Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced

3. Introductions

Chapter 3IntroductionsThe yard was a nice size and neatly manicured, with juniper bushes bordering the side of the house. It was mid-February and a crazy seventy degrees. Birds made trilling sounds off in the distance. The air outside smelled like charcoal and charring meat. Holden manned an impressive, stainless steel grill. Okay, it was probably the nicest place I had ever stayed. Yet, the feeling remained, a slight rumble in my stomach from living in a world turned upside down.

“They found a dead body in those woods,” my third cousin Jessi told me, when she caught my eyes shifting to the surrounding trees. Maybe she was tired of the getting to know you chit-chat. She was around my mom’s age. She had short brown hair with tacky blond highlights and teeth too small for her face.

Izzy latched onto my arm.

Jessi realized she hit the wrong target and added, “It was a long time ago.” Her eyes moved to Izzy. Her lips twisted into an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, Izzy. If you go back far enough in history, probably something bad has happened everywhere,” I reasoned. This may not have been comforting. “Probably some civil war guys died at a Dunkin Donuts, but the Dunkin Donuts isn’t haunted.”

Jessi’s husband Sean looked like a military guy with his hair buzzed short. I noticed his beer gut, so he probably wasn’t in good enough shape to be in the army. I got stuck sitting next to them at a picnic-type table in Holden and Reese’s backyard. Isabella sat on the other side of me, still clinging to my arm. They had two small kids who were chasing one another. Jessi warned them not to play with the hillbillies next door.

Sean broke in, “Oh come on, Sheriff Bears is good people.” He looked at me. “Have you met him yet, Tommy? He’s a badass. I once saw him snap a guy’s arm like it was a twig.”

“Really impressive,” I said with heavy sarcasm.

“I know,” he grinned, not picking up on my tone.

I laid it out in simple terms. “The guy is a sheriff. He’s supposed to protect people. He’s an asshole.” The guy was so stupid. I didn’t even feel like I was talking to an adult.

“You better not let Sheriff Bears hear you say that,” Sean warned me. “Otis Bears is someone you don’t mess with.” After a small pause, he thought of more to say. “Well, have you heard about your crazy Uncle Earl?”

“I have a crazy uncle?” I asked, mildly interested.

“He’s your grandmother’s younger brother and was a clown in the circus for a while, no, Jess?”

Jessi corrected him. “No. He delivered bouncy houses for kid’s birthday parties. Leddy’s the one obsessed with clowns. He’s not crazy. He had a nervous breakdown.”

The two bickered when their little girl toddled up to the table. Her pointy chin jutted up, and she wore the glazed expression that only a drunk or little kid could achieve, asking, “Why don’t you and your sister match?”

Innocently, she noticed that I was white, like them, and Isabella was more caramel, if you had to say a color. It struck me as kind of funny. Izzy smiled, too. I explained, “We have different dads.” The girl asked Isabella to play, and my sister gladly skipped off with her. Isabella’s S-shaped curls swayed while they ran to the tree line and stopped as if there was some magnetic field keeping them from entering the woods.

Reese came out with a big bowl full of potato salad, telling me, “You gotta try some, Tommy,” when Sean interrupted her, asking if my dad was Mexican because I had black hair and brown eyes.

Jessi reached over the table, and smacked him, saying, “He looks white.” She pointed out, “He just has brown hair and brown eyes,” as if being Mexican would have been a bad thing. Carlos was Mexican and the coolest guy I knew, next to Simon. The parents were kind of racist for sure.

I felt relieved when Holden changed the subject. Truthfully, I didn’t know who my father was. I started to think my uncle wasn’t all that bad.

Dusk pushed the daylight back into the sun when the grandparents I hadn’t even met arrived in a grey, four-door sedan. We all gathered on that dusty driveway.

My grandfather gave me a weak, clammy handshake. He was a small, nervous man. He had the face of a basset hound with the sad, humble eyes, loose jowls, and sagging neck. He was an old guy, yet it seemed at least some of this look must have accompanied him his entire life.

My grandmother nodded as if I had done something to please her, and said, “Well, look at you.” She didn’t look that old, although she had short grey hair, which was neatly tucked behind her large ears. Her eyes were bright blue with a few lines around them that ran deep, like tiny scars. Her eyebrows appeared to be drawn on in dramatic arches.

They weren’t the scary, ominous figures my mom had made them out to be. In fact, they had even bought a TV for me, and not a small one, but a big-screen TV. I fell into a state of shock when I saw Holden and Sean lugging it to the front door, as Jessi held it open for them.

Isabella commented, “They must be rich.”

Our grandmother overheard her and smiled. “The big TVs were almost the same price as the smaller ones,” she told us. She patted Izzy on the head and took me off guard, kissing me hard on the lips and said, “Damn that daughter of mine for keeping you from me.” She huffed out my name dramatically several times. It hung in the air between us. I wasn’t in the moment with her. None of them felt like long-lost family to me.

