The Wild Kid Read online

  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.

  10

  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.

  11

  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.

  12

  “Come on,” Kevin said. It was late in the afternoon. He had his knapsack over one shoulder and a stick that he’d peeled and sharpened, like a fork with two sharp prongs. “My snake stick. I see a snake, I zap it to the ground.”

  “Are you going to take me home now?” Sammy asked. “I won’t tell. It’s a secret.” He put a finger to his lips. “Sealed!”

  “That, again? Don’t you ever get tired of saying the same thing? Listen to me! Here’s what your mother’s going to say. ‘Where were you, what’d you do, who were you with?’ What’re you going to say?”

  Sammy pointed to his sealed lips.

  “She’s going to say, ‘What’s his name? The one who helped you?’ What do you say then?”

  “I’ll tell her Kevin made me promise not to tell.”

  “Perfect,” Kevin snorted. “Okay, let’s go. Remember, I don’t leave trails. If you’re going to leave a trail, leave an animal trail.”

  “A skinny trail.” Sammy understood.

  Kevin showed Sammy how to step over things, how to put one foot directly in front of the other. “Step and listen,” he said. “And walk in my tracks.”

  He led the way up over the rocks. It was a hard climb. It was like climbing a mountain. The top was a wet, grassy place with a lot of dead trees. They were like tall people watching Sammy, the way his teacher watched him.

  They went into the woods. “Don’t take a step without looking back to see if you’re leaving a trail,” Kevin said.

  “Step and look,” Sammy said.

  “Now you got it. I’m careful. If I sniff danger, I’m a tree. K-Man can do that. I go out when nobody’s in the woods, in a storm, when the wind blows. I don’t go out when there’s snow. Then I stay put. I hibernate like a bear; I sleep a lot. Only when the snow melts do I venture out.” Suddenly Kevin stabbed at the ground with his snake stick.

  Sammy jumped. No snake, but after that, he couldn’t step high enough.

  They came to a cut in the woods with power lines running overhead. Power lines, Sammy thought, went to houses. Kevin must be taking him home! It was going to be a big surprise.

  Kevin stopped near some bushes and pointed to a branch that was bent over and hooked to the ground. “Snare.” He knelt down and adjusted a loop of twine.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Catching rabbits.”

  “Rabbits? What for?”

  Kevin looked into Sammy’s face. “I eat them.” He moved to another snare. He had a bunch of them.

  “You eat bunny rabbits?” Sammy said.

  “Yes, and you’ll eat them, too.”

  Sammy knew he’d never eat rabbits. “Are you taking me home?”

  Kevin wasn’t listening. He was getting mad all over again. Every snare he’d set was empty.

  13

  There was no light, and Sammy didn’t hear anything, not even Kevin breathing and muttering the way he usually did. “Kevin?” He pulled his blanket over his head. It smelled funny. Was he asleep or awake? Sometimes he was asleep and thought he was awake. Maybe Kevin was dead. Maybe there was no Kevin. Maybe an animal had chewed him up and would chew Sammy up next.

  He made a big growly noise with his voice, then felt around and found a stick. Holding it made him feel braver. He sat with his knees up, and the stick ready. If a rat came out, he’d hit it on the head. He banged the stick down. It was good to have a plan. Plans made things better. That’s what Mrs. Hoffman said. His plan was, sit up this way all night, and in the morning, if Kevin wasn’t here, he’d find those power lines and go home. That was a good plan.

  He was still sitting up, but asleep, when Kevin came back. Kevin lit a candle, then dropped his knapsack on the floor. “Free food,” he said. He pulled out a melon, some rolls, pieces of fried chicken, and other stuff. “Dig in,” he said, taking a piece of pizza.

  Sammy reached for the chicken. It looked like somebody had bitten into it, but it tasted good. He ate it all, then a slice of pizza, then he reached for the chicken again. He put a lot of food in his mouth, like Kevin. At home, he had to chew each mouthful with his mouth closed. And no grabbing. And you waited until you were served.

  “This is good food,” he said.

  “It’s garbage. Man, people throw away good food all the time.”

  “Garbage?”

  “Yeah. You’re eating garbage.” Kevin wiped his hands on his pants. “Tastes pretty good, doesn’t it?”

