The One You Feed Read online

  She risked a glance over her shoulder. Marcus had just passed the corner and started up the base of the hill, but he closed the gap between them quickly. She pushed herself faster, running up the porch steps, through the house, then up the creaky stairs.

  At the top, she stopped. Where would she hide? No one was home to help her, not that they would. She told her sister, Karen about Marcus and Karen told her to refuse him from now on, but to remain silent. No one would believe her and Mom and Dad wouldn’t appreciate her airing their dirty laundry.

  Footsteps downstairs. Marcus was in the kitchen. Out of time, Dana ran into her parents’ room and slid behind the door. The paneled walls her father found soothing gave the room a dark, ominous feel. A small window to the right, covered by dark blue curtains, allowed just a sliver of light into the shadowy room. Every available space had boxes or baskets. Two dressers lined the wall next to the door, their tops covered by tiny ceramic dogs and cats. In the semi-darkness, their grinning faces mocked her. The smell of mothballs stung her nose.

  “Dana,” Marcus called. Slamming a door, he laughed. “Come on. Where did you go?”

  She pulled the door against her, squeezing the knob so the metal bit into her fingers. She pressed her head to the smooth wood. A beating from the Smith boys would be better than what Marcus had in mind.

  “I know you’re up here.”

  Creaks signaled his footsteps on the stairs. Doors slammed as he checked bedrooms. She wished him away. Sweat trickled down her neck and beaded her forehead. Dana could smell her own fear: a bitter musk mixed with the mothballs her mother peppered in the closets.

  Rustling outside the door.

  Dana searched for something to keep him at bay, but what?

  “Dana? I’m not fucking around anymore. Come out here.”

  On the wall behind her, Dana’s hand brushed a hard object. Dad’s cane. Her heart picked up pace. Her father no longer used the cane, his leg healed from a fall he took at the mine, but he never threw anything away. Thank God. She closed her hand around the nicks in the handle—from when Danny tried to make it into a pirate sword—and waited.

  “You want to do it in Mom and Dad’s bed?”

  Dana closed her eyes. She would not back down. Repeating the words in her head, she lifted the cane. He would regret ever laying a hand on her.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang, and stepped into the darkened room. His shadow loomed over the bed; the happy floral pattern blurred. She took a breath. Marcus turned.

  “You aren’t going to use that. Put it down.”

  “Leave me alone.” She flattened into the corner, cane held high. “I mean it.”

  He advanced. “You don’t have the guts and I’ll wring your skinny neck if you do.”

  “I’d rather be dead than let you near me again.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Marcus reached for her. Everything went black. She heard him cursing, felt the weight of the cane as she brought it down again and again, but she saw nothing.

  “Stop it,” Jan cried tugging at her shirt. “You’ll kill him!”

  Dana snapped back to reality at the sound of her sister’s screams. She stopped swinging the cane. Marcus lay curled into a ball at her feet, blood soaking his shirt and coating his hands. He peered through his fingers.

  “You broke my fucking nose!”

  “I warned you,” she said. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  She threw the cane in the corner and left the room, her legs shaking as she walked down the stairs. By the time she made it to the front door her entire body trembled.

  Jan ran after her. “Dana, wait!”

  “What?”

  “What happened?”

  Dana knew Marcus had been bothering her lately but Jan was probably too afraid to tell her. “He won’t touch any of us again.”

  Jan blushed. The wind ruffled her brown hair, blowing it over her face. She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Whatever he told you, he lied. He can’t hurt you, Jannie; not if you don’t let him. If you all would just go to Mom and Dad, he’ll stop. They can’t call all of us liars.”

  Jan tugged at her sleeves. “Mom doesn’t believe anything bad about Marcus. I’m not saying he did anything, but she still wouldn’t believe it if he did. You know that.”

  She was right. Their mother loved Marcus more than the rest of her kids. Something made her protect him so fiercely, the others had given up trying to show her the truth about him long ago.

