No Take Backs

by Otis Hanby

  I look in the back of the station wagon and see the trash bags of my clothes, some music cassettes, and my skateboard. I’m glad to see my skateboard, although I know there won’t be many places to ride it out in the boonies. My cousin is a skater, but not a very proficient one. I can’t blame him, though, because he lives where there is nothing but fields of cows and hay pastures surrounding him. I have Dallas at my doorstep. Had Dallas at my doorstep. There are limitless places to skate, so long as you don’t get chased off by security.

  I like my cousin a lot. We were best friends growing up. During summer vacations he would come to the city for a couple of weeks and then I’d go to his house out in the country for a couple of weeks. He loved the city and absorbed everything he was deprived of at home. And I loved going to the country where I could experience true solitude. But now that I’m going to go live there, and it feels like hell. The only person my age I know is my cousin. I’m leaving all my friends behind. Not to mention that Erica is going to be so far away. I know we’re broken up, but being able to see her on occasion is comforting somehow.

  We’ve been driving for a little more than an hour when the city gives way to open fields, trees, and cows. My dad exits I-30 heading east and takes the service road to an empty two-lane highway, which is little more than an extension into more fields, trees, and farms. I feel a bit sick to my stomach knowing that these are going to be my new surroundings. I already crave concrete to skate on, and Rodney picking me up so we can drive around all night and do things that challenge my sanity. Uncertainty merges into fear, and the darkness inside is becoming more pronounced.

  My dad pulls in at my cousin’s house. Two dogs run up to the car and bark loudly, notifying everyone of our arrival. Getting out of the car, I reach down to pet Harvey, the mutt that’s been with my cousin’s family for as long as I can remember. The other dog I don’t recognize. He probably won’t last too long because Harvey always seems to find a way to lure other dogs onto the highway to get hit by cars. He’s a sick animal. But he’s as friendly to humans as any dog could be. I hear a screen door slam against its frame and see my cousin walking out from the garage. My cousin’s family uses the side door that goes into the garage instead of the front door, and this has always puzzled me. My cousin is walking with bare feet on the jagged rocks that serve as their driveway. You can pick up almost any stone in the driveway and find a fossil of some kind. Jack and I used to do that as kids. Today I find myself admiring his ability to walk on the sharp rocks without any trouble.

  “What’s up?” I ask my cousin.

  “Not much. Where’s your stuff?” Jack asks.

  “In the back of the station wagon.”

  “Cool. Did you bring your board?”

  “Yeah, it’s back there,” I say, walking to the rear of the car.

  I look up to see my parents disappearing into the darkness of the garage. I hear my Aunt Sue Ellen say a loud hello in her friendly country voice. My aunt loves company, especially family. I know my parents will be here for a while because she won’t let anybody get away without a good conversation and a snack. My cousin’s family consists of his two sisters, his brother Randy, his mom, and his dad—Uncle Joe to me. Uncle Joe’s a stout, fierce man.

  Jack’s older brother graduated high school and enlisted in the Army recently. His two sisters are the oldest and have moved out as well. I’m sure I’ll be taking their old room. The whole family has a good sense of humor, and I enjoy being with them, minus the times my Uncle Joe makes me feel isolated by a harsh comment about my family or me.

  Jack often plays hilarious pranks on his mom. It’s nothing big, but he’ll hide and scare the crap out of her when she walks by. Or act like he’s retarded while he’s out in public with his mom, embarrassing her for a laugh. If I tried any such pranks on my stepmom, I would get into serious trouble. Our families are so different. Jack’s family are hard workers while my family seems to be loungers. Uncle Joe is a workaholic and doesn’t tolerate idleness. He doesn’t care for my family or me too much, and I’m planning on staying out of his way as much as possible.

  Jack and I walk into the garage with my things, and I notice a small wooden half pipe off to the side. It’s a couple of feet tall and about eight feet wide. It looks like it would be a lot of fun to skate.

  “Hey man, that’s pretty cool. Did you build that?” I ask Jack.

