Hideout Page 8

  “What kind of dog?”

  “A pit bull, I think.”

  I imagined a man version of Davey, with his bangs brushed straight down over his forehead.

  “He said I talked a lot,” Davey continued.

  “Well, you kind of do. But not too much.”

  “Sometimes I want to know things,” Davey said. “He always answered my questions.”

  “Sometimes my dad gets real quiet,” I said. “Like he’s thinking about a lot of things.”

  “Why are you workin’ on being brave?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about the fight. Davey was the first person I’d ever known who seemed to look up to me. And it felt good. And I didn’t want that feeling to go away. But then I realized that letting him look up to me was like a lie if he didn’t really know me.

  “You ever feel like you don’t like yourself?” I said. “Like you want to change?”

  “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Never?”

  “Well, I don’t like the way things are sometimes. But I don’t not like myself about it.”

  “I thought finding the dead body would make me brave. Like my dad. I wanna be more like him.”

  “Why?”

  I struggled to tell him about the fight, but I couldn’t do it. “I just want people to think I’m cool,” I said.

  “You’re the coolest guy I’ve ever met.”

  “Well, doesn’t sound like you’ve been around a lot of people.”

  “My brother’s cool. Super cool. But he’s older.”

  “Your dad must have gotten into a bad fight if he got sent to jail for five years.”

  “Yeah. My stepmom got a boyfriend, and Dad stabbed him in the stomach with a knife.”

  “Wow … Did he kill him?”

  “No. Dad said he didn’t mean to do it. He said sometimes you get so mad about things that you do stuff you didn’t mean to do.”

  “I guess he would have gone to jail a lot longer if he’d killed him.”

  “Yeah,” Davey said.

  I rolled over on my side and stared across the floor at the open doorway. It was lighter outside than inside the camp, and I could see moonlight reflecting off the still creek. The sounds of the swamp pressed in on us from all directions.

  “Davey,” I said.

  “What?”

  “This is the most awesome thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

  19

  I woke Saturday morning as sunbeams came through the window and fell across my sheet. The cheeping of the frogs had ceased, and it was still too early for insects to be buzzing. I uncovered my face and looked at the inside of the camp, amazed that I’d actually spent a night in the place. Out of the doorway I saw Davey on the creek in his canoe. He was pulling one of his jugs from the water, and I saw a large catfish flipping silvery in the light.

  I climbed down from the bunk and walked onto the deck, rubbing my eyes. Davey looked across at me and held the fish up and smiled.

  “Breakfast,” he said.

  Normally I wouldn’t have cooked a catfish for breakfast, but at the time I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more.

  I took out the box of matches I’d brought and gathered a few pieces of paper and scrap lumber. By the time Davey arrived with the fish, I had a small curl of smoke coming from the fire.

  “What time did you get up?” I asked him.

  He sat beside me with his knife and began cleaning the fish. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was still dark.”

  I didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me before, but he didn’t have a watch or any other way to tell time. I looked at my own watch. It was seven o’clock.

  Davey stood with the headless, gutted catfish and studied the fire in the grill. I saw that the flames were taking, and I put the grate over it. He placed the fish on top.

  “I need to bring spices,” I said. “We could make it just like Mom does.”

  “Daddy used to have a generator,” Davey said. “If we had a generator, we could get a microwave oven.”

  “And air conditioning,” I said.

  “And a radio,” Davey said. “Think you can get us a generator?”

  “There’s no way!” I said.

  Davey studied me with a “Why not?” look.

  “Are you crazy? Even if I could sneak Dad’s out of the garage, they weigh like a hundred pounds.”

  Davey shrugged.

  I looked at the fish and shook my head. “Geez,” I said.

  “You’ve got plenty of money now,” Davey said. “You could buy one for us.”

  “I’m not talking about that money anymore. I told you I don’t want it.”

  “But wouldn’t it be cool to have power?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It would.”

  “And we could stay out here and have everything we needed. Just like a real home.”

  It struck me that Davey was talking like his dad and brother weren’t going to show up. I started to picture him living out here alone by himself. And as I stood there cooking the fish on the grill and thinking about getting an electric generator—it didn’t seem all that impossible.

  “How would you go to school if you lived out here?” I said. “You’d have to go to school.”

  “I just wouldn’t,” he said. “I’d just be gone from the world.”

  “Like people would think you were dead?”

  “I don’t know what they’d think. I’d just be gone.”

  I wanted to ask him again about his dad and brother, but now I understood why he didn’t like me talking about leaving. I didn’t want anything to change either.

  “You could just be gone, too,” he said softly.

  I looked at Davey. I started to say something, but I didn’t. I looked away again and grabbed the fork and turned the fish.

  “You can like yourself here,” he said.

  Davey was right. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so good about myself. Even before the fight. But nothing in my life fit into this place. If I was going to stay, I would have to leave my parents and everything I knew behind. It seemed impossible.

