Pork Page 10

  “So it’s a secret hideout.” Butch said with a devious smile.

  “What do you think he does in there?” Tommy asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Oh, look. There he is now. I can see his head. I think I could see better if I climbed this branch here,” Tommy said and reached up to begin climbing the tree. “You want to come up for a better view, Butch?” Tommy chuckled, and Butch elbowed him with a frown. They both knew he was too big to climb trees. Within seconds, Tommy was up on the branch and peering inside the tree house.

  “Careful. You don’t want him to see us,” Butch said in a loud whisper from below. “Do you see anyone else in there?”

  Tommy moved about, craning his neck to see, but his view was limited to the one window. Plus, there were other leafy branches blocking his view.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see anyone else through the window. But there could be someone in there with him.” A moment later, Tommy got down from the tree and slapped his hands on his pants to rid them of dirt. “Now what?” he asked.

  “Now, we take revenge. I can’t wait to see the look on the sonofabitch’s face when he finds out it was me.”

  ***

  Steven could have sworn someone was watching him from the woods. The branches had shaken strangely, and he thought he saw shadows moving about. It had to be his momma’s spies. They were definitely watching him. He stared at the woods for a long time before going inside. Pork was making some sandwiches with the bread and canned tuna.

  “Steee-ven want?” she asked.

  He would have to leave soon if he was going to get to Bob’s on time. “I don’t want to be late for work, Pork. You have it. I’ll see you in the evening, okay?” Pork nodded and bit into a sandwich. Steven glanced at the woods one last time and headed for the ladder. “Pork, try not to go out too much today. Stay here as much as you can, and if anyone finds you, run. Run as fast as you can and don’t ever let them catch you.”

  Pork nodded.

  “Alright. Take care, Pork.”

  ***

  Summer weeks turned into months and Steven began to feel more relaxed. Pork stood smiling in his tree house day after day and she seemed to be in no imminent danger. He was also more at ease and enjoying his life now that he didn’t have to go to school. He loved working at Bob’s, and more importantly, he loved having money. He and Pork often had dinner together at the tree house before he went home to sleep in his momma’s house. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have to leave Pork, but he hated the idea of leaving his momma alone, especially after that episode with the man he’d clubbed. His momma’s mood had improved lately, and she wasn’t yelling at him or fighting the town’s losers in bed. She still brought men home, but they were of the more docile variety. They got what they needed, dropped a pile of cash on the table, and left quietly as his mother got dressed.

  One evening, Steven went to Marla’s after work and bought a lamp. It was made of metal and glass, with a small opening to insert a candle. It was only three dollars, so he got it for Pork along with some candles. At least she’d have some light at night. She loved it, and lit the first candle well before dark. The t-shirt he had bought her, on the other hand, remained unworn. He tried pleading, cajoling, and even begged on his knees, but Pork only giggled and held the t-shirt to her chest.

  “Pork like shirt,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you to wear it.”

  “No, Pork like. Pretty.”

  She carried the t-shirt everywhere she went. Sometimes she would hold Mildred in her arms, stroking the bird, with the t-shirt draped over her shoulder. She held it when she went to sleep, and she had it on her lap when she dug for worms. It was always with her—but never on her. Finally, Steven gave up. She’d wear it when she felt like wearing it, he decided.

  ***

  One hot afternoon, Steven was busy washing a black Mercedes at Bob’s when a shiny wagon turned into the yard. Everyone in town knew whose wagon it was, including Steven. Bob was taking a short break in the yard, drinking from a plastic cup, when the wagon turned into a designated parking spot. The door opened and Judge Watterson stepped out. Steven stopped scrubbing a stubborn spot off the car and looked up to see Butch emerging from the passenger seat.

  “Hello, Judge,” Bob said as the tall, good-looking man pumped his hand. He nodded at Butch. The judge might have been older than Bob, but he looked a solid decade younger. “And how are you, young man?” Bob asked Butch.

  “Hi, Uncle Bob. I’m doing fine.”

