Chapter Three

Tobias

Age Eleven

I glance at the clock when the front door slams, and a second later, Delphine cuts the music off. The clink of a bottle to glass in the kitchen tells me she's not going to be driving us to school in a few hours, which means it's up to me to make sure we make it. Truancy will have us scrutinized, and we don't need social services at our door, not with the state the house is in. And once again, I'll have to be the one to clean it. It's only been a few months since our parents died, the worst months of my life. Dom's not getting any better. The happy kid he was has all but disappeared because of our aunt's indifference and cruelty. She doesn't have the motherly gene, and she's made it clear, daily, that we're an obligation she never wanted. But if she falls suspect by outsiders as unfit to parent us—which she is—we'll be taken away, and I won't have that. I won't be separated from my brother.

Deciding to get a little sleep, I set my cheap alarm hoping the batteries don't die, and settle back into my mattress when I hear the unmistakable sound of my brother's stifled sobs across the hall. Tossing my thin, itchy sheet off, I walk into Dominic's room to see him lying on his stomach. His head is pressed into his pillow to muffle his cries, his shoulders shaking. Turning on his plastic lamp, I sit on the edge of his twin bed, and he freezes, fear in his eyes until he sees it's me.

"It's okay, Dom. They're gone. The party is over. Go back to sleep." I cup his shoulder and feel his skin blazing through his thin pajama top. I turn him over, lift his shirt, and realize he's covered in chickenpox.

He stares down at his chest and stomach in fear. "I didn't do anything."

"It's not your fault. You have chickenpox."

"Am I going to die like Mama and Papa?"

I grind my teeth at the ache in my chest. "No. They'll itch for a while, but you only get them once."

"You had them too?"

"Yes, and it made me stronger. I'll get you some medicine to help the itch in the morning."

The door bursts open, and Delphine eyes us both.

"What are you two doing awake?"

I roll my eyes. "How could we sleep with all that noise?"

"That's grown-up business. Go back to bed."

"He's got a fever and chickenpox." She looks at Dominic warily as I lift his shirt for her to see. "He can't go to school. They'll send him home."

"Well, I can't take off work," she huffs. "We can't afford it."

"Then I'll stay home," I argue back. "He's not going to be sick and alone ."

"You can't miss school."

"I'm not leaving him here. End of ." That's what Papa used to say when he meant business, and I hope it's just as effective.

She glowers at us before she turns and slams the door.

"I hate her," Dominic whispers, afraid she might hear him.

"We won't live here forever."

"She threw my cars away because she stepped on one."

"I told you to pick them up. I'll get you more."

"You don't have any money."

"Let me worry about that." I'll steal another twenty from her purse. Half the time she has no idea what's in her wallet and is too drunk to notice when it goes missing. I press my palm to his neck again and stand. He's burning up.

"Where are you going?"

"To find some medicine to lower your temperature."

"You're coming back?"

"Right back."

Making my way across the hall toward Delphine's room, I'm stopped at the doorway by a familiar sniffle. I peek in to see her eyes reddening as she studies the pictures laid out on her bed, pictures of her and the husband who left her a few months before Mama and Papa died. She runs her fingers over them before sensing me standing there and lifts hostile eyes to mine. "I don't want to be a mother."

"Then don't. I'll feed him. I'll bathe him. I'll walk him to school. You don't touch him, don't yell at him. I'll do it all."

She snorts. "You're just a kid."

"Plus adulte que toi." More of a grown-up than you anyway.

"Surveille ton langage, petit con." Watch your language, little shithead.

Opting out of another useless argument, I switch gears. "I need Tylenol for his fever."

She opens her bedside drawer and plucks one of the powdered packets she puts on her tongue every morning for her hangover, and I eye it, uneasy.

"What's in it?"

"Same as Tylenol. Works faster. Put it in some juice."

"We don't have any juice."

She sighs and gathers the pictures from her mattress before lovingly placing them in an old cigar box on her nightstand.

Walking over to her dresser, I snatch her wallet from her purse and take a twenty out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to get the medicine he needs and a new car for him to play with while he's sick." The tone of my voice dares her to object. This is the fight I'm up for .

