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 |  We were naming the stars after people we knew till we had to go… |
| Joey wiped the sweat off his brow as he knelt down to pull another weed out of the rows of vegetables. A crow perched on the tattered scarecrow looming over the boy's head, cawing loudly. They both listened for the distant response. He stood up, measuring the scarecrow's shadow with a learned eye. Almost time for dinner. I hope Sara is alright. I didn't want to leave her alone with Scott, but she's too sick to be out here in the heat… He scowled down at the pile of weeds he'd spent several hours pulling. Another row and I'll be done. At the end of the last row, Joey gathered up his pile and deposited it in a burn barrel, then headed towards the dilapidated wooden shack they called home. He was met with the muffled sound of Sara crying. She huddled in a corner of the bare front room with a dirty blanket and Chester, the old coonhound. "What happened?" "I was trying to get a drink, and I spilled the water, and he spanked me," she sobbed. "Then he kicked at Chester when he tried to help…" "Oh horrors!" Joey fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his little sister, feeling the feverish warmth of her small body through his thin clothes. "Where is he?" There was no need for a response, as their stepfather appeared in the kitchen doorway. His bulky figure filled the opening. He glared at them with bloodshot eyes, clutching an empty whiskey bottle. "You're late, you dirty little scalawag!" He growled. "Neither of you's getting any dinner tonight!" Joey leaped to his feet and faced him with chin thrust out and fists clenched. "I warned you not to spank her again! I told you, if she does anything, I'll take her spanking. She's sick! You can't touch her!" "You warned me?" Scott's voice was gravelly and mocking. "Whatcha gonna do about it? I can whoop either of you whenever I want!" "You're just a stupid drunk! You're not our father!" "All the better to knock some respect into you—" he raised the whiskey bottle in the air and swung for Joey's face. The boy ducked. Scott aimed with such force that when he missed, he spun himself around. Losing his balance, he stumbled forward and fell heavily, hitting his head on the rusty iron baker's rack and collapsing on the floor with a thud that shook the room. Silence hung in the stifling air for a few minutes, broken only by Sara's sniffles and Chester's nervous whining. "I'm getting us out of here," Joey declared. "Come on, Sara. Let's go before he comes to." "I can't go anywhere," she wheezed. "I'm too tired." "Don't worry, I have a plan." Joey scooted past the limp Scott and hopped out the back door. He pried open a tumbledown storage shed, shoved aside scraps of junk, and unearthed a little red wagon loaded with used shingles. He dumped out the shingles, then rolled the wagon around to the front stoop. Joey gathered up some vegetables he'd recently harvested, a stale loaf of bread and the last moldy wedge of cheese which he found in a corner of the pantry behind the liquor bottles. He loaded them into a basket. Then he pulled a blanket off the bed and folded it into the wagon as a cushion. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady," he said, holding out a hand to help Sara get up. He sat her in the wagon like a princess with her blanket tucked around her lap, and set off down the dusty clay road away from their house of horrors. Chester trotted alongside. "But Joey, where are we going?" Sara pushed her blonde curls out of her eyes and straightened up to see the rolling countryside. "Somewhere far away. We can't go into town—everyone will recognize us and bring us back. I'm heading to the city." "What will we do there?" Her eyes widened and she snuggled her blanket closer. "I can get a job selling newspapers to support us, maybe. I'm not letting anyone else lay a hand on you." "Can I sell newspapers too?" "It's not a job for girls," Joey clucked. "And you're too young to work in a sweatshop. I'll figure it out." Joey pulled the wagon silently for a while, trying to avoid the road's ruts and bumps. They came to a fork with a wooden finger post. Left led to the tiny farm town. Right led to the city. Joey chose the right fork and kept going. The road wound through a forested area, where oak trees held hands over their heads and a cool wind whispered in the leaves. "What's that ahead?" Sara pointed to a wooden stand. An old man was selling honey, lined up in tidy glass jars with yellow checkered ribbons. "Fresh clover honey, kids." he smiled broadly at them. "Only thirty-five cents each—a splendid bargain." Joey found