The Lost Boy (13 page)

Sometime later I rode down the street leading to my old elementary school. I coasted past the play yard, listening to the sounds of the swings sway from the breeze. Afterward, I walked my bike up the seemingly endless hill of Eastgate Avenue. When I reached the top of Crestline Avenue, just as I had a few weeks before, I hid beside a clump of bushes as I peered down the foggy street.

I couldn’t resist riding down the street. I stopped a few houses above Mother’s house. A soft yellow light shone through her draped bedroom windows. I wondered whether Mother ever thought about me as I did her. I began to think of how my brothers spent their time at Mother’s house. A howling wind blew through my hair. I rolled up the collar of my shirt. I realized that the house I was spying on was not the same home that had entertained an army of children when Mother was a Cub Scout leader, or the same home that had been the most popular home on the block during Christmas season, so many years ago. After Mother turned off her bedroom light, I said a prayer before I coasted down the street to return to the area by the movie theater. That night I fell asleep curled up, shivering underneath an air-conditioning unit.

The next day I spent the entire day in the movie theater and fell asleep to Bruce Lee’s
Enter the Dragon.
That evening after the theater closed, I rode up to the local Denny’s restaurant, where I salivated as plates of food whizzed by the counter. The manager, who had eyed me for two days now, sat down and talked to me. After a few minutes of prodding, I gave him the Catanzes’ phone number. I gulped down a burger before Rudy picked me up in his blue Chrysler.

“David, ” Rudy began, “I’m not going to badger you. All I can say is, you can’t keep acting like this. This is no way to live – for you or for us. You’ve got to shape up.”

Once we arrived at their home, I took a quick bath, then drifted off to sleep as Rudy and Lilian discussed how to handle me.

The next day Ms Gold made a rare appearance. She didn’t seem to be her bouncy self, and I noticed she forgot to give me a hug. “David, what seems to be the problem here?” she asked in a firm voice.

I played with my hands as I tried to avoid looking at Ms Gold. “How come you never come to visit?”

“David? Now, you know there are lots of other children who, like you, need my help. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, ” I said in agreement. I felt guilty taking Ms Gold’s time away from the other children, but I missed seeing her as much as I had before the trial.

“David, Mrs Catanze tells me that you’re having a very hard time adjusting here. Is it that you don’t like the home? What’s going on inside of you? Where’s that cute little boy I knew a few weeks ago, huh?”

I stared at my hands. I was too embarrassed to answer.

After a minute of silence she said, “Don’t worry, I know all about the psychiatrist. It’s not your fault. We’ll find you one who’s used to relating with kids …”

“I’m not a kid. I’m 12 years old, and I’m tired of being picked on!” I stated in a cold tone. I had to catch myself before I revealed another side of my personality that, until recently, had never existed.

“David, why are you so upset?”

“I dunno, Ms G. Sometimes I just …”

Ms Gold scooted closer to me from the other side of the couch. She lifted my chin with her fingers as I sniffled and wiped my nose. “Are you getting enough sleep? You don’t look so good. Do you not like it here?”

“Yes, ma’am, ” I nodded. “I like it here a lot. Mrs Catanze is real nice. It’s just that sometimes … I get scared. I try to tell her, but I can’t. There’s just so much I don’t understand, and I wanna know why.”

“David, I know this may be hard for you to swallow, but what you’re feeling right now, right this moment, is perfectly normal. If you weren’t a little confused or worried, then I’d be concerned. You’re perfectly fine.

“
But
what I
am
concerned about right now is your behavior. I know you’re a better boy than you’ve been acting here recently. Am I right? And Mr Catanze is not very happy with you right at this moment, is he?”

“So I’m okay?”

Ms Gold smiled. “Yeah, for the most part, I’d say so. We’ve still got to iron out a few wrinkles, but if I could only get you to modify your behavior, you’d be fine. Now, do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes, ma’am … Have you heard anything from my dad?”

Ms Gold raised her eyebrows. “Hasn’t he been by to visit? He was supposed to have seen you weeks ago, ” she said, as she flipped through her notebook.

