Dirt Road Home (5 page)

I cleaned my face in the confessional before going to supper. I could hear the noise of the kids just behind the wall. I dreaded going in there. I had a sick feeling inside that wasn’t from Leroy. “They can’t really hurt you,” I said to the mirror. But I felt nothing behind the words.

Paco walked in. I watched his reflection as he passed behind me and stepped up to the urinal. The throbbing of my face and sides overwhelmed any fear I might have had. “I haven’t seen this before,” he said.

I didn’t answer him.

“My boys think you must have the idea that you are better than them.”

“You know that’s not it.”

“It does not matter what I know,” he said.

“I figured they do what you tell ’em to do.”

“I cannot help you now when it comes to them.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

Paco didn’t respond.

“What’ll happen to Leroy?”

“Solitary.”

“What do they do to you in there?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That is what makes you crazy.” Paco reached into his pocket and pulled out a broken piece of reflective plastic. “You should keep one of these with you. You can talk to people in the other cells. It helps to see another face.”

“I think I’ll just try to stay out of it.”

Paco put the plastic back into his pocket. He zipped his jumpsuit, came and stood beside me, and began washing his hands. “It is not too late to join the Hounds. It is late, but not too late. You can trade pride for pain.”

“This ain’t about pride.”

Paco shook his hands over the sink and turned to leave. “It should be,” he said.

They jeered and yelled jokes about me during supper. I didn’t look up. I became another small version of Caboose at my empty table in no-man’s-land.

That evening I lay on my bunk and listened to them down the hall in the rec room. When the boys filed in to get ready for bed, I tuned out their noise and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t long before the floorwalker came in with mail call. There was nothing for me.

Eventually I smelled Caboose’s feet and heard him sink onto his mattress. Finally, when the lights were cut off, I rolled over and looked down at Leroy’s bed. It was empty and stripped of its linens. I sat up and looked at Caboose. He was lying with his hands behind his head.

“Caboose,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer me.

“Caboose.”

“Shut up, Helpless!” somebody yelled.

I was six days in. That morning I waited until everyone had left for the mess room. Then I got up and went after them.

As I brought up the end of the line, Preston waited for me with his full food tray. He had been easy, I thought. He would do anything for them. This was the first time in his life he’d ever felt important. I’d been a bully to him at Pinson, but he’d deserved it. And I didn’t regret it. But he was having his day now. He stuck his foot out in front of me. I stopped and looked down at it.

“What do you want, Preston?”

“You’re nothin’ in here, man. They’re gonna take you down.”

I looked up. “I guess Leroy’s full Minister now.”

“Yeah. How’d you like that?”

“I was just wonderin’ how they found somebody weak enough for you to fight.”

His face went beet red and I was suddenly sorry to have said it.

“You can’t touch me,” he said. “They’ll be on you in a second.”

I stepped over his foot. “I don’t wanna touch you, Preston.”

He moved around in front of me. “Looks like I’m the man now, doesn’t it?” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Preston. You’re the man.”

“Hey,” the serving lady said. “Move it, boys.”

It was Saturday so we were allowed to roam. After breakfast I went back to the bunk room while the others spent their free time in the rec room or outside in the play yard.

Dear Carla,

I’ve been here about a week now. Daddy came to see me. He looks pretty bad. He says he has stopped drinking which is what Mr. Wellington made him do so that I can go home. I’ve got to keep my end of the deal too which means I can’t get in any kind of trouble here. One of the guys wrote you a letter that you probably got by now. If you want to write him back you can. It doesn’t make a difference to me. But write to me soon if you still want to be my girlfriend. I understand if you don’t. Write to me anyway.

I thought about the signature on my last letter . . . I felt stupid about the whole thing. This time I just kept it simple.

Hal

The outgoing mailbox wasn’t in its place next to the entrance door, so I stuffed the letter under my pillow and lay back down.

A guard came walking up to me later that morning. “You got a visitor,” he said.

