On a Long Road
10. Thunder
"C'mon, wake up!"
Someone is shaking me, and I turn around to hide deeper down under my blankets. It feels like I closed my eyes just moments ago; I want to sleep longer. I need to sleep longer.
"Ponyboy!" The voice is harsher this time, the hands firmer. "Get up!"
"Leave me alone," I mumble. I want to think that the person is Soda, or maybe even Ricky, but the voice doesn't belong to either of them, and reality slowly comes back to me as the voice speaks up again.
"The time is almost six."
I know there is something important about those words. I want to protest - it's summer and I should be able to sleep in - but somewhere I know I have to get up or I will be in trouble. So I throw the blankets away, groaning as I feel the soreness in my back and shoulders from yesterday's work as I sit up. I look at the clock on the wall, and the hand that slowly makes it way up to twelve.
"Shit!" I curse while hurrying out of bed. I find my t-shirt on the floor and drag it over my head - there's no time to wash myself - and then jump into my jeans, buttoning them as I rush past Andrew out of the room and into the kitchen, just to stop short on the threshold. Mrs. Hartridge is not there, but instead, Mr. James sits at the table with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him, looking up at me.
"You're late," he mutters, shoveling food into his mouth.
I swallow once. "Sorry," I whisper, curling my arms around my body.
"You know what that means." He wisps in the air with the fork, and I take a step back and nod.
"Why are you just standin' there? You have work to do," he grumbles.
"Yeah..." I slowly turn around and walk back to my room with a sigh, and when I enter, I see Andrew on my bed, lying with his arms under his head and staring up at the ceiling. But when he hears me coming in, he turns his head to look at me.
"So no breakfast?" he asks, but I think he already knows. He and his dad must have met Mrs. Hartridge on her way out, or why else would he come into my room to wake me up? He knows how firm she is about times, and it's not the first time she's refused to let me eat breakfast because I wasn't up when she left for work.
"I ain't hungry anyway," I mutter, picking up my shoes from the floor and putting them on. Andrew props himself up on his elbows.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Is Dad still here?"
I nod and sit down to tie the laces on my right shoe a bit better, avoiding Andrew's stare. But he already knows what I think about his dad, so I don't have to say anything. If I ever thought Mr. Collins was bad, he's almost a saint compare to Mr. James. I'm just lucky that Mr. James isn't my foster parent, it's really bad enough he's Mrs. Hartridge's brother and lives next door.
I have been here for about two weeks now and I haven't spoken to my brothers since the day school ended. It's killing me. I don't even know if they know where I am, but I doubt it. I think they would have visited me by now if they did. I hope so, anyway. They wouldn't just leave me, and especially not here.
"You ready?" Andrew asks eventually, waking me up from my thoughts, and I rise and follow him through the house. When we walk past the kitchen, I glance inside, but Mr. James isn't there anymore. I hope that doesn't mean he's out in the barn.
The day is going to be hot. I can feel it already, even though it's this early. Andrew puts his cowboy hat on his head and smiles as we cross the yard, but I have a hard time returning it. Once again, I wonder what Ms. West would say about this. When she drove me here, she told me that the Hartridges couldn't have any kids of their own, so they wanted a boy to raise as their son, but the truth is, they only have me for work. I know that. It's so obvious, and even if they are somewhat nice most of the time, it doesn't help much when they are always someplace else and Mr. James is the one telling me what to do.
"Hey, stop daydreamin' and help me out, will ya?" Andrew says as he hands me a pitchfork. I take it with a groan, but he just grins at me.
Most of the cows are outside almost all the time, except when it's milking time, but there are still a few inside and I have to clean up around them. Then we have to feed all the dogs and cats and make sure they have water, check the horses, clean some more, bring down the hay, it's all endless work and my back starts to hurt after just a few hours. My stomach grumbles too, making me wish I had woken up on time. I guess Mrs. Hartridge will scold me a bit when she comes back from her work at the hospital. Sometimes it feels like that is all she does; I don't think I have ever seen her smile.
