Ripples Read online

  A man inside says, “Jeez, I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  Maybe if I don’t look at him he’ll stop seeing me. Wanna shrink as small as an ant.

  The car door opens. The man climbs out, stumbles down the ditch. Kneels next to me. “I’m really sorry. Are you hurt?”

  Knee hurts bad … I rub it.

  Man reaches for my knee.

  Hunch up in a ball.

  He backs off … holds his hands up. “Sorry, I won’t hurt you. Sure you’re okay?”

  I start to get up.

  He takes my arm. “Here, let me help you.”

  Jerk away. Leg hurts worse. Stand on it just the same.

  “Honest, I’m just trying to help.” He steps back. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

  Look away.

  “Aren’t you the kid who lives across the lake from me? You like to skip rocks.”

  “No.”

  “Really? I could swear you could be her twin.”

  I shrug.

  “Say, were you in that wreck down there?”

  Shake my head.

  “Where do you live? I should take you home, to your parents.”

  “That’s okay. I can get home myself.”

  Can’t he stop talking?

  “I should get you to your family so they can be sure you’re okay.”

  Knee aches … wants to fold up under me.

  “Please. I won’t bite.”

  Bryce bites.

  “It won’t be any trouble, really. I’ve got the time.”

  People are watching. Somebody might tell on me. Take a step. A sharp pain. Shut my eyes.

  He takes my arm. Steadies me. “Here, let me give you a ride.”

  “No. I’ll be okay. Just have to rest a minute.”

  He nudges me toward his car. “I insist. After all, it’s my fault.”

  No, it’s her fault.

  He opens the car door.

  I’ll never make it to the shack … look downhill to see if Tess is coming. I get in.

  He climbs in the other side and points to a picture sitting in a tray between us. “I have a granddaughter. I’m not going to hurt you. Just want you to get home safe.”

  I peek at the picture. A little girl … happy … lucky girl. I remember the little girl who didn’t have to follow the rules … the woman who thought something was wrong with me. Think about the girl in the tree. No. She wasn’t real. Feel for my candy wrapper. Look back at the little girl’s picture. “Is she really yours?”

  “Yes, she’s really mine, but someone took her. Which is a good reason you shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.”

  Truck drivers snatch girls off the highway. Bet the trucker Tess scared isn’t that way.

  “By the way,” he says, “you haven’t told me where you live.”

  I don’t look at him. Point. “Up ahead.”

  He says, “Mind buckling up?”

  Keep staring straight ahead. It’s hot in here.

  He stops the car. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” Cross my arms. Are Bryce’s marks showing?

  He raises his voice. “You need to buckle up.”

  My chin quivers. “How does it work?”

  “Here.” He reaches across me.

  My body stiffens. The seat belt clicks. I flinch.

  He says, “This is how you undo it when we get you home.” He pushes a button on the buckle. The belt clicks again and comes undone.

  I take a deep breath.

  “Have you walked all the way from town?”

  “No.”

  “How far have you been walking?”

  “Not far. Tess had to stop for the wreck. Said, ‘get out and walk home.’”

  “Tess your mother?”

  “No. No mother.”

  “How about your father?”

  Fish in my pocket for the candy wrapper—still there.

  “How far up the road do you live?”

  “A ways.”

  “She made you get out and walk the whole way? Who is she anyway—a relative?”

  “No family.”

  He sighs. “I don’t have a family, either.”

  I peek over at him.

  “You’ll have to let me know when we get near where you live.”

  No more talking 'til we get to a turnoff ... a little ways before the road to the lake. I point to the side of the road. “Let me off here.”

  He pulls the car over.

  “You sure? I can take you all the way home. I really should talk to someone.”

  “Knee’s fine now.” I undo the seatbelt … fling open the door and jump out. Take a couple steps to show him I’m okay. He smiles and waves goodbye. He’s right … he didn’t bite.

  I cross the highway and keep watching until the shiny red car disappears. When he’s out of sight I limp up to the lake turnoff. As I sneak past the man’s cabin I wonder if the girl in his picture has to follow the rules. Once I’m around the bend, I sit on a stump by the road and put my hands over my face.