  “Stay away from him,” Dana ordered. “If you can’t stay away, then fight. Don’t let him frighten you. And when you have the chance, get far away from here.”

  Dana turned and walked down the hill. She didn’t want to go to school, but she had to, and after…she didn’t know where she’d go, but if she came home, Marcus or their mother would give her a beating she’d never forget.

  —

  Garrett sat on a log next to the tracks. The temperature had risen over the afternoon, and his thirst grew with the heat. Shifting and stretching his legs out in front of him, he leaned over and brushed the dry grass from his shoes. He had waited for an hour and was about to give up. Fuck, Ronny was always here with his weekly supply of booze and smokes. The pussy was probably hiding because Garrett had shown him who was boss again. He didn’t want to give Ronny a licking, but he couldn’t have an idiot talking to him in front of people.

  His hands shook as he ran his fingers through his hair. He could raid his father’s stash, but still hadn’t worked up the courage to risk getting caught.

  A rustling in the trees behind brought him to his feet. Finally.

  “Shit, Ronny, I thought you were home crying to your mama.”

  Garrett frowned at a small figure that emerged from the bushes. Definitely not Ronny.

  Dana Parson hovered near the edge of the tracks. A blackberry bush obscured her legs and the late afternoon sunlight cast a golden halo around her head. Garrett didn’t know what to make of her, she was always so quiet, scurrying about like a little mouse.

  “Sorry I—” She turned to leave.

  Garrett stepped forward. “Wait. You don’t have to go. I don’t own the tracks, you know.”

  She looked back, her lower lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “Stay. I was getting bored on my own anyway.” He waved to the log he’d been sitting on next to the old railway ties.

  She hesitated, wringing her hands round and round.

  “Come on, sit.” He walked back to the log and sat, hoping she would follow.

  He didn’t know why he even wanted her around, but it beat talking to himself. She sat at the far end of the log, hands in her lap. A dark purple bruise covered most of her shin and her arms were covered in scrapes. She was so small and skinny, he bet he could snap her bones like a twig by just touching her. He wondered who gave her the bruise. For some reason, seeing it made him angry.

  “You’re Garrett, right?”

  “Yeah, and you’re Dana. I know your brother Randy. We took shop together last year.”

  “Randy’s gone away to work. He graduated early.”

  “Lucky bastard. I wish I was done with this shithole.”

  Dana frowned.

  Hadn’t his dad told him not to speak like that in front of girls?

  “Your parents own The Shamrock?” she said.

  When he met her eyes, she blushed. “Yeah, you been there?”

  “Oh no, I don’t have enough money to go…” she shook her head. “I’ve peeked inside. It’s nice.”

  “Dad and Mom came over from Ireland after they got married. Had some money Dad inherited from his parents. They thought it would be neat to dress it up like an Irish pub. I guess they did an okay job, not that I’ve ever been to a real pub. Seems kinda dark to me with all the wood, and I hate green.”

  Her body relaxed a bit.

  He moved a little closer. “I never see you
much outside school. You’ve got a lot of brothers and sisters; seems I can’t go anywhere without meeting one of you.”

  “Yeah, I help with the little ones, so I don’t have much time for anything else.”

  “Don’t you have older sisters for that?”

  “They’re married and gone. I’m the oldest girl at home now.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t making this easy. He was tempted to leave her there, but something kept him rooted to his spot.

  “I better go.” She stood. “I’m going to be in a lot of trouble.”

  “For hanging out on the tracks?”

  Her lip trembled again. “I got into a fight with my brother. I kind of hit him with something and Mom is going to kill me when he tells her.”

  “What did you hit him with?”

  “A cane.”

  He couldn’t picture her working up enough gumption to swat a fly. “Why?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I should’ve just…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  Garrett wanted to kill anything or anyone that would touch her. “Did he hurt you?”

  Dana shrugged and stepped over the log. “Sort of. It’s okay, though. I might be in trouble, but I don’t think he’ll bother me again, so whatever happens is worth it.”

