The slam of the front door startled him out of sleep and filled him with fear. He started shivering. And was sweaty. Maybe he was getting sick. What was wrong tonight? Marty had done his homework, ate all of his dinner, didn't complain about even one little thing or even ask for a puppy, helped clean up after dinner, was nice to his Mom, and had gone to bed on time. So he couldn't understand why his dad was so mad. Wait. Had he said his prayers? Maybe he had fallen asleep before he could say his prayers.
Quickly he got out of bed and knelt at his bedside.
Deep down he knew it was too late. His dad was already yelling at his mom. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying so he quietly walked to his door and cracked it open.
Now that he was eleven he had to take better care of his mom. When he was ten, he didn't really know how to do that. He had let his dad beat up on his mom. His dad punched his mom in the face, knocked her against the wall, and did other bad things to her. Now that he was older he couldn't let that happen. He didn't want his mom to cry all the time and be hurt. He saw a commercial on TV and knew that hitting his dad hitting his mom was not right.
Last summer, Marty had been playing in his friend Ray's pool, Ray's mom saw his bruises. Bruises that everyone knew came from his dad beating up on him. It was really hot that day and he had forgotten to wear his shirt in the pool. He felt stupid. He dove down deep and kept only his head above water after that.
"Somebody needs to shoot that son of a bitch," Ray's mom had said to Ray's dad later. Marty and Ray weren't supposed to be listening. They quietly inched backwards from the head of the stairs back to Ray's room.
"She's right, you know," Marty said. "I'm going to be eleven soon. I can't let him beat us up no more." He was shaking as he said it, arms wrapped around his slim chest.
Now the time had come. Ray and Marty had already found all the guns in Ray's house. They knew some were locked up in a safe but there was one in the basement just above the door that wasn't locked up. When Marty held it with two hands it wasn't too heavy.
Marty was shaking as he pulled the gun out from beneath his bed. It was already loaded. Ray had helped him with that since they knew from TV that there wasn't enough time to load a gun once you had to use it.
At the top of the stairs Marty had a clear view of his parents. He and Ray had figured he better get real close or else he would miss. They hadn't had a chance to practice shooting the gun yet but Marty figured he could do it. Slowly and as quietly as he could, Marty made his way downstairs.
It was good he was there for his mother this time. His father was hitting her with something and she was crying and screaming. His mom saw him just as he lifted up the gun and yelled for him to stop. But he and Ray had figured she would say that. Because she was a girl. But they were boys so they could use guns. So Marty shot his dad.
Afterwards there was a lot of blood. Marty threw up. His chest hurt. His mom was supposed to give him a big hug and thank him. His dad was supposed to be dead but instead he was just hurt and screaming worse than his mom had. The police were supposed to tell him that he did a good job. But instead he got sick, right in the blood. His ears hurt and his head hurt.
His mom had yelled at him. She was mad. Why was she mad?
He and Ray had planned that Marty would hide the gun in the bushes outside and tell everyone that an intruder had shot his dad. It hadn't worked on the TV show they watched but they thought since Marty was only eleven it would work. But instead his mom told the police she had shot his dad. So they took her away. Then he was screaming as loudly as he could. He didn't care if they knew.
He told anyone who would listen that he had shot his dad. Why wouldn't they listen? They spent all that time taking care of his dad even though he didn't deserve it. Then they were mean to his mom. And they wouldn't listen to him.
He finally collapsed on the floor, his throat raw. Ray said he'd come over if he heard the shot but he never came over. He must not have heard the shot.
He was so tired that when the police were busy he went back upstairs to his bedroom and laid down on his bed.
A man's voice woke him from his sleep. It was a man they saw when they went to church. Sometimes he or his wife would be on the altar doing the reading or talking. The man sat down on the edge of his bed. Marty sat up. His mom had warned him about men wanting to be in bed with him. He knew he had to say No. Maybe he should run out of the house. His heart beat so hard in his chest that he thought he might die. Where was his mom? Why had he shot his dad?
But this man told him that he wanted Marty to come stay with him for a few days. His name was Bernard. He had a wife named Barbara and two sons about Marty's age. Marty knew that because he had seen them at church. Sam and Jim went to another school because they lived kind of far away. They were nice to him at church and even gave him a high five when his team played their school's team at basketball.
Marty's dad was going to be in the hospital and his mom was going to be busy for a few days, the man explained. Would Marty like to come stay with him and his family? He had already packed some clothes for Marty.
When Marty sat up he realized he had peed his underpants. He had taken off his pajamas when he got into bed because they had blood on them. He was too embarrassed to get out of bed. He bunched up his Batman comforter around his legs to hide his mess. But the man named Bernard knew. "I have two boys about your age and sometimes when they are upset they pee their pants. It's okay. We'll just put some clean clothes on and no one else needs to know."