The old man slipped me a twenty-dollar bill, saying, “You’re a handsome boy.”

My grandma said, “I couldn't understand why your mother ran away from home. We did everything for that girl.”

I felt a wave of something but didn’t know how to respond.

Ending the awkward silence, Reese said, “That’s some TV. You’re going to have your own bachelor pad downstairs,” before she corralled everybody inside the house for homemade apple pie.

Later, I thanked my grandmother for the TV. She told me she worked at Walmart and got a discount anyway.

My grandmother worked at Walmart? Everything seemed weird to me. She had gifts for Isabella too, including an Easy Bake oven. Isabella relished all the gifts and attention. I just wanted the day to end.

Monday Reese registered us both for school. When Tuesday came, Reese drove Izzy to preschool, since she worked as a secretary there anyway, but I had to take the bus.

Finn and I said, “Hey,” and stood in the bright morning sun waiting for the bus. He had a split lip and it looked like his enthusiasm, from the other day, had been knocked off his face. I guess he looked as shitty as I felt.

My mind flickered between what I should say. I almost asked about his lip, but instead explained, “Holden caught me trying to sneak out.”

He eyed me and yawned in reply before saying, “I didn’t make it either. Next time.” He wore a faded flannel over a T-shirt with jeans. At least he had on sneakers, which saved him from looking like too much of a country boy. Suddenly, Finn executed an about-face and stalked off across the lawn. Only then I noticed the bus was coming and I trailed right behind him.

Once on the bus, Finn took up an entire seat, stretching out like a comfortable house cat.

I sat directly in front of him, hesitating before awkwardly stretching my legs across the seat, feeling stiffness in my shoulders. I finally asked, “What happened to your lip?”

“My stepdad. He caught me sneaking two beers from the fridge. One was for you.”

“That sucks.” He was starting to seem cool to me. I searched for something else to say. “So, will I get to meet Mudget?” I briefly grinned because the name sounded ridiculous.

“Unfortunately. If he sees you hang out with me, you will be on his list.”

Finn looked serious, but a smile again tugged at the corners of my lips. “I’ve got my a*s kicked before. I’m good at it.”

“You’re not supposed to be proud of that.” His voice hit a flat note.

We stopped talking. I began to stare out the window at the forest following us. The morning light broke through the trees in ethereal rays. My sleepy brain drank in the mystery of it.

The bus slowed to its first creaky stop. Two girls in hoodies strolled onto the bus. Only one was cute enough to make me nervous. She had long blond hair and was all legs, with slender curves. It surprised me when Finn moved over, and she slid next to him. The other girl sat in the seat directly across from the super cute one.

The girl next to Finn pulled her hand from her pocket and punched him in the arm. “You stood me up!” she protested, thrusting her hands back into the pockets of her hoodie.

“Sorry. I got into this thing with my stepdad, and he took my phone,” he said apologetically. She looked at his puffy lip and let out a string of hard obscenities, finishing with, “He laid his hands on you!”

Finn grinned and blushed, liking the attention. “No, he punched me. Actually, he only slapped me. You know he has those giant pork chop hands.” Finn joked and seemed to forget I existed. Catching me eavesdropping, the pretty girl frowned at me. I briefly looked down.

She again punched Finn in the arm. “Listen, Wilds! I’m the only one allowed to punch you.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Her eyes were pale green and her nose cute and a little chubby. Her lips were full and curvy. The more I looked at her, the prettier I noticed she was. “Why are you staring?” she finally asked.

“That’s Tommy. He’s cool,” Finn said. “He moved in with Holden and Reese.”

“Oh,” she replied, and stared at me, clearly deciding if I could be trusted.

I said, “Hi.”

“Well, Finn, introduce us.” This girl had darker blond hair that hung to her shoulders, with a pinkish gathering of pimples on her forehead which interrupted her otherwise baby-smooth skin. She wore thin, crooked braids at each side, making her look like a hippie. She had sweet eyes and a long nose that looked nice enough on her face. She looked a little smaller and younger than the other girl.

“That’s Annie.”

Annie smiled, showing a mouth full of wires.

Finn continued, “And the mean one’s Silence.”

“I am mean.” Silence’s almost-shy smile revealed dimples. This really took me by surprise.

I swiveled around farther in my seat to face her. Nervously, I double-checked. “Silence?” My face felt warm when I asked her.

“Yeah. Silence Harper,” she replied in a what’s-it-to-you tone and folded her arms.

“And Annie,” the other girl added.

Silence dropped her head on Finn’s shoulder. He closed his eyes as if he was used to being close to her. Was she his girlfriend? I thought Finn wasn’t the type to talk to girls, let alone have an actual girlfriend. Aside from being pretty, this girl had something special about her. I hadn’t figured it out.

Annie leaned toward me to ask, “What grade are you in, Tommy?”

“I’m a freshman, like you guys.”

“Oh no, I’m in eighth grade.” Annie explained, “I had to repeat the third grade because I had encephalitis and missed too much school. And Silence is in seventh grade.” I glanced at her in disbelief. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to lose her edge.