  “Yeah. There isn’t much to skate on out here, so I had to make something for in between trips to town.”

  “Cool. We’ll have to skate it later,” I say as he opens the screen door to his house.

  My cousin and I walk into the house passing my parents and his mom chatting about something. We walk to the other end of the house where my room will be.

  “You can have this room,” my cousin says, pointing to the first room in the hall on the left.

  “Thanks,” I say, setting my things down on the bedroom floor.

  “You want to go for a walk?” Jack asks.

  “Sure.”

  Jack and I walk back out of the house and down his driveway onto Farm Road 275, which is much more of a highway. My parents don’t ask where we’re going. I’m surprised that they aren’t being strict with me. Jack’s parents are more lenient in general; maybe my parents are relieved that I will no longer be their problem. Jack and I walk on the shoulder next to the farm road. We aren’t in any danger of being run over, because you can hear a car coming from miles down the road, and would be considered busy if two cars passed within five minutes of each other. I hand Jack a cigarette from my pack. He takes it and thanks me. He looks over his shoulder, then lights up and takes a drag.

  “So, what’s going on?” Jack asks, exhaling smoke.

  “I don’t know anymore. I’ve been getting into trouble and shit. I guess my parents think I’ve gone off the deep end. So much has happened in the past few months. It’s a really long story.”

  “Does it look like I’m pressed for time?” Jack asks jokingly.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. How can you stand it out here?”

  “It’s not that bad, although I do like it better in the city. I know you’re used to a big school, so you’re going to freak out when you see mine. It’s a small motherfucker. With you, we’ll have twenty kids in our class.”

  “Twenty kids? Shit. I had a few hundred in my class at Garland.”

  “We have kindergarten through twelfth grade. The other kids won’t know what to think of you. I’m the only skater the school has. The only other kid that doesn’t dress in all that cowboy shit is Christian. He’s in eleventh grade. He’s really cool. You two will probably hit it off.”

  I think about what he said as we turn off the highway and walk down a farm-to-market road leading further into nowhere. The trees are thicker here, and the day is pretty pleasant. The sun is shining, and it feels warm against the cold air. Jack and I walk off the road and negotiate through a barbed wire fence into a cluster of pecan trees. Jack starts picking pecans off the ground, and I follow suit. I squeeze two pecans in my hand against each other, cracking the shells. We sit on a log as we eat the meat out of the shells.

  “We go into town a couple of times during the week. There isn’t much in Cumby, but I know a couple of places to skate. My friend John lives there and goes to school there. You’ll like him,” my cousin says.

  I pick up a small rock and throw it at a rusty can lying on its side. The stone hits the can with a dull clank. Having nothing better to do than throw rocks at a can is depressing. I already miss my friends, and it hasn’t even been a full day. I miss Erica most of all, and I picture her in my mind smiling and laughing. That image shoots an intense pain through me. Even though the sun is shining warmly, I feel the chill of the ever-present darkness within. I feel like crying but keep it under control because I’m with my cousin. I don’t want him thinking I’m weak, so I swallow my pain.

  I look at him and admire him for a moment. He’s a strong kid. It’s not just that he’s stout a
nd works on the farm; he has steel emotions. As he looks at me without judgment, there is a quiet strength about him. I know I’m a sensitive person, and it bothers me when I compare myself to him. I don’t like feeling weak. After a while, we walk back to my cousin’s house in silence. It’s so still and quiet that it seems awkward to talk. Its absence of noise is nice for the moment as I am reflective by nature, but it’s also a reminder of how empty I feel. As we reach his driveway, I see my parents walking out to their car with my aunt. She’s always reluctant to let company go. As I’m passing my stepmom, she pulls me to the side while my aunt and father say their goodbyes.

  “You will behave. You are a guest here and nothing more. You do as you’re told without complaint. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Because this is your last chance, there are more unpleasant places to be than here,” my stepmom says and then gets into the car.

