from his seat.
I shook my head. “I’ll stay and keep an eye on the bike.”
He thumped the car door as if soothing a rhinoceros. “Won’t be but a minute.” He hurried into the store.
I unlatched my seatbelt and slouched. Sweat trickled down my back. It was hot and humid. The morning haze burned off and left the sky a brilliant blue. I glanced at my watch. It was still set for France. Six o’clock. My parents would be getting ready for dinner. I took out my cell phone. The screen said it was twelve noon.
Without really planning to, I dialed my mom’s number. It rang four times. When it went to voicemail, I said, “Mom, this is Cody.” Then my voice failed. I hung up without another word.
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked hard and nurtured my anger. I leaned out the window toward the lazy flow of passing traffic and listened to other people’s music. I wished I’d put some tunes on my phone, wished I had my mp3 player. When I packed for France, my parents told me I could bring either my iPod or my DS. I chose the DS. Now I rued the day. Total ruage.
The Amazing Wolf Boy Page 2
