Amber Eyes (11 page)

All of a sudden, I heard voices outside. My heart missed a beat and the picture fell off my hands. Somebody had finally discovered the broken window. Shit was hitting the fan at last. The police would arrive in a matter of seconds. I gulped. What should I do? Flee? Impossible. Hide? Maybe.

I ducked and crawled on the thick carpeting to the front door. Before raising the window curtain, I clenched and opened my fists several times, feeling my hands go numb. I was totally freaked out and had to cool down a bit or I might scream the minute I discovered a cop on the porch. I put a hand to my chest and breathed in. I held my breath as long as possible, and then I breathed out. I did it several times until my heartbeat slowed down. Then I peered outside. It wasn’t a cop, but two old women on the sidewalk. They moved their arms a lot and pointed to the house. Bet they’d already called the police and were shocked, wondering who was inside their friend’s home.

I. Was. Doomed.

# # #

Sweat droplets trickled down my face. I totally needed to hear what they were saying, but if I raised the window, the sound might attract their attention. I finally decided I had to do it. They already knew somebody was inside, things couldn’t get worse. At a snail’s pace, careful not to make a sound, I pushed the window up two inches and then balled and opened my fists many times—my hands kept feeling number and number.

“Do you want me to carry that?” the brunette old woman asked the blonde one.

“No, thanks. Your bag’s heavy enough. Just lemme catch my breath.”

The brunette was carrying a large bag of groceries, and the blonde had placed two of them on the sidewalk. She was, indeed, catching her breath. Her open hand rested on her chest. After a minute or two, she picked up her bags and both continued on their way.

I realized I’d stopped breathing since God-only-know-when so I inhaled a gulp of air so large, it almost made me felt dizzy. I had to flee before somebody really called the police, but not before grabbing some clean clothes and washing myself. That box with clothes had to be somewhere. I couldn’t miss it in such a small house and certainly not after breaking in, or I would really be a pathetic loser. I got to my feet. With my arms akimbo, I spun scanning the whole place.

The bedroom. The box of clothes had to be in Granny’s bedroom.

Her room was neat and orderly, decorated with even more pictures. One of them called my attention immediately because it was a picture of me. A recent picture, on top of everything. How could Grandma have a recent picture of me? Not that Mom had sent it to her. Impossible.

I took it from the wall. I was wearing a strange dress and stood before a house I’d never seen before. I frowned. On the picture, it was written with black marker: “To Aaron. With love, Laura.”

So it wasn’t a picture of me. It was s picture of Mom when she was about my age. She should had given to Dad. It was amazing how much she looked like me back then. We could have been twin sisters.

Back to my business. A huge cardboard shipper box rested on the bed: the clothes for the homeless boy. I glanced inside. It contained tons of stuff: t-shirts, trousers, a backpack, sneakers, socks, jackets, skirts, blouses, boy and girl underwear… Wow! It was enough for a whole children’s home, not only for one homeless boy.

It was already quarter past 10 and I had to hurry up. Grandma’s bedroom had her own private bathroom that I decided to use. I got naked, got under the shower and took the fastest bath in my life. There were no towels in the bathroom so I had to search for one. I opened drawers at random only to find well-organized clothes. There were even compartments inside the drawers separating the panties from the bras and the white panties from the black panties. Too freakin’ ordered. My granny had to be the obsessive-compulsive type. Another drawer contained wigs. No kiddin’, wigs. Maybe Granny was bald. I tried one on in front of the mirror, but I looked pathetic. Like a clown. Like the neighbor.

There was another black wig in the drawer. Well, not exactly a wig but a hair extension, a ponytail. That one seemed more natural on me as if my hair, rather than being short, was tightly combed into the ponytail. Interestingly, I looked totally different. Not like Alexandra, but like somebody else. Not even Mom would have recognized me. My tomboyish look disappeared as if by magic. I couldn’t recognize the wet, naked girl in the mirror staring back at me as if we were meeting for the first time ever.

“Mirror, mirror in my hand,” I said, staring at my reflection, “who is the fairest in the land?”

I wondered what the guys at school would think if I showed up in September with my hair combed into a nice ponytail. Nah! They’d mock me for sure. Somebody would yank the hair extension and run down the hall, fluttering the stupid pony tail like a flag. I’d be the school’s laughingstock for weeks. I sighed.

