Snitch (4 page)

Travis grinned. It made him look like even more of a snake than he was.

“I'm gonna get you,” he said in a low singsong voice, tapping the scar under his eye. It was the same voice he used on Jonathan all the time. “For what you did, I'm gonna get you.”

He sauntered across the room and took a seat in the circle of chairs. I decided to hang out outside the classroom until some more people got there. Scott was standing just outside the door.

“You can report him,” he said.

“What?”

“Travis. You can report him for threatening you.”

Scott had been listening. My life was none of his business, but he had been listening.

“I can handle it,” I said.

“If he's hassling you, you can report him. You can get him kicked out of the program.”

I just stared at him. “Yeah, I guess that's the way you'd handle it, right, Scott? You'd tell on him. But I'm not like you. I'm not a snitch.”

I turned around to get away from him—and saw Amy standing right there behind me. She must have heard too. I felt like punching something.

After circle, Maggie and Scott brought in the dogs. Sully was rambunctious, as usual, but he didn't growl at me. He was wagging his tail, even when he jumped up on me.

We ran through the sitting exercise. Then Maggie told us we were moving on to the next step. We were going to teach the dogs how to lie down. Sully didn't catch on as fast as some of the other dogs, but by the end of the session, I'd got him to lie down twice. Maggie said that was real progress. I felt good for a change. I felt so good that I took a detour downtown on my way home. I went to a pet store and bought some treats for Sully.

That meant I got home later than I was supposed to.

Miranda was in the kitchen, working on supper. I thought maybe she'd apologize to me, but she didn't. Instead she said, “You're late. I was about to call Andrew at work.”

“I had to make a stop.”

“You're supposed to come right home.” I couldn't believe it. She had accused me of something she knew I hadn't done, and she still wasn't apologizing to me. Instead she was mad at me all over again. “Clean up the living room.”

I didn't move.

“Clean up the living room, Josh,” she said again.

No way. She wasn't going to boss me around. I turned and walked out the door. I stayed out as long as I could, which wasn't that long. Andrew had told me when I went to live with him that I was supposed to be home by 9:00 every night. He said if I wasn't home, he would call my youth worker. If he did that, I'd be in trouble again.

The building Andrew lives in has a front entrance and a back entrance. Usually I go in the front way. But I didn't that night because when I got close to it, I saw that Daryl and a bunch of his friends were hanging around the door, hassling everyone who went in or out. I wasn't in the mood for that. I decided to go in the back way. It's a good thing I did because when I got to the back of the building, I saw it. My box. With my name on it and my stuff in it. Sitting right there on the ground next to the dumpster. I grabbed it and carried it upstairs.

When I got to the apartment, Miranda was sitting at the dining room table, clipping recipes out of a magazine and pasting them into a big binder. Digby was asleep in the bedroom. Miranda looked at the box and then at me.

“You're lucky you found it before the garbage truck got it,” Miranda said. “I warned you. If you keep leaving your stuff lying around, I'm going to throw it out.”

“If you touch my stuff again,” I told her, “you'll be sorry.”

“Don't talk to me like that, Josh.”

“How would you like it if people did whatever they wanted with your stuff?” I said. I picked up the mug that was sitting in front of her—her special mug that no one was supposed to ever touch.

“Put that down,” she said.

I raised it over my head. Boy, I was just aching to bounce it off the wall and watch it smash into a thousand pieces.

“Put it down, Josh.”

I stared at her. Then I slammed it down on the table. It didn't break. I flopped onto the couch, where I wouldn't have to look at her, and turned on the TV. When she told me to do my homework, I turned it up louder. She got up and went into the bedroom. I heard her crying.

She must have called Andrew because when he came home, he didn't stop to talk to me. He went right into the bedroom. Maybe ten minutes later he came out again.

“You want to tell me your side?” he said.

“She threw my stuff out again. She has no right touching my stuff, Andrew.”

“You're supposed to keep your stuff put away.” He shook his head. “Come on, Josh, you made her cry.”

