by Nancy Isaak
* * * *
I found Wester in—of all places—Kaylee’s room.
He was sitting on her bed, holding a framed photograph of her riding a horse. There was a teddy bear on each side of him, positioned close to his skinny body.
“I see you found some friends,” I teased, sitting down on the end of the bed and facing him.
“Shawnee likes bears.”
“Who’s Shawnee?” I asked.
“My sister. She likes bears like these guys.” He reached over and grabbed the two bears, holding them in his arms. “You think the girl who lives here will be upset.”
“That you’re taking care of her bears? I think the girl will be happy. She’s a very nice girl.”
Wester buried his head in the teddy bears and began to cry.
“Aw, dude,” I said. “What’s the matter? Is it cause Max left?”
He shrugged, keeping his head buried.
“Is it because you’re missing your sisters?”
He shrugged again.
“Is it cause of everything?”
Wester nodded, tears beginning to fall down his face.
I moved over to his side of the bed and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. “It’s hard, bud, I know…but it’s like Max said—we just got to continue on and do the best we can.”
Depressed, Wester laid his head on my shoulder. I leaned my cheek on his head—then pulled it back up quickly. “Dude!” I exclaimed, my nose wrinkling at the stink. “Max was right—those dreads gots to go.”
Beside me, Wester began to giggle.
JOURNAL ENTRY #14
We’ve got two bald boys running around!
Because Wester’s dreadlocks were becoming ‘nasty’, we decided to cut them off. At first, we were going to leave him a bit of hair, but Wester insisted that he wanted it all gone.
Let me tell you, it took some doing. I would never have thought shaving off hair would be so difficult.
What was really funny is that I asked Andrei for advice on how to cut off the dreadlocks. “Dude,” he said. “You know my mom is white, right? That’s why my hair is so short. She doesn’t know what to do with it either, so she just shaves it all off every month.”
“What about your dad?”
“Cut out when I was little. Sorry, but you’re definitely asking the wrong black kid for advice.”
Finally, I just took the scissors from the first aid kit and cut each dreadlock off as close to Wester’s scalp as I dared. Then, once they were all gone, I lathered him up and shaved him…bald!
Ethan loved Wester’s bald head so much that he kept running his hands all over it. Finally, he came to me and asked for the same treatment.
So, now Ethan’s bald, too!
Rhys, meanwhile, became fascinated with Wester’s cut-off dreads. He pulled them apart, studying how the hair curled in and around itself. Andrei, of course, made a joke about white guys always wanting to touch black people’s hair.
My brother held up one of Wester’s dreadlocks. “Can you blame us, dude?” he said. “Look at this thing. It’s amazing!”
I motioned toward the shaving cream and razor. “What do you say, Rhys? You want to join the brotherhood?”
Rhys quickly backed out of the room.
* * * *
One weird thing—
When Brandon and Kieran came home that night—from whatever they were up to—Brandon said that he didn’t like Ethan’s new hairstyle.
He said that he liked Ethan’s hair long, that long hair made him look—pretty.
In all honesty—Brandon’s really starting to creep me out.
PRESENT SHOPPING
Because Porter was worried about how quickly we were going through the food in the house, we decided to combine our Christmas and New Year’s holiday meals—celebrating both on December 31st. That would also give all of us a chance to scavenge through the neighboring houses, looking for suitable Christmas presents for each other.
Connor—of course—still wasn’t capable of traveling outside of the estate.
His leg was healing nicely, but we suspected that he would always have a limp and a ragged scar on his shin. In exchange for his taking my watch duty, I carried his ‘shopping list’ with me as I searched for my own Christmas gifts for the guys.
For security’s sake, everyone was required to travel in pairs—with at least one member armed—especially when entering a new house. We kept a chart of what homes we’d scavenged, listing what we’d found and what we should come back later and collect.
It was fascinating going through the mansions on Point Dume.
There were so many homes of actors whose shows we watched regularly, singers and musicians whose music we listened to—there was even the niece of a past President of the United States living in one of the bigger mansions along the cliffs.
At one point, I came across the house of a drummer from a famous rock band. I was sorting through his memorabilia when I discovered my Christmas gift for Porter. It had nothing to do with the drummer, ironically—but with his father, who worked for NASA.
High up on a bedroom wall, was a framed heat tile from the Space Shuttle Atlantis. Porter being such a space-geek—I just knew that tile was going to be the perfect Christmas gift.
And two houses down, I found Wester and Ethan’s gift.
It was sitting in the back of the yard—a giant, bouncing ball as tall as a small house. You were supposed to get inside and roll it around.
Porter and I did just that—first one inside the ball, then the other—laughing as we rolled it home. We hid it at the far end of the estate, on the opposite side from the ‘bathroom area’—with a couple of wooded acres and a creek in between.
Of course, Ethan and Wester found it less than an hour later.
That ball didn’t stop bouncing for days.