She opens her mouth to argue and instead sinks back into her mattress. "Fine, whatever."

"We don't want you for a mother, either." I crumple the money in my hand and toss her wallet back into her purse. "Just stay away from him. I'll take care of him."

"Whatever, kid, close the door." She rolls her eyes and turns off her lamp, leaving us both in the pitch dark. She'll pass out in seconds. Fumbling out of her bedroom, I use the dim light from Dominic's lamp to navigate my way down the hall toward the kitchen to grab some water. I pour half the packet she gave me into the cup and stir it up while staring at the full moon outside the window, just as a roach skitters across the glass. Medicine in hand, I bring it back to Dominic, who's stripped down to nothing but his underwear, furiously scratching his arms.

"Put your clothes back on, so you can't scratch."

"I have to."

"You can't. It will get worse and leave marks."

He stills his fingers and groans as he pulls his pajamas back on. Pajamas that are too small for him now. I can still remember the day Mama and I brought them home after running errands together. I'd picked them out. It wasn't that long ago they were here, alive.

Dominic frowns at the glass. "This will make me stronger?"

"Yes. Every time you get sick, your body will figure out how to make you stronger so you're not so sick next time. It'll target the culprit and create antibodies to fight it."

"What's a culprit?"

"The reason why you're sick."

"What are ant bodies?"

" Antibodies . They live inside you. They build an army to help fight the sickness."

"How do you know that?" he asks, tilting his head the way Papa used to.

"I read books. Books make you smart."

"Then I'll read books," he says, "lots of books. And I'm going to get stronger. And smart, and then nobody can be mean to me ever again."

"Good. Drink it."

He takes a long drink and makes a face. "I don't want it."

"There's medicine in it. You need it."

"Bleh."

"Drink it, Dom. I'll get you better tasting medicine at the store tomorrow."

Not long after he finishes his drink, he falls asleep, and I drift off next to him once I've checked his skin for a drop in temperature.

When the front door slams a few hours later, I rouse in between the wall and his mattress and gently shake Dom to wake him up.

"I'm going to the store. Don't you leave this bed until I get back."

"I'm sleeping," he whines.

"If you wake up, you pee and get right back into bed. Otherwise, don't leave this room until I get back, and don't answer the door for anyone ."

"I'm sleeping ."

"Promise me."

"I promise, gah," he huffs, pulling the sheet over his head.

Gut churning, I lock the door behind me. I start toward the street before I turn back around and head up to the porch, turning the lock with my key. One, two, three.

Satisfied with my count, I start at a dead run from the driveway toward the drug store. I'm not far from the house when I notice the sedan that was parked across the street from our house creeping up next to me. I stop mid-stride and turn as the car slows to a stop. Ready to confront whoever it is, I'm surprised to see a woman in the driver's seat. She peers at me before she puts down her window, her eyes swollen and red. "Hi. I'm sorry if I scared you. I was wondering if I could give you a ride?"

"No," is all I say before I turn and resume my run .

She follows for a few wordless seconds before she speaks up. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't need a ride, but thanks." I keep my eyes forward, sweat clouding my vision. I've built up stamina due to my nightly runs since I started going to the place I discovered the night my parents died, but it's hot as hell today, and my shirt is already soaked through.

"I'm going to town if that's where you're headed, and I could use the company."

Annoyed, I stop my run and glare in her direction. She's pretty and doesn't look that much older than me. It's when I finally approach the car that I see her large belly behind the wheel. She's pregnant, really pregnant, and something in my gut tells me she's harmless.

"You're a little young to be running around alone, don't you think?"

"I turn twelve in a few months, and what are you doing following kids around offering rides?"

She flashes a weak smile. "I'm sure I freaked you out, but it wasn't my intention. I was passing through when I saw you and thought I'd offer a ride. It's hot out here."

"You know the Perkins?"

"The Perkins?"

"The house you were parked at." I cross my arms over my chest.

"Oh? No. I got turned around in the neighborhood. Where are you headed?"

