“Oh, good lord,” gasped the gaunt man tucked in to the bed.
Crooked Tree smiled. He had no need for words to understand the sentiment. A wave of urine smell crashed through the room as the man panicked.
“Are you an angel?” the dying man whispered at the naked mammoth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Davey
“SERIOUSLY, I JUST FELT A DROP!” Davey exclaimed.
“Oh shut up,” said Paul. “You probably just spit on yourself.”
They pushed themselves on the swings with their feet, achieving only tiny arcs. At the other side of the park, Paul’s brother, Kris, sat in a small circle with his friends, passing a joint one direction and a basketball in the other.
“If we wait for it to be completely raining, then we’ll be all wet by the time we get back to your house,” argued Davey.
“My mom said it wasn’t going to rain at all,” said Paul. “Besides, if I get home before my brother then my mom is going to be pissed at him. Then he’ll get pissed at me. That’s the last thing I need.”
“He probably wants to go too,” Davey waved in Kris’s direction. “He’s not going to want to get his pot all wet.”
Paul waved a hand towards Davey, trying to smack him on the shoulder, but missing and hitting the heavy chain of the swing. “Ow!” he yelled. “Don’t talk about him smoking anything. If he knows you’re talking about that he’ll kill you.”
“Whatever,” said Davey. “If he cared he wouldn’t be doing it right out in the open like this.”
“Just don’t say anything,” said Paul.
“What’s with you? We should go play that game at your house. It’s not even fair. My mom won’t let me have it, and you won’t let me play it at your house. What the hell?” asked Davey.
“You just can’t,” said Paul. “I’ll get in trouble.”
“How come?”
“My mom doesn’t want me to hang out with you right now,” Paul admitted after they had swung back and forth, passing each other several times.
“What? Why?” asked Davey. “Sophie loves me. Who doesn’t?”
“She said you’re a bad influence,” said Paul. He dragged his feet in the dirt, skidding to a halt.
“Me?” asked Davey. “How am I a bad influence?”
“I don’t know,” said Paul. He stood up from the swing.
“She must have said something,” Davey insisted, he rose and followed Paul in a slow walk across the playground.
“Well, there was that day you got hurt ‘cause we were away from the school. Then, the other day when I got in trouble because you put a mouse in Ted’s book.”
“You didn’t get in trouble,” said Davey. “I got in trouble.”
“My mom heard about it though, and she figured I got in trouble because of you. I almost did, you know.”
“That one wasn’t even my fault,” said Davey.
“Whatever,” said Paul. “She thinks it was…” he trailed off.
Davey stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, unconsciously imitating Paul. He kicked a big rock and it bounced off the metal pole of the jungle gym. A piece of the brittle rock snapped off and ricocheted up, hitting Paul in the arm.
“Ow,” said Paul, rubbing his arm. He looked up at Davey with accusing eyes.
“That was an accident,” Davey said.
Paul sat down on the edge of a big spinning platform they had named the Barf Machine on a sunnier day. Davey gave it a small push and plopped down next to Paul.
“So what? I’m not even allowed at your house anymore?” he asked.
“Just for a while, she said.” Paul frowned.
“But you’re leaving in a couple of weeks for California,” said Davey. “Then we won’t even see each other until like August.”
“I know,” said Paul. “We can still hang out at school though.”
“We only have three days left,” said Davey. “Two and a half, because Wednesday is early-release.”
They took turns pushing gently, keeping a constant, slow spin on the platform. Davey plowed into Paul’s shoulder when the platform came to a sudden halt.
“Hey bro, let’s go,” said Kris. Just a few years older than Paul and Davey, he towered over them.
“I thought you were going to hang out for a while,” said Paul with the slightest hint of whine in his voice.
“Nope,” said Kris. “Gotta get back.”
Davey and Paul stood up from the platform.
“Not you,” Kris said, pointing at Davey. “Mom doesn’t like you,” he sneered.
“Yeah, I know,” Davey looked Kris in the eye.
Kris nodded, warming up to Davey’s strength. “You be alright getting home?” he asked.
“Yup,” said Davey. “See ya, Paul,” he punched Paul lightly on the shoulder. Davey turned from the brothers and set off towards his house. He lived only a block away from the playground and was allowed to come to meet Paul if Kris was going to be around too.
Davey held his head up until he rounded the corner and glanced back to see that Paul and Kris had disappeared from view. When he was sure he was alone, he sat down hard on the curb and propped his chin up with his palms. The weekend before the end of the school year would normally thrill him, but this year it brought a sense of loss.
His mom had signed him up for catcher’s camp every morning, and now he couldn’t go to Paul’s house in the afternoon. His afternoon would consist of hours trapped in educational summer programs.
Might as well be summer school, he thought, scowling.
He imagined a typical day and sunk further into depression. His mom would mandate breakfast at home, which meant he would have to get up even earlier than usual. Dressed in his baseball clothes, she would drop him off at the practice field, rain or shine, and he would move through perfect summer days executing drills, sucking the life out of a game he was supposed to love.
When Davey played sports, he would get lost in the game, enjoying every second. Practice was the heavy price he had to pay. Coaches always focused their attention on moving the group forward, but Davey excelled at sports and would spend the days repeating maneuvers he had nearly perfected. He wasn’t a showoff, so he didn’t anticipate the praise the practices would surely bring. Instead, Davey’s quiet shyness meant he was in store for weeks of blushing discomfort.
Davey sat up straight, surprised by a thought echoing up from the back of his head unlike his normal thoughts: I won’t have to play baseball too long, it said, he’ll come for me soon. Davey shuddered in the warm June sun. He stood slowly, brushing off the back of his pants, suddenly unsure if the voice had come from inside his head after all.
Davey ran home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Mike
THE MIDDAY SUN SEEPED IN around the edges of the blankets covering the windows. Mike had never been very good at home improvement. The quilts and comforters were held in place by yards of duct tape, struggling to adhere to the walls. He couldn’t remember committing this vandalous act of decor, but he resonated with the sentiment. The bright light of the day didn’t serve any purpose other than to remind him of his problems.
With no income and mounting debt, he would lose his small house soon. His company had stretched his forced hiatus another week; still waiting on sufficient cause to fire him outright. Mike pushed himself up from the couch and scratched the top of his head. Down the hall the bathroom called. He shuffled by his unused bedroom and noted how clean it looked compared to the rest of the house. His typical day involved watching television until he was hungry or drunk enough to make a meal of popcorn, rice, or noodle soup. He had no use for the formality of clean sheets and pillows, preferring to spend his night dozing so he wouldn’t feel the letdown of nothing to do in the morning.