HOME | DD

Description
Nickolus Gragg

The Dust Devil

In the afternoon heat, the rows of recently tilled cotton look like the earth’s ribcage, and from each cruel column, a million bone spurs jut through the crust. My father told me that it’s good to eat peanut butter in the morning because it sticks to your ribs. I am not sure what that means though. I like to stare at my ribs in the mirror; my blond hair is white next to my dark brown eyes. Sometimes, I pretend that my ribs are crunching the food I swallow. I think maybe that’s what my father meant. That maybe the peanut butter takes a while to digest because it’s sticky. That’s why I shouldn’t swallow gum. It will clog my ribs and I won’t be able to swallow anything ever again. When I go to sleep at night and I have gum in my mouth, I am afraid to swallow it, but I’m also afraid to get out of bed, so I just keep chewing it through the night. That’s not always a good thing. Last year I woke up with gum in my hair and dad had to put peanut butter on my head to get the gum out. It took a while. If peanut butter helps unstick gum, why does it stick to my ribs?

Last weekend, at church, an old man with thinning, coarse white hair looked down at me, pinched my shirt and said, “That’s pretty thick material.” He pointed toward the door, “You’re likely to melt out there.” I think the old man was nice, but I can’t be sure. Not really. He goes to church, so I have to be suspicious. I looked up at him, he had a yellow polo shirt on and skin hung from his neck in doughy clumps. I tried to smile. I haven’t lived here very long, so I don’t know how to deal with the heat. The old man told me that today it was 114 degrees outside. I think maybe he should have told my mother about how thick the material of my shirt is supposed to be. She’s the one that bought it after all. This seems like pretty important information. I wonder if my mom even knows the right thickness of shirts to buy. The temperature hasn’t been below 100 degrees in over two months.

Before we moved to Shafter, California my parents knew other people that went to church. They taught my mother that babies should only eat once every four hours. Babies, like young adults, need strict discipline. But I still like to think that my mother doesn’t mean to do the things she does. I know she didn’t want to kill me when I wouldn’t stop crying. When she held her hand over my mouth I could feel my spit wet against my lips, but when she held her hand tighter, covering my nose, I couldn’t breathe. I can’t remember falling asleep.

I’m sitting behind the shed, facing the rows of tilled cotton. The shed behind me is made of very old wood; it’s almost black from the sun, as if maybe the sun had caught it on fire.

This morning, my mother was sleeping on the couch.

I’m making a pond of water with the green hose I got from the side of my house. I can feel the cold water moving inside the rubber. It’s a strange feeling because the rubber is still hot, but the water is cold. In church, the pastor was preaching about people being lukewarm. I don’t know exactly what he meant, other than that those people would be spewed from the mouth of God. Or maybe he said the mouth of Jesus. God or Jesus must have a giant mouth the size of Mt. Schweitzer. I went skiing once on Mt. Schweitzer. My mom held out her pole so I could grab something so I wouldn’t fall and tumble down the mountain. She taught me how to point my skis toward each other to slow down.

When the water drops hit the ground, they bead into little balls. A thin layer of dust rises to the top. They look like dusty eyeballs. Brown eyes. Like mine.

I’ll be in fourth grade in a month. September 6th. I think. That’s when I start school again. I’ve been home schooled for the last three years after my mom and dad took me out of school. They told them I had ADHD and said that it would be best to put me on medicine in order to help me concentrate. I learned how to read last year. My mom and dad acted like they were proud, but I kept reading out loud like this: “It is rainy outside period.” I didn’t know that you weren’t supposed to read the periods and commas. I wish they would have told me how to read better, because I start school soon and I’m glad I know how to read now, otherwise the kids would have laughed at me. I’ve “dodged a bullet.” My dad says that sometimes. I asked him and he said people can’t actually dodge bullets. My mom told me I have autistic tendencies. I don’t know what that means, but she said she meant well.

The sun is very hot. My skin hurts. If I didn’t have the hose, the ground would be as hard as cement. But I keep the water running, waiting for the dry ground to turn to mud. I stand up and walk to the garage. One time one of the kids from across the street came over, I think his name is Matthew, and he brought a lighter. He asked me if I had any WD-40 and I said I didn’t know, but we found some next to my dad’s chainsaw. Then he started looking intently, his eyes moved all over the place, until he said, “ah-hah!” He was looking for spider webs. He had found a black-widow. The black widow with its red diamond moved franticly up and down its dirty web. Matthew struck the lighter then aimed the WD-40 toward the black widow and sprayed flames everywhere. The spider fell to the ground in a charcoaled heap. Its legs curled around its belly. I haven’t seen Matthew since. Somehow my dad found out and got very angry. He told him to never come back until he’s more mature. He said that he could have set the garage on fire and that he and I could have died. He didn’t tell my mom though.

