Halversham (7 page)

Corrine walked toward a tree and right behind it stood a makeshift straw wall. She pushed it aside with both hands and a small hut, not unlike the one just outside the forest, appeared.

“Not bad,” Andy said, genuinely impressed. Corrine opened the crumbling door and invited him in. “How did you find this place?”

“Wandering.”

It was nothing more than a straw hut with a plywood floor and a single window. A wide cardboard box stood in one corner, overflowing with library books, t-shirts, and old newspapers. Right next to the box was a small wooden rack made of a roughly hewn tree trunk. In the other corner was a big jar of water. If this was where she had been spending her time every day, it was worse than her room at Aunt Magda’s. Corrine spread her hands and smiled.

“Like it?”

“Yeah. It’s cool,” Andy said, running his finger along the side of the rack. “You made this?”

“Yeah.” Corrine grabbed the shopping bag from Andy and placed it by the rack before pulling him outside. “Come, let’s go hunt for something to eat.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Andy asked, following her.

“What’s the matter, city boy? Afraid of the wild?”

Andy stared as Corrine led him deeper into the forest. His stomach churned at the thought of hunting animals. In fact, he remembered now why he had always felt a little uncomfortable around Corrine and her antics.

“No. It’s just… I don’t see why we need to hunt when we have plenty to eat.”

“Fine. You eat whatever you want. I need meat. You can stand by and watch while I hunt.” Andy shook his head, not at all happy with the turn of events. “Oh, wait. Shhh…” she whispered, crouching behind a large rock. “There’s a rabbit there.”

A cottontail hopped about, paused, and looked around, twitching its nose. Andy had never seen a rabbit close up, and it looked quite adorable, whiskers and all. A smile was forming on Andy’s lips when Corrine lunged forward without warning and caught the bunny with both hands. The rabbit kicked and writhed, trying in vain to escape her grip.

“Gotcha!” she said with an air of triumph.

“Corrine, you can’t kill a rabbit right now. Come on, let it go.”

She held the squirming rabbit in her hands and walked toward the hut. “Don’t be such a wimp, Andy. There are far more horrifying things happening in the world. This is survival.”

“It’s not survival and you know it. We have food.”

Back at the hut, Corrine gripped the rabbit by its ears and rummaged through her overflowing cardboard box with the other hand.

“What are you doing?” Andy asked. “Are you going to kill it?”

“I can’t eat it alive, can I?” She found a baseball bat and placed it on the floor.

“Corrine, please. I don’t think I can watch this.”

Corrine’s hand dived back into the cluttered box. “Then don’t.” She retrieved a contraption of sorts—a blundering wooden board with canvas straps and metal buckles sticking out from various points.

“You made that yourself?” he asked, pointing at the clumsy-looking piece of equipment.

“Yup.” Corrine held the thing in one hand and the rabbit in the other. “Do you mind bringing that?” she asked, pointing her chin at the bat, and went outside. Andy picked it up and followed her. She dropped the contraption on the ground and Andy placed the bat next to it, shaking visibly. He stood back as she crouched and strapped the kicking rabbit’s neck to the board, followed by its tiny legs.

Andy was perspiring despite the cool air. “Corrine, don’t do this.”

“If you don’t want to watch, this is the part where you look away,” she said, ignoring Andy’s pleas. A minute later, she raised the baseball bat.

“Oh God.” Andy’s eyes welled as he stepped back. He stood by the entrance to the hut and closed his eyes and ears while his heart pounded in his chest. She was actually going to club a rabbit to death.

“Okay,” she said. “One… two…”

“No!” Andy screamed, plugging his ears with his index fingers and clamping his eyes shut. But despite the effort, he heard the dull thump of the bat cracking the rabbit’s small skull. “God, no!” he screamed as tears poured down his cheeks. “Please, Corrine.”

Corrine hoisted the bat once more and he heard it again. Blood splattered on Andy’s hands and t-shirt, shaking him to the core, and he wept harder.

“Done,” Corrine declared.

