Tuesday, May 12

 

“He’s looking at her again,” Zachary said as they sat in the cafeteria.

Ryan snapped his fingers in Jon’s face. “Earth to Evans,” he said. “Come in Evans.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Luke asked.

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “But my father says it sometimes.”

“What?” Jon said. “What about your father?”

“What about you?” Ryan said. “Why do you keep staring at Goldman that way? She isn’t even pretty.”

“You could have any girl you want,” Luke said.

“No, I can’t,” Jon said.

“Okay, some of the girls won’t go out with you,” Luke admitted. “Their parents won’t let them. But most of the girls would, if you asked them. Instead, you keep staring at her.”

Jon tried not to look at Sarah, who sat silent and alone, while the other students were laughing and talking. “You’d think she’d have friends by now,” he said.

“No one likes her because of what she did to my grandfather,” Zachary declared.

“She didn’t do anything to your grandfather,” Jon said.

“She’s living in his house,” Zachary said angrily. “She’s worse than a slip.”

“Look, Evans, if you feel sorry for her, be her friend,” Tyler said. “Go sit with her. Just don’t expect to sit with us again.”

“Her or us,” Zachary said. “Get that, slip?”

“I get it,” Jon said, and stayed where he was.

 

Thursday, May 14

 

“What’s going to happen Sunday?” Sarah asked Jon as they began their walk to the bus stop.

“I have a soccer match,” Jon said. “In Longley. It’s about an hour, hour and a half from here.”

“I mean Sunday night,” she said.

“Some of our neighbors are having a party,” Jon said. “Carrie and Val will be in White Birch, so Lisa’s taking Gabe to the party with her.”

“You can’t stay with him?” Sarah asked.

“I’m going to White Birch after the match,” Jon replied. “Luke says it’s like Mardi Gras. The one chance a year we have to blow off steam. What about you? Will you be closing the clinic early?”

“Daddy wanted to keep it open all night,” Sarah said. “In case anyone gets hurt from all that steam you’ll be blowing off. But the town board said no, it might give the grubs bad ideas. They’re making Daddy stay at the clinic anyway, in case some clavers get hurt.”

“You’re not going to be there, are you?” Jon asked. “It can get pretty crazy that night.”

“I’ll be home,” Sarah said. “Daddy won’t let me anywhere near White Birch on Sunday. Jon, you’re not going to do anything too crazy, are you?”

Jon shook his head. “Just have some fun,” he said. “Then church and fasting on Monday.”

“I hate anniversary day,” Sarah said. “I hate it so much.”

“It’s just one day,” Jon said. “Then it’s back to normal.”

“There’s no normal anymore,” Sarah replied. “Normal got lost four years ago. It’s never coming back.”

“I know,” Jon said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah cried. “I know how lucky we are. How lucky I am. I just wish I could be luckier. Is that wrong of me, Jon? To wish I could be luckier?”

Jon checked to see no one was around. Then he embraced her. “It’s not wrong,” he murmured. “It’s just not going to happen, that’s all.”

 

Saturday, May 16

 

“Matt gave me five quarters before he left,” Mom said. “He picks up whatever change he finds on the road when he’s biking. It’s amazing there are any coins left, but he says if you look hard enough, you can still find some. Five quarters. We’ll be able to talk for fifteen minutes.”

“Isn’t there a line?” Jon asked. “Usually someone’s shouting at you to get off the phone.”

“I’m using one in a bad neighborhood,” Mom replied. “People are too scared to use it.”

“Is that safe?” Jon asked.

“I’m fine,” Mom said. “The neighborhood isn’t really that bad. Just a lot of drunks who’ll be spending their quarters on potka, not pay phones. So tell me, Jon, how did your week go?”

“It was okay,” Jon said. “Mom, I don’t like the idea of your being in a bad neighborhood. Why don’t we just say hello, and you can call me next week, at your regular phone booth.”

“There isn’t any place in White Birch that’s really safe,” Mom said. “Remember, back home, how I’d make sure the doors were locked all the time? I can’t even do that here. None of the doors have locks.”

“I know, Mom,” Jon said. All the locks were removed when laborers had been moved into White Birch. That way, the people who used to live in White Birch couldn’t use their homes as barricades. Once the grubs were resettled, no one saw much point in giving them locks and keys. Grubs didn’t have anything worth stealing.