  My dad just looks at me over the top of his glasses as he opens the car door. He starts the car and backs out of the driveway. As I watch them drive away, I think it’s strange that they didn’t hug me or tell me they love me. I know I’m not on their favorite list right now but them leaving without saying “bye” or “love you” seems pretty harsh. It gives me a sort of finality to my suspicion that I’m the last son to be divorced from the family. Even though Will is living at home, he will be kicked out again, sooner or later. He’s living there on borrowed time. Once you have been kicked to the curb, you lose your place in the family.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, I shoot up in bed to the blare of Suicidal Tendencies. My cousin has a pair of speakers right by my head. “What the fuck?” I yell above the music.

  My cousin laughs as he bangs his head back and forth to the music. His shoulder-length hair seems to come alive as he moves. I grab my shoe and throw it at him. He deflects it with his forearm and continues to bang his head without missing a beat, as I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom.

  “Hey! The school bus will be here in about ten minutes!” Jack shouts over the music.

  “Yeah, okay,” I yell back, rubbing my eyes.

  After using the bathroom, I look into the mirror and see the butterfly necklace around my neck, and remember Erica and my friends, making me instantly sad. I wash my hands and try to push the memories out of my mind. Jack turns the music off. I get dressed and join him outside for a cigarette. My stomach is growling. I feel a little anxiety building up when I see the school bus turn onto the highway from the distant farm-to-market road. I think it’s funny that I feel nervous about going to such a small school after going to a much larger one.

  Jack and I snuff out our cigarettes and walk to the end of the driveway to wait for the bus. As it pulls up, we both get on, and I follow Jack to the rear of the bus, noticing that the smaller children are sitting up front. It feels weird to be on a bus full of little kids. Jack and I sit down, each of us having a seat to ourselves. Two girls look a year, or two younger are sitting across from me. Both are pretty, but they seem too shy to look directly at me. The bus jerks forward and I noticed how the dark brown-haired girl’s breasts bounce with the sudden movement. I turn my attention away so she won’t catch me looking and be labeled as a pervert. I gaze out the window and see the sun breaking over the horizon. Fog lies blanketed in the fields like low clouds. I finally notice the beauty of the countryside. It is serene. I stare out at the window the whole way to school, except for stealing another glimpse at the dark-haired girl’s breasts bouncing up and down when the bus goes over a bump or pothole.

  After driving down seemingly endless back roads and only picking up a handful of kids the bus pulls up in front of the school. I’ve completely lost my sense of direction by the time we arrive. I follow Jack off the bus after all the younger kids have gotten off, and he leads me to the cafeteria, which is a small building converted from an old railroad car.

  On the way to the cafeteria, we walk past the front of the gym, and three kids about our age stare at me, dressed in tight jeans and cowboy boots. One is wearing a cowboy hat. All three of them have tobacco in their lips, and the one with the hat spits on the ground as I walk by. He continues to stare at me. His thumbs are jammed into the front pockets of his jeans. His hair is long in the back, and he has a full mustache and chin beard. The kids at Garland High aren’t allowed to have facial hair. This doesn’t matter to me because I can’t grow a full mustache anyways.

  The looks I’m getting from the three boys are not necessarily hostile, but they certainly aren’t friendly. Maybe they don’t like the way I dress with my shaved head, baggy jeans, skate shirt, flannel, and chain wallet. The cowboy hat kid is trying to be intimidating, but I’ve seen more intimidating guys in the city. And if this redneck wants to fight, I’m more than ready. Although I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot on my first day here, I do return his stare with indifference.

  Jack and I enter the cafeteria, leaving the Cowboys to their dipping. There’s a kid our age with long hair, past his shoulders, waiting at the serving line. He’s the only one standing there until Jack, and I join him.

  “Hey, Christian! How’s it going?” Jack asks the kid.

  “Hey, Jack! Not too bad. Who’s your friend?”

  “I’m Corey,” I interject. “Jack’s cousin. How are you?”

  “You going to school here?” Christian asks with a confused look.