“She started it,” I said. “She always starts it.”

“That's your big line, huh?” Andrew said. “She started it. She always starts it.
You
never start anything. You never finish anything, either. That's real mature, Josh.”

“What do you mean, I never finish—”

“This is where I live, Josh. Miranda and Digby are my family. I want it to be a peaceful family. That means everybody, including you, has to live by the rules. If you make Miranda cry one more time, you're going to have to find someplace else to live. You hear me, Josh?” His face was all red and his hands were fists.

I couldn't remember the last time I had seen Andrew so angry.

Andrew was gone in the morning. The sink was filled with breakfast dishes. Miranda was in the bathroom, giving Digby a bath. I went to the fridge to get milk for my cereal. I hadn't slept well. I kept thinking about what Andrew had said. Miranda and Digby were his family. If I wanted to stay with them, I had to live by the rules.

If.

Where else would I go? A couple of the guys I knew from the group home had spent time on the street. Most of them went on about how great it was. But one guy, a guy the staff liked a lot and who kept to himself and spent most of his time reading or doing his homework, said they were full of it. He said life on the street was great if you wanted to eat junk food and try to keep clean by washing up in restaurant bathrooms. He said it was great if you didn't mind freezing your butt off under a pile of sleeping bags in an alley some place or bedding down in some squat that smelled like piss and some nights you were afraid to close your eyes because of the rats. Rats!

I filled the sink with water, squirted in some dish detergent and started to do the dishes. I was trying to do something good. As usual, it turned into something bad. I heard a noise behind me. When I turned, the mug I was holding slipped out of my hand and crashed onto the kitchen floor.
It was Miranda's favorite mug. The noise I had heard was Miranda, coming into the kitchen. She stared at the mug. It was in pieces on the floor.

“Thanks a lot, Josh,” she said. Her face was crumpled up like she was going to cry. Over a stupid mug. “Do me a favor,” she said. “From now on, don't touch anything that belongs to me.”

I grabbed my school stuff and left the apartment. I wanted to slam the door—boy, did I want to. But I didn't.

It was good to finally get to the shelter. Sully didn't jump up on me at all. He wagged his tail and his bark sounded like he was laughing. He sat when he was supposed to. He lay down when he was supposed to. And for once he wasn't the last dog to learn the day's new command, how to stay, although he was the second last.

Even better, from my point of view, Travis was having trouble with his dog, a little black mutt. He got so mad that he
yanked the dog's leash hard, right there in front of everyone. The dog yelped in pain. Maggie took the leash away from Travis. Mr. Weller took Travis over to one side of the room and talked to him. When Travis came back to get his dog, he still looked angry. He couldn't get his dog to do anything for the rest of the afternoon.

At the end of every session, we're all supposed to take our dogs back to their kennels. Travis hung back so that he was the last one out of the training room. He was still in the kennel after everyone else left. Maybe he noticed me there and maybe he didn't. He opened up the gate to his dog's kennel and kicked the dog. The dog yelped again.

“Hey,” I said.

Travis turned on me. “Mind your own business, Gillick,” he said.

“Then leave the dog alone. It didn't do anything,” I said.

Travis banged the gate shut and shoved me, hard. I hate when people shove me around. I shoved him back as hard as I
could. Then we really got into it. I probably would have slugged him if Scott hadn't seen us and hadn't run to get Mr. Weller.

Mr. Weller said, “Break it up.” Boy, did he look mad.

I pulled away from Travis.

“What's going on?” Mr. Weller said.

“Are you gonna be like your friend?” Travis whispered to me. He meant Scott. “You gonna snitch on me?”

“Josh? I asked you a question. What's going on?” Mr. Weller said.

I looked at Travis. Then I looked at Scott. I wasn't like him.

“Nothing,” I said.

Mr. Weller looked at me for a few seconds. It felt like a few hours. Finally he said, “Fighting isn't allowed. If I catch you fighting one more time, you're out of the program. Both of you.”