  “What can I do for you, Judge?”

  “Well, for two days now, I’ve been hearing a knocking sound in the engine. Took a look at it, but what does an old judge know, eh?” He laughed while Bob and Butch smiled. “Thought I’d bring it here and let you take a look at it.”

  Bob put his empty cup on a cluttered table and walked over to Judge Watterson’s wagon.

  “Why don’t you start the engine and let me hear it?”

  Judge Watterson got back in the wagon and Butch looked around the yard. Steven was still watching with interest, especially Butch. He was leaning on the table where Bob had put his plastic cup and crossed his ankles, scanning the row of cars parked for repairs and washing. There were a decent number of high-end cars in the lineup and Butch nodded approvingly. A moment later, he caught Steven staring at him with a wet sponge in his hand. They didn’t greet or offer each other the faintest nod of recognition. The tension was palpable in the hot afternoon as Judge Watterson’s engine roared to life.

  “It could be the piston slap or the connectin’ rod bearings,” Bob said above the noise. “Hard to say without givin’ it a thorough check.”

  Butch uncrossed his ankles, put his hands in his pockets, and stood up straight, watching Steven with narrowed eyes. Steven squeezed the sponge tighter.

  “Trouble is, there’s been an increase in the number of cars here lately, Judge. I may need a day or two before I can take a look at it. If you can leave your car here in the meantime, it’d be fine. But if you need to use it, you can bring it another day,” Bob explained.

  “Oh, that’s okay, Bob. I’ll just use my BMW while you fix this one. Always good to hear business is doing great.” Judge Watterson winked.

  “Thanks, Judge.”

  “I’ll swing by in three days, if that’s okay with you,” he said.

  “That’d be fine. You and your son need a ride back?”

  “No, that’s quite alright. My driver followed us in the Beamer just in case I needed to leave this here.” He tapped on the wagon’s hood.

  “Alright, then. See you later, Judge.”

  Butch and Steven were still glaring at each other like two angry pit bulls when the judge put an arm around Butch’s shoulders. He had no idea what was going on. “Come on, son. Let’s go,” he said, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. Butch turned away slowly and followed his father out of the yard as Steven looked on.

  “He's your friend, Stevie? Seems like you two know each other,” Fenton asked as father and son walked out of the yard.

  “He goes to Halstead High,” Steven replied, eyes still on Butch, who was now getting into his father’s black BMW.

  “Well, he’s gone. You better get washin’ that car. Soap’s dry by now.”

  Steven wiped his forehead and got back to work.

  Chapter 10

  By the time school reopened, Steven was badly missing Sandy. He decided to talk to her before class started. As usual, he had to pass by Butch and his gang of bullies in the hallway. Butch sneered and the others watched as Tommy greeted Steven. Funny how some things never changed.

  “Hey Stevie, where’ve you been? Your skin’s all tanned and glowing.” The rest of them grinned. “You go on a beach holiday or something?” Tommy asked.

  “He’s been washing cars for pennies at Bob’s,” Butch said with a chuckle.

  Steven ignored them and kept walking, his head held only slightly higher than before. He felt strangely
confident and sure of himself ever since he’d started earning money.

  “Hi, Sandy,” he said when he went into class and finally saw her. She was talking animatedly to Molly.

  “Oh, hi, Stevie. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re so tan,” Sandy said.

  “Yeah, I’ve been working over at Bob’s,” Steven said, touching his cheek. “It’s great. I’ll be working there on the weekends now that school’s started. How was your summer?”

  “It was okay.” Sandy shrugged.

  “Would you like to join me later during break?”

  “Nah. I’m having lunch with Molly.”

  “Oh, okay.” Steven was disappointed. This was the best summer he had ever had and he wanted to share it with her. But not only had she turned him down, she didn’t seem nearly as happy to see him as he was to see her. He decided to try one last time.

  “How about later? Would you like to come with me to the tree house after school?”

  “I can’t. A friend’s coming over to my place. We’re going to play on my PS4.”