"My brother is sick. He needs medicine."

Her chin wobbles as she speaks. "Is it serious?"

"No. Just the chickenpox."

"Hop in. I'll take you. I promise I'm no threat to you."

Gripping the handle of her car, I hesitate and look down the long road ahead and back toward the house. I locked it three times. He's asleep, but for how long? A few nights ago, halfway on my run to my secret spot, I couldn't remember if I'd locked the door. I ran all the way home, my heart pounding more out of fear than the run because I wasn't sure. Three locks clicking, three twists of the handle. Three checks on him before I leave. It's the only way to be sure. "I have to get back to him."

"We'll make it quick," she promises.

I again glance back at the house, sweat rolling down my temple. I can't picture this woman trying to hurt me at all.

Fuck it.

I get in and buckle my seat belt. Her car is older, a little beat up, but the AC works, and I'm thankful for it. She turns the vent my way, and the sweat starts to cool on my skin.

"Can you drop me at the pharmacy, please?"

"Sure."

The more she drives, the more I grow comfortable in the seat. She's big , and there's barely an inch of space between her belly and the steering wheel.

"So, is that your house back there?"

"It's my aunt's house. We're staying with her for a while."

"Do you like living there?"

I shrug to make her think, ‘it's okay,' but the truth is, I fucking hate it, and I'm almost to the point I hate Delphine.

"Is she, are you..." the woman's voice shakes when she speaks, which makes me uneasy. I glance in the passenger side rearview.

Three times. You locked it three times.

"So, your brother . . ."

"Dominic."

"Dominic," she swallows. "Is he in much p-pain?"

I glance her way, and she looks back as if she's afraid of me , afraid of what I'll say.

"He'll be okay. I had them when I was his age. Everyone has them, haven't you?"

"No, actually I haven't. I'm sure I'll get them when my baby has them. It's better to get them young, though. I read it in one of my baby books."

"What are you having?" This is the strangest conversation I've ever had. I have no idea who this woman is or why she's giving me a ride, but her AC is making it hard to care.

"A girl. I was thinking of naming her Leann."

I wrinkle my nose, and she doesn't miss it. She lets out a light laugh.

"Don't like that one, huh? Well, it's my mother's name."

"Sorry." I look back in the direction of the house, praying Dominic stays asleep.

"It's fine. I don't have my heart set on it. Maybe I'll use it as a middle name."

When she pulls up to the pharmacy a few minutes later, hand on the door handle, I turn to her. "Thank you for the ride."

"Do you mind if I come with? I can help you find what you need."

I draw my brows.

"I'm kind of in between things to do," she says softly.

"I mean... I guess, if you want to."

She nods and exits the car when I do, waddling through the door when I open it for her.

"Thank you," she says absently. Her face is splotched, a lot like Delphine's after she has one of her nightly cries. Together, we walk down through a few aisles until we find what we're looking for. She grabs a bottle of anti-itch lotion that costs eight dollars, and it's then I know I'm screwed.

"Thanks," I say as she plucks a bottle of children's Tylenol next, and I see the price on the shelf she pulled it from.

Eleven dollars.

I won't have enough after tax.

"What else do you need?"

"Nothing." I bite my lip, looking at the drug store brand of Tylenol, and snatch it off the shelf. "This one instead."

Face flaming with embarrassment, she grabs another bottle of Tylenol and dumps it into the shopping cart she snatched when we came in. "Let me get this for you."

"What?" We're close to the same height. I might have her beat by an inch. "Why would you? "

"I would just really like to if that's okay."

"I mean . . . I don't—"

"It will be our secret." She gives me a little smile.

I nod because I really have no choice. If she hadn't offered, I might not have enough and would have to steal it. I've been getting away with it a lot lately, and it never gives me a good feeling. But I only started doing it because of reasons like this, days like today when my back is against the wall. Since I have to wait until I'm sixteen to get the money from my parents' death settlement, I'm stuck taking until I can earn it. And until that time comes, I'm going to have to figure out a way, and I have a sinking feeling the five-finger discount will be a lot of the way. But it's a fine line. If I get caught stealing, I'll draw attention to Delphine and Dom. I have to play everything just right, be twice as fast, twice as smart as any simple thief. My life, Dom's life, depends on it. Familiar shame chokes me up, and I vow to make enough money someday, so I never have to feel this way again.

