Kele Moon: Crossing the line

Tabitha McMillen liked cookies…a lot.

Tabitha waited for three hours after her first day of third grade, making sure her brother was gone before she slipped quietly into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, but her shoulders slumped when she found it nearly empty. Brett had eaten the last of the pizza from the weekend when their uncle Ned had gotten paid and was feeling charitable.

The pizza was a long shot, and Tabitha hadn’t had much hope Brett saved her a piece. She didn’t waste time being disappointed. She grabbed a carton of milk and opened it, sniffing it hesitantly. She jerked back from the scent and took it to the sink that was stacked with dishes. She found a small spot in the corner to dump it out, then put the carton on top of the garbage can that was full.

She went back on her search. There was a block of cheese. The edges were hard and cracked, but if she cut those pieces off, it should be good. There wasn’t anything green on it. That was it for the fridge, so she went to the cabinet next, searching for something and coming up with some boxed pasta mixes. One she needed meat for; the other she needed milk and butter.

She studied them intently, her young mind working to decide what she could use to make it better. She went back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of ketchup; then she worked on quickly putting everything into her book bag.

She glanced at her mom as she walked to the front door. She was sitting on the couch, drinking something straight out of the bottle with one hand, and holding a cigarette in the other as she watched a late-afternoon game show.

“I’m leaving, Mama.”

“Don’t be out all night. Ain’t school starting next week?”

Tabitha paused with her hand on the doorknob. She opened her mouth, wondering if she should mention it had already started, but then she decided against it. When her mom’s words were that slurred, it was a sure bet she wasn’t going to remember anything Tabitha told her anyway.

She just slipped out the door with a final good-bye and then glanced down the driveway nervously. She was hoping Brett’s bike was gone, but instead he worked on it in the corner of the yard, trying to fix a rusted chain that had slipped off the track.

Brett lifted his head from his work on the bike and narrowed his eyes at her. “Whatcha hiding in the bag, runt?”

“Nothing,” Tabitha said a little too quickly. “I’m going to Clay’s.”

She was hoping that’d deter him. Clay might be two years younger than him, but he was a big eight-year-old. Even the sixth graders were sort of nervous around him, like they knew something about Clay Powers that Tabitha didn’t.

“Why do ya hang round that trash? Makes us look bad.”

Tabitha shrugged as she walked down the steps, willing herself invisible to her older brother as she did it.

“Not so fast.”

Tabitha heard the warning in his voice, and she took off running on instinct. She was halfway down the yard before he tackled her. It knocked all the air out of her lungs, and a wild panic seized her when she realized she couldn’t breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes, and a silent scream lodged in her chest while she fought for air.

Brett pulled her backpack off her shoulders and undid the zipper while Tabitha flailed under him. “What the fuck are ya gonna do with Hamburger Helper, runt? You know ya got to cook it, right?”

Tabitha answered him by letting out a scream she couldn’t keep in when she finally got enough air to make sound. Tears were streaming down her face. She felt like she was dying. Brett knocked her down all the time, but this scared her.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Stop it!” He shoved her face into the dirt. “You keep wailing like that, and that stupid Mrs. Harris at the trailer park will call the sheriff again.”

Tabitha struggled to keep her crying silent. She fell limp under him as little choked sobs burst out of her. She wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping it in.

“Fine.” He threw the bag on the ground. “Go eat your crunchy pasta. Brat.”

Tabitha could breathe a little easier once Brett got off, but even after he left, she lay on the ground trying to relearn the smooth, easy rhythm of breathing. It came back faster than she anticipated, and she stopped crying. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her backpack, and didn’t even bother brushing off the dirt on her face and clothes.

She ran down the driveway without looking back. She could have cut through the back to get to the trailer park faster, but that would mean she’d have to walk past Brett. No way was that happening, so she walked along the road, watching for cars and working on cleaning herself up.

Both her knees were bleeding, and when she wiped at her forehead to get the dirt off her face, she found it sticky with blood too. The tears made everything so much worse. She needed a shower, but she didn’t want to go back for one. Maybe she’d just sleep at Clay’s and go home in the morning to get ready before the bus came.

Tabitha hefted her bag up on her shoulder once she got to the trailer park. Everything in her was tense and waiting to be attacked. What if Brett followed her? What if Vaughn was hanging around? As bad as her brother was, his best friend was twenty times worse.

The coast was clear, and Tabitha breathed a huge sigh of relief as she bounced up the steps to Clay’s trailer and knocked on the metal door. She was so happy to have avoided Vaughn or any more trouble, she temporarily forgot her injuries, but Clay noticed the second he opened the door.

“What the heck happened to you?” His dark eyes were wide in concern. “Brett?”

“Yup,” Tabitha confirmed as she walked past Clay. “Hi, Mrs. Powers.”

“Ya know she can’t hear you.”

Tabitha let her gaze dart to the couch, where Clay’s mother was sprawled out and sleeping. She tried not to look at all the needles and pill bottles on the table. She could hear the bitterness in Clay’s voice, and she turned around to see his glare of contempt at his mother.

“I hate food stamp days,” he grumbled. “First thing she does is sell ’em and buy all this shit.”

“Yeah.” Tabitha sighed, because her mother did it too, started selling the food stamps to someone at a discount and used the money to buy the booze she really liked. Even if they bought different stuff, the end result was same. “I hate ’em too, but at least we got cookies.”

Clay turned to her, and a small bit of hope shone in his eyes as a smile tugged at his lips. “True.”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.”

Clay followed her in there, and he didn’t offer anything over the state of her clothes. He just handed her a towel while she worked at trying to get all the dirt and blood off. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her beaten up because of Brett.

“Maybe you ought to have the piglet kick his ass for you?”

Tabitha was working on dabbing one of her sore knees and looked up at Clay expectantly. “Huh?”

“Brett,” Clay clarified as he gave her another gap-toothed grin. “Have the piglet beat him up since he’s such an awesome ninja.”

Tabitha giggled and went back to dabbing her knees. “Wyatt Conner ain’t that bad. I think it hurts his feelings when you call him piglet.”

“That’s what he is,” Clay said as if that made it perfectly acceptable. “A little pig that’s gonna grow up into a big, mean one just as bad as his granddaddy.”

“Sheriff Conner ain’t mean,” Tabitha argued. “Just nosy.”

Clay rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. Then he studied one of her knees that didn’t want to stop bleeding. “Next time I’ll walk with you.”

“S’okay.” Tabitha looked up and smiled. “Can’t be there all the time, and here is so much better to make stuff. No Brett to steal our food.”