I couldn’t believe it when I entered the reception room
and saw Daddy with Carla. A big smile spread across my face, and it had been a while since I’d smiled. I hugged him first, keeping my eyes on her. Then I went to her and I didn’t care what she thought. I squeezed her to me and she put her arms around me like she really was my girlfriend. She was like a flower in this concrete dog kennel. The softest and best-smelling thing I could imagine.

“What you got on?” I asked her.

“That perfume you like.”

“Dang,” I said. “I wish you hadn’t’ve done that.”

I pulled away and looked at her. She smiled and blushed.

“I wrote you two letters,” I said.

“I got your first one. I figured I’d see you before I could write.”

Daddy slapped me on the back and we all sat down. “How you doin’, boy?” he said.

“I’m makin’ it.”

“Thought you might like to have your lady friend come by.”

“Yeah, it’s sure good to see you two.”

Carla put a package on the table. “I made you somethin’, Hal.”

“You didn’t have to go and do that, Carla.”

“I wanted to. Open it.”

I opened the package and she’d baked brownies. “They look good,” I said.

“They’re the soft kind.”

“I forgot I told you I liked those.”

She nodded and I could tell she was proud of it all.

“They givin’ you any trouble in here?” Daddy asked me.

I hesitated. Then I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Everything’s fine. Just doin’ my time. You heard from Mr. Wellington?”

“He called me yesterday. Said sometimes the court moves slow. Course they’re all closed up today and tomorrow.”

I looked at the table and nodded. “Sometimes I wish we had a whole bunch of money and could speed this thing up. I hear you can buy out of it all if you got the money.”

“Son, you got one of the best lawyers in the state workin’ for you. It don’t get no better than that.”

“Yeah. What’s your daddy think about you comin’ out here, Carla?”

“He said he liked you before he found out you were headed off to the juvenile center. Says he wants you to come talk to him again when you get back.”

“What’s that mean?”

Carla smiled at me. “Don’t worry about it. He’s not as strict as he looks.”

“That’s good. Tell him I’ll come work some chores for him or somethin’.”

“You look a little bruised up around the face,” Daddy said.

“It ain’t nothin’. I got hit by a basketball out there.”

He looked at me hard.

“I did,” I said. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

After a second he nodded. “Carla, sweetheart, why don’t you say goodbye and wait outside while I have a word with him.”

We stood up and I walked around the table and hugged her again. “When I get out of here,” I said, “I’m comin’ to your house and set things right with your daddy.”

“It’s not all that.”

“To me it is . . . Thanks for comin’.”

She kissed me on the cheek and pulled away. I watched the door close behind her, then sat back down.

“Why’d you have to go and bring her?” I said.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I did, but don’t bring her around anymore. I don’t like her seein’ me like this. I’ll just write her letters.”

“Want you to know people are countin’ on you.”

“I know.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me about that basketball, would you?” he asked.

I looked down and didn’t answer him.

“You got people bustin’ ass to get you out of here. You remember that.”

I looked at him. I felt a lump building in my throat. “I’m doin’ the best I can, Daddy. I swear it.”

“You better be.”

“I’ve been good. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong . . . But sometimes it’s hard.”

“Life’s hard. You’re gonna deal with it.”

I felt myself tearing up and I looked away and wiped my face. “I’m dealin’ with it,” I said.

Daddy studied me for a few seconds. Then he stood. “Okay.”

I got up and went to him and we hugged again. “I’ll be back soon,” he said. I nodded against him.

After a second he pulled away. “Stand up straight,” he said.

I wiped my face again and straightened up.

“I love you, son.”

After lunch I went to the bunk room. I got the letter I hadn’t mailed to Carla and tore it open. I changed it.

Love,

Hal

I made out another envelope, resealed the letter, and walked it over to the box of outgoing mail. The floorwalker cocked his head my way and watched me drop it in. When I faced him again his pig face stared at empty space across the room and his mouth moved slowly like he was chewing on something.

“Can I see Mr. Fraley?” I asked.

He didn’t look at me. “What for?” he finally said.

“I need to make sure he knows what happened out in the yard yesterday.”