JOURNAL ENTRY #15
Our combined Christmas/New Year’s began a little roughly for me this morning.
Ethan and Wester decided that I needed to be woken up at 6:00 a.m. by jumping on my bed. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Ethan’s foot hadn’t delivered a whopping thump to my junk. Next thing I know, I’m curled up in a heap—moaning on the floor—and Ethan and Wester are giggling madly, looking down at me from the bed.
“Come on, Jacob…it’s Christmas! It’s New Year’s…presents, presents, presents!”
I tell you—lying on the floor, clutching your nuts, and wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep makes you realize that it’s finally happened.
Christmas doesn’t belong to you anymore—it’s been passed onto the younger kids.
You are now, officially—boring and ‘mature’.
* * * *
At least, I wasn’t the only one who had difficulty getting their enthusiasm up today. Porter was downright cranky when Wester pulled him into the living room by the hand.
“I need a Red Bull,” he groaned, falling down onto the couch. “Combining Christmas and New Year’s was a stupid idea. We should have just cancelled both.”
Connor, meanwhile, limped into the room with two cups of coffee. He handed one to me and then took the second one over to Porter. “Sorry,” he apologized. “No more Red Bull. The last one got drunk yesterday.”
Porter took a sip of his coffee, leaning back in ecstasy. “Close second,” he sighed. “Thank you, Connor.”
“I’m just the carrier. Kieran made it.”
That surprised me. “Kieran’s up?”
Connor nodded. “Out in the backyard. Getting the coals heating up for breakfast.”
Rhys suddenly raced in from the hallway. “Merry Christmas-New Year’s everybody!” he yelled—way too loudly.
Porter and I exchanged a groan.
This was going to be a long day.
* * * *
If it wasn’t for the younger guys, I can definitely say that I would have gone straight back to bed. But for Rhys, Ethan, and Wester—I put on my happy face, as well as a Santa’s hat that w
e found in a cupboard, and set about handing out presents.
We were all there in the living room—even Brandon and Kieran—sitting on couches and floor cushions.
In Wester’s case—bouncing from one foot to another.
Looking around at the guys—all ten of us—made me realize that Ru was right.
It wasn’t just that we were a family—we were also a tribe.
* * * *
“I guess we should start out this holiday right,” I announced. “Since I’m Santa, I’d better make a good Santa-speech.”
Wester and Ethan groaned, impatient.
“Ho-ho-ho! Let’s get our presents on!” I yelled.
Everyone cheered.
Except Kieran who—apparently—was too cool. He just sipped at his coffee, pretending that his eyes didn’t keep slipping toward the presents clearly labeled with his own name.
* * * *
Slowly—taking my time—I walked around the potted Sago palm we were using as our substitute-Christmas tree. It was covered with decorations that we had found in the same cupboard that had contained my Santa hat.
Finally, I chose at random, a rectangular box with “Star Wars” gift-wrapping and a big multi-colored bow. “Let’s see,” I said, reading the tag on the box. “This first gift is from Andrei to Wester.”
Our little baldy practically danced across the floor to take his present, ripping off the wrapping immediately. Inside was a pair of nunchucks—two fighting sticks joined by a chain for swinging about and smacking people.
Wester was ecstatic, while Andrei grinned happily.
Meanwhile, I groaned inwardly—thinking of the many accidents sure to come.
The next present I chose from the pile was a pink box from Brandon to Kieran. My brother tore into it, only to find a life-size plastic blow-up doll.
Brandon laughed uproariously, Kieran blushed a deep red, and the younger guys looked confused.
“Inappropriate, Brandon,” I said, frowning.
“It won’t be if he uses it right,” Brandon laughed.
If anything—Kieran blushed an even darker red.
* * * *
By the end of the next hour, everything was unwrapped and the guys had all wandered off to mess with their new belongings.
Only Porter and I remained.
“It was fun watching the little kids,” said Porter.
“Hard to believe we’re the adults now, huh?”
He nodded, organizing his gifts into piles. “Well, I guess I’ll go put these away.”
“Wait, bro,” I said, handing over a brightly wrapped box. “I saved this one for last.”
“How come?” he said, pulling at a corner of the wrapping.
“Honestly—because Brandon can be a bit of a dick,” I admitted. “And I didn’t want him ruining it for you.”
“Wow,” he joked. “This must be pretty special. I can’t imagine—”
His jaw dropped as he pulled out the space shuttle heat tile. He looked up at me, tears filling his eyes.
“I—I—I—” he stuttered.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“Been—space—”
“Yes,” I nodded. “That one was actually in space. You can still see the scorch marks.”
Holding the heat tile close to his chest, Porter stumbled out of the living room.
I nodded, watching him go.
Yup—space-geeks—they’re all the same…big babies.
* * * *
Later, Rhys found me in my bedroom, trying to catch up on my sleeping. “Porter’s starting the ham,” he announced.
