The Wild Kid (4 page)

That night, Kevin tied Sammy up and went out. He left Sammy lying on the ground. It was darker than dark. It was the darkest dark Sammy had ever been in. Darker than being in a closet with the door closed.

There were sounds all around him. Crinkly sounds, like somebody walking toward him. They stopped, and another sound started, like papers being torn into little pieces. He listened; he listened so hard, he thought his ears got as big as TV dishes. Something was moving from one place to another. Inside?
Snakes?
Sammy drew his head in. He wished he was a turtle and could pull his whole self into a safe little house.

“Oh, Mom, where are you?” There was comfort in hearing a voice, any voice. It was his own, Sammy's voice. Kevin said he had to be quiet, but he was talking, anyway.

“I want to go home. I want to see my mother. I want to see Bethan, my sister. I want to go home.” He said it loud. Then louder. Then he shouted it. “I WANT TO GO HOME.”

*  *  *

He slept and woke. Hunger kept waking him up. His stomach was eating him. It was so dark, sometimes he didn't know if he was asleep or awake or where the dark ended and he started. He closed his eyes. It was better to sleep. Sleep, he told himself. Maybe this time, he'd wake up in the right place, his own place, in his own bed.

*  *  *

Sammy was asleep when Kevin returned. Kevin's flashlight woke him. “Kevin?”

“Don't call me that.” Kevin flashed the light in Sammy's eyes, then all around. “Don't call me that, never, ever.” He lit a candle. “Call me that and I'll kill you.”

“I'll never call you that,” Sammy said.

“I hate the name Kevin.”

“Me, too,” Sammy said.

The wild kid untied him, then lay down on the mattress, hands hooked under his head. “Tell me that story again, how they put you out of the house.”

“They pushed me out.”

“Who's they?”

“My mom and Carl.” Each time he said his mother's name he was glad. Kevin would know he wasn't alone. There were a whole lot of people waiting for him. His mother and his sister and Carl.

“Who's Carl?”

“My mother's friend.” Sammy moved his hands up and down. He wanted words, more words. He wanted to keep talking, to say more things to Kevin, because it made Kevin not so scary.

“Carl's really my mom's boyfriend, but she says he's sort of like an uncle.”

“Uncle!” Kevin snorted. “Is that what she said? What did they throw you out for? I bet you're a king-size, royal pain in the ass. You must have done something to get them going.”

“I said a bad word.”

“Bad word! How many bad words? Just one? What was it?”

When Kevin heard the word, he went, “Hoo-eee,” and kicked his legs up in the air. He had an exploding, motor kind of laugh that never stopped. “Tell me more. This is really good. They kicked you out for that word? You want to hear some bad words?”

He said a bunch of bad words and threw himself around on the mattress, he was laughing so hard.

“You ever hear of K-Man?” he asked.

“Is that like Batman?”

“K-Man's like nobody but K-Man. He's here, he's there, he's invisible. He can turn himself into a tree or a rock, or disappear into the side of a building. K-Man will defend himself, no matter what. He'll fight a King Kong gorilla if he has to. K-Man never makes mistakes.”

Suddenly he stopped, one hand raised. He gripped Sammy's arm. “Owww,” Sammy said.

“Shut up! Don't move. Don't talk. Don't even breathe.” He blew out the candle, listened, then went out through the plastic curtain.

Sammy crept to the entrance on his hands and knees, and like a dog, he sniffed things, the trees and leaves and dirt on the ground. If he was a real dog, he could smell his way home.

“What are you doing?” The wild kid reappeared. “Did I tell you to stay inside or didn't I?” He slapped Sammy and pushed him back inside. “You gotta do what I tell you.”

He flopped down on the mattress again. “Rats,” he said. “That's all it was. They can sound like a whole army. What were we talking about?”

Sammy didn't say anything.

“They used to lock me up. In a closet, once, and another time they stuffed me in the trunk of a car. If they tried it now”—He sat up and slashed around like a karate fighter—“This is what I'm going to do, only they're never going to get me, because they're never going to find this place.”

Sammy was silent.

“What's the matter with you?”

“I don't like being hit.”

“Big deal.” The wild kid swung at Sammy and stopped his fist an inch from Sammy's face. He hung over Sammy, his fist clenched, showing his broken teeth. “I could punch your face off. Nobody knows I'm here, nobody would guess in a million years. Nobody, till you came along with your dumb luck and fell right on top of me. Only a stupid kid would do that.”

Sammy fell asleep sitting up while Kevin was talking, and when he woke, his head was sunk so deep on his chest, his neck felt broken.

Kevin was asleep. A square of gray light filled the window. Sammy crept carefully around Kevin, whose bare feet stuck out from under a blanket. Sammy got his head outside, and he was just putting one foot out when a hand grabbed his ankle.

All that long next day, everywhere that Kevin went, Sammy had to go, too. That, or be tied up. Any noise Kevin heard, he froze, and Sammy had to freeze, too. He couldn't talk. If he said a word, he was dead. Kevin didn't let Sammy out of his sight, even when Sammy had to go to the bathroom. “Over there, and cover it up. Go on! Kick some leaves over it.”

