CHAPTER TWO
“I bet you can’t lick your nose!” Timmy Landscafe is the most annoying boy in the class, yet somehow I knew the moment I had met him that we were gonna be friends. I stick my tongue out and reach for my nose, stretching every muscle in my tongue. I’m almost there almost there—“Good morning first graders! I am so glad to see you all are sitting proper—”
“Haha! You didn’t touch your nose! I win, I get your lunch today!” Timmy yells cutting off the lovely Miss. Kinden. He got in the time out chair first thing in the morning, what a record! I sit sticking my tongue up to my nose; now mastering the trick. He frowns at me, but I can tell he doesn’t mean his frown. At recess Timmy finds me playing hopscotch, he shoves me a little, acting all angry. “You got me into time out! She tells my mom when I’m there!” He pushes me again.
“Oooohhh! I’m sooooo scared!” I mock. He pushes me again, a little too hard this time and it sends me down to the ground, I feel pain. I sprain my right wrist from the short fall and the pain was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It is sharp, but an interesting feeling that left me crying but also fascinated at the same exact time. “Are you okay?!” I hear Timmy’s voice say. I feel picked up and I have to open my eyes cause I can’t imagine it being Timmy, and of course it isn’t. It’s the playground watch lady, Mavileen, she takes me to the nurse. Timmy is trailing behind her, stricken. The nurse says I have a sprained hand and then smiles and gives me a lollypop. She asks for the story and we give it to her. She then hands Timmy a lollypop too, I watch with my huge eyes as Timmy’s chocolate milk brown hands take it from her cream frosting ones. She says we should wait while she talks to the principal. Timmy looks at me. “I’m sorry for pushing you,” he says. I smile. He did that all by himself! It’s January 5th and it’s been a year and then some since my father’s death. Things are the same as when I was five except everyone’s a year older, and I finally get to go to school. My mother had kept me in from kindergarten cause she was looking for a good state school for me. Then she found this elementary school, she liked it and come September, I was in it. I met Timmy and we hated each other, in our hate we then found something we had in common, he had only one parent as well, his dad died in a car accident. For him though I often think it’s harder since he’s the only child. He didn’t have any siblings to love him or comfort him the way mine did. And sometimes I think he’s lucky cause my siblings can make my life terrible as much as they can make it wonderful. Anyway after that huge similarity we soon realized the only reason we hated each other before was how alike we were. Oh we have our differences, but let me tell you, I have never had met anyone who got me like he did in my six years of life. And I know I understand him like the back of my hand. “What’d he do this time?” I ask. When I said "he" I meant his mother’s new boy-friend. His mom was always picking him up with different men, and that’s how I’d know she changed guys. Timothy shrugs and pulls up his sleeve. I wince. “why?” I ask.
“I got an F on my math test last week, remember, the one you said you didn’t study for either,” I nod, I really didn’t. “Well, then she was mad, so he beat me,” I knew what he was thinking ‘Like he was my father or something’ I glance back at the mark on his skin from the belt and sigh. I’m glad mother isn’t dating anyone.