“Coming.” I forced myself to wake up, wiping the fatigue from my eyes. “Thanks for the surfing book, by the way. It was perfect.”
“I found it down in that blue house, the one on Cliffside Drive. There are some shortboards in the garage there. Might be worth a look.”
“Might be,” I yawned.
“Jacob?”
“Yes, bud.”
“Do you miss mom and dad?” Rhys asked.
I sat up, shocked. “Of course. Every day…why would you ask that?”
He shrugged.
“Rhys…What’s going on?”
It took a moment for my youngest brother to get up his nerve. Finally, he spoke. “I just—it’s not that I don’t miss them—because I do. It’s just—well, it’s different now. We do what we want, you know. And we don’t have to go to school.”
Rhys hung his head; he looked embarrassed, ashamed.
“It’s okay, bro,” I said. “I understand.”
He looked up. “You do?”
“It can be fun, living like this. Nobody telling us when to go to sleep or do our homework or a hundred other things.”
“Plus we get to live in Malibu,” he added.
“And go surfing when we want.”
“And have Christmas and New Year’s together.”
I rose from my bed and put my arm around my brother’s shoulder, giving him a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, Rhys,” I said. “Enjoying the wild-boy life doesn’t mean that you don’t love and miss mom and dad. It just means you’re a boy.”
* * * *
We had decided on a late supper—mostly because we planned to stay up and ring in the New Year. Porter was grilling up the last of the canned hams, while Connor cut up thin slices of potato for Kieran to fry.
The day before, Andrei and Ian had gone garden-raiding and they were now making a salad with the produce they had brought back. Meanwhile, Wester and Ethan—as usual—were in charge of setting the table, while Rhys helped Brandon make a non-alcoholic fruit punch in a giant crystal bowl.
I—unfortunately—was responsible for clean-up.
That meant carting up buckets of water from a small creek that ran along one side of the estate. I decided to get an early start—before it got too dark. Using a gardener’s wagon, I moved back and forth, lining up my full pails in the garage. When the meal was finished, I would heat up the water on the barbeque and wash the dishes old-style.
Truth is—we could simply have used paper plates for the dinner. There are certainly enough of them in almost every kitchen that we’ve searched on this Point. I guess rich people don’t like doing dishes just like the rest of us regular folk.
But I wanted this meal to be special.
And—like my mom always says—special dinners mean that you bring out the good china and crystal. It meant a little bit more work—but it was going to be worth it.
* * * *
While I was inside the garage, unloading pails of water, Kieran suddenly entered from the door to the house. He looked uncertain, nervous.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Um—I’ve got something for the dinner tonight.”
“Great,” I said, not really paying attention. One of my pails appeared to have a small leak and I was looking around the garage for a replacement. “Just give it to Porter. He’s head chef tonight.”
“Yeah, well,” he stammered. “I kind of need your permission first.”
Huh?
I stopped what I was doing and gave him my full attention. Slowly, Kieran reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a can of cranberry sauce.
“Son of a bitch!” I snapped.
Kieran at least had the decency to look ashamed. “I just wanted Wester to have some cranberry sauce,” he said quietly, his head low. “Like we always do at Christmas.”
“And what about Connor?! You realize the pain that kid will still be in tonight because of your stupidity? Makes for a great Christmas for him, don’t you think?!”
“I didn’t think anyone would get hurt,” he said—his voice close to a whine.
“And I call bullshit!” I was furious. “You and Brandon knew exactly what you were doing when you broke into that store. And, guess what—so did Ru!”
Kieran looked shocked; his jaw dropped open.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I continued. “Ru knew it was you and Brandon. And�
��let me tell you, bro—you came this close to being killed that day!”
I held up two fingers—then slowly brought them together.
* * * *
With Kieran, there’s a point where he just stops listening.
Where his back gets up and he becomes all prickly and he just doesn’t care. I can always tell when he reaches that point, because his eyes go dead and his face slack.
He was at that point now.
“You want to have this for dinner or not?” he asked, holding up the can of cranberry sauce. There was nothing on my brother’s face now—no expression at all.
I knew it would be useless to continue. “Go…give it to Porter for the meal.”
“Cool,” he replied, turning and walking back into the house.
* * * *
It was only when I pulled the wagon out of the garage that I noticed Connor was sitting on a nearby bench. He had been taking a break obviously, a quiet moment to read one of his Christmas presents—“The Twin Towers” by J.R.R. Tolkien.
From the look on Connor’s face, I knew that he had heard everything.
“Aw, dude,” I groaned. “I really didn’t want you to hear that.”
He put down his book, looking up at me. “It’s okay, Jacob,” he shrugged. “I knew it was them.”
“You did?” I was surprised. “How long have you known?”
“Always.”
Sighing, I sat down beside him on the bench. “You recognized Brandon at the supermarket, didn’t you?”
Connor nodded.