  I still see the big black car … crushed into the semi's trailer, as if I was standing next to it. Bloody windows … glass shattered all over the ground … crunching when I step on it. Blood dripping. The girl up in a tree. My stomach twists in knots … head spins … drop to my knees … puke all over the ground. Lie down and roll on my side … tuck into a ball … try not to crap in my pants. Ground’s damp, cool … smells like rotting logs. I look up … can’t see the sky … trees block the sun. Thank god there’s nobody up in those branches.

  Close my eyes again … sleepy … imagine ripples spreading out across the lake … taste candy from crinkly red wrappers.

  Bryce

  Five more minutes gone by. Where the hell are they? Had to get my own damn breakfast. Now it’s gonna be lunchtime. Even have to stoke my own fire.

  Slam the damn stove hatch, stand and stare out the window. Hour and a half, max. That’s all it should take. I grit my teeth, take out my pocket knife, open a can of chili. Set the can on top of the stove and watch it. How the hell long does it take this shit to boil? Jab at it with my knife.

  Now, where’s the damn bread? I’ve told them a thousand times, “I gotta have bread with my damn chili.”

  I stomp over to a box of food and kick it over. Pick it up and empty it on the floor. Hell! Damn bread’s on the bottom, smushed. Shit. That bitch knows you don’t stack stuff on top of bread. When she gets back, it’s gonna get done right.

  Need a damn beer. Yank the top off the ice chest—the damn ice is all melted. Two beers left. They better get some ice and beer down in town, or I’m gonna give ….

  A long swig does nothin’ to calm my nerves. Pace back and forth. Stop at the window each time I pass it. Hate staring out a damn window, waiting for women to come home—useless whores, every one of them. Make a fist and punch the palm of my other hand. They’s gonna be sorry.

  I plop down in a chair, take another swig. Slam my hand on the table. Damn can’s empty. When I head over for the other beer I stop to look out the window. Won’t let myself do it this time. Not gonna look out that damn window again. Hope they drive the damn pickup into a ravine and bake to death in the hot sun. And when they do, I ain’t goin’ looking for them.

  Amy

  I bolt up—crawl backwards. Bryce’s bony hands all over me. I look around … he’s not here.

  Don’t know how long I’ve been out. My stomach knots up again. If Bryce sees me sitting here by the side of the road, he’ll be on the warpath. I get up … follow a narrow trail down to the cove … my favorite place for skipping stones. Go there because it can’t be seen from the shack … lots of smooth, flat stones.

  At the cove, I splash water on my face, dry off with my shirt. My knee’s stopped hurting. My first stone toss is a dud. Plops straight to the bottom. The next one, three skips. Third try’s a charm—eight skips. I pump my fists and spin aroun
d. Have to bite down on my lip to keep from squealing. Eight rings of tiny waves head out across the lake. Best ever.

  Uh oh. The man’s standing on his shiny dock, staring through binoculars—straight at me. I drop to the ground … crawl for cover. Please don’t make a ruckus. Bryce’ll hear.

  Haven’t gone far … I freeze. Can’t breathe. Snake—black and tan, wagging its tongue. The deadly kind Bryce always warns about. Coiled on the granite slab.

  Wanna run. Can’t move. Can’t get to the water. The snake rattles its tail faster, louder. Jerks its head from side to side … tongue licking the air. Bryce says snakes can taste fear. Will bite if you’re afraid. Hope its bite won’t hurt as much as Bryce’s.

  Tires crunch out on the gravel road. Oh my god! Tess is already back. Bryce is gonna kill me for sure. She skids to a stop. My heart pounding ... can feel it in my ears. How does she know I’m here? Please … go away … don’t spook the snake … it’ll bite.

  She’s crashing through brush. Start to close my eyes … can’t. Brace for snake’s bite. It drops its head … unwinds … it’s running away.

  I leap up, spin around, scramble for the water. Turn, run hard along the shore ... stumble into the brush ... catch my breath ... wait.

  Jacob

  There she is, skipping rocks. I’d bet good money it’s the same girl. I grab my 20X binoculars.