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The bell rings and I start walking home quickly. I don’t even wait on to see who’s picking up Timmy today, I was too shocked by Timmy’s cut. I know Timmy is what people call a “trouble maker” but I know he would never hurt me on purpose. I wish I could take the short cut to the bus stop, but I know it isn’t safe, so I go the usual way. The usual way is the long and large road that carries pretty much everything into this itty bitty town. I see it filled with trucks and trucks that are carrying food, stuff for your bathroom, clothes, more food, couches, people, and many other things. I stay on the side of this humongous road so that I don’t get near the huge form of transportation. Thinking about Timmy’s mother’s reaction with the F, I wonder what my mamma would think. My test hadn’t been graded yet (sometimes Miss. Kinden likes to keep her students in suspense by forgetting to grade their tests), now though, it was Monday and my test is riding safely in my backpack. I cannot lie, I’m nervous, what if mamma calls for Billy to beat me? (I refuse to call Billy Bibby anymore, even though he says he’s grown use to it, cause I don’t like him anymore!) I saw my grade, it’s a D. Almost the same as an F, in fact I only had two points separating me from that fate. I sigh. I’m almost at the awkward bus stop and I’m glad to see that no one is there today. Sometimes there are some pretty freaky people waiting for the bus when I arrive. They are either large men that I am sure could kidnap me, or crazy ladies who wear way to much make up to ever be pretty. For a moment I stop and just stare at the bus stop, I look at the bench where I usually sit; taking the farthest spot from the weirdo I would meet. I glance around me to make sure I’m not being watched. Maybe all the strange people are just hiding around, I wonder. Finally I get enough bravery to stand beside the bench, but for my life I would never sit down on that bench alone. And I don’t even know why. I guess it’s the simplest truth of all; I am more scared without the scary people than with them. I need those people to feel safe. I pray the bus comes soon, well at least I say in my mind ‘God, I need that bus. Brian says that you give us what we need cause you love us, well, I need that bus,’ Finally as if God heard my prayer the large country bus pops up in front of me. I climb on in the speed of lightning. The bus was super full today, I wasn’t expecting the opposite. I pay the driver and walk on in to try and find a seat; I find one next to a woman who looked worried. Her eyes were green, but you didn't really pay much attention to it, you focus on the bags under them. She closed her fascinating eyes for a moment, and I look at her green eye shadow. I notice how she purses her deep red colored lips. Finally I look away, and I look around me soaking it all in, usually the bus has only about ten people in it, now there was more than twenty. I wonder why, why is today such an unusual day, I’m really use to the usual. I look at the lady sitting beside me, the look of worry is still plastered on her face. I think that this is going to be a very long ride. Next to me on the other double seat was a young mother and her daughter. The woman was trying to have some peace of mind even if it’s just for a moment. Her daughter was asleep on the seat next to her, her head on her mamma’s lap. Then the young mom’s phone rings, startling both her and her daughter. Her daughter then started to cry as she answered the phone angrily, “Who is this?!?” “Oh, hi Paul,” when she said the name Paul it was as if she was saying death, it was so depressing. “Uh huh, I know she’s allergic to peanuts I’m her mother, Paul, who do you think I am?” “Paul look, I know you don’t want to leave your wife but she deserves to know,” “You know what! No, NO, NO YOU LISTEN TO ME! I am sick and tired of this, okay, I’m gonna get a fucking restraining order if you don’t tell her about your OWN DAUGHTER!” Then she hung up. Everyone was looking at her, watching her with daring eyes, some were pitying her, some were just mad she disrupted their own moments of peace, and some had what I had, sympathy. I looked at the little girl still crying onto her mama, the girl couldn’t be more than a year old. I look at her and smile. The little girl see’s me, she see’s my smile. She just stares as me tuning out from her crying. The mother looked at me and gave me a tired smile, “Her name’s Leah,” she tells me. I grin. “Hi Leah,” I say in baby talk. She giggles the way I use to, I miss giggling. She’s shy though, and buries her face in her mom’s coat. Her mother looks more relaxed and strokes her hair. Then she starts saying nice things to her baby. I smile. The woman next to me smiles. “Darling, you are so sweet,” she tells me while she smiles. I smile again.
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After I get off the bus, my favorite part of my coming home from school happens. My walk through the neighborhood into our “haven”, there wasn’t much to see today around the neighborhood so I hurried up and walked carefully down the road till I reached the meadow, after the small meadow one can see my house off in the distance. In the beauty of my surrounding I started to sprint. I ran with the wind on my face. I ran quickly through the grass and reach my spot. I climb onto one of the boulders near the raging sea below me. I smile. Tiny sprinkles of water are splashing on my face. I dream. Finally after staying out there for as long as it takes to just cool down, I enter into my house. Mamma actually looks a little worried. “I got a call from your school; they said a boy pushed you. Was it Timmy?” My mom shows her emotion for us in her own special ways. She hates Timmy. I invited him to our house once; only once and she already hated him, and he was on his best behavior. I shrug. “So, are you okay, I don’t see a cast on your wrist, is it good?” she asks. I nod.