Later, before Kevin went out, he tied Sammy up again. He didn't tell him where he was going or when he was coming back.

He didn't untie Sammy until the next morning. His wrists hurt all day. He was hungry and dirty. His shirt was torn, and his pants were filthy. His mouth felt funny. He asked Kevin for a toothbrush.

Kevin dragged him off to the little pool of water nearby and pushed his face in. “There's your toothbrush.”

Sammy was crying. He tried not to cry, even when his hands and feet hurt from the ropes. “I'm not crying,” he said.

*  *  *

That night, when Kevin went to tie him up, Sammy said, “Don't. I'll be good. I won't run away.”

The wild kid hunkered in front of him, his hair tangled in his face. “Okay, what happens if I don't tie you up? And you go? The mosquitoes'll eat you up. Then you'll get lost. That'll be good. Solve all my problems. Get yourself lost out there, and when they find your skeleton, they can't blame it on me.”

“I won't run away. I don't like the dark. I'll stay right here. I promise.”

“Hmmmm. Hmmmm.” The wild kid stared at him. Then he nodded. “Okay. We're going to give it a try.” He threw a blanket at Sammy, then blew out the candle and left.

The moon shone through the window. Sammy went out to look. The moon was so bright, he could see the trees and the shape of rocks and bushes. He started walking home. It was wonderful to be free, to be moving.
You promised Kevin not to run away.

He hesitated. A promise is a promise. What would his mother say? “Come home, Sammy.” He took another step, and a mosquito found him. It bit him on the neck. Then a bunch of mosquitoes bit him all over his face. He ran back, slapping at his head and arms.

He dove into the cave and wrapped himself in the blanket. He pulled it over his head and stayed that way, afraid to open it even a crack.

Kevin was sitting on a rock, eating fries from a paper bag. They were the fat fries that Sammy loved. “Can I have some?” he asked. He was hungry all over. Even his legs felt hungry.

Kevin popped a fry in his mouth.

Sammy checked his watch. “It's time for me to eat lunch. It's twelve o'clock. Can I go home now?”

“Climb a tree,” Kevin said. “I didn't invite you here. I don't have to feed you.”

“I'm hungry. I'm very, very hungry.”

“Go chase your tail.”

The squirrels were busy in the trees. Nuts and leaves fell around Sammy. He picked up a nut and cracked it between his teeth, then tasted it. It was bitter. He took one step and then another. He made-believe this was the way home. He had to be careful not to get lost. Inside himself, there was a tight, scared feeling.

But he wanted to go home. He was going to eat and eat and eat. He was going to see his mother and his sister and be in his house, where he could open the door and go inside, and shut the door and lock it.

Ping!
Something hit him on the cheek.
Ping!

Kevin was above him, flipping pebbles at him. “You're going to leave without saying good-bye?”

“Can I go home now? I want to go home. Will you take me home now?”

“Shut up! You talk too loud.” He pushed Sammy back into the cave.

Sammy sat down. “Can I talk now? First thing I want to say is, I'm hungry. The second thing is, I wish you had a TV.” On weekends, when his mother slept late, he would watch TV until she woke up and made breakfast.

“Everything on TV is a lie,” Kevin said. “It's all lies for boneheads like you.”

“My mother says TV is good. She says you can learn from TV.”

“It's a lie.”

“My mother never lies.”

“She lies. You're too stupid to know it. You lie, too.”

“I don't, K-Man. I told you all the truth about me.”

“Yeah? Tell me, are we friends?”

“I will be your friend,” Sammy said. “Do you want to be my friend?”

“You're an idiot.” Kevin bit into another fry.

“You sure eat a lot,” Sammy said. “Can I have some now?”

“Do I look like a store?

“Can we go to the store?”

“Yeah, sure. You see a store around here? Where's your money?”

“You took my money.”

“That was room rent.” Kevin had the wild kid smile on his face, like he was waiting for Sammy to do something, and then he'd do something mean.

“You could give me some french fries, maybe five?” Sammy showed Kevin five fingers. “When I go home, my mother will pay you.”

“Hey!” Kevin jumped up on his mattress. “Will she pay a reward for you? How much are you worth? What will she pay?”

“I don't know.” Kevin was stupid sometimes. A person wasn't something you bought in a store.

Kevin brushed his hands off. “How much can I get from your mother? Are you rich? Are you somebody famous? Are you known?”

Sammy was confused. They weren't rich. It took a long time to get all the money for his bike. Remembering the bike made him feel really bad.

“How much money has your mother got?”

“I don't know. Fifty dollars.” He wasn't good with numbers. “Is that a lot? Maybe not so much. She works hard.” That's what his mother always said: “I work so hard.”

“I'm going to sell you to the highest bidder.”

“You can't sell me. You don't sell human beings.”

“Who's going to stop me?” Kevin threw a fry at him.

Sammy caught it and ate it slowly. “Your mother would like that you're sharing,” he said.

“My mother doesn't care if I'm alive or dead. Open your mouth.” He flipped another fry toward him.

He played that game for a while, until he got tired of it and tossed Sammy the rest of the bag.

*  *  *

All that day, Sammy waited for the wild kid to take him home. He couldn't imagine that he wouldn't take him home soon.