Chapter 17

 

 

 

Three hours later, CJ had Larry and two other boys I barely knew seated around our big redwood table in the backyard. I was playing waitress, bringing the food out to them, keeping them supplied with drink. They’d shown up with a couple of crates of beer; I didn’t ask where they’d found them.

They laid into Mom’s cooking with relish. There’d been half a dozen slabs of meat in the bag, and Mom and I had turned ourselves to stone and cooked them up.

“Goddamn, CJ, but your mom can cook,” Larry said around a mouthful of rare steak.

I was just setting down the last of the cooked meat when CJ fixed an eye on me and said, “There’s only one thing wrong with this dinner: little sis isn’t joining us.”

The boys all laughed and agreed.

I nearly puked.

“I ate already,” I said. It was a bad lie, and CJ saw through it.

“Oh, c’mon, there’s always room for a little housewife!” His audience roared.

CJ held out a half-finished plate to me. He jabbed a fork in a piece the size of a Ping-Pong ball and put it up to my mouth. The rest stared, waiting.

Larry leaned forward. A trickle of saliva ran out of the corner of his mouth. “Hey, CJ, I’ll give ya twenty bucks for your sister.”

CJ snickered. “She’s twelve, man.”

Larry’s eyes crawled down over my body. “I know.”

I was going to end up as Larry’s dessert if I didn’t do something, so I grabbed the fork CJ held up and bit into the speared portion.

I won’t tell you what it tasted like or what the texture was, because I made a deal with myself as I chewed that I would never think about those things. Ever.

Instead I chewed and swallowed and smiled. “Not bad. A little heavy on the tobacco for my taste.”

They laughed again, and CJ clapped me on the back as he handed me the plate. “You’re all right, kid. Here, you can have the rest.”

He turned back to the guys, already forgetting me. I took the plate and walked back into the house. I forced myself to walk slowly and steadily, one foot in front of the other, up for the step that led into the house, right around the corner of the door. I set the plate down on the kitchen counter by the sink.

I ran into the bathroom.

I waited, but I didn’t vomit. I even wanted to. I worried that something was wrong with me if I didn’t. My stomach roiled, but the food stayed down.

An hour later, CJ and his buddies were all passed out in the backyard, crumpled beer cans in the grass around them. I deliberately dropped a heavy pan in the kitchen to see if it would wake them. It didn’t.

Mom watched as I went through the kitchen cabinets until I found what I wanted: her heavy wooden rolling pin. It was solid enough that I had a hard time holding it up long. It was what I needed.

“What are you doing?” Mom hissed at me.

“I’m going to get the keys to that lock,” I told her, nodding at the padlock that kept her chained to the refrigerator.

“You can’t. CJ keeps them in a pocket.”“I know.”

Mom looked at the rolling pin and knew what I had in mind. “Joey, he’s your brother…”

“I won’t use it if I don’t have to. And if I have to…I won’t kill him, Mom. I promise.”

Of course I had no way of keeping that promise. The pin felt heavy enough to kill a giant with. I could’ve taken out Odd Job with it. But at that moment, after what CJ had made me do (and what Larry wanted to make me do), I didn’t much care if it killed him or not.

“Joey…”

I didn’t answer her. I was already creeping out the back door.

It was a warm night; a glow in one part of the sky told me the moon was full, or nearly so, but it was hidden behind the smog. I paused to let my eyes adjust, then picked my way on tiptoe around the debris.

I passed Larry first; fortunately he was snoring loudly enough to cover any noise I might have made, but the idea of having to walk too close to him still made me shiver. The other two guys were to my right. CJ was to the left.

My brother was sprawled in the lawn on his back, arms thrown out, head tilted to one side. He wasn’t a snorer, but his breathing seemed deep and even. I knelt down in the grass beside him and set the rolling pin down, pondering.

Where to start? I might only have one shot at this, so I needed to do it right the first time. Of course if the keys were in a back pocket, I was out of luck. I tried to remember what he’d done with them after he’d locked Mom up, and I was pretty sure he’d shoved them into a front pocket. I was on his right side, that pocket just below me, so it should be easy enough…

He moved beneath me, shifting position slightly to his left.

I froze, fully expecting him to wake up, see the rolling pin, guess my plan, and hand me off to Larry (“Here, man, I won’t even charge you”). Or maybe they’d just eat me. At least they wouldn’t get much meat.

But instead he continued to sleep, and the pocket was now easier to reach.

I took a deep breath and slid my hand out. I rested my fingers lightly on the top of the pocket, and CJ didn’t react. I slid my three middle fingers in up to the first knuckle, and he slept on. This was it.

I moved my entire hand into the pocket and gently felt around.

Some papers…two coins…lint…

Keys.

I slid one finger through the key ring, and started to pull, as slowly as possible. Slowly…the keys were coming…slowly…the key ring was appearing now…

The keys came free from the pocket.

They jingled.

I turned to stone.

CJ didn’t wake up.

I moved my other hand to form a fist around the keys, muffling any further sound. Then I rose and returned to the house.

As I entered, Mom looked on anxiously. “Did you get them?”

“Yeah…”

I walked towards her, uncurling my fingers from around the keys. I’d gripped them so tightly it hurt to move my fingers.

Shaking slightly, I went through the keys quickly. House key…another large key…a car key I didn’t know he had…one padlock key.

I slid it into the lock. It didn’t fit.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

“I…” I looked at the name of the manufacturer on the key and the one on the padlock.

They were different. This was a key to another lock. Probably his school locker or maybe his bike.

“It’s not here.” I tossed the keys up onto the kitchen counter. “They must be in one of his other pockets.”

I walked over to the door. Behind me, Mom called out, “Joey, stay in.”

But I was mad. I was going to get those keys no matter what. Even if I had to kill someone.

Even if I had to kill CJ.

I strode across the lawn, less caring if I made noise or not. I’d left the rolling pin behind, and I dropped to my knees by CJ, retrieving the heavy wooden tool. If the key was in his left pocket, there was no way I could reach it without waking him…unless he was already unconscious.

I raised the rolling pin over my head. My muscles shook from the effort. I wanted this all to end, and this was the only answer I could see.

I sat there for seconds, quivering, panting…until the rolling pin fell from my hands into the grass.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill CJ.

I picked up the pin and staggered back into the house. I locked the door behind me. Mom watched me with wide eyes.

“I didn’t get the key.”

“CJ…?”

“He’s fine.” I returned the rolling pin to its place in the cabinets. I was disgusted with myself. I was weak, a coward, useless.

“Honey…you did the right thing.”

“No, Mom, I didn’t…because you’re still locked up.”

Mom nodded at CJ’s keys. “You got the keys. And look at it this way: at least he can’t get back in without them, can he?”

I hadn’t thought of that, and it made me feel better. I ran to the front door to lock it and checked all the windows and the garage. Mom was right—we’d at least bought ourselves a little extra safety.

I still slept that night on some cushions I dragged into the kitchen to be with Mom.