Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Timmy from school says monsters aren’t real.
No one says it, but we all know Timmy is a little stupid. Of course they’re real.
I look around the pillar onto the porch. Dad’s chair is empty, just like the chairs for my brothers. The crickets sing, which makes me suck in a breath. Crickets don’t sing if there are monsters around. Doesn’t Timmy know about the cricket rule?
I would tell him, but school let out a few days ago. That’s when someone came to the house, and when they left, Dad got really mad. His face got all red, and he threw things around the house. He didn’t hit me this time. I’m getting faster.
I know when Dad gets this mad to leave. I go stay with the neighbor's chickens until Dad calms down. This time, he said if I came back, he’d kill me.
Dried chicken poop feels like chalk. It looks like it, too, all over my clothes, and it looks so white in the moonlight.
I try to wipe it off so Dad doesn’t know where I’ve been.
A few months ago, he got mad and hurt my arm so badly that I had to go to the hospital.
They asked if I was safe at home, which was a weird question.
Dad says everyone is trying to take me from him.
That they aren’t good people, and I’ll only be safe with him.
It’s dark out now, the shadows around the house the perfect size for monsters to hide in. This morning, Weston caught me poking around by the creek. He smiled at me, but when he grabbed my shoulder, it hurt. It always hurts when he smiles. He said, “Dinner tonight, on the porch.”
My stomach grumbles, and I glance around the yard again, but that’s when I see it. A plate of food. The wind shifts, bringing the smell of summer grass and…meat. Immediately, my shoulders loosen, and I drool. I’m so hungry.
Forgetting fear, I run up to grab the food.
“What did I tell you, boy?” a dark voice growls.
Jumping, I turn to face the voice. Dad is standing in the dark doorway, and I smell the cigarette smoke. He must be drinking. There’s also something long in his hand.
Gun.
I don’t think, I just snatch the plate of food and run. An explosion blasts behind me, making my ears ring. Some of the food falls off my plate, and I plant my hand flat over the top of it and run. I run as fast as I can until I taste blood in my mouth.
When I make it back, I run into the coop and shut the door, latching it behind me. When I get inside, the chickens blink their beady eyes at me in confusion, fluffing up their feathers. They look tired, and that makes me feel better.
Chickens are scared of monsters. They’d be scared if monsters were here. You know who isn’t scared of monsters? Superheroes.
Only then do I eat. I dig into what food is left, and when it’s gone, I lick the plate clean. It was so good, like the chicken that Dad’s girlfriend used to make.
I look at the birds around me, and my tummy gets twisty.
I sink into the darkness, but I don’t sleep. Instead, I think about what I would look like in a cape and how I’d fly into a pizza store and save them from a monster. And in return, they’d give me as much free pizza as I wanted. No chicken. In my universe, we don’t eat chicken. Just pepperoni.
I tie the rope of grass I’ve woven around the sticks holding the roof over my fort. I’m getting pretty good at braiding the grass. It barely even cuts my fingers anymore.
It’s getting dark out, and I check the yellow watch Waylon got me. He said it was special and to never take it off. It has a chip on the side, but I still love it. I feel big, like Dad.
One night, after Dad left food for me, it was trash day.
I stole from the neighbors, but they shouldn’t throw away so much food.
Why do they throw away so much food? I got a whole apple and the ends of some bread.
The ends are good. And I did it at night so they wouldn’t see me, always at night.
I spend my days at the creek. It’s been five days since I slept in my bed.
Once it’s dark, I sneak back to the coop. As I’m settling in, the smell of cigarette smoke drifts in on the wind, and I jerk straight up. Peeking through the loose board, I scan the area. It’s quiet and dark.
I tried sleeping in my fort, but the wind whipped through the sticks and made it sound like a monster was crying. It’s been two days. I feel bad, but I steal the chicken’s eggs too. They cluck and cry, but I’m hungry.
I cry when I eat their babies.
The smell of smoke gets stronger.
“Little brotherrrrr.”
I jump. It’s Weston.
“Where could he be?” There’s a smack on the chicken coop that makes me jump, and the chickens flutter in alarm. They start running around.
How did he find me? I’ve been so careful.
Weston pulls the door open, and I fight. I run at him to try to back him out of the coop so he doesn’t step on the chickens. But it doesn’t work. He pushes me inside, followed by Waylon, and punches me in the face. I drop, clucking birds and feathers going everywhere.
“You’ve been a little shit, you know that?”
I cover my face with my arms. Dad punishes me for being a little shit, and it always makes me feel dirty. Why is Weston saying that to me?
I fight, but Waylon holds me down by my shoulders, and I see Weston pull his pants down, kicking a chicken.