  “I see. Maybe another time, then,” Steven said as he walked away.

  He figured Sandy had made many new friends at summer camp, and she just didn’t have the time for him anymore. As he took his seat, Ms. Clapthorne walked in, and another mind-numbing semester began.

  ***

  Two days later, Fenton came looking for Steven after school. He was outside the school, leaning against his parked pickup truck with hands in his pockets and his ankles crossed when Steven left the building. Steven was surprised, especially with the number of cars piling up at the garage.

  “Hey Stevie,” Fenton said as Steven walked toward him.

  “Hi, Fenton. What’s up?”

  “You free now, kid?”

  “Yeah, why?” He had been looking forward to going back to the tree house to get some homework done in the company of Pork.

  “There’s been a lot of cars today, kid. Uncle Bob was wonderin’ if you could come by for a couple of hours.” Fenton removed the baseball cap he was wearing and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  “Oh.” Steven thought for a minute. Now that he had school, a job, and Pork under his care, he had to be mindful of how he spent his time. “Yeah, I guess I could come for a couple of hours,” he said finally.

  “Thanks, kid. If you’re good, we can get goin’.”

  Steven nodded and got into the truck. Fenton started the engine and they drove to Bob’s in silence.

  Fenton was a thirty-two-year-old hardworking man, recently divorced because his ex-wife thought his best friend was better than him. She’d had an affair and orchestrated it so Fenton would discover them in bed together when he came home one night. Fenton wasn’t broken or devastated. He’d known it was coming, since it had been a long time since he’d seen his wife happy. They had no children or property to speak of, so the divorce wasn’t as messy as some.

  When they reached the garage, Bob was hunched over a car. He straightened up when he saw Steven.

  “Hi, Stevie. Thanks for comin’ by.”

  “No problem.”

  Steven dropped his backpack where he knew it’d be safe and got to work. The weather was cooler today, so working outdoors was pleasant. A couple of hours and four cars later, he went looking for Bob.

  “I’ve got to go now, Uncle Bob. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to finish my homework.”

  “That’s okay, kid.” Bob wiped his hands and put them in his pockets. “Here, wages for an honest day’s work,” he said, handing Steven ten dollars. “A little extra for turnin’ up on short notice.” He winked. “Say, kid, you think you could uh, come over tomorrow after school too?”

  Steven thought about this for a moment, kicking at the dirt, his hands in his pockets.

  “I don’t know,” Steven said, hesitating.

  “You get to decide how long you stay,” he said. When Steven didn’t look convinced, Bob added, “Give you some extra pocket money.”

  That won him over. “Okay, I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  “Great.” The big man smiled, tapped on Steven’s shoulder, and disappeared under the hood again.

  Steven turned around, picked up his bag, and made his way toward the tree house. He was bone tired and dreaded the thought of starting on his homework now. He kicked the dirt road and a cloud of dust formed as a fire truck siren wailed somewhere in the distance. He hadn’t seen too many fire trucks in town, but the one or two times he did see one, he was fascinated by the ladder, the thick, wound hose, and the men hanging off the sides, ready to jump into action.

  Despite his fatigue, he found himself running in the direction of the sound. It grew louder and louder, and when Steven finally reached the main street, the truck whizzed past him at such high speed it almost spun him on the spot. Steven spread his arms, closed his eyes, and smiled, enjoying the rush. A moment later, he opened his eyes and continued walking along the main street until he reached the dirt path that would lead him to the tree house. He made a turn and looked up to find plumes of black smoke billowing in the evening sky. It had to be where the fire truck was headed.

  Incidents of fire were rare in Halstead. During the summer, barns and bushes sometimes blazed due to the hot, dry weather, but houses rarely burned down unless it was a deliberate act of arson. Steven guessed someone must’ve set fire to a bush. It happened from time to time when bored kids had nothing better to do.