A cuckoo chimed scaring the hell out of me. It was half past 10 o’clock. I’d totally run out of time. Edward and his party would leave without me, a luxury I simply couldn’t afford.

“That’s not gonna happen,” I said aloud, spreading the cardboard shipper’s content on the bed. This time, I was planning to beat the universe.

July 2, 10:41 am

I got dressed in less than a minute. The clothes in the box were more or less for middle grade boys and girls, so they actually fit me quite well. Anyway, I selected the baggiest garments I could find—I didn’t want somebody to notice my boobs, however small. I had some problems with the sneakers though. The first pair I tried felt tight and while the second pair fit somewhat better, they didn’t feel as comfortable as I’d have wished. There was still a third pair, but I was running out of time so I threw them inside a backpack I found inside the box. I also packed a pair of blue jeans, two or three t-shirts, some underwear, and the towel I’d just used to dry myself. At the very last minute, I grabbed a hairbrush from Grandma’s dresser and fled. As amazing as it still seemed to me, apparently, nobody had actually heard the window breaking, so nobody showed up to check what was going on. I wondered if anybody would ever notice my little crime before Grandma came back.

Never before had I run as fast as I ran that morning. I bolted like crazy, like I was chasing the Road Runner. I knew Edward wouldn’t wait long, leaving behind anyone who showed up late—he was so freakin’ righteous! I couldn’t afford missing the Boy Scouts. I
had
to go camping with them. The backpack was not heavy, but it gained weight after three long blocks. I feared I’d taken the wrong turn in Monroe Street and then got confused whether I should take Roosevelt Avenue or Kennedy Street.

God, please, delay them a bit,
I prayed as I darted down Kennedy Street. By then I was panting and in the need of a rest, but decided not to stop until I reached the corner of Main Street and that president I couldn’t remember. Prob was I wasn’t reaching Main Street. Block by block, each street I crossed was another American president and not Main.

I’m not lost, I’m not lost.Please, God, allow me to find my way and be with them in time.

I passed a drug store with a large, old-fashioned clock hanging outside. It was almost 10:40, already ten minutes late. I’d been about to stop to catch my breath but I I sprinted faster instead. My legs felt like they were melting under the effort. I turned right at the next corner and raised my head to read the street’s name: Garfield. Was that even an American President’s name or a cat’s?

I came to bicycle-repair shop in the middle of the block. I didn’t remember passing it when Edward led me earlier. Omigod! I was stupidly lost in a town the size of my school campus. I had to stop. My heart pounded harder and harder and was gonna give me a heart attack soon. The next corner stood 100 yards away.

I’ll get to that corner and then I’ll give it up if it’s not Main Street.

I darted once more, anxious to find out if I had a chance or if I was doomed beyond hope—which might have been the proper reward for the type of loser I’d become. As I ran, my sunglasses kept bouncing on the bridge of my nose, and I feared they might fall off. When I reached the corner, I couldn’t run any more. I bent and rested my hands on my knees, panting like dog. My temples beat so much they actually hurt, and my feet ached inside the ill-fitting sneakers. I hadn’t made it. I had to figure a plan C, or D, or whichever stupid letter it followed.

When I rose, I saw them. They were two blocks away from me, a small group of teenagers loading a black SUV. Two of them were tall, and the last one looked chubby. I raised the sunglasses and squinted to focus. Yes, Edward was one of the tall guys.

“Edward!” I sprinted once more even though I was about to drop dead. I had to reach them before they left. “Edward!”

Edward must have heard my yells. He turned, placed his open hand on his eyebrows like a visor, hesitated for a second and then strode in my direction. We met halfway. I stopped short of Edward gasping for breath, bending and placing my hands on my knees. I could feel my face hot and the blood jamming in my face veins.

“Justin.” Edward grimaced and frowned a bit. “Is everything okay?”

“I… thought… you guys… had left…” Relief invaded me, stealing the little energy I’d left as if I didn’t need it anymore. My legs refused to support me anymore and I collapsed, feeling like I’d just fallen down a hole in the ground. Edward stepped ahead and caught me in his arms. I inhaled a large gulp of air. “Thought… though I was not… gonna make it.”

“We haven’t left yet, but we’ll be leaving soon,” Edward was actually holding me. I could feel his strong arms making the effort, withstanding my dead weight. “Is anything wrong?”