“It’s okay, it hurts, but not a lot,” my brother Brian came in at that moment. He’s old enough to own a car (he doesn’t though due to financial issues, but he drives his friend home with his friends car, then walks home from there). “What hurts?” he asks out of curiosity. I smile at him and remember why he is now my favorite brother,
“Someone pushed me in school, it ended up spraining my wrist,” my brother demanded on seeing the wrist. I showed him it; he noticed it was quite swollen.
“Did they give you anything for it?” I nod and tell him about my visit to the nurse’s office and how she gave me an ice pack.
“Did you ask Carl if he knows another job?” this question came from my mother, slight dread came over Brain’s face—I know that look! He must have forgotten—he quickly went from concern about me to concern about the job, does this boy ever rest? I walk away after my mom made that comment. I walk away because all it’s ever been was about jobs, I almost wish I had actually broken my wrist so that more attention would be paid to me. I walk past my sister’s room which I don’t trespass for fun anymore, she’s just gotten more and more angry when I do. I walk straight into my room and sit on my semi-soft bed. Is life always going to be this hard? I ask myself, as I sit. I mean for gracious sakes I’m only six. I grab my bag and think about homework and then I walk away thinking about how Timmy received that cut, it rakes my mind, that cut is just stuck in my mind. I try and try to think on something else but every time I do something reminds me of school, and that reminds me of Timmy—because technically he’s my only friend—and then that makes me think of the cut, and the cut makes me think of how tough Timmy’s life must be and then I think of all his mother’s boy-friends and in the end I have myself a headache. “Time for dinner!” I hear my mom yell. I sit up straight wondering if I really took up that much time just thinking. I walk downstairs and see my sister looking a little too calm and collected for my liking. I ignore it though. Then I look over to my other brother, Billy, he looks the same, overly burdened for his age. I sit in my usual chair next to my mother but immediately regret doing so, I don’t exactly know why. The dinner is silent as usual until, “Hey, Brian told me some guy pushed you in school today, and that you sprained your wrist, should we press chargers?” This is said as a joke, but of course mom has a gleam in her eyes.
“I won’t press charges Billy, it was an accident,” I told him in my monotone voice. He gave me a cold look.
“Why not, we could use the extra cash!” Billy says and then he laughed. He has a great sense of humor. My mom just sat there, a thoughtful look on her face.
“We are not pressing any charges!” I say this more for my mother to hear than my brother, but of course the guy doesn’t get that.
“Hey, shut up! I’m just messing with ya, we couldn’t even get a legitimate case without a lawyer and that would take forever, and a lot of cash,” he always tries to act like he’s bigger than everybody, even than mom sometimes just because “he’s bringing home the bacon”. Anyways, I did shut up after that because I knew we all put the thought of pressing charges out of the door, I mean imagine what it would do to Timmy! Then everything got quiet again. Sometimes I wish I knew what certain people were thinking, cause maybe if I did I could…well, never mind. “Okay, I didn’t want to tell you guys this until later but, I just got a letter from Aunt Clare through the school postal box and uh, I want to go live with her in her farm house. She has two kids one is Peter the other Lisa and they both go to elementary school they are seven and five. Anyways, she says I could hang with them and work on the farm and such. I am so excited to go! All I need— and this is the only expense—is two hundred and fifty dollars to fly over there,” then dead silence. I want to scream with my whole heart TAKE ME WITH YOU! But I held back, I don’t know why. And since I wouldn’t let myself go, I didn’t want her to either. Then there was a laugh, a shrill laugh that erupted on our bodies and sent us all shivering like crazy. “There is no fucking way you are going to Aunt Clare’s house. She doesn’t need to have any connection with the family, your father is dead, she was your father’s sister; she was his only sister and she never came to visit us, not once. I don’t have time to even discuss this, now I want to watch as everyone eats! I don’t want to hear another word. You all are killing me! How do you all manage to do this to me?! Whew!” my mother shouts. I just stay there and try not to take anything in,I try not to soak anything in, it’s not good to soak. As if the awkward air of pain had arrived on everything, my wrist started to hurt again. I don’t know what made me do it but I whined “ohh, this wrist is crazy hurtin’!” my mother bursted like a gigantic rino out of her chair and slapped me across the face.