Andy was afraid to look. He wiped the tears off his face, turned around, and glanced at his cousin’s face. She was smiling happily as she unstrapped the dead rabbit. The cottontail, which had hopped about just minutes ago, was limp. Its head had collapsed. The eyes had popped out of its skull and a thick mass of blood was oozing from its every orifice. When Andy noticed what looked like feces close to its hind legs, it was all he could handle. The insides of his stomach roiled and pushed up his throat as he cupped his hands over his mouth, ran to a tree, and retched.

Half an hour later, Corrine had gutted, skinned, washed, and cut the rabbit into pieces. She set up the space outside in the back, strategically arranging six bricks on the ground to place her dented metal pot to make stew. Once it was set up, she placed some twigs and dried leaves between the bricks, put a lid on the pot, and went looking for her cousin.

Andy had taken a moment to calm his nerves after the retching had stopped. He leaned against the hut and stared at the woods for a while before pulling out his water bottle to rinse his mouth. Although he had been starving a few moments ago, his appetite was now completely gone.

“Hi,” Corrine said. She was standing next to him with fingers linked behind her back. “Want to help me peel some onions and stuff?”

“No, I don’t. I’m going back.”

Corrine crouched on the ground next to Andy and he fought the urge to get up and run. “Look,” she said in a soothing voice. “I know it looked barbaric, the way I killed the rabbit. But I promise you, it’s the most humane way to do it. The extreme force to the skull and brain killed the rabbit instantly on the first hit. It felt no pain whatsoever.”

“It doesn’t matter, Corrine.” His voice was low, resigned. “You didn’t have to kill it. But you did. For sport. We have all this food from your mom, and you refuse to eat it out of spite. And then you went ahead and killed a poor rabbit. I thought you’d changed, but you’re as mean and evil as you’ve always been.”

“Oh what are you, Andy? Five? I mean, you do eat beef and chicken in that fancy mansion of yours, don’t you? It’s not like you’re a vegetarian. Or did you think animals drop to the ground and die automatically every time someone approaches to buy them for dinner?” Corrine’s eyes were bulging and her lips thin. “All you rich folks are the same. Getting all self-righteous when the things you do in private are way more vile. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your father’s leather shoes. So quit preaching at me.”

Andy thought about Corrine’s words for a moment. She sounded pretty smart for a school dropout. And maybe she had a point. But he still couldn’t fathom bludgeoning an animal to death without a trace of compassion. He shook his head.

“And I have changed, Andy,” she went on, glaring at him. “My parents have changed too. This whole fucking town has changed. I could write a whole goddamn book about it. Maybe someday, when you actually trust me and don’t think I’m crazy like the rest of this town, I'll tell you all about it. But until then, you’ll have to earn my trust, and you’re not going to get there by being a sanctimonious prick.” She stood. “Now, I’m going to make lunch. You can either help me cut some vegetables or you can go home. But if you go home, don’t bother looking for me again. ’Cause I won’t have any business talking to you.” She walked away.

Andy didn’t know what to think. His feelings ran the gamut from disgust to guilt. All he had ever seen was Corrine consistently treating others without a shred of empathy. The Corrine he had known as a child was fearless, cruel, and indifferent, and she was no further from that now. But he was certain the root of her problems lay somewhere else. At the moment, he was the only one Corrine would speak openly to. If he played this right, she might actually share with him her reasons for behaving the way she did. And the real reason she dropped out of school. But if he didn’t, chances were she’d kick him out and never speak to him or anyone else again. And he would have failed Aunt Magda.

There was only one option. He rose, walked back into the hut, and exited through the back. Corrine was crouching on the ground, blowing air into her makeshift stove.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked.

The fire finally caught with a whoosh and flames snaked around the pot. Satisfied, Corrine looked up and smiled at Andy.

***

It was almost four when the rabbit stew was finally ready. Corrine and Andy sat in opposing corners of the hut, enjoying their respective meals. She held her hot bowl with a bunched-up rag while he ate the buns from Aunt Magda. Both hadn’t said much since Corrine started cooking, and they were quiet now, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Your mother was a good person. She was sweet,” Corrine said suddenly. “And I’m sorry she’s gone.”