  Damn. It is her—same girl I almost ran over with my Jeep. Why’d she lie, and why is she down on the ground crawling? And what the hell is that? A small brown pile on a sun-bleached granite slab. God, is that a rattler? Shit, it is. I jump in the Jeep. Probably won’t get there before the snake strikes, but I will keep her from dying. I reach under the driver’s seat for the first aid kit. It’s there. I punch the gas hard after turning out of my drive onto the gravel road.

  Just around a bend I spot a game trail leading to the water. Slam on the brakes. I grab a shovel from back of the Jeep and storm through the brush, hoping to God I’m not too late and I’m at the right spot. With those binoculars, I’m sure what I saw was a Northern Pacific Rattler coiled up and ready to strike. Their venom can kill you.

  At the water, I stop dead, looking in every direction. No girl. No snake. But there’s the granite slab—this has to be the place. I examine the spot where the snake had been.

  Celine’s image pops into my head. She’s on the ground cowering. Now she’s gone. A pain stabs at the base of my skull and arcs to the top of my head. I drop the shovel and tumble to my knees. Sweat oozes from every pore. It’s happening again. I groan—please, no …. Everything goes black.

  Amy

  I peek through the bushes … duck back down. Too quiet. Makes no sense. Tess should be hollering her head off. She came crashing through the brush. Where’d she go? Maybe the road? That’s it. She snuck out to the road to wait for me. There’s gotta be a way out of this.

  I know. I’ll crawl along the shore without making much noise. Cut back to the road without being seen. Walk up to the shack just like I was supposed to. If Tess asks how come she didn’t see me on the highway, I’ll say … must’ve been peeing in the woods when she came past.

  There’s a low moan. I stop and listen. It’s coming from the cove. I crouch down. God, did the rattler get her? Wait … that’s not Tess. Moaning’s too low. Not Bryce either. He makes a whistling sound when he snores. I sneak up closer, keeping my head down. After a couple minutes, the moans stop. Tiny hairs on my arms and neck stand up. It’s a trap.

  I peek over the brush. A man’s lying on his side in the cove. Can’t see the face, but he’s bigger than Bryce. And his clothes … same as the man in the shiny red car.

  It’s the neighbor. There’s a shovel on the ground next to him. Did Bryce sneak down here and knock him out? Is he still around? No, wait. That’s not Bryce’s old shovel. Gotta be the man’s. Bryce wouldn’t hide. He’d stomp around, cussing. Yelling.

  I keep low … on hands and knees … creep through the brush to the man’s side. Study him. His chest rises and falls, but only a little. He’s breathing. Have to leave him here. Too heavy to carry. He’ll wake up and be all right—I hope.

  I start to pick up the shovel. No. He might need it to help him get back to his car.

  Oh … the car. Must’ve been him who skidded to a stop on the gravel road … thought it was Tess. It wasn’t. His car is out there in plain sight. If Tess sees it when she gets back, she’ll snitch, and that’s trouble. Bryce can’t know the neighbor’s been this close.

  I sneak out to the road … the motor’s running. Gotta get the car back to his cabin. Peek around … start to open the driver’s door … there’s a noise in the trees. I hold my breath, spin around, scan the woods.

  Is it Bryce?

  A gust rustles some branches. I let out my breath. Not Bryce.

  I pull open the door and jump in. Gotta think this over. Tess moves this stick thing to get going. I pull the stick all the way back. Whoa, the car jerks. Hold my breath and slide my right foot onto a long pedal. Press down easy. The car starts rolling. Grip the wheel real tight, turn it hard to the left, and press down easy with my right foot. My shoulders are all knotted up, knuckles ache.

  When I park in front of the man’s cabin, the knots in my shoulders go away. I stare at the picture of the little girl. It’s sitting in a tray … begs me to pick it up. I hold it … touch her cheek with my finger. I know that face. What would it be like to be happy like her? Tears trickle down my cheeks.

  I wipe my eyes and put the picture back in the tray … climb out of the car and close the door. After taking a deep breath, I gawk at the cabin. A voice in my head says, “Go inside.” Another screams, “Don’t go.” I cover my ears ’til they go away. The last voice says “Go.”