That explained how Finn could hang around a girl that cool. She was just a kid. I turned back around in my seat, no longer as intrigued. I thought it was weird how they put freshmen with the junior-high kids.

I looked out the window. It was nothing like the city. There were small houses with big yards and lawn ornaments, some of them faring better than others, with fake brick and stone. Then a run-down trailer suddenly got thrown into the mix. Everything seemed connected by narrow, tree-lined roads. I had landed in The Middle, for sure.

Finally, we arrived. The school was small compared to my old school. It was a two-story brick building, oddly square shaped. It contained the seventh and eighth grade classes, with an adjoining freshman wing. A dozen or so kids started getting up from their seats. Silence motioned for me to go in front of her. I did. She was almost as tall as me, and was twelve?

“Thanks,” I said.

She gave a half smile in reply. I overheard Annie whispering to Silence that I was cute. As far as I knew, I had never been cute before.

The girls went their way and we went ours. “What’s your locker number?” Finn asked.

“568.”

“Cool, your locker’s right by mine.”

I followed him, not really knowing what to expect. My role of Chicago public school student had been to occasionally show up and appear as disinterested as everyone else. My eyes blinked around the place. Random kids stood by their lockers. Others congregated in the middle of the hall, making it a challenge to get through. All the morning, voices around me played like a meaningless drone. Mainly I kept my head down. Although the floor looked buffed and polished, it remained dingy with its fair share of scuff marks. I shouldered my backpack as Finn and I made our way to our lockers. Each locker shined with a fresh coat of purple paint. That’s when a feeling of nervousness moved in my gut.

My initial moment of new-kid panic was interrupted when a short blond boy rushed up to Finn. He had a number two pencil stuck above his ears and twitched with excitement, announcing, “Mudget got sent home for bringing a knife on the bus.” He looked like a junior-high kid but had a surprisingly husky voice. Finn’s head dipped, a few times, digesting the information.

I asked, “Was he expelled?”

The kid replied, “I don’t know. I sure hope so.”

“Oh man, that would be awesome.” A look of uncertainty swept across Finn’s face and his cheeks burned pink and hot.

A girl came around the corner, but I wasn’t really paying attention. The blond kid’s eyes got big and he hurried off, weaving in between bigger kids. The laces of his untied sneakers skittered across the linoleum. Finn whispered, “That’s Hailee Palmer. Her dad’s the mayor.”

I looked at her. That was my first mistake.

Unlike Silence’s hair, which hung limp and lifeless, Hailee’s long brown hair flowed in soft waves, each one expertly tousled. It was hair from a TV commercial, too wondrous for real life. Silence could have been the pretty girl in the before shot that was cute enough to begin with. Hailee personified the after picture, with immaculate makeup and everything glowing. I’m weird, preferring the before in the scenario. I wanted to cut Hailee’s hair off and make her a regular person. That way seeing her wouldn’t mess me up so much.

“I know this school isn’t always friendly to new students, so let me know if you need anything,” Hailee said, smiling warmly and adult-like.

After an extra-uncomfortable beat, I replied, “I’m good,” and began fumbling with my locker. The combination I memorized didn’t work. A teasing smile played on Hailee’s lips. Nervously, I double-checked the numbers jotted across my palm.

Hailee’s opened her locker. “Are you sure you don’t need help with that?” She grinned at me, making me even more embarrassed.

“I’m sure.”

Finn interrupted my blundering attempts. “You know that’s my locker?”

My face became warm. I saw the girl walk away from the corner of my eye.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” I said, but flicked him a questioning look.

A spark had returned to his eyes, and Finn laughed. He knew it was his locker all along.

“Thanks a lot.”

“C’mon, it was funny. And you should be happy. Hailee actually spoke to you,” Finn said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Concentrating, I spun the numbers in. “Yeah, so?” I flung my locker door open.

“I haven’t talked to her since we dated in kindergarten. You know, before the social order was established. She hasn’t talked to me much since.”

I had to smile. “You dated in kindergarten?” I unzipped my backpack and grabbed the book I needed just before the bell rang and we rushed to class. It was such a small school that Finn and I had most of our classes together. I only had art with Hailee because she was in honors, I guess.

I’m not sure why, but Hailee made me feel oddly aware of my host of deep, dark secrets and social crimes, which included feeling small and insignificant, having a d**g-addicted mother, and now being a foster kid and my deepest secret of all. I had never even kissed a girl and wasn’t sure I ever would.

In each class, I suffered the recurring t*****e of introducing myself. I had to say my name and either tell something about myself or the state where I was from. To both prompts, I replied, “I’m from Chicago.”

By fourth period, when I was asked to introduce myself, a boy answered for me, “That’s Chicago.” A few kids laughed.

Finn explained, “That’s Brandon White. He’s the guy who gives the nicknames.”

“I didn’t know that was a thing,” I whispered. In this strange, little school, it was.

I made it through my first day and week of school.