  She walked into the bushes and disappeared without so much as a wave.

  Garrett sat for a while and stared at the trees before deciding he wanted to learn more about Dana Parson. She needed someone to take care of her and if her own family wouldn’t do it, then someone had to.

  He followed her path. The tracks ran along the edge of town. He kicked at the dirt and cursed his luck and the weather; it shouldn’t be so warm yet, it wasn’t even the middle of May. Ronny wasn’t coming and he needed a drink now more than ever. It might be worth his father’s wrath to get rid of the thirst.

  —

  When Dana arrived home, she took a breath before laying her hand on the door. She had to go in; the kids needed dinner and her mom was due back soon. She opened the door and walked inside. Creedence Clearwater belted out Proud Mary on the radio. Bea and Jan sat at the table, each with a book in her hand.

  “Hey Dana.” Bea closed her book before kicking Jan in the shin.

  “Ouch.” Jan glared at her sister, who jerked her head at the door and turned to Dana, a sheepish grin replacing her frown. She turned the radio off.

  “Change that back to Mom’s station,” Dana opened the fridge. “You guys all back?”

  “All except Danny. Marcus took him fishing,” Bea said turning the dial on the radio.

  Dana dropped a dish of leftover potatoes and stared at her sister, her body trembling. “He what?”

  “Rick went too. He’s back home for a bit.” Jan glanced at Dana, a worried frown on her face.

  “Rick?” Marcus had Danny, and that was all Dana could think about. What if Rick changed his mind and went somewhere else, leaving Danny alone with Marcus?

  Jan helped her pick up the mess. “It’s okay, Dana. Danny only went because Rick asked him. Marcus just tagged along. He’s got a real big shiner and a lump on his head bigger than a baseball. You really gave it to him.”

  Bea’s small mouth formed an O at Jan’s words. “You really hit him? Jan said he was bleeding.”

  “Yes, I did. And he deserved it.” Dana carried the potatoes to the sink.

  “What did he do?” Bea asked.

  Dana stared at her reflection in the cracked window above the sink, thin blond hair framing a face with strange green eyes that were way too big. Everyone mentioned how big her eyes were, perhaps because there was little else to comment on. She looked like an ugly boy, all bony and flat.

  “Dana!” Bea prompted. “Why’d you hit Marcus?”

  She frowned at the potatoes as she tried to clean them. “Never mind. Just don’t let him bully you into anything. You hear?”

  “Yes,” Bea said, one hand over her heart. “I promise.”

  Dana smiled. Their little gesture. She made them put one hand on their heart when she wanted them to take her seriously and do as she asked. She didn’t know what they thought would happen if they broke the promise, just that they kept it when she made them cross their hearts.

  CHAPTER 5

  When Willie offered Ronny a room in the house, he refused. The way the youngest of Willie’s cow-faced girls looked at him was creepy. Anything was preferable to getting closer to the beast than he had to. The loft wasn’t so bad anyway. A week after Ronny arrived, Willie brought a bed in and let him hang posters on the battered walls and shelves. Now it resembled a real bedroom, with an old kitchen chair—the seat torn and duct taped—and a desk to practice his letters.

  Despite his best efforts, Ronny hadn’t managed much in that area and had all but given up on ever being able to read as well as on other people. He knew enough to get by.

  As he tightened the bolts on the gate hinge, Ronny wished he didn’t have to leave.

  “Hurry up, boy,” Willie called over the fence. “Your dad’s gonna be here any minute.”

  Swatting the flies that perpetually surrounded his dirty head, Willy tugged his brown hat and squinted in the bright afternoon sun. The smells of manure and hay, and Willie, only intensified in the heat.

  Ronny finished fixing the gate almost an hour ago, but he didn’t want to go home. This time he knew he’d be in heaps of trouble. Willie had stopped sending his parents his paycheck—said Ronny was old enough to keep the money himself. Then, his old man told Willie that Ronny wouldn’t be working there anymore. And that was that.