I said nothing but kept panting, squeezing my eyes shut. I couldn’t talk. I could do nothing but gasp and inhale as many gulps of air as possible. After a moment, I recovered and stood by myself. Edward placed his two hands on my shoulders and lowered himself a bit until he leveled himself with me. He fixed his eyes on my sunglasses, which I bet mirrored his face¬— I think he intended to look me straight into the eyes.

“Justin, answer me. Is something wrong?” His tone was matter-of-fact and his eyes were hard.

I let out a deep sigh. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong. I asked my grandma… asked her if I could come… come with you guys… she gave me permission.”

Edward frowned. “Are you sure? I thought you guys would need to straighten things up first. Even file a report with my old man. It was sorta criminal what your mother’s boyfriend did. I mean, throwing you out of his place when you had nowhere to go. He should have called your grandma and asked her to pick you up if he didn’t want you there anymore. Or even take you to a children’s home, but not kick you out.”

I gulped. My story was not holding water. I should have thought of that. I was in a fluster. Fat sweat droplets trickled down my cheek, but I couldn’t tell if they were due to exertion or fear of being found out.

“She will…” I said after staying silent for a bit. “But… she also said if I wanted… I could come with you guys.” I tried to sound cheerful. “And I want to. Look, she even gave me new clothes and a backpack.” Edward scanned me and frowned, maybe trying to figure out how my grandma had provided me clothes in barely two hours. “You said I could come, Edward. You said you were my friend.”

Edward passed the tip of his tongue over his lips. “Of course, I’m your friend, man. You need one badly, and I’m here. Besides, I think you’re a cool guy. Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

With his arm on my shoulders gently driving me, we walked the block that separated us from his friends. I breathed out in relief. I’d been so close to missing the appointment, I couldn’t believe I’d barely made it. My heart beat had decelerated, and the throbbing in my temples had stopped. The dizziness I still felt sprang from my happiness.

“This is Justin, a new friend of mine,” Edward said. “I’ve just met him last night on the Greyhound bus and I invited him to our camp. He’s just moved to Abbeville to live with his grandma.”

The other two teenagers nodded, their eyes fixed on me. Edward pointed at the dark, Latin guy with very thick eyebrows and shaggy black hair. “Meet Jorge, Justin. He’s my assistant patrol leader and the best second-in-command you’ll find in the whole state.”

Jorge extended his left hand. At first I hesitated, because guys always shake with their right hands. Then I thought it might be a Boy Scout thing and extended my left hand as well. Jorge squinted a little and gazed at Edward from his towering heights—he was way taller than Edward and reminded me of a basketball player. Edward stood cool, not making eye contact with him.

“Ouch!” Jorge had just crushed my hand. Immediately, I blushed—I knew I did, my face felt hot all of a sudden. Crushing the other person’s hand seemed also to be a Boy Scout thing.

“Beware of him,” Edward laughed, patting my back. “He doesn’t know his own strength. Now, this is Abraham Lincoln. Everybody calls him Abe, but I don’t. I hate nicks. His old man will stay with us in Magnolia Hall.”

Abraham Lincoln was the chubby guy I noticed from a block away, an Afro-American guy about my age. A row of white pearls appeared between his lips when he smiled, and his face beamed. “Welcome, Justin! It’s cool you’re coming with us! Where’re you from?”

Before offering me a hand—the left one too— he wiped it on his butt. Then he shook my hand vigorously up and down. His skin shone, and his shirt’s armpits were already soaked with sweat, despite the early hour.

“Somerset,” I answered, my arm moving like an oil pump jack.

“Somerset? Cool. I’ve got two cousins in Somerset, like, Edgar and William Thomas. Have you met them? They go to James Buchanan High.”

I couldn’t answer because our attention was drawn by a small blue car that parked behind the SUV. A freckled kid so blonde his hair seemed almost white, got out of it along with his mother.

“He’s Brian,” Edward volunteered, “almost a Cub Scout. He’s only attended one other camping trip, three months ago. You guys will be good friends. He’s a sixth grader, like you.”

I frowned, suddenly annoyed and wondering why Edward had supposed I was a sixth grader. I wanted to protest but refrained because Edward strode towards Brian. The kid’s backpack was so large, he could barely lift it.