As if reading my mind, she speaks up. "Can you think of anything else he needs?"

"I'm just going to find him a Matchbox car and a book."

"Oh?" She perks up. "I'll help."

"You really don't have—"

"Please let me," she says, her voice urgent and shaking again. "I'm having a b-bad day. You ever have those?"

"All the time."

This seems to set her off, and she turns away from me and wipes her face with her hand.

"I'm sorry. Don't get upset. Yeah, you can help." All I want to do is leave this strange lady and get back to my brother, but it's when she looks over to me the way she is, that my chest aches.

"Don't apologize to me, not ever. I'm sorry. Pregnancy has made me really emotional lately. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

"It's an abundance of hormones," I repeat Mr. Belin's words from during one of our science classes. "You are kind of creating an entire other person at the moment. It's expected. "

She smiles at me. "You're a smart one, huh?" She pushes the cart forward, and I follow.

"I have a really good memory."

"That's good. I wish I didn't," she says on a light laugh.

We move to the toy section, and I weigh the price of a few cars with the cash in my pocket when she lifts a set off the shelf.

"This is a set. He can have all of these."

"I can't..." Face burning again. I look away. "I don't have the money for a set."

"My treat. Please, it will make me happy."

Dropping my eyes to her bulging belly, it feels wrong to let her. She can't have a lot of money, either. Not with the car she drives and the clothes she's wearing. I pull at the collar of my T-shirt, my skin growing hot. "You don't have to."

"I want to, really. Please let me."

"Okay." I give in because it's all I can do. I have to get back to my brother. The same churning in my gut has me tapping my fingers on my thigh.

You locked it three times. Three.

She runs her fingers over the package as if it's some sort of answer and adds a small blanket covered in cars into the mix of the rapidly filling cart.

"He'll love that. He's really into cars."

This seems to perk her up. "What else does he need?"

Everything. New clothes and shoes. His parents . Throat burning, I look away. "Just a book. He's getting better with his reading." I don't know why I felt the need to report this to her, but I feel like she wants to know, and I want someone, anyone , besides me to want to know. Hardly anyone from the meetings comes around anymore. From what I've gathered, a few months after death is the max for people to inquire about our well-being.

"A book, okay." She smiles, though her eyes are watering again, and I clear my throat, uncomfortable with how emotional she is. This lady is suffering from way too many hormones. I play along with her, unsure of her reasons for helping me, and wonder if she, herself, will be able to afford everything she's tossing in the cart. We go through the book section, and I pick out two. She grabs them from my hands before adding seven more. And then we're in the grocery section as she clears a shelf of soup, tossing it into the cart along with some Gatorade, candies, and chocolates.

"He doesn't eat chocolate," I tell her.

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I love it."

"Then they're for you."

"You really don't have to do this," I tell her, scanning the overflowing cart with apprehension.

"I really do."

"Do you live in Triple Falls?" I need to take my mind off the time. He's awake. I can feel it.

Three times. It's locked, it's locked.

Unable to help it, I glance at the plastic clock hanging just above the pharmacy. Seven-thirty. Sean will be heading over for his walk to school by now. If Dom's asleep, it won't be long before he wakes him. I have minutes to spare.

"No, I used to live here, but I moved away not long ago. I came back today to see someone... but I..." she shakes her head. "Doesn't matter."

I glance at the clock again, only half listening as my heart starts to race. If he's hungry, he might try something stupid, like cooking an egg.

Except, we don't have any fucking eggs. My palms begin to itch as I turn to her. "I need to get back to my brother. I need to go. Right now ."

Her eyes bulge. "Is he alone?"

I nod.

This seems to set her off all over again.

"He was sleeping when I left. I didn't want to bring him with me in this heat. My aunt couldn't miss work. I'm staying home with him. I'm old enough." There's anger in my tone, and I've already said too fucking much .

