Hidden (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Amy

    Today,
the fat man came and dropped off the boxes.  He still waves to me, but he
never comes inside the house. I dig through the boxes, hoping for some clothes
and maybe a bra, but no, still no bra.  God, how I wish I had a bra.
 A cute one.  Maybe in pink. As I dig down further into the box, I
find college text books and way at the bottom….a new novel!  Pride and
Prejudice by Jane Austen.  My heart rate increases.  I simply can’t
wait to sit beneath the shady branches of the elm and start my new book.
 I quickly help my mother pack away all the boxes of oatmeal and cans of
soup and head for the door.

    I
bound down the partially hidden trail and follow it to the same spot I’ve been
coming to for the last few days.  I found it while roaming the one-hundred
acre property the day my mother gave me permission to leave the house.  I
had wandered through the wooded acres collecting pine cones and colorful odd
shaped rocks.  I skipped the flat ones in the pond.  I swung from the
tree branches and splashed in the water like a small child.  I did things
children take for granted that I never got to experience.  I stumbled upon
the beautiful elm tree when I came to the end of the property that is enclosed
by the tall wooden fence.  I remembered reading in one of my history books
that an American elm tree was named “the Survivor Tree” because it survived the
Oklahoma City bombing in 1995.  It’s a strong, long-living tree that can
withstand intolerable conditions.  This elm must stand over eighty feet
tall and the rounded crown of the branches hover over me like protective arms.
 It’s the perfect spot.

    As I
sit beneath the huge elm with my legs crossed and my book resting in my lap, I
start reading my new novel.  I bite my nails as my eyes dart back and
forth across each page. Beams of sunlight shine through the tree branches,
lighting up the pages of my book.  There is a gentle breeze flapping the
pages every so often.  The buzzing of bees and whispers of blowing leaves
are the only noises I hear. It’s tranquil.

    I am
startled by a strange noise.  It’s a loud, stomping noise.  I fold
the page of my book and close it as I stand up and try to track the noise.
 It’s on the other side of the tall fence.  I walk closer to see if I
can see in between the slats of wood and that’s when I see the break in the
fence that had been hidden by the huge tree trunk.  It’s big enough for me
to slip through if I wanted.  I approach slowly and then stop, standing there
in awe.

    It’s
a horse farm.  I’ve never seen a real horse before.  It takes my
breath away as I stand in front of the broken fence and watch the beautiful
creatures gallop around the property kicking up dust behind them.  Free is
the word that comes to my mind.  I close my eyes and tilt my head towards
the sky.  I feel the sun warm my face as it filters through the trees.
 The light breeze is blowing my hair all around me.  I get lost in my
thoughts trying to imagine how it would feel.  How would it feel to be free?

    When
I open my eyes, I gasp.  It’s a boy.  A man, really.  He looks a
little older than me.  He’s dressed in a well-worn pair of blue jeans and
a button down blue shirt rolled up to his elbows.  His clothes are covered
in dust.  He must have been riding one of the horses.  His cowboy hat
shades his features as he adjusts the saddle on the tawny horse and then he
gives the horse a gentle pat.  I watch intently as he removes his hat and
wipes the sweat off of his face with the back of his arm.  His damp, dark
hair falls back over his face and into his eyes.  He grabs a bottle of
water and tips it to his mouth.  From where I am standing, I can see his
Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he chugs the cold water.  He lifts his
head to the sky and consumes every last drop.  He cups his hat in the
center with one large hand and sets it back on the top of his head, and then
using his finger and thumb, he tilts the top of his hat down over his face,
concealing his features once again.  I watch him, completely mesmerized.
 I’ve never been this close to a boy before.  He doesn’t look
dangerous or scary.  He seems to be so gentle with his horse, but I’ve
heard my mother’s screams at the hands of the skinny man in the suit. I know
what boys are capable of.