“Thanks. Your mother is a wonderful person too,” Andy said cautiously. He licked his lips when Corrine didn’t say anything. “I don’t understand why you hate her so much.”

She scoffed. “That’s one way to put it.”

Andy shook his head. “What is it about her that makes you go all weird? All she wants is for you to be happy. She works so hard despite Uncle Matt being what he is, and I’m sorry to say this about your father, but he is, in fact, a dead weight saddled to Aunt Magda. I mean, she’s trying. Can’t you give her a break?”

Corrine’s face broke into a wide grin. “I like the way you describe him.” She stuck a spoonful of stew into her mouth. “Anyway, I hate them both,” she said with her mouth full.

“I understand why you don’t like Uncle Matt. Seems like half the town hates him. But why Aunt Magda?”

“Well, she insists on staying with him, doesn’t she?”

“I’d say the better approach would be to talk to her.”

“Yeah.” She snickered. “That would work.”

“How did you get so smart if you dropped out of school, anyway?”

“I’m not stupid. I go to the town’s library every now and then. Keep the mind sharp.”

“Well then, you should have an idea how much she wants to talk to you, Einstein.”

“So?” She continued eating. Andy shook his head in disbelief. There it was again: her complete and utter indifference. She smiled. “You know what I did once?”

“What?”

“I told my dad that my mom had been selling bread behind his back.”

“Are you kidding? Why would you do that?” Andy was horrified. “The whole town’s trying to keep it a secret for her and you…”

Corrine laughed heartily. “Boy, you should have seen his face. He wanted the money and she kept saying she didn’t sell anything. So he picked up her rolling pin and whacked her to a pulp. Her eyes and face were so swollen, she couldn’t do anything for days. Just lay in bed.”

“You’re sick,” Andy spat, and Corrine smiled. “How could you do that to your mother? To anybody?”

“I didn’t lie, did I? Anyway, I felt like killing him with my bare hands afterward, if it makes you feel better.”

“Feel better?” Andy was incredulous. “I’m supposed to feel better at that? We’re talking about your parents. And your psychotic pleasures. What’s wrong with you?”

Corrine placed her empty bowl on the floor and rolled her eyes. “There you go again, getting all preachy and self-righteous.”

Andy didn’t know what to say. She never used to hate her mother like that. So what happened in the last three years? “How come she’s still selling? It looked like he didn’t know this morning.”

“Three days after he beat her up, I told him I lied about her selling stuff secretly. He got pissed and welted me, of course, but whatever. I’m used to it.”

By the time they finished, it was almost five and Andy was desperate to leave. It hadn’t been a good day, and he was exhausted.

“Remember, don’t tell anyone about this place. Especially my folks. Can I trust you?” Corrine asked as he picked up his bag to leave.

“Yeah.”

Andy left her alone but he didn’t head for the farmhouse. Instead, he went to Aunt Magda’s. He had to be careful about what he told the poor woman, now that Corrine expected him to keep her secrets. But when the time was right, he’d tell her everything.

When Andy reached the front yard, a cold shiver ran up his spine. The house was dark and the front door ajar. Had thieves broken in? Jetta and Toddy were fast asleep in the yard. He walked up to the front door and pushed it. The hinges squeaked.

“Hello?” he said tentatively. “Aunt Magda?” He went in, flipped the switch, and the hall came to life. Immediately he heard someone whimpering from one of the bedrooms, and he quickened his pace through the hallway, his heart racing.

There were two bedrooms in the Curds’ home. The first was Corrine’s, the one he saw the other day, and then further down to the right was Uncle Matt and Aunt Magda’s. There was one more room in the back, but it was locked, and no one went in there except Aunt Magda to clean. It was a store room of sorts, full of broken radios, rusty paint cans, Corrine’s baby clothes, and other worthless junk. There was also a toolshed in the backyard where they kept their farming equipment, and that was the place the family raided whenever they needed a tool or some other item.