HIDING - every scar has a story

6. Jon's house

{Cary}

Cary bussed home with Jon after their drafting class. His awkward attempts to not scare the crap out of Jon seemed to be working—Jon kept the conversation going almost single-handedly. Cary liked that. And he was quick. Jon had a pad of graph paper on his lap that he used to illustrate their ideas. The layout of their building was almost complete before Jon pulled the cord. The bus sighed to a stop on a residential street of older bungalows and duplexes with frayed brown siding.

"This is us." Jon said.

Cary followed Jon closely, watching everything.

Two little girls whooped and ran on the brown grass of the front yard. A whole tribe of Barbies littered the front step.

The littlest girl collided with Jon and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Jonee come and play."

Jon unwound her arms. "No Bea, we have homework."

She peered around Jon's body at Cary. "Is this your friend from school?"

Cary shot a look at Jon's back. Jon turned, smiling with just one side of his mouth like an apology. "Cary, this is my little sister Beatrice. The one on the bike is Tabitha."

Bea rubbed a foot up and down her leg, looking at Cary sideways. "You can call me bee," she said. "I like your pockets."

Cary frowned, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Thanks."

"Do you keep rocks in your pockets?"

Cary found the handle of his knife and gripped it. "No."

Bea used both hands to dig into her jeans pocket. "I keep rocks in my pockets, see? And a feather from our blackbird but it's crunched now." She held it out on her palm.

Jon stepped around her. "Okay bye Bea."

She held out the feather to Cary with a hopeful smile. "You can have that." When he didn't move she took his wrist so quick he didn't have time to pull away. She put the feather in his hand. "Bye Cary."

He stuck the feather in his pocket and followed Jon inside, panic fluttering in his stomach. Jon's front entryway looked like someone turned a shoe store upside-down, and the roar of a vacuum cleaner filled the hallway.

Jon raised his voice to a yell. "Mom? Cary's here, we're going to my room."

The roaring noise snapped off and a woman appeared in the doorway with a vacuum in her hand. Her face was flushed and her hair escaped from the blue bandana tied around her head. Her smile made deep dimples, and her eyes went from Jon to Cary and back.

"Mom, this is Cary. We're going to my room to do homework."

She smiled right at him. "Will you be staying for supper, Cary?"

Cary glanced at Jon for his cue.

"Sure, you'll stay right?"

"Yeah maybe." Cary said. He was having trouble drawing a full breath. Jon's house was crowded and everyone looked him in the face.

"Do you want to put your coat in the closet?"

Cary held the cuffs tight over his wrists. His jacket was the only cover he had. "No. Thanks."

The front hall went right into the kitchen, crammed full of a table and chairs. Cary looked for the dining room, then realized there was none. His parent's front entryway could have held Jon's whole house.

Framed photos of Jon's family lined the wall as they went down the hall. Cary snatched sideways looks. "How many siblings do you have?" he asked.

"Just the two you saw. Do you have brothers or sisters?"

"No." Cary checked himself. "My mom's having a baby."

Jon laughed, startled. "Wow. Was that a surprise or what?"

That seemed to not require an answer. The door to Jon's room had 'Keep Out' and 'Construction Zone' signs taped on it. Inside, it was even messier than the rest of the house.

Jon moved clothes from the floor to his bed, casually as if the disaster of his room was normal. "So boy or girl?"

Cary tore his eyes off the poster of the man outstretched, blood running from a stake through his hand. "What?"

"Did you find out? Are you having a brother or a sister?"

"Brother. A brother." It was the first time Cary had said the word and it made him feel faintly sick.

"You're lucky," Jon said.

Cary swallowed, making his face still as a stone. He had his hand on the door knob behind him. He could go. Nothing held him here.

"I had a brother." Jon wasn't looking at him, lifting papers and books to the top of his dresser. "He was sick and died when we were small. My parents don't talk about him anymore, but I remember him."

After a moment, Cary released the doorknob. He understood a house with secrets. He put Jon's secret with the others and was silent.

Jon reached deep under the twin bed and emerged with a big pad of grid paper. He looked up at Cary wearing the same hopeful smile his little sister had worn earlier. "So, ready?"

Cary joined Jon on the floor. "Pass me a pencil." 

///

Cary lost track of time as they sprawled on the floor, drawing. The sound of the front door banging open made him freeze, then the voices of Jon's little sisters reached them through the door. Jon sat up with a sigh. "I'd better go help with supper. Do you want to stay?"

Cary pulled out his cell phone to check the time. There was a text message from his mother:

<dinner ready where r u?>

He shut the phone in his fist, frowning. "I gotta go. These are almost done—you want me to finish?"

Jon smiled. "Sure. I can't wait to see Mr. Ryerson' face when we hand them in."

Cary was on his feet before he realized Jon had put out his hand to help him up. Something about Jon's gesture recalled his dream from the night before, the dead weight of his legs and the man catching him up in his arms. He shivered and followed Jon out of the bedroom. 

1012 words.