only a crusty dime in his pocket. He stared longingly at the amber liquid, glowing in the late afternoon sunlight. That would help heal Sara. Mama used to give me a spoonful of honey when I was sick. He looked up at the seller's face. The old man's eyelids crinkled when he smiled. He handed Joey one of the jars, waving away the dime. "I hope this helps the little girl feel better, my lad. Safe travels." The unexpected kindness brought tears to Joey's eyes as he continued on his way. "It's getting dark," Sara said as the shadows grew deeper. "Joey, I'm scared!" He stopped under a ginormous oak tree in a clearing and led the wagon around to the back of it. "We'll stop here for the night." He spread the blankets out. They lay down on their backs with Chester in between. "Golly, look at all those stars," Joey said, awestruck. "Billions of them!" "Can we try to count them?" Sara asked. "No, we'd never finish. Look, there's a lovely blue twinkling one over there. It's so pretty… I think I'll name it after you. Sara's Star." "Let me find one for you," Sara giggled. She pointed to a star in the Big Dipper. "There, that's Joey's Star!" "There's a little one for Chester towards the north. I think it's called the Dog Star…" Joey planned to stay awake guarding his family, but it ended up being the most restful night he'd had in many years. They set off predawn, awakened by the songs of robins. Sara skipped alongside Joey as Chester dozed in the wagon. "I'm all better now," she chirped. "Are we there yet?" "We'll be there soon," Joey smiled. At first the cool morning air and warm sunshine dappling through the trees were comforting. It was fun to walk. He told Sara stories to pass the time. But the summer air grew hot and muggy, and the sun scorched them as they exited the forest and trudged along the open road. What will we eat? How will we get to the city at this rate? Sara became tired and sat in the wagon again. Joey's arms ached from pulling it, but he kept going. A motorcar growled behind them. He moved to the shoulder to let it pass. But the blue Studebaker slowed and pulled alongside. A man rolled down the passenger window. "You kids need a ride to town?" The two men wore suits and ties with dark sunglasses. Wow, what a nice car. They look like important businessmen. Maybe it would be a good idea to ride the rest of the way. But… "I can't afford to pay you, sir," he responded, looking down at his scuffed, dirty shoes. "That's quite alright boy, we wouldn't think of charging you. Just load your wagon into the trunk and hop in. You'll have air conditioning and a seat to nap in." Joey looked back at Sara's flushed, sweaty face and agreed. When he put their things in the trunk, he noticed several large sacks and had to move one aside. Looks like feed or something. Gee, this one's really heavy. Sara giggled as she bounced on the thick plush backseat of the car. The radio was playing jolly sock hop music. She and Chester snuggled up and quickly fell asleep. Joey leaned back, watching the pastures and farmland whizzing by. The two men remained silent. Joey's eyelids grew heavy. He closed them and started to relax in the cool comfort of the vehicle. But a sharp buzz on the radio jolted his senses before he was quite asleep. "We interrupt your regular programming with a Red Alert issued by the Bellamy Police Department. Two men robbed the First Bank. Getaway car, blue Studebaker headed north towards Pittsburgh on the county road. Both men armed and dangerous. If you see them do not approach. Contact law enforcement immediately. We now return to regular programming." The driver laughed. "Much good that'll do," he said. "We've got the Bellamy boys paid off—notice they didn't chase after us." "Hey, don't let on to the kids, Vinny," the passenger warned. "Aw Louie, they're fast asleep. Poor shabby things, look like they've walked a thousand miles. Wonder what their story is." "Maybe the boy would be interested in joining us," Louie said half-jokingly. "Big Al likes to see new faces on our team." They laughed again. Good heavens! Every muscle in Joey's body stiffened as he squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. I shouldn't have accepted this ride. Now we're trapped in a car with bank robbers! What should I do? He considered not letting on he knew who the men were. This would probably be the safest option, as he figured the robbers weren't intending to kidnap them. But I can't let them get away—that would be as if I were part of it myself! Now I know and it's my duty to stop them… right? Joey opened his eyes, yawned and stretched, wanting to see where they were going. Chester jumped to put his