“I hope Alex and Miranda leave,” Mom said. “I’d rather never see my grandchild than have her grow up in a place like this.”

“White Birch is a lot better than most of the grubtowns I’ve seen,” Jon said. “There are schools and the clinic. Police, too, for protection.”

“Police,” Mom said. “I lost another of my boys to the mines this week. He was arrested for public intoxication. Thrown into jail and carted off to the mines. Half the men in this town are publicly intoxicated, but the police only take the young ones, the ones who’ll last a little longer in the mines.”

“We all need the mines,” Jon said. “You use coal to heat your apartment, Mom. Where do you think it comes from? The coal fairy?”

“I don’t know you anymore,” Mom said. “I don’t.”

“You know me, Mom,” Jon muttered.

“I never see you,” she said. “I see Matt more often than I see you. You’re a bus ride away, Jon. But you never visit.”

“I play soccer most Sundays,” Jon said.

“Then quit the team,” Mom said. “Get a different afterschool. Something where you’ll do some good.”

“I’m not quitting the soccer team,” Jon said. “It’s the only thing I have.”

“You have family,” Mom said. “You have a roof over your head and food to eat and a school where you can get a real education. You have a future. My students don’t have any of that. They get just enough food to keep them alive, just enough education so they can be trained for their jobs. It’s an outrage. And you say the only thing you have is soccer. I don’t know you anymore, Jon. I don’t know who you’ve become, what the enclave has made you. Matt, Miranda, they haven’t lost who they were. If anything, this whole experience has made them better, stronger.”

Jon listened as Mom took a deep breath.

“I know I spoiled you,” Mom said finally. “You were the baby in the family. And back, back when things got bad, well, I put all my hopes on you. Matt and Miranda let me, but I shouldn’t have done it. It gave you a sense of entitlement, and living the way you do has only exacerbated that. So a lot of it is my fault. Not all of it, though. You’re old enough, Jon, to see the world as it really is, not the way you want it to be.”

There was nothing Jon could say. It was her choice. She had her world, Matt, Miranda, Alex. She had her students. She no longer had him.

“I’m getting off now,” she said, understanding his silence. “I have better use for these quarters.”

 

Sunday, May 17

 

“Look at ’im,” Tyler said in drunken indignation.

Jon looked at the old man sprawled unconscious on the pavement.

“He’s drunk,” Luke said.

“A bum,” Ryan said.

“All grubs are bums,” Zachary said. “Don’t deserve to live.” He took a slug from his bottle of potka, then passed it around for the other boys to drink.

Jon couldn’t remember ever being this drunk before. It was part of the fun of the night, that and grubber girls and breaking windows and getting in fights. It seemed like every man from Sexton was there, but the grubs were enjoying themselves, too. There was potka and girls enough for all of them.

Zachary pulled out his knife. “Whaya think?” he asked.

“I think it’s a knife,” Luke said. “Whaya think it is?” He laughed at his own joke, and the guys joined in, except for Zachary.

“You know wha I mean,” Zachary said. “Let’s cut him up.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Teach ’im a lesson. Teach all the damn grubs a lesson.”

“Good idea,” Tyler said. “Gimme the potka.”

The bottle was passed around again. How many had they gone through? Three, Jon thought. Not that it mattered. There was plenty of potka left. That trip to York had been good for something.

“Cut ’im up,” Zachary said. “Let ’im bleed. Let all the grubs bleed for what they did to my granddad.”

“Wait,” Tyler said. “Gotta better idea.” He searched through his pockets and pulled out a small box of matches.

“Where’d ya get that?” Ryan asked.

“Stole it,” Tyler said.

There’d been small fires burning all around White Birch. They must have been started by matches, Jon thought. Now they could start their own fire.

“Burn ’im,” Tyler said.

“I wanna cut him,” Zachary said.

“Cut ’im first,” Tyler declared. “Then burn ’im.”

Ryan laughed.

“Not a joke!” Tyler said. “Cut ’im. Burn ’im. Grubber bum don’t deserve to live.”

Jon wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t think cutting the bum and setting him on fire was a good idea. “Guys,” he said.

“Wassa matter?” Ryan asked. “That your daddy, Evans?”

“Least I know who my daddy is,” Jon said, relieved when the other guys laughed.

Luke took another drink from the bottle. “So what if we kill him?” he said. “No one’ll know. He’s a bum. Let’s do something people will see. Not just burning a drunk.”