The garage is cool and dark. Gordon purrs and rubs his side across my bare leg. Gordon is a white tabby. She had a litter of three cats in April. I named them Monday, Wednesday and Friday. In July, my dad was cleaning out the van and had set the seats out on the lawn. While my dad was inside getting water, Friday was playing in the grass. The seat had provided some shade I guess, because Friday was playing very close to it. Gordon jumped on the seat and it smashed Friday. I know Gordon didn’t mean to, she’s a good mom, but Friday died “instantly and didn’t any feel pain.” That’s what my dad said. He cried for a long time and apologized and said that he shouldn’t get attached to animals and that if I died he would cry so much harder. I don’t know why he told me that. Monday is still alive. He’s getting a little bigger. Wednesday was eaten by the neighbor’s dogs. They tossed her around in the yard until they broke her neck. They didn’t really eat her, more nibbled on her. My dad didn’t cry that time. He threw her in the trash. I know because I found a puddle of blood around the trash can the next day.

In the garage I find six large, rusty nails. I run my fingers along the metal and an orange-red dust comes off. Before we moved to Shafter, we lived in Modesto. I was playing in the backyard, running or something, and stepped on a wooden board. A nail was sticking out and it went through my shoe and into my foot. My parents took me to the emergency room and they shot me.

I met a girl at church and I am in love with her. She is very thin and she is always doing gymnastics. She told me she has a giant trampoline at her house and can do all kinds of tricks on it. I will be going to the school she goes to and I don’t know if I will be able to take it. She’s in the same grade as I am and I think I will just stare at her all day and won’t learn anything. I can’t afford that because the school is a “private” school, which means my mom and dad have to pay a lot of money every month so I can learn. I don’t know why I’m not being home schooled any more. Maybe my mom got tired of me. Or maybe she’s not very good at teaching. I can’t help not being able to sit still. And I can’t help that I can’t “control my volume.” My mother tells me I’m always yelling, but I can’t really hear myself talk so I don’t know how to stop yelling. All I know is how to whisper, talk and yell. I tried telling her this but she just rolled her eyes. I’m not sure why adults get to roll their eyes and I don’t. Whenever I roll my eyes I get yelled at. My mother has very good volume control. She can yell very loud.

Last night my head hurt so much that I thought my brain was going to melt out of my ears. Or maybe it would burn its way out of my forehead. I hate headaches. My dad tells me they’re migraines and that they can’t be helped. My mom yells at him and says that I get migraines because of the pesticides that the farmers spray on the alfalfa and cotton fields surrounding our house. I don’t know why I get them, but I wish they would go away. Last night I wanted to die. My stomach was angry and I thought maybe someone had secretly hit me right above my left eye with a metal pole. I threw up on the carpet because I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. Everyone was mad at me, but I couldn’t help it. My stomach tried to jump out of my mouth, but I stopped it the best I could. My nose started burning badly and I kept asking my mom for Tylenol but she said she didn’t have any and didn’t have the money to buy any.

The ground burns my feet. I’m not wearing shoes because I don’t want to. But the ground is hot, so I run on my tip-toes back to the hose and poor cold water all over my feet. I imagine my feet are making hissing noises and think steam should be rising from beneath my toenails. The water is not as cold as I’d like. After my feet stop hurting, I sit down and put the nails on the ground. I have created a large pond. The hose has turned the hard ground into mud, just like I wanted. I force my hand into the mud and squish it between my fingers. The ground is full of little sticks from the cotton and they lightly poke my hands. Gordon brushes against my arm, but she’s all done purring. I don’t really understand cats, but I like them anyways. They’re pretty simple. And they’re lazy. I like lazy cats. All I have to do is feed Gordon and she looks at me with big, yellow eyes and thanks me. Sometimes I’ll sit on the couch after I’ve been in the sun all day and Gordon will jump up behind me and start licking the sweat from my hair. Her rough tongue tears at my skin and pulls the hair away from my head, but it doesn’t hurt. But last night, when I was really sick, Gordon tried to lick my hair and I got angry and threw her on ground. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but cats are pretty hard to hurt, and I’m pretty sure she’s forgiven me. I really didn’t want to hurt her. She’s had a rough year; I don’t want to make it worse.

I feel a warm breeze begin to swirl around me. Dust and small sticks are kicked up into the air in a circle. A dust devil moves off and disappears behind the garage.

-

What are you doing?”

He’s standing behind me. I know he is. His shadow has been hanging over my shoulder for a few minutes. I’m not scared, but it’s strange anyways.

“I’m not doing anything. Where did you come from?” I turn around and he’s wearing all black. He has long, curly red hair. He has black cowboy boots on with stirrups and I want to ask him to walk so I can hear the stirrups because I like the sound of cowboy boots.

“Come from? I didn’t come from anywhere. I’ve been standing behind you for quite a while, and before that I wasn’t anywhere. So, I didn’t come from anywhere.”

“You must have come from somewhere.”

“It’s cold, out here.” He looks around, squints his eyes at the horizon. “What are you doing?”

“My mother tells me its over 100 degrees today. It isn’t cold.”

“Well, I’m cold. Are you telling me I’m lying?”

“Not lying. It’s just not cold. It’s over 100 degrees. That’s not cold.” I’ve taken my hands out of the mud and the dirt dries instantly, caking around my knuckles and sticking to my palms.