  “I wish I could stay out here,” I said.

  “Then do it,” he said.

  I turned to him again. “Are you giving up on your dad and your brother?”

  Davey shrugged. “I don’t know what could have happened.”

  “I guess if you’re not leaving and they don’t come, then you don’t have a choice, do you?”

  “No,” he said.

  “So it’s easy for you. It’s not easy for me.”

  Davey looked at the deck and nodded. And suddenly I was confused about everything again.

  “Why wouldn’t they come, Davey?”

  He looked up at me.

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “No dad would leave his son out here like this.”

  “Unless the dad didn’t care about him,” Davey said.

  This was a different Davey from the one I’d known just a few days before. I’d never heard him be anything but optimistic.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you either. And you don’t even like you.”

  I shook my head and looked at the fish again. I poked it with the fork and found that the meat was ready. I held out my free hand, and Davey gave me the knife. I used the two instruments to lift the fish from the grill and set it down on the deck. Then we sat on either side of it, and I peeled some of the smoking meat back to cool.

  “I’ve got to go after we eat,” I said.

  “But you’re coming back, right?”

  I peeled some more of the meat away and stared at it. “I have to work some things out,” I said.

  “And then you’ll be back.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll bring some spices and maybe some cookies we can eat for dessert. I’ll sleep on the top bunk if you want me to.”

  “No,”
he said. “The top bunk’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

  20

  Riding back, I felt strange. Like all my life there had been a big wall in front of me that I couldn’t get past, and now I’d climbed to the top and jumped over and faced a land of stretching green meadows that was full of nothing but excitement and opportunity. And if I stayed there, none of the stuff on the other side of the wall behind me could ever get to me and be part of my life again.

  But that wasn’t really how it was.

  Just because I walled it all away didn’t mean it wasn’t still there, in my head. Where it always was. Like fires burning in the distance.

  Or, really, just one fire. And it wasn’t the fight. I wasn’t thinking about Leroy Parnell and Gooch at all.

  That one fire was Grover. And maybe if I put it out—apologized to him—it would ease my guilt and make my new life as good as it should be. I didn’t have to hang out with Grover anymore. I didn’t have to be his best friend. If I just put out the fire, did the right thing, then I could walk away from the ashes with a clear conscience. Back to Davey and the swamp.

  Where everything was perfect.

  * * *

  When I got home Mom was at the church and the house was empty. She kept a pen and notepad next to the telephone in the kitchen to jot messages. She had left a message for me saying that she’d put some gumbo in the refrigerator and to leave word if I was staying over at Grover’s again. I should have been relieved at how easy my parents were making it for me, but instead I walked through the empty house feeling guiltier than ever. I stared at old pictures of our family at the beach and Disney World, trying to remember those times. For some reason I think I wanted Mom to walk in the door. I wanted to see her, and maybe somehow she’d know something to tell me. But the clock on the fireplace mantel kept ticking in its lonely way, and I knew she wouldn’t be back until later that afternoon.

  I walked back into the kitchen, where I heated up some of the gumbo and ate it. Then I approached the notepad and picked up the pen. I forced the words.

  Spending the night at Grover’s again. I’ll ride to church with him. Thanks for the gumbo.

  Love, Sam

  * * *

  I pulled up to Grover’s dock and tied the Bream Chaser. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was just before nine o’clock. I expected Grover was still asleep. I walked up his lawn and found the French doors to the back sitting room unlocked as usual. I entered the quiet house and crossed the floor to his lair. The door was cracked slightly, and I eased it open.

  Something was immediately different about Grover’s lair. At first I couldn’t figure out just what it was. Then I realized the blackout shades were raised and the room was bright with sunlight. There was no trash lying about, and the blankets that were usually tangled and strewn across the floor in front of his television were neatly folded and draped over the backrest of the sofa. The bunk beds were made and empty. Grover wasn’t there, and it didn’t appear he’d been there at all recently.

  I stood for a moment and studied the empty room, trying to get my head around it all. I looked at the staircase leading to the top floor of the Middletons’ home. The only conclusion I could reach was that Grover was still sleeping, in his real room.

  I crept upstairs and emerged in their large hallway. I was certain Dr. Middleton was at work, and it was likely that Mrs. Middleton was out of town. Natalia was certainly in the house somewhere, but probably at the other end, where the kitchen was. I turned right and started toward Grover’s room. I found his door closed and I knocked softly.

  No one answered.

  I knocked again.

  “Leave me alone, Natalia,” Grover complained.

  “It’s me,” I said.

  Grover didn’t answer. I turned the knob and pushed the door. I saw him lying in his bed with the blankets pulled up to his chin. He always slept like a mummy, with his hands straight down at his side. Nothing moved except his eyes. They were open and watching me.

  “What do you want?” he said.

  I crossed the floor and stood before his large antique, four-poster bed.