    As I
study the boy, I don’t feel scared of him. I feel peaceful.  I don’t feel
so alone.  I feel comfortable, and even safe.  He actually makes me
want to smile for the first time in a very long time.  Then I realize he
has been still for a while, facing my direction as I continue staring at him.
 I can’t see his face, but I see his hand slowly rise and then he waves at
me.  I don’t think twice, I turn and run.  I follow the path I made
through the trees and run back to the house without looking back.

     I
return home to find my mother asleep on the couch.  I sneak past her to
make my way to my room.  As soon as I’m past the couch, I run into my room
and bounce onto my mattress.  I lay flat on my back staring up at the
ceiling while picturing the boy in my head. I try not to grin as my tummy
starts to flutter and feel strange.  I’m so curious about him.  I
feel excited at the thought of going back and seeing him again.

    I
continue to go back to the elm every day and watch him through the broken
fence. I read and write while watching the horses and the boy for hours.
 He feeds and grooms the horses and even talks to them. It makes me smile
and even giggle sometimes.  He makes me feel happy, even though we never
speak.  I imagine him being my friend or maybe even my boyfriend and
having conversations with him.  I even imagine him holding my hand.
 I look forward to seeing him every day and those days I don’t see him; I
miss him.

    Today,
I feel giddy.  I practically skip all the way to the elm with my journal
in hand.  I’ve been writing every day and mostly write about him and how
he makes me feel.  I anxiously look through the break in the fence for
him, but he isn’t there, so I curl up under the tree and start writing.  I
bite my lip as I write about the feelings I have in my tummy when I think about
him.  All of a sudden, I feel a tingling sensation spread from my head to
my toes. My insides grow warm. When I look up from my journal, he’s there.
 Right in front of me. Only the hole in the fence separating us.
 He’s so close.  I cower even though he’s still on the other side of
the fence.  He’s much bigger than me and his arms look very strong.
 He takes a step back while holding his palms out to me, obviously seeing
that I’m scared of him.  He slowly removes his hat and crouches down as if
he’s approaching a scared animal.

    “Hey,
are you okay?  You don’t have to be scared of me.  My name is Dillon.
 What’s yours?”

    “Amy,”
I whisper.  I want to run but I can’t move. I just stare at him.  His
eyes are big and brown.  They’re soft and comforting, but I’m still
terrified.  My entire body is shaking. I feel tears pooling in my eyes.
 I hear my mother’s screams in my head.

    “I
see you here every day. You don’t have to hide.  I don’t mind you being
here.  Do you like the horses?” he asks, glancing back towards the ranch.
 “I can teach you how to ride.”

    I
slowly slide my back up against the tree and scrape it on the bark.  When
I’m standing I hug my journal to my chest. “I can’t,” I whimper.  Then I turn
my back on him and run on wobbly legs back to the house.  I take deep
breaths and wait for my heartbeat to slow before I go inside to face my mother.
 She can’t know.

    I
enter the house with caution because I never know what kind of mood my mother might
be in.  I open the door and look for her as I creep into the house.
 I assume she might be asleep so I tip-toe quietly down the hall towards
my room, trying not to make the floor squeak.  I jump and scream as her
hand reaches out to grab me as I pass the door to her room.

    “Where
were you?” she asks as she holds onto my arm and glares at me.

    “Reading,”
I squeak out, trying to look her in the eye so she believes that’s all I was
doing.

    “Why
is your face flushed?”

    “It’s
warm outside.”  I slowly start to move towards my room and she lets me,
but watches me until I step into the room and close the door.  I lock it
behind me and lean against it, letting go of the breath I had been holding.

    I’ve
been too scared to go back to the elm, but I can’t stop thinking about him.
 After a few days, I finally gather the courage and decide to go back.
 I sit in my spot beneath the elm, anxiously glancing through the break in
the fence every so often as I read
Pride and Prejudice
again.  I’m
so nervous, I think I’ve just held the book open to the same page for about an
hour now.  My nails are chewed down to the bit.