“Well, I’m still cold.” He has a five-o’clock shadow. His jaw looks like my dads. My mother tells me that when my dad was younger his jaw got him into a lot of trouble with the ladies. I asked her if I would have trouble with the ladies and she said yes.

“I used to live in Idaho. It’s a lot colder there. We used to have snow. It hailed in July. It isn’t cold here. It never gets cold here.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m playing in the mud. I’m playing in the mud and that’s all there is to it.”

“You say it snows up there, eh? That sounds really cold.”

“I miss it. It’s too hot here. It’s hot all the time and it never stops. Even at night. At night it’s hot and I miss needing blankets. I haven’t used a blanket in months because I start sweating.” I look over at the back door to my house. “What’s your name?”

“What if I don’t have one?” He looks back down at me, “I need a blanket.”

“You don’t need a blanket. It would get dirty.”

“I’d say from the looks of it, you’re making some sort of weapon.”

I’m a little surprised by this. I’m not sure why he said it.
“Weapon? What kind of weapon?” I look up and the sun hurts my eyes. He’s blocking most of it, but the pieces of the sun that reach me are bright and hot and they hurt.

“Booby-traps.”

“A what? I don’t know what that is.”

“Like they used in ‘Nam. You know, a booby-trap.”

“No, I don’t know. What are they used for?”

“Like trip-wires. Land mines. You know, booby-traps.”

“Do they kill people?”

“Yes. I suppose they do.”

“Then I’m not making that. I don’t want to kill anyone.” I turn around and put my hands back under the water.

“And what do you want?”

“I want to hurt someone.”

“You like the sound cowboy boots make, eh?”

I don’t know how to answer. “I’m going to spray you with my hose.”

He laughs. “The name’s Elroy.”

I turn around and say, “I’m sorry, but you can’t know my name.”

He says, “I’m sure I can, Michael.”

I get chills and think it’s a little odd to get chills in the middle of August when it’s over 100 degrees outside.

He sits down beside me and wraps his hand on my left shoulder. “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t get scared. I like climbing trees.”

He laughs again. “Trees? Am I no scarier than a tree?” He tightens his grip.

“No. Not really. Trees aren’t scary though.” I turn around and look him in the eyes. He has dark brown eyes, like mine, but his eyes glare a fiery red.

“Do you know what the name Michael means,” he asks.

“No,” I look back at the pond, “My mom told me she just chose it because it was a popular name.”

He chuckles. “It means gift of God.”

I turn around and he’s gone.

-

I met a girl at church a few weeks ago and I am in love with her. She has small, pink lips and long blond hair. She has blue eyes and is not afraid of anything. That’s what she told me: she’s not afraid of anything. But she has a lot of friends. She’s lived here her whole life and I’m sure she has someone else to love. But that’s okay. I don’t know who Elroy is. His breath smelled like burnt toast. His clothes smelled old. I know I’m not supposed to, but I want him to come back.

I use my hands and stir the water and dirt together until it starts to thicken. After it gets thick, I take two handfuls of mud and roll it into a ball. The mud starts to dry fast, so I move quickly. I take one of the nails and stick it into the mud. I pack the mud as hard as I can around the nail. I don’t point the nail straight up but let it lean at a slight angle. Last night I threw up and some of it came out of my nose and it burned more than I want to imagine. My dad said that maybe I had heat exhaustion. He said I’m always outside when he comes home from work. My mom just yelled at him. I’m not sure why she was even yelling anymore. I think she had changed the subject to something more important. Maybe something about him being at work all day. I don’t know the record temperature for today but I know it feels like it’s been broken.

I know I’m too young to make this kind of decision, but I don’t want to go to school in September. I want to sit around the house all day and play with Gordon or maybe climb the mulberry tree again. Earlier this morning I climbed to the very top of the mulberry tree and let the branch bend all the way down until my feet were inches above the roof of my house. I let go and landed on the roof and almost tripped. I still can’t believe I almost fell off the roof of my house. I wasn’t scared though. It was awesome. My heart started pounding and I thought that maybe I should do that every day. I haven’t been on my roof since, but I think I might go up there later. I’ve made four booby-traps and only have two more left. I’m glad I know what to call them now. That makes it a little easier. I like giving things names. Except Gordon. I feel bad about that. I named her Gordon before I knew she was a girl. My mom and dad laughed a lot when she got pregnant. I felt really bad, but my dad said that it was just funny and that the name fit anyways. I’m glad he didn’t get mad or anything. He doesn’t get mad very often though.

When my dad has time, he cleans the church. I heard my mom yelling one night about how we couldn’t afford rent, and he said that if they would just put me in public school we wouldn’t have any problem paying rent. She said that education is important and that she didn’t want me to get beat up at school. She doesn’t know how strong I am from climbing trees. I wanted to tell her that I’m stronger than she thinks and that I could protect myself if they needed me to go to public school. I didn’t really want to go to public school though because Kara goes to private school and I wanted to stare at her every day for the rest of my life. I haven’t told them about Kara, but I think they know her parents. They seem to get along, which is very good news. If they get along, maybe they will invite us over for lunch and then I would get to see Kara on her trampoline. She told me she can do all kinds of flips. I want to see this. She’s very pretty. Most of the time, my dad works at a hospital in Bakersfield. It is a forty minute drive to the hospital. I’ve been there a few times and it is exactly like every other hospital I’ve ever been to.

