Memory Boy by Will Weaver

Author:Will Weaver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

We camped that evening in our own yard. Ruth and Sheila were helpful, making sure we had water from the pump—an outdoor hand pump, which was new—and that the goats were tied so they wouldn’t bother us. I kept trying to hate these people. I certainly hated Danny the biker. But Ruth and Sheila—hating them was more difficult. Even the five kids weren’t that bad. They kept creeping closer to the Princess, so finally I let them climb on her. They took the seats and bounced up and down and pretended they were pedaling and made wild kid noises. Even the goats were kind of nice. They had nice brown eyes and weird droopy ears, and they wanted to nibble everything. One named Emily kept nuzzling and bumping Sarah, and leaning into her fingers when she scratched behind her ears. From the porch Sheila said, “Emily likes you.” My sister blinked and looked up suddenly—at our cabin, at all the strangers—as if she had forgotten where she was. Then she burst into tears and disappeared into our tent. The little kids looked around as if they’d done something wrong.

Later, in the tent, Sarah read a vampire novel by candlelight. She held the book very close to her face. I lay there and listened to night sounds. The waves lapping on the beach. The nuzzling, bumping sounds of the goats. A whoo-whoo of a faraway owl. Sarah’s pages rustling as they turned. And, from the other tent, my parents’ voices. As they got louder, I sat up in my bag to hear them better. Sarah looked up too.

“So what do you suggest we do?” my father said. “Get a gun and shoot them all?”

“I wish,” Sarah muttered.

There was silence; then I heard the muffled sounds of my mother crying. Sarah and I stared at each other. I don’t know that we’d ever heard our mother cry.

“I’m sorry,” my father mumbled.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice unsteady. “It’s just that I feel so bad for their children. But we’ve got our own to worry about—”

“Shhhh,” my father said gently. “Shhhh …”

After a while my mother’s Palm Pal came on. The tiny crackle of news reports fell just below good hearing, which was all right by me. Once my mother said, “Greenbriar Lane. My God. We may have left just in time.”

Sarah and I looked at each other.

“Do you know what, Miles?”

“What?”

“That creep Danny? Under the table he put his hand on my leg.”

I was silent. “I’m sorry,” I said finally. I felt stupid. Like I should do something nice for her. Sarah blew out the candle and zipped herself into her bag. After a while she rolled closer, so our backs touched just a little. I moved too, so they were firm against each other. It felt good that way, like when we were kids. And warmer, too.

In the dark she whispered, “What are we gonna do now, Miles? If they don’t leave, what’s going to happen to us?”

“Hey, they’ll leave. And if they don’t, we’ll figure something out,” I said.

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