The Wild Kid (5 page)

“Come on,” Kevin said. It was late in the afternoon. He had his knapsack over one shoulder and a stick that he'd peeled and sharpened, like a fork with two sharp prongs. “My snake stick. I see a snake, I zap it to the ground.”

“Are you going to take me home now?” Sammy asked. “I won't tell. It's a secret.” He put a finger to his lips. “Sealed!”

“That, again? Don't you ever get tired of saying the same thing? Listen to me! Here's what your mother's going to say. ‘Where were you, what'd you do, who were you with?' What're you going to say?”

Sammy pointed to his sealed lips.

“She's going to say, ‘What's his name? The one who helped you?' What do you say then?”

“I'll tell her Kevin made me promise not to tell.”

“Perfect,” Kevin snorted. “Okay, let's go. Remember, I don't leave trails. If you're going to leave a trail, leave an animal trail.”

“A skinny trail.” Sammy understood.

Kevin showed Sammy how to step over things, how to put one foot directly in front of the other. “Step and listen,” he said. “And walk in my tracks.”

He led the way up over the rocks. It was a hard climb. It was like climbing a mountain. The top was a wet, grassy place with a lot of dead trees. They were like tall people watching Sammy, the way his teacher watched him.

They went into the woods. “Don't take a step without looking back to see if you're leaving a trail,” Kevin said.

“Step and look,” Sammy said.

“Now you got it. I'm careful. If I sniff danger, I'm a tree. K-Man can do that. I go out when nobody's in the woods, in a storm, when the wind blows. I don't go out when there's snow. Then I stay put. I hibernate like a bear; I sleep a lot. Only when the snow melts do I venture out.” Suddenly Kevin stabbed at the ground with his snake stick.

Sammy jumped. No snake, but after that, he couldn't step high enough.

They came to a cut in the woods with power lines running overhead. Power lines, Sammy thought, went to houses. Kevin must be taking him home! It was going to be a big surprise.

Kevin stopped near some bushes and pointed to a branch that was bent over and hooked to the ground. “Snare.” He knelt down and adjusted a loop of twine.

“What's that for?”

“Catching rabbits.”

“Rabbits? What for?”

Kevin looked into Sammy's face. “I eat them.” He moved to another snare. He had a bunch of them.

“You eat bunny rabbits?” Sammy said.

“Yes, and you'll eat them, too.”

Sammy knew he'd never eat rabbits. “Are you taking me home?”

Kevin wasn't listening. He was getting mad all over again. Every snare he'd set was empty.

There was no light, and Sammy didn't hear anything, not even Kevin breathing and muttering the way he usually did. “Kevin?” He pulled his blanket over his head. It smelled funny. Was he asleep or awake? Sometimes he was asleep and thought he was awake. Maybe Kevin was dead. Maybe there was no Kevin. Maybe an animal had chewed him up and would chew Sammy up next.

He made a big growly noise with his voice, then felt around and found a stick. Holding it made him feel braver. He sat with his knees up, and the stick ready. If a rat came out, he'd hit it on the head. He banged the stick down. It was good to have a plan. Plans made things better. That's what Mrs. Hoffman said. His plan was, sit up this way all night, and in the morning, if Kevin wasn't here, he'd find those power lines and go home. That was a good plan.

He was still sitting up, but asleep, when Kevin came back. Kevin lit a candle, then dropped his knapsack on the floor. “Free food,” he said. He pulled out a melon, some rolls, pieces of fried chicken, and other stuff. “Dig in,” he said, taking a piece of pizza.

Sammy reached for the chicken. It looked like somebody had bitten into it, but it tasted good. He ate it all, then a slice of pizza, then he reached for the chicken again. He put a lot of food in his mouth, like Kevin. At home, he had to chew each mouthful with his mouth closed. And no grabbing. And you waited until you were served.

“This is good food,” he said.

“It's garbage. Man, people throw away good food all the time.”

“Garbage?”

“Yeah. You're eating garbage.” Kevin wiped his hands on his pants. “Tastes pretty good, doesn't it?”

Sammy burped. “This is delicious garbage.” He burped again. Then Kevin burped, a really loud one.

“I don't bring back everything. This is the best of it. Garbage can kill you, too. When I was a little kid, I'd put anything in my mouth. Once, I ate bad meat from the neighbor's garbage. I was four or five. I puked up all over myself, and the neighbor lady took me to the hospital. That was the time they took all us kids away.”

“Where'd they take you?”

“Into foster care. I didn't even know what was good for me. I wanted to go back to my mother, I was that stupid.” He put the remains of the food in the pizza box. “I think of her now, and depending how I feel, I'm sorry for her. Stupid cow. I don't know why I'm sorry. She never watched out for me, none of us. You heard of the old woman who lived in a shoe?”