  As he got closer to the tree house, he saw a few cars parked on the dirt path. People were milling about, blocking his view, but thick, black smoke filled the sky. What began as a steady thumping of his heart soon became an intense hammering. Was it his tree house? Steven jostled through the ten or fifteen people who had gathered and finally saw it. His tree house was ablaze, tongues of fire licking through the window and over the balcony. Steven’s heart sank as he ran toward the house. Two men held out their hands and blocked Steven from moving forward. One of them was Ferguson, his momma’s neighbor. Intense heat blew toward them on the wind.

  “It’s dangerous, son. Stay back here,” Ferguson said.

  Steven watched as the firemen aimed a steady jet of water at his tree house. The midsection of the tree broke with a loud hissing, crackling sound and collapsed to the ground, bringing the burning tree house down with it. The firemen shifted, aiming their hose at the fallen mess. Steven let out a cry as tears poured down his face. His house—his beloved tree house—was gone. Destroyed. And then a more terrifying thought occurred to him.

  “Pork! Pork!” he screamed as Ferguson and the other man held him back.

  “What is it, kid?” the man asked.

  “The girl! There’s a little girl in there! I’ve got to save her!”

  “It’s too late, kid. If there was someone in there, they’re in heaven by now. You best go home.”

  “No! No!” Steven wailed, struggling to free himself from their grasp. The two men held his shoulders firmly as he slid to the ground, writhing and kicking up dust.

  Ferguson looked down at him. “I’m sorry, son.”

  Steven stared at the blaze in a trance. After a while he quieted down. One by one, the people who had come to watch left, until only Ferguson, Steven, and two other men remained. The clearing where he used to play with Pork was now a muddy mess full of tire tracks and footprints. The fire engine was parked to the far right, and the trees on the periphery stood defiantly as firemen continued aiming their jet of water at the smoldering ashes of Steven’s tree house.

  And then, in the midst of the insolent trees, he saw her, crouching in the dirt. She was holding Mildred in one hand and stroking the bird’s head with the other. Steven broke free from the men’s grip and ran toward the tree line. The men didn’t attempt to stop him this time, since the fire was almost out. Besides, he wasn’t running toward it.

  “Pork! Are you all right?” Pork nodded, her face expressionless. “Thank God! I am so sorry,” he said, hugging her and the b
ird. Utterly relieved, Steven kissed her face incessantly. She remained calm, staring at the wreckage. “Don’t worry, okay, Pork? I’ll build us another house. It won’t be big or fancy, but you’ll be able to live in it. I promise,” Steven said, brushing curly locks of hair from her face as she continued staring at the fading fire. He pulled her head and rested it on his chest as they watched the firemen work. “Do you know what happened, Pork? Did you see how the house caught fire?”

  “No. Pork get cherry in woods,” she said, pointing at a whole load of cherries next to her. She had placed them on the t-shirt he had bought her, which was dirty and stained. “Pork come back, house fire,” she said, pointing at the embers.

  “You didn’t see anyone running away, or any cars nearby?” Pork shook her head. Steven had a niggling feeling it was his momma’s spies again. They had known his hiding place for a while and must have torched it at his momma’s insistence.

  When the firemen finally left the scene, it was dark. “Pork, I’m going to have to leave now. Would you like to come with me?” He was taking a huge risk inviting Pork to his momma’s house. People on the road might see her and inform Pork’s father of her whereabouts, and that would surely mean trouble. But he couldn’t leave her there in good conscience. He already felt bad for leaving her alone in the tree house every night. But now, with their sanctuary gone, what choice did he have?

  “No,” Pork said.

  “Pork, it’s not safe here at night. It’s better if you come with me,” he said again.

  Pork shook her head again. “Pork safe with Mildred,” she said, leaning her head against a tree and closing her eyes.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Pork nodded, her eyes still closed. Steven felt terrible. He spent a few more minutes with her before getting up to leave. “I’m leaving now, Pork. Please take care of yourself, okay? If anything or anyone comes for you or after you, just run.” Pork nodded. Steven left, a bad feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach.

  Chapter 11