When my mom isn’t in the van, and me and my dad are driving alone together, he listens to very loud music. He loves Pink Floyd. He told me that once he did LSD and that he could taste metal in his mouth. He told me it scared him a lot because his friends had told him that if you taste metal it means that the acid was cut wrong. He told me he was afraid of dying. I asked him if he’s always afraid of dying and he said I didn’t understand. He turned up the radio and I liked the song, so I didn’t bother telling him that I did understand, but that I was asking a new question. I wanted to know if he was afraid of dying because I know I’m not. I asked Kara if she was afraid of dying and that’s when she stopped talking to me. I hope she didn’t tell her mom what I said. I don’t think they would invite us over for lunch and I wouldn’t get to see her perform. I want her to love me more than anything.

-

I forgot something.”

I know I’m not supposed to, because when you’re young you are supposed to be afraid of strangers, but I’m glad he’s back. He smells like “sulfur” he tells me.

“What did you forget?”

“I forgot that you like the sound of cowboy boots and I feel terrible. I didn’t walk away last time. I had entirely planned on walking away, but I completely forgot. Will you ever forgive me?”

I stand up, brush my hands against my shorts and shake his hand. “Consider yourself forgiven.”

He laughs and I can smell his breath. It smells like the trashcan after Wednesday died. I know that I’m not supposed to like that smell, but I do. I can’t help it.

He starts dancing and dust springs from the ground and forms clouds of sand and sticks all around him. His cowboy boots clash into the dirt and I wish he had a gun and a holster and I wish that maybe he is a real life cowboy and maybe he has been in gunfights. He waves his arms around and flaps his wings and says, “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

I say, “I flew this morning. I jumped off the roof of my house and I flew.”

“You did not!” He shouts and I start laughing.

“You’re right. I didn’t. I hurt my leg, but it feels better. I haven’t told my mom or dad.”

“And that’s the way it should be,” he says.

He continues dancing and the clouds of dust violently whip around my face and arms. The sand feels like hail on my skin and I know that I miss the snow.

I have to catch my breath when I realize that my feet are no longer on the ground.

“This is flying, Gift of God.” He laughs really loud and I know that I love the way he laughs.

“That’s not my name,” I say as I try to make my arms look like his wings. His wings are black like a ravens. I like ravens. They sit on the telephone poles and stare at cars. They always look angry, but I know better.

“Who says? I think that’s your name and it’s hilarious.”

“What do you do if you love someone,” I ask.

“It’s best not to love. That’s the best way to live. Live for yourself, my friend. It makes flying a lot easier.”

“What does Elroy mean?”

“It means, ‘The King.’”

He’s gone and I fall a few feet to the ground and skin my knee and I don’t care.

-

I take the hose and wash the sand from my bleeding knee. I pick the small rocks out and throw them into my mud lake. The sun is like my mom’s flatiron. It burns the ground. The booby-traps are hard as rocks. The rusty nails stick out like pointy teeth. With my shirt pulled out with my right hand, I bend down and pick each trap up with my left hand, then set them gently into my shirt which I use as a pouch. My dad tells me I’m smart and always know how to deal with a problem. I wonder if he’s afraid of dying. I don’t know why I’m not, but that’s okay.

I walk down my gravel driveway with my hands cupped around the traps as if they were my babies. They might as well be. I’ve spent the whole afternoon making sure they are perfect. Orange Street is burning asphalt. My driveway ends at Orange Street, dust tracks from my dad’s van loop outward toward Poplar Avenue. I didn’t know what to do when I found my mom sleeping on the couch this morning. I wish I would have remembered to ask Elroy about it. He seemed to have all kinds of answers even if most of them didn’t make sense. I didn’t want to wake her up, so I went back into my room and tried to sleep for over a half hour. She wouldn’t wake up. She has been sleeping later and later. I don’t know why. When she finally woke up she walked into my bedroom and said that I needed to stop being lazy because the sun was up and there were chores to do. She was kind of kidding, but I could tell she was angry at something, even though it didn’t appear to be me. When I could tell she was kidding I told her I wanted to get a huge trampoline for my birthday. She laughed. She doesn’t usually laugh, but she did, so I felt happy and didn’t even care if I got the trampoline or not.

The asphalt burns my feet, but I don’t mind all that much. I put each trap down in a row. I space them about a foot and a half apart and cover an entire lane. After I set the booby-traps; I turn around and walk back to my house. The mulberry tree is a giant tree. I think maybe I love that tree. I get a running start then jump as high as I can. I catch myself on one of the lower branches and swing my leg up over and around the branch. I pick myself up easily and continue climbing up the tree, branch after branch, higher and higher. When I get as high as I can, I start to sway on purpose. The branch bends backward then forward like a grandfather clock. When I get enough speed I push extra hard and the branch bends all the way over the roof. I let go and fall a few feet onto my house. The roof is hot, but I don’t mind. I sit down and watch the road and wait for my dad to come home.