“ ‘There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,' ” Sammy recited. “ ‘She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.' ”

“That's us. Except my mother wasn't so old. There was Karl, Kenny, Kelly, Kelsey, and me, Kevin. Kelsey came after me.”

Sammy counted. “Five Ks,” he said.

“That house was a wreck when we moved in, and we kids finished the job. There was this social worker who came to our house. She wouldn't sit down without looking behind her to see what someone had left on the seat. She told my mom if she didn't pull herself together, the kids were going to go in foster care again. So Mom cleaned up, sort of, and then my father came home, and we had a ball till all the money was gone. Then there was nothing to eat in the house but pretzels and Kool-Aid. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. Are you there?”

“I'm here,” Sammy said. He was lying down and his eyes were closed, but he was listening. He thought about being taken away from his mother. No. His mother would never let him go. Besides, they always had food in their house, not just pretzels. He wished his mother was here right now. He wished it a lot. She would hug him, and then she would probably say something nice to Kevin. Then she'd say, “Time to clean up this dirty place, boys!”

Sammy decided it was Sunday. It was quiet like Sunday. No cars, no doors slamming. Quiet, except for the wind and insects and noisy birds. It seemed a long time ago that he'd lost his bike. A really long time. He could hardly think when that was.

Kevin was sitting against a tree with his face in the sun. His eyes were closed. Sammy practiced his steps. Step high. No stepping on sticks. No dragging toes.
Walk away now.
One step at a time. That was the way. One step, two steps . . . climb up rocks. Keep climbing. Climb till you come to the place with dead trees and snakes. But he'd better wait for Kevin.

He slapped at a mosquito. What if he stepped on a snake and got bitten and died? His mother would be sad. He pictured her in Bethan's room, standing by the window, where she could see the road and watch for him to come home.

He turned his face to where he thought their house was. It was where the sun came from in the morning. That was east. He learned that in school.

“I'm coming home, Mom. Pretty soon. As soon as I convince Kevin. Don't worry, Mom.” If she saw him now, she'd be double worried. He'd lost his socks, his pants and shirt were torn, and he didn't have a toothbrush. And every minute he was missing school, falling behind. He'd never catch up unless he worked so hard, he would be tired all the time. He could do it. His teacher, Mrs. Hoffman, said he was a hard worker. She was wondering where he was, too. And the other kids in his class were saying, “Where's Sammy? When's he coming back? What a long vacation.”

“Yeah, some vacation!” He slapped at another mosquito. Every day, mosquitoes! And every day, Kevin's food. He liked Kevin okay, although sometimes he didn't. Kevin said, “Sammy, you say one more word about going home and I'm going to pop you one.”

How many days now? A lot. He started counting back. The day he lost his bike. That was one day. Then he slept in the woods, and then it was two days. And that was the day he fell on top of Kevin's house.

And then what? Oh, yes, he got it! All night, he was tied up. Kevin was mean then, but now sometimes he was nice, like showing him the snares and telling him about snakes. And then it was . . . three, four, five. He held up his hand, all five fingers. Five days. “Boy, oh boy,” he said.

There was a rabbit caught in one of Kevin's snares. The first two were empty, but at the last one the grass was all flattened. The rabbit leaped into the air, but its hind leg was caught. Sammy felt sorry for it.

Each time Kevin reached for the rabbit, it sprang away.

Sammy hoped it would escape, but Kevin grabbed it. He pranced around, holding the rabbit by its ears. “What about that!”

“You're hurting it,” Sammy said.

The rabbit cried when Kevin cut its throat. Sammy covered his eyes, but he looked. Blood bubbled up along the cut, like a black line drawn with a pencil. The rabbit's legs kicked and then they didn't.

Kevin hooked the rabbit to his belt by the hind legs, and they started back. Blood dripped on his pants. He stopped by a little stream. “Watch this,” he said. “You're going to learn something.” He gutted and skinned the rabbit. He threw the guts and the head away. It didn't look like a rabbit anymore.

When they got back, Kevin made a fire. Inside, he put a metal grate on some rocks. He bunched paper under it and lit it. The fire flared in the dimness. He sent Sammy out for sticks. “See if there's any smoke showing,” he said.

“No smoke,” Sammy reported, coming back.

“Never is.” Kevin grilled the rabbit over the fire. “The way I did it, the smoke is sucked up through ten different holes in the rocks. Pretty smart, huh?”

When the meat was done, he tore it apart and told Sammy to dig in. “I don't eat rabbit,” Sammy said.

“More for me.” Kevin chewed on a leg.

Sammy didn't mean to eat it, but he was hungry, and it smelled so good. He tasted a little tiny piece. Then another piece, and then he couldn't stop. Nothing had ever tasted so good. When there was nothing left but the bones, he chewed them.