  “Yeah, I just started. I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be here.”

  “Well cool. At least we didn’t get another dumb cowboy,” Christian says, leaning into me with his hand shielding his mouth, saying it like a secret.

  “You don’t have to worry about that. No cowboy here,” I say, laughing.

  The cafeteria lady gives me a hard look as if I offended her. I like Christian right off. Jack and I take our trays of food—toast, eggs, milk, and Golden Grahams—over to where Christian is sitting. I see Christian pouring chocolate milk on his Golden Grahams and ask, “Is that any good?”

  “Yeah. You ought to try it.”

  “I just might do that. Hey, is there a coke machine around here?”

  “Yeah. Just go through that doorway right there, and you can’t miss it,” Christian says, pointing to the doorway at the other end of the cafeteria.

  I get up from the table and head in the direction of the coke machine. As I walk through the doorway, I see two cowboys to the left of me, sitting on a table next to some stacked boxes. Damn, I died and went to hell. These guys are everywhere. The two cowboys look up at me but don’t say anything, and I turn to the right and walk straight to the coke machine. I insert two quarters and push the button for Dr. Pepper. I hear the soda fall and bend over to grab it. I hear a loud thump over my head and see a roll of toilet paper drop next to my feet. I pause for a second trying to comprehend what just happened.

  “Did I almost hit you?” someone asks behind me.

  I slowly stand up, but not before grabbing my Dr. Pepper. I turn around to face the two cowboys on the other side of the room.

  “Did you hear me boy?” asks the one with red hair.

  His hair is short on top and long in the back, and he’s small like me but with ropey muscles and scrappy. The other cowboy is taller and more relaxed. He’s a good-looking guy, stout but with a friendly face. He gives the redhead a look. “Ken, leave him alone,” he says.

  Ken, the red-headed cowboy, snickers and walks past me into the cafeteria.

  “He don’t mean no harm. Sorry that had to happen on your first day here,” the dark-haired cowboy says.

  “Don’t sweat it.”

  “My name’s Ray,” the dark-haired kid says, extending his hand.

  I take his hand and shake it. His grip is exceptional, and my hand is nearly in pain.

  “My name is Corey,” I say. He shakes my hand a few more seconds before letting go.

  “See y’all around, Corey,” Ray says as he walks off.

  “Yeah, see y
a.”

  I flex my hand a few times and go back to my breakfast and feel thankful for Ray’s kindness.

  After breakfast, I walk with Jack to our first class. Christian waves as he walks into a different room as he is a grade ahead of us. The first class I have is American History. Many curious faces are looking at me as I walk in. It’s like I’m the strangest thing they’ve ever seen. There are only three desks unoccupied, spaced apart from each other, leaving me no choice but to sit apart from my cousin. I take a desk in the middle of the class. At the desk in front of me sits an attractive girl with dark brown hair. She flashes me a quick smile, which comes across as more uncertain than polite. I look over my right shoulder and spot Ray sitting towards the back corner of the room. Another cowboy is turned around in his desk talking to him. Ray is looking at me pretty neutral. I’m unable to interpret his look, so I don’t acknowledge him. I turn my head to the front of the room and scan all the history paraphernalia cluttering the walls.

  The classroom door opens, and a small, weathered man walks into the room with a textbook in one hand and a travel coffee cup in the other. He’s dressed in a cowboy-style shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots. He eyes the classroom and his gaze stops on me. He sits down and opens his textbook.

  “Open your books to page one hundred and twenty-three,” the teacher says in a high, hard twang.

  The classroom is filled with the sound of pages turning.

  “Before we get started, I want our new student to stand up and introduce himself,” the teacher says again, looking my way.

  The entire class looks at me, making me feel a little uneasy. With reluctance, I put my pencil down and slowly stand up.

  “My name is Corey. I come from the Dallas area… That’s about it.” I take my seat quickly.

  I feel my face grow hot and look down at my desk, trying to conceal my uneasiness.