Description
Nickolus Gragg

The Dust Devil

In the afternoon heat, the rows of recently tilled cotton look like the earth’s ribcage, and from each cruel column, a million bone spurs jut through the crust. My father told me that it’s good to eat peanut butter in the morning because it sticks to your ribs. I am not sure what that means though. I like to stare at my ribs in the mirror; my blond hair is white next to my dark brown eyes. Sometimes, I pretend that my ribs are crunching the food I swallow. I think maybe that’s what my father meant. That maybe the peanut butter takes a while to digest because it’s sticky. That’s why I shouldn’t swallow gum. It will clog my ribs and I won’t be able to swallow anything ever again. When I go to sleep at night and I have gum in my mouth, I am afraid to swallow it, but I’m also afraid to get out of bed, so I just keep chewing it through the night. That’s not always a good thing. Last year I woke up with gum in my hair and dad had to put peanut butter on my head to get the gum out. It took a while. If peanut butter helps unstick gum, why does it stick to my ribs?

Last weekend, at church, an old man with thinning, coarse white hair looked down at me, pinched my shirt and said, “That’s pretty thick material.” He pointed toward the door, “You’re likely to melt out there.” I think the old man was nice, but I can’t be sure. Not really. He goes to church, so I have to be suspicious. I looked up at him, he had a yellow polo shirt on and skin hung from his neck in doughy clumps. I tried to smile. I haven’t lived here very long, so I don’t know how to deal with the heat. The old man told me that today it was 114 degrees outside. I think maybe he should have told my mother about how thick the material of my shirt is supposed to be. She’s the one that bought it after all. This seems like pretty important information. I wonder if my mom even knows the right thickness of shirts to buy. The temperature hasn’t been below 100 degrees in over two months.

Before we moved to Shafter, California my parents knew other people that went to church. They taught my mother that babies should only eat once every four hours. Babies, like young adults, need strict discipline. But I still like to think that my mother doesn’t mean to do the things she does. I know she didn’t want to kill me when I wouldn’t stop crying. When she held her hand over my mouth I could feel my spit wet against my lips, but when she held her hand tighter, covering my nose, I couldn’t breathe. I can’t remember falling asleep.

I’m sitting behind the shed, facing the rows of tilled cotton. The shed behind me is made of very old wood; it’s almost black from the sun, as if maybe the sun had caught it on fire.

This morning, my mother was sleeping on the couch.

I’m making a pond of water with the green hose I got from the side of my house. I can feel the cold water moving inside the rubber. It’s a strange feeling because the rubber is still hot, but the water is cold. In church, the pastor was preaching about people being lukewarm. I don’t know exactly what he meant, other than that those people would be spewed from the mouth of God. Or maybe he said the mouth of Jesus. God or Jesus must have a giant mouth the size of Mt. Schweitzer. I went skiing once on Mt. Schweitzer. My mom held out her pole so I could grab something so I wouldn’t fall and tumble down the mountain. She taught me how to point my skis toward each other to slow down.

When the water drops hit the ground, they bead into little balls. A thin layer of dust rises to the top. They look like dusty eyeballs. Brown eyes. Like mine.

I’ll be in fourth grade in a month. September 6th. I think. That’s when I start school again. I’ve been home schooled for the last three years after my mom and dad took me out of school. They told them I had ADHD and said that it would be best to put me on medicine in order to help me concentrate. I learned how to read last year. My mom and dad acted like they were proud, but I kept reading out loud like this: “It is rainy outside period.” I didn’t know that you weren’t supposed to read the periods and commas. I wish they would have told me how to read better, because I start school soon and I’m glad I know how to read now, otherwise the kids would have laughed at me. I’ve “dodged a bullet.” My dad says that sometimes. I asked him and he said people can’t actually dodge bullets. My mom told me I have autistic tendencies. I don’t know what that means, but she said she meant well.

The sun is very hot. My skin hurts. If I didn’t have the hose, the ground would be as hard as cement. But I keep the water running, waiting for the dry ground to turn to mud. I stand up and walk to the garage. One time one of the kids from across the street came over, I think his name is Matthew, and he brought a lighter. He asked me if I had any WD-40 and I said I didn’t know, but we found some next to my dad’s chainsaw. Then he started looking intently, his eyes moved all over the place, until he said, “ah-hah!” He was looking for spider webs. He had found a black-widow. The black widow with its red diamond moved franticly up and down its dirty web. Matthew struck the lighter then aimed the WD-40 toward the black widow and sprayed flames everywhere. The spider fell to the ground in a charcoaled heap. Its legs curled around its belly. I haven’t seen Matthew since. Somehow my dad found out and got very angry. He told him to never come back until he’s more mature. He said that he could have set the garage on fire and that he and I could have died. He didn’t tell my mom though.