“Do what?” Tyler asked. “Better be good.”

Luke looked around. “Up the block,” he said. “The high school. Let’s trash it.”

“Trash and burn,” Zachary said. “Set it on fire.”

Ryan nodded. “That’ll make a difference. They’ll notice that.”

The boys turned to Tyler. “Better than knocking off some bum,” he said. “People’ll talk about it. Let’s go.”

Jon followed the others up the street. As they passed the bum, Zachary gave him a kick. The bum slept through it.

“He wouldn’t’ve felt a thing,” Luke said. “Waste of matches.”

Jon had never been to the high school. Mom taught there, but she had never bothered to show it to him. Talked about her students, though. Cared more about them than she did about her own son. Cried when they went to the mines.

“Damn school should burn,” he muttered.

Tyler slapped him on his back. “Burn the damn school down!” he shouted.

When they got to the building, they found its windows had already been shattered. “Someone got here before us,” Zachary complained. “Let’s go back to the bum.”

“Sure, they trashed it,” Jon said. “But we’re the ones who’re gonna burn it down.”

Tyler leaned over one of the broken windows. “Someone brush the damn glass off,” he said.

“Job for a slip,” Zachary said.

Jon took his jacket off and used it to brush the slivers of glass away. Tyler hoisted himself through the window and the others followed.

“Big mess,” Ryan said.

He was right. Desks and chairs had been overturned, books ripped to shreds. The room stank of piss and puke. Might as well burn it, Jon thought. Too much of a shithole even for grubs.

“Got an idea,” Zachary said. “Gimme the potka.”

Ryan handed him the bottle.

Zachary took a deep gulp, then poured potka over the shredded books. “Lighter fluid,” he said. “Get the fire goin’ faster.”

“Let’s try,” Tyler said. He pulled one of the matches from the box, struck it, and threw it into the book pile. Sure enough, the fire blazed hot and fast.

“Next room!” he shouted, and they followed him. Room by room they made piles of paper and watched as they burned.

“We did it,” Luke said. “Whole school’s on fire. Better go before we get hurt.”

Laughing and congratulating themselves, the boys climbed out a broken window. They stood in front of the school and watched as the fire spread, until they could see flames coming out of the second-story windows.

“That’ll teach those damn grubs,” Tyler said. “Come on, guys. Let’s find ourselves some more girls. The night’s still young.”

 

Monday, May 18

 

Jon got in at 4 a.m. By nine o’clock he was sitting in church, Lisa on one side, Gabe on the other. There was no law saying you had to go to church on the eighteenth, but everybody did.

He looked around and had no trouble spotting Luke and Ryan. Zachary and Tyler went to a different church, so he didn’t expect to see them. But no matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find Sarah in the crowd. He knew she and her father didn’t attend church, but he thought they might show up for the eighteenth.

It was hard to keep Gabe distracted, but between Jon and Lisa, they managed to make it through the service. Jon hoisted Gabe and draped him around his shoulders for the walk home.

Jon and Lisa were fasting, but Gabe ate enough for both of them. He demanded Jon play with him, and Jon obliged until it was time for Gabe’s nap.

“Let me get him to bed,” Lisa said. “I need to talk.”

A few minutes later Lisa joined him in the living room. “Val and Carrie are wonderful,” she said, “but there are times I’m glad they’re not here. They don’t need to know how worried I am about the evaluation.”

“Have they set a date?” Jon asked.

Lisa nodded. “Friday.”

Friday, Jon thought. He and Sarah would have to keep waiting after that, until the results were in, but how long could that take? In a week or two they’d be taking the bus together, eating lunch together, letting everyone know how they really felt.

“Lisa, you’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, Jon,” she said. “There’s always something to worry about. Especially for me. Slips have to work twice as hard. You know that. And there’s so much politics. So much I don’t know. Factors. So many factors.”

“Like what?” Jon asked.

“Like some claver’s relative wanting my job,” she said. “Or some claver not liking me because I don’t smile enough or I smile too much. Or Gabe.”

“What about Gabe?” Jon said. “What does he have to do with it?”

Even though the house was empty, Lisa lowered her voice. “If I don’t pass my evaluation, I’ll have to leave Sexton,” she said. “You know that.”

Jon nodded.

“If that happens, I’ll have to decide what to do about Gabe,” she said.