  Sammy burped. “This is delicious garbage.” He burped again. Then Kevin burped, a really loud one.

  “I don’t bring back everything. This is the best of it. Garbage can kill you, too. When I was a little kid, I’d put anything in my mouth. Once, I ate bad meat from the neighbor’s garbage. I was four or five. I puked up all over myself, and the neighbor lady took me to the hospital. That was the time they took all us kids away.”

  “Where’d they take you?”

  “Into foster care. I didn’t even know what was good for me. I wanted to go back to my mother, I was that stupid.” He put the remains of the food in the pizza box. “I think of her now, and depending how I feel, I’m sorry for her. Stupid cow. I don’t know why I’m sorry. She never watched out for me, none of us. You heard of the old woman who lived in a shoe?”

  “ ‘There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,’ ” Sammy recited. “ ‘She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do.’ ”

  “That’s us. Except my mother wasn’t so old. There was Karl, Kenny, Kelly, Kelsey, and me, Kevin. Kelsey came after me.”

  Sammy counted. “Five Ks,” he said.

  “That house was a wreck when we moved in, and we kids finished the job. There was this social worker who came to our house. She wouldn’t sit down without looking behind her to see what someone had left on the seat. She told my mom if she didn’t pull herself together, the kids were going to go in foster care again. So Mom cleaned up, sort of, and then my father came home, and we had a ball till all the money was gone. Then there was nothing to eat in the house but pretzels and Kool-Aid. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Are you there?”

  “I’m here,” Sammy said. He was lying down and his eyes were closed, but he was listening. He thought about being taken away from his mother. No. His mother would never let him go. Besides, they always had food in their house, not just pretzels. He wished his mother was here right now. He wished it a lot. She would hug him, and then she would probably say something nice to Kevin. Then she’d say, “Time to clean up this dirty place, boys!”

  14

  Sammy decided it was Sunday. It was quiet like Sunday. No cars, no doors slamming. Quiet, except for the wind and insects and noisy birds. It seemed a long time ago that he’d lost his bike. A really long time. He could hardly think when that was.

  Kevin was sitting against a tree with his face in the sun. His eyes were closed. Sammy practiced his steps. Step high. No stepping on sticks. No dragging toes. Walk away now. One step at a time. That was the way. One step, two steps . . . climb up rocks. Keep climbing. Climb till you come to the place with dead trees and snakes. But he’d better wait for Kevin.

  He slapped at a mosquito. What if he stepped on a snake and got b
itten and died? His mother would be sad. He pictured her in Bethan’s room, standing by the window, where she could see the road and watch for him to come home.

  He turned his face to where he thought their house was. It was where the sun came from in the morning. That was east. He learned that in school.

  “I’m coming home, Mom. Pretty soon. As soon as I convince Kevin. Don’t worry, Mom.” If she saw him now, she’d be double worried. He’d lost his socks, his pants and shirt were torn, and he didn’t have a toothbrush. And every minute he was missing school, falling behind. He’d never catch up unless he worked so hard, he would be tired all the time. He could do it. His teacher, Mrs. Hoffman, said he was a hard worker. She was wondering where he was, too. And the other kids in his class were saying, “Where’s Sammy? When’s he coming back? What a long vacation.”

  “Yeah, some vacation!” He slapped at another mosquito. Every day, mosquitoes! And every day, Kevin’s food. He liked Kevin okay, although sometimes he didn’t. Kevin said, “Sammy, you say one more word about going home and I’m going to pop you one.”

  How many days now? A lot. He started counting back. The day he lost his bike. That was one day. Then he slept in the woods, and then it was two days. And that was the day he fell on top of Kevin’s house.

  And then what? Oh, yes, he got it! All night, he was tied up. Kevin was mean then, but now sometimes he was nice, like showing him the snares and telling him about snakes. And then it was . . . three, four, five. He held up his hand, all five fingers. Five days. “Boy, oh boy,” he said.

  15

  There was a rabbit caught in one of Kevin’s snares. The first two were empty, but at the last one the grass was all flattened. The rabbit leaped into the air, but its hind leg was caught. Sammy felt sorry for it.

  Each time Kevin reached for the rabbit, it sprang away.