“What did I say? Did I not say that no one was to speak?! Are you deaf?!” She looked at me carefully as I grabbed my face. “Idiot,” she muttered. I wasn’t stunned, I wasn’t even surprised. I was just hurt.
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“Idiot!” they said. It seemed as if that was my new name. Everyone seemed to be calling me an idiot. Everyone except Tim. It’s later, and it’s the New Year, it’s February 11th. I remember the new year party I was invited to, it was horrible, everybody was calling me an idiot, we had team games and I made our team lose. I don’t even remember the games or how we lost. It doesn’t matter. I feel somewhat older in a weird sense after the New Year. I just feel like I lived through an aging time. I knew a lot more as well, I had watched my first R rated movie and I am only six. And let me tell you, it wasn’t rated R because of violence. It was a “kissing” film. It was on and mother had slept. I had sat beside her trying to figure out how to do something to her that would make her scream. I would rather hear her scream than laugh that nasty evil laugh she laughs. So I sat, and thought, then my eyes turned to the film. It captivated me. When they kissed for a long time it made my entire body tinkle like someone was burning it in a weird fashion. Before I saw anything more, my mother woke up and shouted at me, I ran off immediately. I was curious though as to how that feeling came and as to what those people were doing.
Now I am reading a book. It’s an older book I got from the library, half of the words in the book I can’t understand. It’s a fifth grader book. I like reading books that are older than my age, but I never tell anyone I’m doing so. “A! Get down here, you have a visitor!” my mother’s voice rang. I slip my book under my bed and walk downstairs to see who it is. To my surprise it’s Timmy!
“Hi, why are you here?” I ask.
“I need to talk with you,” he answered. I knew then something big happened. I told my mom that we were taking a walk and would be back soon. She grunted an okay. The two of us leave my house and walk beside each other, each in our own thoughts. We walk in silence until we reach the boulders. Then Timmy climbs on the largest one and sits. I sit next to him. The wind feels really good; it feels like God is giving us an embrace. “My daddy’s alive,” I was shaken. What did he just say? His dad’s alive? This whole time his dad was alive. Did he know? Was it all a trick to get me to be his friend? The moment that thought came into my mind, I suddenly realized that if it was a trick, I wouldn’t be mad. But it couldn’t have been a trick, Timothy wouldn’t have ever gotten to know me if his father was alive, that and the look on his face tells me he’s as shocked as I am. Finally I say,
“How do you know?” he looks at me. I then realize that we both aged a little this past new year. He grew because he continued to be beaten by his mother’s boyfriend, terribly beaten. Then the worst happened, his mother’s boyfriend was beating his mother. That was when his mother had enough and broke up with him. But the damage was still done for my friend. Not to mention he walked in on his mom and the guy many times. I look back at him, my soul in my eyes. He shrugs, “Ma told me, she said she lied cause she didn’t want me to know he was a bastard like her boyfriend,” it has a strange effect on me when I hear someone my age cursing, although, he was only repeating what his mother said.
“Like he beat her?” I ask, wanting to know everything, and knowing I was the only person he would ever tell everything to. Tim nods. I nod as well to sort of confirm it in my mind. “Mamma beats me sometimes, but not like you were beat. Why do you think your mamma told you about your dad?” I continue the conversation. I feel like we are top secret children because based on TV and the others in school, children are supposed to be talking about ice cream and bubble gum. In honesty though, I feel us grown children are not alone. “He’s coming out of jail, and he wants to visit us, he was set up for something he didn’t do. At least that was what ma said, I don’t know,” I nod. I sigh. I feel the anxiety and excitement, my friend is probably feeling. “We still gonna be friends?” he asks. I look at him, I can tell he’s worried, but he’s doing a good job at trying to hide it. How could he think that just because his father was alive we couldn’t relate, or at least be friends. “‘Course” I say. Then the two of us just sit for a little while. We just sit in enjoyment of having each other to hold on to in such tough times. Even though we both knew each other wasn’t enough. “Do you wanna play truth or dare?” I ask knowing the game was just known to us and wanting to take the chance to get us where I really wanted us to be; down by the sea. “Dare,” he says like I knew he would.
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