"I won't tell anyone if that's what you're thinking. This is not your fault," she assures me. "You're a good brother."

She rushes us to check out, and I stare at the sea of bags wondering how I'm going to haul it all home, but excited about the idea of Dom lighting up when he sees what's inside them.

"Come on, let's load the car and get you home."

Relieved, I look her over. "You sure?"

"Of course. You didn't think I'd let you carry this three miles, did you?"

The cashier gives her the total, and I stare at the screen, eyes wide. Two hundred and twelve dollars. She doesn't even blink as she hands him three hundred dollar bills and puts the change in one of my bags. I look over at her, eyes wide.

"In case he needs more medicine," she says, but I know it's pity. And I fucking hate it.

Swallowing hard, I nod because I'm finding it hard to speak. I gather the bags and haul them to the car as she turns the ignition and flips on the AC. The drive home is silent as I glance at the back seat full of bags and then back at the woman gripping the wheel, her fingers turning white. I feel sorry for her, this sad pregnant woman, who's so lonely she needed to shop with me to make herself feel better.

When she pulls into the driveway, I stop her from helping me. As nice as she's been, I won't invite her in. I rarely let any grown-ups near Dominic. I don't trust them. I don't trust anyone here. Once I haul the bags to the porch, I walk back over to the car and shut her back door, and she rolls down her window on the passenger side. "Thank you."

"Really, please don't thank me, it was my pleasure." She shakes her head and again looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm Tobias," I tell her as if it matters.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Tobias."

"I hope you have a better day."

She bites her lower lip as if she might explode before she speaks. "You made it so much better. Thank you for indulging me." She shakes her head. "You must think I'm crazy. "

"It's like you said, you're having a bad day. I was too. You made mine a lot better."

"You're a good kid. You deserve—" her eyes drift to the house—"you deserve a lot better than bad days."

I shrug. "We all have them."

"Thank you, Tobias."

Weirded out about the last half hour and the goodbye, I turn to run up the stairs and drag the bags in, closing the door and locking it three times.

Once inside, I peek through the bent-up blinds to see her still parked in the driveway, head bent on the wheel, her body shaking.

She's crying. A part of me wants to go to her. Mama always said never to let a woman dry her tears alone and never be the reason for them, but I wouldn't know what to say to her. All I do is watch her for a few minutes before she wipes her face and pulls away. The aching feeling in my chest stays with me as I unpack the bags. Dom was still asleep when I poked my head in his bedroom. Lining up the cans in the empty narrow pantry, I feel relieved when I stare at the amount of food. No more starving before Delphine decides it's dinner time. She rarely eats, so the stash will feed us for a few weeks. It's when I hear Dominic pipe up behind me that my excitement kicks up.

"All of this is mine?!"

A few minutes later, packages lay scattered on the floor of his bedroom as I try to dot him with pink lotion while he smashes his new cars into my thigh. Bellies full, I think of the woman who helped me and wished I had thanked her better than I had. Once I've fought Dominic enough to get him covered in the lotion, I haul him back in bed and pull the small TV from my room to his. He's halfway back to sleep when his window opens, and a rat's nest of blond hair appears. Sean lifts his head and grins when he sees us camped out on Dom's bed. He climbs through the window dressed in his favorite Batman T-shirt and jeans, already covered in dirt from his trek through the trees in the neighborhood.

"You not going to school?" he asks the two of us .

"No. Dominic's sick."

"He doesn't look sick." Sean stares at us both, running his nails down his arms, and that's when I spot the blistering dots on his arms, face, and neck. I open my mouth to speak when Dom shoots up from his bed and points at him.

"Sean! You're the culprit !"

*

"Sir?" The unfamiliar voice pulls me back to where I stand. "You have seven bags." The sound of ringing merchandise eases me slowly back into the present as I take my change and receipt from the woman's extended hand. Chest aching from the memory, I gather the bags by the handle and make my way out of the store and toward Dom's Camaro. "We both know I wasn't going to make it to thirty, brother. Take care of her."