The man named Bernard took him into the bathroom so he could get his toothbrush. Bernard took a washcloth and wet it under the sink. Very gently he told Marty that since he was eleven he knew he didn't need any help washing himself. Then he could put on the clean Superman pajamas they had pulled out of Marty's dresser. Marty was glad when he left him alone in the bathroom. Maybe he wasn't one of the bad man that his mom had warned him about. He wasn't sure how you could tell.
He was afraid that Bernard would get mad at him. He better do what Bernard said. Then if it didn't work out, he could run away to Ray's house. Ray would probably find him first. Ray would ask the neighbors where Marty had gone and then come find him. That was their back up plan.
Ray had told him to wash his hands after the shooting because of the gunshot residue. If he had it on his hands, it meant he was the killer. But then he would go to jail and they didn't want that. He just wanted to live with his mom but without his dad beating them.
But his mom had told the police she had shot his dad. Their plan hadn't worked. Maybe he needed to leave the residue on his hands just in case. He didn't want her to go to jail. He really messed up bad this time. No wonder his dad had to beat him so much. Now he was crying like a baby, holding the washcloth with two fingers so he could wash off the pee without washing the gunshot residue off his hands. It took him a long time to get dressed because he was shaking so badly.
The man named Bernard finally told him he was opening the door. He sounded worried. The door opened and the man named Bernard helped Marty pull his shirt over his head. Marty had messed up again. Now the man named Bernard had seen the bruises on Marty's chest. There was a new one that really hurt. The gun had smacked him in the chest. Wait until he told Ray about it, he thought. Bernard handed Marty a Kleenex so he could blow his nose.
"I shot my dad," Marty blurted out. He felt like such a baby. First he hadn't killed his dad so his dad was going to be very very angry with him. Then the police arrested his mom. And his mom yelled at him. She didn't love him anymore. His dad was definitely going to kill them when he got out of the hospital. Then he'd peed his pants. And now this man had seen his bruises and seen him crying like a little baby. It was a terrible day. Ray was probably going to think he was a wimp for not killing his dad. Ray probably wasn't even going to be his friend anymore.
"That's okay, son," the man named Bernard told him. He showed Marty his watch. It was almost one in the morning. "It's late. Let's go to my house and in the morning we'll get this all straightened out. Your mom asked me to take care of you if anything happened to her. She said to be sure to let you take as many of your toys and stuffed animals as you'd like to my house. So let's get those out of your room and get going."
That sounded good to Marty. He wanted to bring his stuffed animals with him. Well maybe just his stuffed Akita dog named DaKota. He slept with it most nights and Ray didn't even make fun of him because he slept with the green dinosaur with blue spots that Ray had since he was a baby. He better just bring the one stuffed animal. He didn't want Mark or Jim to make fun of him and tell the kids at school about it. Just because he'd screwed up and not killed his dad didn't mean he was a baby.
In the morning Marty woke up when the mom named Barbara came to tell the boys that it was time to get up for school. They were in the room next door. He was very warm. There was a very heavy blanket half on top of him. He looked at it; it looked at him. It blinked. It wasn't a blanket. It was a very big black and brown dog. The dog licked his face. He was kind of grossed out and kind of liked it too.
"We have pancakes, boys" the mom said. She stopped at Marty's room as the boys ran past her. The boys named Mark and Jim ran back and looked into the room at Marty.
"Hey Marty," they said. "Come on, Moose." The heavy blanket dog stood up, stretched, and then jumped out of bed, running down the hall after the boys.
"WALK down the steps boys! No sliding down the railing! Mark- I said no sliding. Walk!" The mom called after the boys but from the bangs and screams it sounded like they were sliding down the railing, not walking down the stairs. Marty wondered if he could run away while the boys were being hit for not listening to their mom and for making so much noise first thing in the morning. Everyone would be distracted and might not notice if he ran away. He hugged DaKota. How could he run away and leave DaKota behind? He might have to wait a little longer. Besides, he really wanted to go to school.
Marty hoped his teacher Mrs. O'Donnell wouldn't ask him about what happened. She knew that sometimes he just needed to sit and read by himself. Some days it was just too hard to see the other boys and girls and wonder why their dads didn't beat them. Was there something wrong with him and his mom that made them bad? On those days Mrs. O'Donnell would let him sit and read quietly. She gave him math problems to work on too. Sometimes she would even let him eat his lunch inside while he read. He helped her with her chores. She had five children and didn't need to do so many chores at school. He was a good helper. Other days he didn't want to go home so he would stay and get the classroom cleaned up for the next day. Twenty seven kids made a big mess. He even got to help the little kids. Last week he had taught them how to play basketball. His basketball coach thought he would make a very good coach one day.