  I walk onto the deck and peek through a big window. That bed is huge, and this room could swallow up Bryce’s whole shack. Check out all his stuff. Only kings in fairytales have that much. ’Course, I’ve never seen a real fairytale king. Scrunch up my nose. No lanterns. He must have electricity like they do in town.

  I’m about to turn and head back to the shack … hear tires kicking up rocks out on the road. Must be Tess driving like a bat out of hell. I take off into the woods … follow the trail along the lake. Gotta beat her back. Run hard as I know how.

  When I burst into the shack … can barely catch my breath … Tess is trembling … telling Bryce about getting stuck behind the wreck. Talks about cops … she thought she’d get pulled over … expired plates. No license … no registration … they’d have taken her to jail.

  He yells, “I send you out on a simple errand and you make a mess of things. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Tess slaps her forehead. “How was I to know some eighteen-wheeler was going to turn his truck over and block the highway?”

  Bryce turns to me. “And what’s with you? Where you been all this time?”

  If he catches me lying, no telling what he’ll do—I lie anyway … wanna keep him from going after the neighbor. Cringe as I say Tess probably didn’t see me out on the highway ’cause I was peeing in the woods.

  He yells, “You’re a damned liar.”

  I hunch up. Whimper. Wish I was a tiny flea … could hide anywhere. Not an ant. Ants get stomped on.

  “Damn it!” he shouts. “I’ve got half a mind to ….”

  I blurt out, “A woman made me get in her car … thought something bad was going to happen to me if I was out on the highway all alone. She said, ‘If you don’t get in I’ll call the police.’ I couldn’t say no. Got in her car. Made her drop me at the turnoff before the lake. Didn’t want her to come all the way here. After that … hung out in the woods.”

  Bryce crushes an empty beer can with one hand. Takes off his belt … yanks down my pants … pulls them all the way off … shoves me across a wooden chair … face first … ass up. I peek. He whips the belt around over his head … eyes black … cold. I gulp … the buckle dangling at the loose end
. My body tenses up. I think, candy wrappers … crinkly, red candy wrappers … I love cinnamon candy.

  When he’s done thrashing me, I curl up on the chair … gasp for breath … gawk at my naked ass. My heart stops. Candy wrappers! How did those candy wrappers get all over me? I reach for one—bright red … crinkly. But it’s not a candy wrapper … it’s damp. My leg stings when I touch it.

  Bryce isn’t done with me. He chases me up the ladder.

  Wanna kick him when he yells, “Climb faster.” But don’t. Would just make him madder. Wish he’d fall off … hit his head on the floor … die.

  Up in the loft he pushes me down on the mattress. Lays on top of me. Presses his face against my neck. Wanna puke.

  He says, “Better drive my seed all the way in.”

  I whimper. Count ripples … candy wrappers … nothing works.

  He shoves it in me. Yanks it back out. Pounds it in again .... again … again. Grunting and wheezing. He whispers, “Yeah, cry like a baby. That’s right. A baby’s what you need to keep you where you belong.” He gets up and sneers. “Starting tonight, I’m doubling your chores. Every inch of this place will be spotless before you go to sleep. And if you’re not finished before daylight, you can just skip sleeping until you learn to work faster.”

  I curl into a ball … his slime dribbles out.

  He stumbles down the ladder … leaves me on the mattress, sobbing. Soon as his feet hit the floor below, he starts chewing out Tess. “You shouldn’t have let her go off on her own. Next, she’ll get the idea she’s free to wander off anywhere she pleases.”

  Poke at the places where Bryce’s buckle made welts on my leg. They burn … ooze tiny beads of blood. The marks are bigger than the swelling he usually leaves behind. I crawl to the knothole in the wall … my candy wrappers. Pull one out and look through it at the sores on my leg. Smooth the wrapper over the worst of them.

  When he finishes yelling at Tess, he stomps over to the ladder … shrieks, “Get your sorry ass down here and get to work. Now.”

  I get up … hide the blood-stained candy wrapper. What doesn’t ache or sting is sore in other ways. I stumble to the ladder and hurry down. As my foot touches the floor below I see Tess, with her shirt unbuttoned, leading Bryce to their room. He looks back at me like he’s king of the world. Points to the stove. “You can start by shining that thing so good I can shave with it.”