It was only after they all left that the door to one of the kennels opened and Amy stepped out. She looked at me. She must have heard everything. But she didn't say a word.

I was on my way out to the parking lot when Mr. Weller caught up with me.

“Your brother just called, Josh,” he said. “He has to work late. He can't pick you up. How about I give you a lift?”

“I can take the bus,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”

But Mr. Weller wouldn't take no for an answer.

I thought he was going to lecture me about fighting. He didn't. Instead he told me I was doing a good job with Sully. He said that the dogs in the program are used to being treated badly. But he said they can change with patience and kindness. He said people are the same way. He dropped me off at a corner near the apartment, right in front of a kitchen store. There was a display of mugs in the front window. I stared at Mr. Weller.

“I hear you had a little accident in the kitchen this morning,” Mr. Weller said.

Miranda must have told Andrew. Andrew must have told Mr. Weller.

After Mr. Weller left, I went and looked in the store window. I saw a mug that looked a lot like Miranda's. It wasn't the exact same color, but it was blue, which was her favorite. I dug in my pocket. I hadn't spent most of the money I had made the week before delivering papers. I counted what I had. It was just enough.

“What's this?” Miranda said when I held out the bag.

“It's for you,” I said.

She hooked the bag with one finger, like it was filled with dirty underwear or something. Then she opened it and looked inside. She looked so surprised I thought she was going to cry.

“I'm sorry I broke your mug,” I said.

“I can't believe this,” she said. “I can't believe you did something so thoughtful.”

She couldn't believe it? What did she think I was? Some kind of monster? I could feel myself tense up inside. She didn't have to be
so
surprised.

Then I remembered what Mr. Weller had said. Miranda was used to me treating her like the enemy.

“I've been thinking,” I said. “Maybe you and Andrew need some time alone together. I can babysit for you any time you want to go out. For free.”

She smiled at me. Miranda actually smiled at me. Then she hugged me. It was the first time she had ever done that.

For a while things settled down. I went to school in the mornings. I went to the program in the afternoons. I concentrated on Sully. I didn't pay any attention to Travis, no matter how many times he needled me. I didn't pay any attention to Scott, either. If I had a problem with Sully, I went directly to Maggie.

Sully did great. He learned to stay. He learned to come. He learned not to jump up every time he got excited.

“You're doing outstanding work, Josh,” Maggie said to me after one session. “Sully has really learned to trust you. Next week he'll learn to trust someone else.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

Mr. Weller clapped his hands to get our attention.

“Next week,” he said, “everyone switches dogs.”

Everyone started talking at the same time. Most of us were complaining. Why did we have to switch dogs? Why couldn't we keep the dogs we had been working with? Mr. Weller had to do a lot of clapping to get our attention again.

“The reason you're working with these dogs is so that they can be adopted,” he said. “You have all done good work with the dogs. They've learned a lot. But they have to learn to obey other people, not just you. That's why we're switching. So the dogs can learn to obey someone else.”

A few people still grumbled, but not as many.

That night, for the first time since I had come to live with him, Andrew lost it. He was supposed to be putting Digby to bed while Miranda finished the dishes. But Digby just kept wailing. I heard Andrew yell at him. I heard something that sounded like a slap. For a moment it was silent. Then Digby let loose with the longest, loudest shriek I had ever heard.

Miranda ran into the bedroom. I heard her say, “What happened?” Then she said, “His bottom is all red. Did you hit him, Andrew?”

Andrew came out of the bedroom. Miranda ran after him. She was holding the baby, who had no clothes on. He was still crying.

“Did you, Andrew?” Miranda said. “Did you hit him?”

But Andrew was already out the door. Miranda glowered at me, like it was all my fault. She went back into the bedroom. I heard her talking softly to the baby. After a while, he stopped crying.

Andrew was gone for hours. Miranda sat in the living room watching TV with me, but I could tell that she wasn't really watching. She kept looking at the time. Finally, around ten o'clock, I said, “You want me to go and find him?”