“Don’t kick them!” I scream, but they don’t listen. Of course they don’t listen.
“Why don’t you come back home? Dad says he has something for you.” But the way Weston says it makes me think it’s not a good thing.
When he starts punishing me, I disappear. I float away into the universe I’ve created, where there’s a big wall to keep the monsters out. And I have to check the wall to make sure no one can come in.
When they’re done, Weston stands. I barely hear him leave, but when he does, he says, “Good game, little brother.”
I go back to checking the walls of my world. I check and check and check until something tells me I need to wake up. I need to go.
So I do, running out of the coop to the creek, building up fake walls around me as I run. I’m not afraid. The walls will keep everything out.
I make it to my shelter and build the walls there, three walls deep. Then I build weapons. Big catapults with fiery projectiles. Like knights used.
But what if I get cool things like superheroes used?
Blankly, I look down at the watch that Weston gave me. The special watch. In spy movies, some of the watches are super cool and have all kinds of powers.
Weston did say this was special. Wait. What if it has superpowers? What if he can track me with it?
I decide in my universe, there will be watches that can track bad guys. So I always know where they are all the time.
After that fifth night, I’m too scared to see what happened to the chickens, so I hike to a farm I’ve always seen on the way to the grocery store. There’s a shed in the backyard that looks like a good place to hide. It has a real roof and doors and looks much better than the chicken coop.
I walk up when it’s dark, the best time to stay away. Suddenly, there’s a loud bark, and I jump. A big white dog appears around the corner, barking at me.
I jump back.
The dog barks with its tail down, and takes a step back, looking around like it’s scared. Immediately, I know this is a good dog. He’s just scared.
So I raise my hands. “It’s okay. I’m a good guy.”
The dog keeps barking, so I back away a little, checking the house to make sure no one is watching. The porch light is on, but there’s no movement. Plus, the house isn’t very close to the shed. It’s why I picked it in the first place.
The dog still barks, so I sit in a patch of grass. I wonder if the dog is a boy or a girl? I know they’ll like me when they stop being scared.
Sometimes it takes a while to stop being scared. So I just sit, watching the dirt road in the moonlight. I start telling the dog about my universe. About all the things we do to bad guys. About the walls and the weapons and the cool stuff.
The dog stops barking, but I keep talking. Soon, he sits down and just looks at the road with me.
It’s nice to have someone here. The chickens are good, but they don’t know. I know this dog is smart, just by the way he listens.
Slowly, I inch closer to the dog. If he gets scared and moves, I’ll wait and keep talking. Soon, the dog lets me get close enough to sniff me, and I get a tail wag. I smile and pet the dog’s fur.
“You look like Krypto,” I say into the wind. The dog just looks out with me.
“Do you like that name? Should I call you Krypto?” I look at the dog, seeing that he has a collar with a tag on. Slowly, so I don’t scare him, I check the tag. As soon as I see the name there, my chest feels like it has butterflies in it.
“Huxley!”
The dog turns to look at me, and I realize that I’m safe with him. Nothing can hurt me here.
On night seven, I realize I’m wrong. Because I’m still in the real world, no matter how hard I try to escape it.
Huxley barks, and I whirl to see my brother walking up. He’s twitching like Dad does. Huxley lunges for him, and my brother stays back, grinning. He throws something my way.
“Dad says you have to prove yourself. Tonight.”
I stare at the thing in the dirt. It’s a big knife. Immediately, I don’t want to.
“You’ll be there, or Fido’s gonna go.” He makes a motion like he’s cutting his throat, then he’s gone.
As soon as Weston’s gone, I cry. I cry because I’m scared, and I’ll never not be afraid of monsters.
I want Superman to come and help me. To blast his way through them with his super-strong arms. I want The Joker to come too.
The Joker isn’t scared of anything. He’s funny and strong.
The Joker is never scared. He’s always happy.
I want to always be happy.
But I know if I don’t go, Weston will hurt this dog. I know for sure ‘cause he saw me petting it.
I go, and the whole time, I think about how Huxley might be the real Krypto.
Dad hurts me more than when he hurt my arm. It feels like my whole body is on fire. But I fight back because Superman would. And when I cut him, I laugh like The Joker.
Because if monsters are real, superheroes have to be too.
As I’m lying in a puddle of something wet and sticky, I think about how one of these days I’m going to make my own game. I’ll get Superman and The Joker to help. In my game, I’ll kill anyone who ever hurt me. Maybe I’ll let other people play too. They can also kill people who hurt them.
But it’ll be my game. My rules.
And in my game, I’ll win every time.