    Then
I finally see him.  That familiar pounding in my heart and flutter in my
stomach starts.  He is wearing a gray t-shirt that stretches tight across
his chest and once again he has on a cowboy hat that shadows his eyes.  I
know he is looking right at me; I can feel it. He strides towards me with
purpose and I stand up quickly, not sure if I should run.  I don’t want
to.  I feel a mixture of anxiety and something else I don’t understand and
I stand frozen until he stops just on the other side of the broken fence.

    “Amy,”
he says simply in his deep voice.

    I
want to say something but I can’t so I stand perfectly still staring at him.
 He holds my gaze and then slowly lowers himself to the ground.  He
folds his legs beneath him and then removes his hat and sets it beside him.
 He rubs his hand through his sweaty hair, and just as if he’s having a
casual conversation with the normal girl next door, he starts talking.

    “Let’s
play a game.  I’ll give you two words and you pick your favorite.
 You can ask me too.  I’ll start.”

    I
continue to stand there in disbelief.  Is he for real?  He wants to
talk to me?  I look around as if I expect to find another girl standing
behind me.  One that’s beautiful and can actually form a sentence.
 It’s just me though so I slowly lower myself to the ground and cross my
legs like his.  We face each other with only about six feet and the broken
fence between us.

    “Mountains
or oceans?” he asks.  He has a small smile on his face.  I’m not sure
what kind of game this is, but I’m extremely nervous and it takes me a while to
swallow the lump in my throat before I can answer.

    “Mountains,”
I say softly.

    He
pauses, maybe waiting for me to ask him a question but I just can’t.  He
makes me so anxious, I can’t think.

    “Rain
or sunshine?”  I love both the smell of the rain and the warmth of the
sun.  They give me comfort.

    “Um,
both?”  I reply with a question.  Am I playing this game wrong?

    “Me
too.”  He smiles brighter.  He has a nice smile.  His lips are
full and pink and his teeth are straight and white.  He has indents in his
cheeks when he smiles wide.  His smile makes me smile.

    “Morning
or night?” he continues.

    “Morning.”
 I don’t even hesitate.  The darkness brings shadows and nightmares.
 He nods and tilts his head at me.  Is he going to ask me why?
 His eyes meet mine and he doesn’t break the contact as he asks his next
question.

    “Read
or write?”

    “Both.”
 They both bring me comfort and allow me to escape.  His gaze drops
to my book for a moment and then his eyes find mine again.

    “One
more.  Flowers or candy?”  One corner of his mouth lifts like he
might smile, but he’s trying to hold it back.  I’ve never been given
either.  I look away from him.  I don’t want to play anymore.

    I
stand up quickly and look back at him.  “I have to go.”

    “Wait.
 Amy!”  I hear him call out but I can’t stay.  Imagining things
about him and writing about him is one thing.  Nothing good can come out
of actually talking to him.  I’m not just a normal girl next door.

    I
run towards my house, making sure to wipe the last of my tears before I swing
the door open.  As soon as I step into the house, I see her standing in
the kitchen, her fragile frame leaning against the counter.  Her hair is
greasy and hangs limp around her face and the dark bags under her eyes are
worse today.  My eyes fall to my journal in her hand.

    “Amy,
what have I told you.” she says sternly as she walks towards me and stops just
inches from my face.  “Boys.  They’re like animals, Amy.
 They’ll smell you, stalk you, and then hunt you.  They’ll trap you
like helpless prey and then torture you.  They’ll tear at you with their
claws and then take what they want, leaving you like an empty carcass.
 That boy, Amy.  He will destroy you.  You’re dirty.”  She
raises the journal with her hand and before I realize what she’s doing, it hits
the side of my face.

    It
hits so hard, I stumble backwards.  “I didn’t do anything wrong, he just
talked to me!” I cry, holding my cheek.

    “You’re
so stupid!” she yells, her spit flying into my face.  “Get in the shower
and wash his filth off of your body.”  She grabs my journal and points it
at me.