The garage is cool and dark. Gordon purrs and rubs his side across my bare leg. Gordon is a white tabby. She had a litter of three cats in April. I named them Monday, Wednesday and Friday. In July, my dad was cleaning out the van and had set the seats out on the lawn. While my dad was inside getting water, Friday was playing in the grass. The seat had provided some shade I guess, because Friday was playing very close to it. Gordon jumped on the seat and it smashed Friday. I know Gordon didn’t mean to, she’s a good mom, but Friday died “instantly and didn’t any feel pain.” That’s what my dad said. He cried for a long time and apologized and said that he shouldn’t get attached to animals and that if I died he would cry so much harder. I don’t know why he told me that. Monday is still alive. He’s getting a little bigger. Wednesday was eaten by the neighbor’s dogs. They tossed her around in the yard until they broke her neck. They didn’t really eat her, more nibbled on her. My dad didn’t cry that time. He threw her in the trash. I know because I found a puddle of blood around the trash can the next day.

In the garage I find six large, rusty nails. I run my fingers along the metal and an orange-red dust comes off. Before we moved to Shafter, we lived in Modesto. I was playing in the backyard, running or something, and stepped on a wooden board. A nail was sticking out and it went through my shoe and into my foot. My parents took me to the emergency room and they shot me.

I met a girl at church and I am in love with her. She is very thin and she is always doing gymnastics. She told me she has a giant trampoline at her house and can do all kinds of tricks on it. I will be going to the school she goes to and I don’t know if I will be able to take it. She’s in the same grade as I am and I think I will just stare at her all day and won’t learn anything. I can’t afford that because the school is a “private” school, which means my mom and dad have to pay a lot of money every month so I can learn. I don’t know why I’m not being home schooled any more. Maybe my mom got tired of me. Or maybe she’s not very good at teaching. I can’t help not being able to sit still. And I can’t help that I can’t “control my volume.” My mother tells me I’m always yelling, but I can’t really hear myself talk so I don’t know how to stop yelling. All I know is how to whisper, talk and yell. I tried telling her this but she just rolled her eyes. I’m not sure why adults get to roll their eyes and I don’t. Whenever I roll my eyes I get yelled at. My mother has very good volume control. She can yell very loud.

Last night my head hurt so much that I thought my brain was going to melt out of my ears. Or maybe it would burn its way out of my forehead. I hate headaches. My dad tells me they’re migraines and that they can’t be helped. My mom yells at him and says that I get migraines because of the pesticides that the farmers spray on the alfalfa and cotton fields surrounding our house. I don’t know why I get them, but I wish they would go away. Last night I wanted to die. My stomach was angry and I thought maybe someone had secretly hit me right above my left eye with a metal pole. I threw up on the carpet because I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. Everyone was mad at me, but I couldn’t help it. My stomach tried to jump out of my mouth, but I stopped it the best I could. My nose started burning badly and I kept asking my mom for Tylenol but she said she didn’t have any and didn’t have the money to buy any.

The ground burns my feet. I’m not wearing shoes because I don’t want to. But the ground is hot, so I run on my tip-toes back to the hose and poor cold water all over my feet. I imagine my feet are making hissing noises and think steam should be rising from beneath my toenails. The water is not as cold as I’d like. After my feet stop hurting, I sit down and put the nails on the ground. I have created a large pond. The hose has turned the hard ground into mud, just like I wanted. I force my hand into the mud and squish it between my fingers. The ground is full of little sticks from the cotton and they lightly poke my hands. Gordon brushes against my arm, but she’s all done purring. I don’t really understand cats, but I like them anyways. They’re pretty simple. And they’re lazy. I like lazy cats. All I have to do is feed Gordon and she looks at me with big, yellow eyes and thanks me. Sometimes I’ll sit on the couch after I’ve been in the sun all day and Gordon will jump up behind me and start licking the sweat from my hair. Her rough tongue tears at my skin and pulls the hair away from my head, but it doesn’t hurt. But last night, when I was really sick, Gordon tried to lick my hair and I got angry and threw her on ground. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but cats are pretty hard to hurt, and I’m pretty sure she’s forgiven me. I really didn’t want to hurt her. She’s had a rough year; I don’t want to make it worse.

I feel a warm breeze begin to swirl around me. Dust and small sticks are kicked up into the air in a circle. A dust devil moves off and disappears behind the garage.

-

What are you doing?”

He’s standing behind me. I know he is. His shadow has been hanging over my shoulder for a few minutes. I’m not scared, but it’s strange anyways.

“I’m not doing anything. Where did you come from?” I turn around and he’s wearing all black. He has long, curly red hair. He has black cowboy boots on with stirrups and I want to ask him to walk so I can hear the stirrups because I like the sound of cowboy boots.

“Come from? I didn’t come from anywhere. I’ve been standing behind you for quite a while, and before that I wasn’t anywhere. So, I didn’t come from anywhere.”

“You must have come from somewhere.”

“It’s cold, out here.” He looks around, squints his eyes at the horizon. “What are you doing?”

“My mother tells me its over 100 degrees today. It isn’t cold.”

“Well, I’m cold. Are you telling me I’m lying?”

“Not lying. It’s just not cold. It’s over 100 degrees. That’s not cold.” I’ve taken my hands out of the mud and the dirt dries instantly, caking around my knuckles and sticking to my palms.