I shook my head no. “I’ve wrote him some letters, but I don’t think I have the right address. I don’t get any letters back … and I don’t have his phone number. Do you know if my dad’s okay?”

She swallowed hard. “Well … I … do know your father’s moved into another apartment … and he’s transferred to a different fire station.”

Tears dribbled down my face. “Can I call him? I just want to hear his voice.”

“Honey, I don’t have his number. But I promise I’ll try to call your father as soon as I can. I’ll try to call him today. Is that why you drove by your mother’s house and tried to call her a few weeks ago?”

“I dunno, ” I answered. I didn’t dare tell Ms Gold about cruising by Mother’s house the other Saturday night. “How come I’m not allowed to call her?”

“David, what is it you’re expecting? What are you looking for?” she asked in a soft tone, as she, too, seemed to search for answers.

“I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to see or talk to her or the boys. What did I do? I just want to know … why things happened like they did. I don’t want to turn into the kind of person she is now. The psychiatrist says I should hate my mom. You tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, I don’t believe you should hate your mother, or anyone else for that matter. How could I put this … ?” Ms Gold put a finger to her mouth and gazed at the ceiling. “David, your mother’s a wounded animal. I have no logical answer why she changed her telephone number or why she acts the way she does.” She drew me to her side. “David, you’re a little boy – excuse me, a 12-year-young man – who’s a little confused, thinks too much about some things and not enough about other things. I know you must have had to think ahead a great deal in order to survive, but you need to turn that off. You may never find your answers, and I don’t want your past to tear you up.
I
don’t even know why these things happen to children, and
I
may never know. But I do know that you need to be very careful of what you’re doing right now, today, rather than trying to find the answers to your past. I’ll help you as much as I can, but you have to really make a better effort to maintain yourself.”

Ms Gold held me for a long time. I heard her sniffle and felt her body shudder. I turned to look up at her – my loving social worker. “Why are you crying?”

“Honey, I just don’t want to lose you, ” she said, smiling.

I smiled back. “I won’t run away again.”

“Honey, I can only tell you one more time. You need to be very, very good. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’ll be good, I promise, ” I said, trying to reassure my angel.

After Ms Gold’s visit, I returned to my usual joyful self. I felt good inside again. I didn’t think about the nutty psychiatrist, I made an extra effort to get along with Larry Jr and I performed my chores with pride. I did not even mind being grounded. I simply snuck downstairs, borrowed some old car wax and polished my bike from end to end. I kept my room spotless, and waited impatiently for a change of pace and for the start of the school year.

Once school started I kept to myself, as I watched other kids from my class show off their fancy clothes and their colored markers. During recess I strolled out to the grass and watched some of the boys play football. I turned my head for a moment and a second later a football struck the side of my face. As I rubbed the sting on my right cheek, I could hear laughter. “Hey, man, ” the biggest kid shouted, “throw us the ball.” I became nervous as I bent down to pick up the ball. I had never thrown a football before. I knew I couldn’t throw a smooth spiral. I tried to imitate the other boys as I sucked in my breath, then flung the ball. The football wobbled end over end before it dived a few feet in front of me.

“What’s the matter, man?” a kid said as he picked up the ball. “Haven’t you ever thrown a football before?”

Before I could reply, a boy from my class strolled over. “Yeah … he’s the one I was telling you guys about. Check out the clothes and the shoes, too. He looks like his mother dresses him or something. The kid’s a walking dork!”

Without thinking, I spread my arms and examined my outfit. I felt proud of my blue shirt. My pants had a patch on each knee and my Keds sneakers were a little scuffed, but they were still new as far as I was concerned. After inspecting myself I studied the other boys, who all seemed to have better clothes and fancier shoes. Some of them were wearing thick, black turtleneck sweaters. I stared at myself again, feeling ashamed. But I wasn’t sure why.

In class I became a nervous wreck whenever I was called on by the teacher. Sometimes I’d stutter in front of everyone. Afterward, the football boys would imitate me as I slid down into my seat, trying to hide from their remarks. During English I’d always write a story about how my brothers and I had become separated and struggled to find each other. I always drew pictures of my brothers and me being separated by either a body of dark water or black jagged cliffs. In every drawing I’d borrow my teacher’s crayons and draw big smiles on every face, and a giant happy-face sun that shone above my four brothers and me.