  “What are you doing up here?” I said.

  “Trying to sleep.”

  “What happened to the basement?”

  “Nothing. It’s still there.”

  “But it’s all cleaned up. Like you haven’t been down there.”

  Grover blinked and didn’t move. “Maybe I haven’t,” he said. “What do you want?”

  It struck me that my outburst at Grover had affected him more than I’d expected.

  “Will you sit up so I can talk to you?”

  Grover didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I just don’t feel like getting up,” he said.

  I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

  “So what do you want?”

  “I’m sorry about all that stuff I said. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes you did.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  Grover blinked again, then slowly eased out from under his blanket and leaned against the backboard of his bed. “Is that it?” he asked.

  I was so tired of the lies. I just wanted them to stop, somehow. At least slow them down. “I told my parents I was spending the night over here,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to spend the night somewhere else. And they can’t know about it.”

  “Where?”

  “I can’t tell anybody.”

  “You have new friends already?”

  I swallowed nervously. “It’s not like that,” I said. “There’s somebody who needs my help.”

  “Help with what?”

  I hesitated. “I can’t say.”

  “You think I would tell anybody?”

  “No, I just promised I wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “But it’s okay to make me a liar, too?” Grover said.

  “You don’t have to have anything to do with it.” It was a weak answer, but I couldn’t think of any other way to put it.

  Grover studied me for a moment. Then he got out of bed. “You make me need to pee,” he said.

  He went into his bathroom. After a moment I heard the toilet flush and he came back out and stood in front of me.

  “I’m not doing you any more favors,” he said.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “The only reason I ever invited you over was because I felt sorry for you.”

  My old anger at Grover bubbled up as if it had been simmering all along.

  “You felt sorry for me?” I said.

  “Your dad’s some redneck cop who built a piece-of-crap house, and your mom paints crappy pictures that nobody’ll buy. Your whole life is crap, and it always will be.”

  In an instant I knew that everything I’d ever felt about Grover was right. And I felt like a fool for thinking I should apologize to him. The anger inside me boiled up into my throat and I couldn’t hold it back. “My dad could kick your dad’s ass if your dad was ever home!” I yelled.

  Grover’s face grew red and his cheeks began to twitch. I knew he was about to explode, and I wanted every bit of it. I’d never hated someone so much in my life.

  “You wouldn’t even come over here if your life wasn’t such a suck-fest! Go back to your crappy boat and your crappy house and stop mooching off me!”

  “I don’t want anything of yours!”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I don’t know! I guess I made a mistake!”

  “I guess you did,” he said in a calm, mean way.

  I was so mad my hands shook and my ears hummed. I turned and left. I don’t remember walking downstairs and out the French doors. Before I knew it I was racing upriver, replaying all of Grover’s words in my head.

  21

  Forget you, Grover.

  The Pascagoula River curved away before me, silvery in the late-morning sun. The sky overhead was deep blue and cloudless. Spoonbill catfish broke the surfa
ce and rolled and disappeared into the depths again.

  Loser.

  A lone bull alligator crossed ahead of me, returning home after the morning hunt. The rains of the tropical storm were still draining from the swampland and the river. Though not as high as the day before, the waterway remained heavy with muddy water and sticks and leaves.

  I did what I could. You can have your miserable life.

  Gradually, the soothing vastness of the swamp overcame my foul mood, and everything behind me fell away again and ceased to matter. A bald eagle soared far overhead, and I wondered if Davey was watching it, too. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t have the special spice mix my mom used on her catfish or any of the other things I had told him I would bring. But then I thought we didn’t need it. We didn’t need any of it.

  When I arrived at the camp Davey was on the dock hammering down more of the loose planks. Most of them were too rotten to hold nails, but he looked up and smiled and I could tell he was enjoying himself.

  By lunchtime we had two more catfish on the stringer Davey had tied to the end of the dock. We decided to save them until later and ate two cans of ravioli from the supplies I’d brought the day before. Then I boiled more drinking water while Davey swept out the camp and hammered a few more nails.

  That afternoon we went riding in the Bream Chaser again, deep into the headwaters of Ware Bayou, where the water cleared and the channel became so narrow that Davey had to lift tree limbs for us to get through. The creek eventually ended in a marshy area with buggy whips and cattails higher than our heads.

  “I’ll bet tigers could live out here,” Davey said.

  “It looks like it,” I said.

  “I’ll bet all kinds of things are out here that we don’t even know about.”

  “I wish I knew more about plants we could eat.”

  “You can bring a book about it. We can try different things.”

  “If we could trap a hog, then we could get bacon.”

  “And steaks,” he said.

  “That’s a cow,” I said.

  Davey laughed. “I wonder if there’s wild cows out here.”

  The thought of it was funny. But then I remembered hearing about wild cows in Florida and, on the Discovery channel, seeing a different kind of wild cow in the Amazon or someplace like that.