“Well, I’m still cold.” He has a five-o’clock shadow. His jaw looks like my dads. My mother tells me that when my dad was younger his jaw got him into a lot of trouble with the ladies. I asked her if I would have trouble with the ladies and she said yes.

“I used to live in Idaho. It’s a lot colder there. We used to have snow. It hailed in July. It isn’t cold here. It never gets cold here.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m playing in the mud. I’m playing in the mud and that’s all there is to it.”

“You say it snows up there, eh? That sounds really cold.”

“I miss it. It’s too hot here. It’s hot all the time and it never stops. Even at night. At night it’s hot and I miss needing blankets. I haven’t used a blanket in months because I start sweating.” I look over at the back door to my house. “What’s your name?”

“What if I don’t have one?” He looks back down at me, “I need a blanket.”

“You don’t need a blanket. It would get dirty.”

“I’d say from the looks of it, you’re making some sort of weapon.”

I’m a little surprised by this. I’m not sure why he said it.
“Weapon? What kind of weapon?” I look up and the sun hurts my eyes. He’s blocking most of it, but the pieces of the sun that reach me are bright and hot and they hurt.

“Booby-traps.”

“A what? I don’t know what that is.”

“Like they used in ‘Nam. You know, a booby-trap.”

“No, I don’t know. What are they used for?”

“Like trip-wires. Land mines. You know, booby-traps.”

“Do they kill people?”

“Yes. I suppose they do.”

“Then I’m not making that. I don’t want to kill anyone.” I turn around and put my hands back under the water.

“And what do you want?”

“I want to hurt someone.”

“You like the sound cowboy boots make, eh?”

I don’t know how to answer. “I’m going to spray you with my hose.”

He laughs. “The name’s Elroy.”

I turn around and say, “I’m sorry, but you can’t know my name.”

He says, “I’m sure I can, Michael.”

I get chills and think it’s a little odd to get chills in the middle of August when it’s over 100 degrees outside.

He sits down beside me and wraps his hand on my left shoulder. “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t get scared. I like climbing trees.”

He laughs again. “Trees? Am I no scarier than a tree?” He tightens his grip.

“No. Not really. Trees aren’t scary though.” I turn around and look him in the eyes. He has dark brown eyes, like mine, but his eyes glare a fiery red.

“Do you know what the name Michael means,” he asks.

“No,” I look back at the pond, “My mom told me she just chose it because it was a popular name.”

He chuckles. “It means gift of God.”

I turn around and he’s gone.

-

I met a girl at church a few weeks ago and I am in love with her. She has small, pink lips and long blond hair. She has blue eyes and is not afraid of anything. That’s what she told me: she’s not afraid of anything. But she has a lot of friends. She’s lived here her whole life and I’m sure she has someone else to love. But that’s okay. I don’t know who Elroy is. His breath smelled like burnt toast. His clothes smelled old. I know I’m not supposed to, but I want him to come back.

I use my hands and stir the water and dirt together until it starts to thicken. After it gets thick, I take two handfuls of mud and roll it into a ball. The mud starts to dry fast, so I move quickly. I take one of the nails and stick it into the mud. I pack the mud as hard as I can around the nail. I don’t point the nail straight up but let it lean at a slight angle. Last night I threw up and some of it came out of my nose and it burned more than I want to imagine. My dad said that maybe I had heat exhaustion. He said I’m always outside when he comes home from work. My mom just yelled at him. I’m not sure why she was even yelling anymore. I think she had changed the subject to something more important. Maybe something about him being at work all day. I don’t know the record temperature for today but I know it feels like it’s been broken.

I know I’m too young to make this kind of decision, but I don’t want to go to school in September. I want to sit around the house all day and play with Gordon or maybe climb the mulberry tree again. Earlier this morning I climbed to the very top of the mulberry tree and let the branch bend all the way down until my feet were inches above the roof of my house. I let go and landed on the roof and almost tripped. I still can’t believe I almost fell off the roof of my house. I wasn’t scared though. It was awesome. My heart started pounding and I thought that maybe I should do that every day. I haven’t been on my roof since, but I think I might go up there later. I’ve made four booby-traps and only have two more left. I’m glad I know what to call them now. That makes it a little easier. I like giving things names. Except Gordon. I feel bad about that. I named her Gordon before I knew she was a girl. My mom and dad laughed a lot when she got pregnant. I felt really bad, but my dad said that it was just funny and that the name fit anyways. I’m glad he didn’t get mad or anything. He doesn’t get mad very often though.

When my dad has time, he cleans the church. I heard my mom yelling one night about how we couldn’t afford rent, and he said that if they would just put me in public school we wouldn’t have any problem paying rent. She said that education is important and that she didn’t want me to get beat up at school. She doesn’t know how strong I am from climbing trees. I wanted to tell her that I’m stronger than she thinks and that I could protect myself if they needed me to go to public school. I didn’t really want to go to public school though because Kara goes to private school and I wanted to stare at her every day for the rest of my life. I haven’t told them about Kara, but I think they know her parents. They seem to get along, which is very good news. If they get along, maybe they will invite us over for lunch and then I would get to see Kara on her trampoline. She told me she can do all kinds of flips. I want to see this. She’s very pretty. Most of the time, my dad works at a hospital in Bakersfield. It is a forty minute drive to the hospital. I’ve been there a few times and it is exactly like every other hospital I’ve ever been to.

