What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(62)
The memory makes me smile, but I quickly fix my face, so Charlotte don’t think I’m smiling bout her daddy being gone. “I’m sorry,” I finally say.
Charlotte squeezes my hand one more time, then lets it go. “You’re it!” she suddenly yells, racing off toward Bobby, who’s still by the pond. He looks up and sees Charlotte, then they both take off running away from me. As they run, they take turns making silly faces and yelling jokes. Me, I can’t stop smiling. Smiling cause I got these new friends, and cause Charlotte’s the first person I told the whole truth to, bout us and bout Daddy. It feels good to finally have somebody to talk to, somebody to trust.
“Bobby!” We all hear the scream at the same time. The way she yells is like she’s been yelling awhile, but ain’t none of us hear til now. Bobby freezes at the shrill sound of his momma’s voice, then turns his head quick to Charlotte. She already got tears in her eyes.
“Let’s go,” says Bobby, pulling Charlotte by the arm. Neither one of ’em speaks to me, or even looks my way. They just leave, like they was never even there. I sit down, right in the middle of the grass, and taste the salt on my tongue before I even know the tears have left my eyes. I wipe ’em away with the back of my hand, quick. I’m tired of crying and I’m tired of people leaving. I get back up, my shorts wet from the grass, and run frowning back to the house. For once, I’m gon’ be the one that leaves.
It’s always quiet in Granddaddy’s house, but this quiet, now, feels deeper. I pass through the living room and the quiet hangs on all the stuff there—the empty wicker chair, unopened Bible, blank TV screen. I can almost feel the noise begging to enter and fill the spaces with life. But ain’t nobody around, cept me. And now I’m gon’ leave like everybody else.
I go to the bedroom and exchange my sandals for socks and gym shoes—still muddy from the drive here with Momma. Then grab my old backpack and pack it with clothes, my toothbrush, my two Anne books, and a small blanket. My rock collection’s too big to fit, so I decide to take just three rocks—the special ones, from Bobby. I start to leave the room but go back and add my first Anne book to the other two. It’s older than the others and more raggedy, plus I already read it, but it’s still my best book.
In the kitchen I pack crackers, a can of Vienna sausages, cookies, and fruit—two oranges and an apple. I grab a thermos that I fill with water, then I look around and think. It’s strange cause I been looking for money all summer and ain’t once thought to look here, but most grown-ups hide money around the house; I just don’t know where Granddaddy keeps his. I look in jars, drawers, on top of the fridge. I check the bathroom and the living room, but I can’t find no money. Granddaddy’s bedroom is in the back of the house and I ain’t ever been in there cause I ain’t ever had no reason. But now I do. I tug the door open and look around.
His bedroom is mostly like the other rooms in the house, filled with creaky old furniture and dusty trinkets. There’s a bed in the corner, a long dresser cross the wall, and a rocking chair by the only window. The top of the dresser is completely clear, cept for one framed picture sittin’ right in the middle. I recognize the woman right away—not just cause I seen pictures of her before in that photo album, but cause she looks just like Momma. It’s the granny I never knew bout, wearing a long dress to her ankles and fancy jewelry that sparkles. But don’t nothin’ shine as bright as the smile on her face, looks just like Momma’s best smile.
I hear a noise outside the bedroom and jump, almost dropping the picture. Then I realize it’s only the sound the toilet makes when it refills with water. I set the picture back on the dresser and get back to looking for money.
Finally, I find some, in a shoebox on the top shelf of Granddaddy’s closet. I count two twenties, one ten, one five, and seven ones. Sixty-two dollars. I stuff it all in the pocket of my shorts and whisper a promise into the air to pay Granddaddy back, one day. I return the shoebox to the closet, then close the door to his room again, so it looks like I was never there.
In the living room, I sit on the couch with my clothing-stuffed backpack and my money-stuffed pocket. As I sit there, thinking, a funny memory crosses my mind. It was back in Detroit, when me and Nia was watching some movie where this kid decided to run away from home. Nia was all into it, but I kept complaining bout why the kid would be so stupid, to run away with nowhere to go, and nobody to keep them safe. But now, sittin’ here alone with all my little bit of stuff, it just feels like it’s what I gotta do. I wish I was in Detroit, though, where I would know where to run. I ain’t been many places in Lansing, besides the pool, the church, and the mall. I’ve rode the bus in Detroit all by myself before, to get to school, but I can’t remember even seeing no bus around here. I wish I had a bike, at least. Which makes me think bout Bobby’s and Charlotte’s bikes. I look back to be sure I ain’t leave no mess around Granddaddy’s house, straighten out his rug and wipe dust from his coffee table. Then I leave.
Bobby’s bike is laying on the ground where he left it, but I can tell right away that it’s too big for me to ride. It even has those gears up top like Nia’s old bike. That only leaves Charlotte’s bike, which ain’t over there no more. I look down the street one way, then the other. No sign of her or her bike, so I guess I gotta walk. I put my arms through the straps of my backpack til its weight falls square on my shoulders.