  He gathered his tools and headed to the barn. The sun glinted off the white roof—newly painted in the spring by Ronny and Willie. It blinded him, but he stared anyway, proud of the work he’d done. He’d miss the place. While Willie was odd, Ronny couldn’t remember ever feeling as happy, or as safe, as he had with Willie’s family.

  He picked up his bag and took a last look at his room. Willie found him a job with a trucking company, so at least he wouldn’t be stuck at home long. He’d help load trucks until he could get his license and drive one. Willie said all he had to do was show up and ask for Norman, then they’d show him the job. Once he could drive, he’d never have to go back.

  “You coming? Don’t piss him off any more than he already is,” Willie called from the driveway.

  Ronny sighed and left the barn. He walked toward the house where Willie sat on the crooked porch. The chickens were loose again, squawking and milling around his feet.

  “You listen now,” Willie said, “your old man is going make threats, but you don’t have to listen. You’re almost sixteen, old enough to do what you please.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ronny had heard this speech several times over the past few days. Willie didn’t need to worry. He wouldn’t stay one night more than he had to.

  “You go to that job no matter what. You hear me?”

  “I will.” Ronny heard the rumble of his dad’s truck as it labored up the road. “Thanks, Willie, for everything.”

  “You’re a good kid. Don’t let them call you a retard no more. You just can’t do schoolin’. No sin in that.”

  Ronny nodded. He knew he wasn’t retarded, but Willie mentioned it here and there. It was as though the term were an offense to him, as though he were his son. Ronny wished he had been.

  His father’s truck pulled in and stopped just feet from the porch, its wheels crunching on the gravel. Warren barely turned it off before he hopped out of the cab.

  “Get in,” he said. “I appreciate the kindness, Willie, but Ron won’t be coming back.”

  Willie nodded and stuck the regulation piece of hay in his mouth. “He’s a man now, Warren. It’s time to treat him that way.”

  “You mind your business and I’ll mind mine. Retards don’t grow into men. They grow into bigger retards if you don’t stay on top of it.”

  “He ain’t retarded, Warren.”

  “Oh no? If he can’t even
read, how’s he going to look after a house and his money?”

  “We have a difference of opinion, I suppose.”

  “We do.” Warren glanced at Ronny, who stood at the door of the truck. “I said get in.”

  Ronny opened the door and climbed in. He searched the cab for the whip, but didn’t find it. The front seat of the old beast was almost entirely duct tape now. His dad had replaced the steering wheel last year with a larger brown one. Ronny thought it looked terrible: a dark brown wheel, mangled seats, and a grey dashboard. The body of the truck seemed ready to crumble, rust caking both wheel wells and dotting the battered blue hood.

  Ronny tensed as Warren climbed in next to him and started the truck. Its rumbling drowned out the sound of Willie’s parting words, though Ronny was sure his dad wasn’t listening anyway. He gave Willie a slight wave as his dad backed the truck down the long driveway.

  “What the fuck are you up to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Fuck off, you don’t know,” Warren said. “Where’s my money?”

  Ronny reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He’d kept some back and hoped he didn’t notice.

  “That it?”

  “That’s all he gave me.”

  Warren pocketed the money. “Probably screwed you, knowing you can’t count and all.”

  Ronny stared out the window to fields rushing by in a blur of green and brown, broken by the occasional house and scattering of trees. Large white clouds drifted over the sun, muting its brightness.

  “I’ll find you another job. You need to find somewhere to live too. Your mother can’t be worrying about the shit you’ll get into. She’s got other things to do.”

  Like what? Watch her ass get fatter?

  Ronny kept looking out the window to hide a smirk.

  Warren slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “Fucking bullshit! Asshole thinks he’s smarter than me? Doesn’t even know a damn retard when he sees one. You should have cozied up to one of his girls, at least then I could look forward to owning a farm when the bastard died.”

  His dad was always taking what wasn’t his. Everything Ronny had earned went to him, and he talked as though it always would.