“I don’t understand,” Jon said. “You’ll take him with you.”

“To what?” she asked. “To some roach-infested tenement? No medicine, not enough food? If I’m lucky, I’d get a job in Sexton. I’d be away from home six days a week, twelve hours a day. And that’s if I’m lucky. If no one will hire me, then where do I go? Where do I take him?”

Jon pictured Mom’s apartment: it was a good one because she was a teacher. But still it was cold and miserable, and even Mom had given up trying to kill the roaches.

“You’ll pass the evaluation,” he said.

“Jon, there are a lot of people in Sexton who’d adopt Gabe,” Lisa said. “Couples who lost their children. Couples who haven’t been able to conceive or who’ve miscarried or had stillborns. If I don’t pass the evaluation, there’ll be a lot of pressure on me to give Gabe up for adoption.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Jon asked.

“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “What’s best for Gabe? Living with me? I love him more than life itself, but what could I give him? Maybe he’d be better off living with another family who can give him a good life, safe, with a future. Your mother let you go. Maybe I should do the same.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” Jon declared. “You’re family. And I get to see Mom.” He pictured her school burning down and forced himself not to think about it.

“I’m terrified, Jon,” Lisa said. “What if I fail my evaluation because someone wants Gabe? It could happen. Then what?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jon said. “Maybe you could work as a domestic and keep Gabe with you. Or he could stay with me. I won’t get evaluated for another year. If I pass, he can keep living with me.”

“Mommy!”

Lisa got up. “Gabe must have had a nightmare,” she said. “Thank you, Jon. I feel a little better, a little less crazy.”

“Is it okay for me to go out?” Jon asked. “Do you need me here anymore?”

Lisa bent over and kissed him on his forehead. “Be home by suppertime,” she said. “We’ll break fast then.”

Jon waited until Lisa left the room. Then he grabbed his jacket and ran out of the house. He didn’t stop running until he got to Sarah’s house.

He found her sitting on the porch. Even from a distance he could tell she was crying.

“Sarah!” he yelled, racing toward her.

“Oh, Jon,” she said, reaching out to him.

He held her in his arms until she stopped crying. Then they sat on the wicker love seat, Jon putting his arm around her. “What is it?” he asked. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Everything. Jon, my sister died four years ago today. I miss her all the time, but it’s always worse on the anniversary.”

“You never told me you had a sister,” Jon said.

“We talk fifteen minutes a day,” Sarah said with a sniffle. “And most of that time we’re arguing.”

Jon wanted to laugh. Instead he held Sarah a little closer. “Do you feel like talking about her?” he asked.

Sarah rubbed the tears off her cheeks with her fists. “Her name was Abby,” she said. “She was sixteen. I’m older now than she was.”

Jon nodded. “Time stood still,” he said. “But not for us.”

“We lived in Connecticut,” she said. “On the Long Island Sound. We had a sailboat. It was beautiful, Jon. We spent so much time on it. Abby was a wonderful sailor.”

“She went sailing that night?” Jon asked.

“With some of her friends,” Sarah said. “They thought it would be great to see the meteor strike from the boat. One of her friends washed ashore a couple of days later. Do you remember how horrible things were then, how crazy? We kept hoping Abby was okay but couldn’t make it home. We hoped that for a week, maybe more. Even after we knew better, we kept hoping. When Mom was dying, she told me she still was waiting for Abby to find her way home.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jon said.

Sarah began crying again. Jon knew there was nothing he could say that would make things better. Instead he held on to her so tightly he could no longer tell if it was his heart or hers that was broken.

 

Thursday, May 21

 

Luke looked around the locker room, then edged closer to Jon. “We did the right thing, didn’t we?” he whispered.

Jon stared at him.

“The other night,” Luke said, so softly Jon could hardly hear him. “Tyler would have killed that guy. They all would have. We had to give them something to distract them. The grubber school doesn’t matter, does it?”

Now that he was sober, Jon knew what they’d done was very wrong. But it would have been a lot worse to kill a man.

“We did the right thing,” he whispered back.

Luke looked around again. “I hate this sometimes,” he said.

“I know,” Jon said.

“What do you know, Evans?” Tyler asked, walking toward them.

Jon forced himself to grin. “I know how lucky I am,” he said.

“Damn straight,” Tyler said. “Luckiest slip around.”