Once while walking home from school, a couple of the football boys teased me about using crayons. I wanted so badly to tell them off, but I knew I’d probably screw that up, too. I ran off, my feelings hurt. Soon I met up with another kid from my class named John. Like me, John stuck out. He had scraggly, long black hair and thin, worn-out clothes. John had a very distinctive walk, and I suddenly realized that no one seemed to pick on him. As I ran up to John, I noticed a cigarette in his hand.

“Hey, ” John said, “you that new kid in school?”

“Yeah, ” I replied, feeling proud as we began to stroll along.

“Don’t worry about those guys, ” John said, pointing behind him. “I know what it’s like to be picked on. My dad used to beat up on my mother and me. He don’t live with us anymore.” I quickly zeroed in on his rough attitude. John went on to explain that his parents had just divorced and his mother had to work full-time in order to feed his other brothers and him. I felt bad. At the end of the corner we said good-bye. As I made my way up to Lilian’s home, a cold feeling reminded me of how much I had dreaded returning home from school.

I met John the next day in the schoolyard during recess. He seemed extremely upset because our teacher had scolded him in front of the class about not turning in his homework. John boasted to his two other friends and me that he was going to get even with the teacher. He seemed to guard his words as I leaned in closer to hear his plan.

“Hey, man, you’re not going to fink on me, are you?”

“No way!” I assured him.

“All right. You see, you have to be a member of my gang to hang around me. I tell you what. You meet us at the parking lot after school. I’ll tell you the plan then.”

I accepted John’s challenge, knowing I was getting into trouble. In class he would always act tough; even the rich football boys stayed away from him. As I daydreamed in class that day, I thought a thousand times about chickening out. I told myself that when the bell rang at the end of the day, I’d stay behind and be the last person to leave. Then I’d sneak around the parking lot, missing the boys. The next day I’d simply tell John that I had forgotten.

When the bell rang that afternoon I flung the lid to my desk open as if I were frantically searching for something. I heard the kids’ feet shuffle as they flocked out of the class. When I felt I was safe, I slowly closed the lid to my desk … and saw John standing in front of me. I let out a sigh, accepting the fact that I had to go with him. John flipped up the collar of his black vinyl jacket. At the parking lot, John’s two friends fidgeted as they, too, tried to look cool.

“This is it, ” John bragged. “I’ve decided the new kid here is good enough to join our gang. He’s going to flatten the tyres of Mr Smith’s new car. And I mean
tyres,
as in two or more, ” he stated as he stared into my eyes. “That way Smith won’t be able to use his spare tyre. Pretty smart, eh?” John laughed.

I turned away from him. I knew that when I stole candy and toys from the stores, I was wrong. But I had never hurt anyone’s personal property before, and I didn’t want to now. I could feel the stares around me. I swallowed hard. “Gosh, John … I really don’t think we oughta …”

As John’s face turned red, he punched me in the arm. “Hey, man, you said you wanted to be
my
friend and join
my
gang, didn’t you?”

Some of them began to close in around me. The two other boys nodded in approval.

“Yeah, man, all right. I’ll do it.
But,
after that, I’m in the gang, and I don’t have to do anything like this again,
right?”
I said in a broken voice, as fear overtook my weak efforts to sound tough.

John slapped the back of my shoulder. “See, I told ya! The kid’s all right!”

I narrowed my eyes and tightened my face. I became cold inside. “Let’s do it!” I said in my new macho voice.

John led me to a brand new, light yellow sedan. He nodded at me as he eased himself away from the scene of the crime. The two other boys giggled as they followed their leader.

I let out a deep breath and knelt down, not believing what I was about to do. I could feel my heart race. I wanted to stand up and run away, but I shook it off.
Come on!
I yelled at myself.
Just do it! Come on!

I scanned the area before I tried to unscrew the cap to the tyre stem. After a few seconds my fingers began to tremble, and I still had not removed the rubber cap. I felt as if every eye were on me, as the sounds of other people slamming their car doors echoed above my head.