front paws on the windowsill, waking up Sara with an excited bark. "I'm hungry!" she said plaintively. "So am I," Joey agreed. "You're in luck, kids." Vinny pointed to a diner coming up. "We'll buy your lunch today." He pulled into the gravel lot and parked in the back under a tree. Louie got out, opening the door for Joey and Sara. Chester hopped out along with them. Vinny's staying behind to guard the money. What should I do? Joey, Sara and Louie sat at the counter of the small, dusty, nearly empty diner. There was no chance for Joey to tell Sara what he knew, and indeed he feared it would only frighten her, putting them both at risk. He sat stiff and straight, mumbling his order of a burger and fries while staring at the counter. "Go ahead, have a shake, both of you," Louie said, waving a hand at the waitress. "It's on me. You could use some meat on your bones." "Thank you, dear sir." Sara swung her legs and twirled on the barstool. Joey looked up at the waitress as she set down his plate, giving her a desperate wide-eyed stare and mouthing the word "robbers!" Louie intercepted the attempt at silent communication. Joey filled his mouth with an oversized bite of burger and almost gagged. His heart was pounding so hard, it seemed stuck in his tightened throat. Louie watched him for a moment, then pulled a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to the waitress. "Keep an eye on the lassie, please. I'd like to take the boy aside for a private chat." Louie brought their food over to a booth on the side and gestured for Joey to sit. Joey trembled from head to foot. He couldn't look the man in the eye. "So what are you two running away from, boy? What's your name? Speak up, I won't bite." Louie leaned back and lit a cigar. Joey took a deep breath and told him their situation, his voice quivering. Louie shook his head. "That's bad. You're lucky to be alive." He plucked a hundred dollar bill from his wallet. "Here—buy you and your sister some new clothes with this." Joey's jaw dropped. It was the largest denomination he'd ever seen. But where did it come from? It's stolen money! "I—I'm sorry, I can't." "Why not? We've plenty more where that came from. It'll help you out. I hate to see nice kids like you suffering." "No, sir. I can't take your money… it wouldn't be right." Louie eyed him for a long moment. Then, quietly, "You know who we are, don't you?" Joey lowered his head again. "I heard the broadcast," he mumbled. "I thought so. You gonna turn us in after we were nice enough to drive you and feed you and offer you money?" Louie leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. A pungent cloud of cigar smoke made Joey's eyes water. "Listen. You love your little sister. You wouldn't want anything happening to her now, would you?" "Of course not, sir." "Then I highly recommend you keep your mouth shut. We'll drop you off at the Catholic church downtown. The nuns will help you. Once you leave our car, you forget all about us, capiche?" "Yes, sir." The hanging doorbell jangled. A sheriff walked in. Joey's eyes followed him as he approached the counter. "Don't get any ideas," Louie growled. "Remember, your sister's life hangs in the balance." "I—I—" Joey wrapped his trembling hand around his milkshake glass. He hurled it with all his strength right in Louie's face and leaped out of the booth. "Officer! The bank robbers are here! Help us, please!" Joey ran to yank Sara off the stool, dragging her and Chester behind the counter to huddle on the floor. They can't hurt us here! Shouting erupted in the diner. Footsteps pounded back and forth. That was stupid—no one will know what I meant. Louie's probably run to the car and they got away by now. If I'd stayed quiet we'd be alright. But I couldn't. Joey pressed himself and Sara flat against the rough wood floor as shots rang out from the parking lot. Chester whimpered. Sirens shrieked. Doors slammed. Finally, the pandemonium settled down into a heavy silence. "Hey, kids." A heavily armed sheriff stood next to the waitress, looking down at them. "You the ones who came in with the robbers?" "Yes." Joey helped the shaking Sara to her feet. "It's safe. We arrested them. Now, what's your story?" *** Sixty years later, the siblings rested on their front porch swing overlooking suburbia. "Those were crazy days," Sara mused. "Don't you wish we were young again?" "I refuse to look back thinking days were better just because they're younger days." Joey put an arm across her shoulder. "I don't know what the future holds, but I know we'll always be kids at heart." Word Count: 2,497. lyrics to Kids ▼ |
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