When my mom isn’t in the van, and me and my dad are driving alone together, he listens to very loud music. He loves Pink Floyd. He told me that once he did LSD and that he could taste metal in his mouth. He told me it scared him a lot because his friends had told him that if you taste metal it means that the acid was cut wrong. He told me he was afraid of dying. I asked him if he’s always afraid of dying and he said I didn’t understand. He turned up the radio and I liked the song, so I didn’t bother telling him that I did understand, but that I was asking a new question. I wanted to know if he was afraid of dying because I know I’m not. I asked Kara if she was afraid of dying and that’s when she stopped talking to me. I hope she didn’t tell her mom what I said. I don’t think they would invite us over for lunch and I wouldn’t get to see her perform. I want her to love me more than anything.

-

I forgot something.”

I know I’m not supposed to, because when you’re young you are supposed to be afraid of strangers, but I’m glad he’s back. He smells like “sulfur” he tells me.

“What did you forget?”

“I forgot that you like the sound of cowboy boots and I feel terrible. I didn’t walk away last time. I had entirely planned on walking away, but I completely forgot. Will you ever forgive me?”

I stand up, brush my hands against my shorts and shake his hand. “Consider yourself forgiven.”

He laughs and I can smell his breath. It smells like the trashcan after Wednesday died. I know that I’m not supposed to like that smell, but I do. I can’t help it.

He starts dancing and dust springs from the ground and forms clouds of sand and sticks all around him. His cowboy boots clash into the dirt and I wish he had a gun and a holster and I wish that maybe he is a real life cowboy and maybe he has been in gunfights. He waves his arms around and flaps his wings and says, “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

I say, “I flew this morning. I jumped off the roof of my house and I flew.”

“You did not!” He shouts and I start laughing.

“You’re right. I didn’t. I hurt my leg, but it feels better. I haven’t told my mom or dad.”

“And that’s the way it should be,” he says.

He continues dancing and the clouds of dust violently whip around my face and arms. The sand feels like hail on my skin and I know that I miss the snow.

I have to catch my breath when I realize that my feet are no longer on the ground.

“This is flying, Gift of God.” He laughs really loud and I know that I love the way he laughs.

“That’s not my name,” I say as I try to make my arms look like his wings. His wings are black like a ravens. I like ravens. They sit on the telephone poles and stare at cars. They always look angry, but I know better.

“Who says? I think that’s your name and it’s hilarious.”

“What do you do if you love someone,” I ask.

“It’s best not to love. That’s the best way to live. Live for yourself, my friend. It makes flying a lot easier.”

“What does Elroy mean?”

“It means, ‘The King.’”

He’s gone and I fall a few feet to the ground and skin my knee and I don’t care.

-

I take the hose and wash the sand from my bleeding knee. I pick the small rocks out and throw them into my mud lake. The sun is like my mom’s flatiron. It burns the ground. The booby-traps are hard as rocks. The rusty nails stick out like pointy teeth. With my shirt pulled out with my right hand, I bend down and pick each trap up with my left hand, then set them gently into my shirt which I use as a pouch. My dad tells me I’m smart and always know how to deal with a problem. I wonder if he’s afraid of dying. I don’t know why I’m not, but that’s okay.

I walk down my gravel driveway with my hands cupped around the traps as if they were my babies. They might as well be. I’ve spent the whole afternoon making sure they are perfect. Orange Street is burning asphalt. My driveway ends at Orange Street, dust tracks from my dad’s van loop outward toward Poplar Avenue. I didn’t know what to do when I found my mom sleeping on the couch this morning. I wish I would have remembered to ask Elroy about it. He seemed to have all kinds of answers even if most of them didn’t make sense. I didn’t want to wake her up, so I went back into my room and tried to sleep for over a half hour. She wouldn’t wake up. She has been sleeping later and later. I don’t know why. When she finally woke up she walked into my bedroom and said that I needed to stop being lazy because the sun was up and there were chores to do. She was kind of kidding, but I could tell she was angry at something, even though it didn’t appear to be me. When I could tell she was kidding I told her I wanted to get a huge trampoline for my birthday. She laughed. She doesn’t usually laugh, but she did, so I felt happy and didn’t even care if I got the trampoline or not.

The asphalt burns my feet, but I don’t mind all that much. I put each trap down in a row. I space them about a foot and a half apart and cover an entire lane. After I set the booby-traps; I turn around and walk back to my house. The mulberry tree is a giant tree. I think maybe I love that tree. I get a running start then jump as high as I can. I catch myself on one of the lower branches and swing my leg up over and around the branch. I pick myself up easily and continue climbing up the tree, branch after branch, higher and higher. When I get as high as I can, I start to sway on purpose. The branch bends backward then forward like a grandfather clock. When I get enough speed I push extra hard and the branch bends all the way over the roof. I let go and fall a few feet onto my house. The roof is hot, but I don’t mind. I sit down and watch the road and wait for my dad to come home.