“He knows what happened.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“He knows what happened,” the floorwalker said again.

“Can I see him?”

“No.”

“I wanna go by the rules. I wanna make sure I’m doin’ right. Can you let me stay in durin’ play period on weekdays?”

“There’s no special treatment here.”

“What can I do?”

He cocked his eyes at me. “You should have thought about that years ago. I did.”

I stood there, waiting for him to go on. But he didn’t. He looked away again. Finally, I turned and went back to my bunk.

The next morning it was storming outside. After breakfast I returned to my bunk and flipped through a Tarzan comic book I’d picked up off the floor. The rain kept all of the boys inside and the building was filled with their shouting and chatter. Most of the noise came from the rec room, but some of the boys lingered in the hall. A few even wandered into the bunk room but the floorwalker’s heavy stare usually encouraged them to keep moving. As much as I disliked Sergeant Guval, he gave me a small sense of safety.

At one point Caboose lumbered in and creaked down on his mattress. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the bedsprings above.

“What’s up?” I said, looking over the edge of my bunk.

Caboose blinked. I frowned and looked back at my comic book.

It stopped raining late that morning and I heard the back door slamming as the boys rushed out to the play yard. Caboose eventually got up and followed them. Then the building was quiet and the floorwalker stepped out and left me alone.

I slid off my bunk to use the toilet. I was nervous about someone being in the shower room, so I headed for the confessional, hoping Sergeant Guval hadn’t gone far. But
the hall was empty and quiet and my footsteps echoed in the corridor. When I pushed open the door to the confessional, I heard both toilets flush at the same time and the smell of cigarette smoke drifted into me. Two boys with gouges burned into their wrists leaned against the wall. Paco’s boys.

Both of them were about sixteen. One Mexican and one white boy. I’d heard them called Tattoo and Dead Eye and the names fit. Tattoo had a rough carving on his cheek that looked like it was made with a paper clip and blue ink. The other had a right eye that rested dead in the socket like whatever held it up had been clipped. Only the left eye watched me. I stepped up to the urinal.

“It’s just Helpless,” Tattoo said.

“Where’s your friend, Helpless?” Dead Eye said.

I didn’t answer them. They stepped closer to me.

“I think his friend kicked his ass,” Tattoo said. “I don’t think he has any more friends.”

“You some kind of momma’s boy?” said Dead Eye. “Maybe you need to learn how to fight.”

“I don’t have anything against you guys,” I said. “I’m just tryin’ to make it like everybody else.”

Tattoo got so close I could feel the warmth of his cigarette breath on my face. “We sent you an invitation to our party. Why didn’t you come?”

I didn’t answer him.

“You too good for us? Maybe you think you’re special.”

I looked away. “I’m no better than any of you.”

Suddenly Tattoo slammed his hand into my throat and pressed me against the wall. I gasped for breath as he held
me there. “We saved you some cake from the party, didn’t we, Dead?”

Dead Eye laughed and put his foot against the door to keep it from opening. Then Tattoo punched me in the stomach with his free hand. All I could do was draw my knees up reflexively and cough.

“But we might not invite you again. Here’s some more cake.”

Tattoo hit me in the face.

“And some more.”

He hit me again. I felt the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. Then I saw it running down his hand.

“You spit it out. Here’s some more.”

He hit me again. And again. And again. Until he finally let me loose and I slid down the wall and stared between my knees, drooling blood.

“But maybe Jack and his rejects will let you play. They’re not real selective. Come on, Dead. Let’s let him chew on that.”

After I heard the confessional door shut behind them, I rolled over and felt the cold tile of the floor on my cheek.

I woke to water being poured over my face and stared at the tips of black shoes.

“Wake up, kid,” Mr. Pratt said.

I tried to respond, but the room was spinning and I felt like I would puke. After a few seconds he leaned down and got me over his shoulder and carried me like you would a sack of dog food. I watched the scenery blur past as I jounced up and down to his gait. We went past the mess room and through the double steel doors into the administration area. Then we went left down another hall until we came to the infirmary.