Then the man Bernard peered around the mom in the doorway. They exchanged a grown up glance. Bernard smiled at Marty. "Good morning!" he said. "I hope you are hungry. Aunt Barbara makes the best pancakes on the planet!"
Marty got out of bed. He was relieved to find his Superman pajamas were dry. His mouth was dry too. His stomach rumbled at the thought of pancakes. Last night's dinner had been Campbell's Chicken and Noodle soup. At the end of the month there wasn't much food in the Brandel house.
Marty followed the two parents down the stairs. Was he supposed to call them his aunt and uncle?
He hesitated at the threshold to the kitchen. Maybe he should call his mom. Suddenly he didn't know why he had left his own house in the middle of the night with Uncle Bernard. Maybe his mom didn't even know where he was. Maybe she was mad at him for leaving.
"They're s'more pancakes!" Mark happily exclaimed as he stuffed his mouth full of the cakey chocolately goodness. "What are s'mores?" Marty croaked. The two boys looked wide eyed at their mom.
"Do you like chocolate and marshmallows, Marty?" Aunt Barbara asked.
"Yes", croaked Marty. His throat was pretty sore this morning.
Aunt Barbara put a plate of pancakes in front of him. "Well you should like these pancakes then. If you don't, I'd be glad to make you something else," she said, smiling at him.
Marty thought about his mom. She made some really good pancakes. Sometimes she even let him put as much syrup as he wanted on them. And she didn't mind if he ate at Ray's house sometimes. Maybe he should wash the dishes for Aunt Barbara to thank her for the pancakes. His mom would be proud of him for thinking of that. That made him happy so he raised his fork and took a taste.
When they had all finished eating, and Marty had two big glasses of milk, Uncle Bernard told the boys he had some exciting news. "We're going to go to our summer cabin in Idaho early this year. As a matter of fact, we're leaving today. But I need your help. Mark and Jim, you need to pack your suitcases." The two boys started jumping up and down and yelling. "Don't forget your underwear this year," Uncle Bernard yelled above the noise of the boys, "Hopefully you've learned your lesson that just because you don't pack it doesn't mean you don't have to wear it. "
He called the two boys back to tell them, "When you're finished come straight downstairs and start helping your mom and I load the van." The two boys high fived each other and went pounding up the stairs. From their excited chatter, Marty gathered they were quite excited about missing the rest of the school year, and fishing, and canoeing, and bike riding, and …. Now they were too far away for him to hear any more.
Marty thanked Aunt Barbara and Uncle Bernard. "Should I call my mom to come pick me up?" He asked. He wasn't quite sure where he was. He didn't really remember the drive over here last night or even getting into bed. Maybe it wasn't too far and he could walk home. Sometimes adults insisted they needed to drive him home. They seemed like that kind of adult.
Just then the doorbell rang. Marty jumped up. Maybe it was the cops. Maybe they were coming to arrest him. His eyes traveled around the kitchen, finding the back door. Should he run for it?
"I'll get it", Aunt Barbara said, taking off her apron as she walked briskly to the front door.
Uncle Bernard put his hand on Marty's shoulder. "It's okay, son. Your mom is here."
Marty thought he might get sick right there on their blue and white checkered tablecloth. The tears started rolling down his cheeks.
Then Uncle Bernard stood up. "Roberta", he said, giving Marty's mom a hug. Marty looked up at his mom. She had been crying. Her face has some bruises and some bandages, the kind she got when she needed stitches. But she didn't look mad at him anymore.
"We'll give you two some time to talk," Aunt Barbara said as she and Uncle Bernard left the room.
Marty had lots of time to think about what his mom said over the next few days. First, they had they long drive to Idaho. He'd never been in a car that long. Luckily Jim and Mark had lots of books he hadn't read yet so he brought those. Some of them were a little scary so he only read them during the day. At night he liked to read Sports Illustrated. He wanted to impress Ray with how much he could learn about the Clippers and the Vikings over the summer.
Aunt Barbara also had lots of snacks in the car for them. They must be rich, he decided. After swimming in the hotel pools each night, he slept really well. But the whole time he missed his mom. No one made fun of him for holding on to DaKota the whole time in the car AND at night in bed.
His mom wasn't mad at him at all. She said she was sorry for yelling at him. Funny how she thought she hadn't taken good care of him when he had actually not taken good care of her. Best of all, she promised to come visit him. It turns out she used to go to Idaho in the summer with her parents and so she was excited that Marty got to go. That's how she knew Uncle Bernard and Aunt Barbara. She told him all the fun things he would get to do.