Mr. Hartridge works in the barn and fields, but he hardly acknowledges me either. Sometimes he says something to Andrew, but not to me. He avoids my gaze when I look at him too.
"C'mon, Horsekid, we have to check the fence!" Andrew slaps a hand down on my shoulder, and I wipe the sweat off of my forehead with my shirt sleeve. He seems unfazed by the hard work, but he is about eight years older than me, and much stronger.
I follow him to the horses pasture; there are only four of them, but their fence is more than two miles around. Andrew stops by the gate and looks at me a bit thoughtfully.
"Hey, why don't you take a loop around and then meet up with me at the house for lunch?" He doesn't wait for me to answer, just smirks and walks away. I know he will just go and get some rest, and a part of me thinks that I should just go too, but if there is some problem with the fence, I know I am the one who will be in trouble. I stare after Andrew with a sigh, but I guess I should just start walking. It will take some time to follow the fence all around and make sure nothing has happened with it.
When I come back, I'm tired and warm and so hungry I think I will die. My feet hurt too, and I kick off my shoes in the hallway, dragging myself into the kitchen. It's empty, but I don't care. I open the cupboards and find some bread and peanut butter, and I quickly make myself two sandwiches and eat them standing right there at the counter, trying to pretend I'm not hurrying in case Mr. James shows up. I have the right to eat here more than he does - he has his own house and this is my foster family's place. I try to tell myself that, but it feels wrong and I hate it. I shouldn't feel this way, I was supposed to come here for lunch.
I make sure to clean up after myself, and then I just stand on the floor for a couple of seconds, feeling my heart beat. The house is so quiet. If Andrew is here, he must be asleep, so I go and check my room to see if he's there, but he's not. I slowly close the door again and look around, knowing I suddenly have a chance.
I know where the phone is, I have just never been allowed to use it. But I really need to call my brothers, I miss them so badly. So I make my way down the hallway to Mr. Hartridge's office, but when I try the handle, the door is locked. I lean my forehead against the wood, cursing loudly and suppressing the will to cry. I'm so close, but my brothers are still so far away.
xXx
June turns into a blur. I just work, sleep and eat, and I'm losing weight. I notice it with my jeans, how they suddenly hang more loosely on my hips. But the work also gets a bit easier with time - I'm not as tired at the end of every day like I was in the beginning.
I still can't get to the phone though, and I beg everyone I can think of, even Mr. James, who just laughs at me as if I'm asking for something stupid, telling me the phone is just for work business and emergencies. Apparently to him, calling my family is nothing that has to be done.
When I ask Mrs. Hartridge one evening, she just mutters I'm here for a reason, and she doesn't want a gang of thugs coming to her home. It doesn't matter what I say, she just tells me she has read in the newspapers about things happening in Tulsa. I'm not really sure what she means by that, but I give up asking eventually.
I have been here three weeks now, and I'm frustrated. I kick on the wall of the stall I'm cleaning, throwing the pitchfork away. It clatters as it falls down, making the cow on the other side protest with a moo.
"Take it easy," Andrew scolds me lightly, but I just glare at him as he peeks over the wall.
"Shut up," I mutter.
He sighs and shakes his head. "Get to work."
"Why? This is ridiculous."
"What?"
"I shouldn't have to! I bet Ms. West wouldn't like it."
"Who's Ms. West?" he asks, confused.
"My social worker. I'm not supposed to be here workin'. I'm supposed to be home!" I know I sound whiny, but I can't help it.
He raises his eyebrows. "Why do you have a social worker if you're supposed to be home?"
I only glare at him, and he drags a hand over his jaw and sighs.
"Listen, kid. This is a farm, right? That means a lot of work. If you'd been Donald's and Nancy's own kid, you would have been workin' just as hard as you are now. So stop fuckin' complainin' all right? I have been fuckin' workin' here since I could walk, and you don't hear me naggin' about it!" His face hardens for a second, and suddenly he reminds me of his dad. I don't move, but eventually he does, and he starts to whistle as he continues to sweep the floor between the stalls, showing that he's not mad at me.
Slowly I pick up the pitchfork again. It's not really the work that bothers me. Everyone here does their share, I know that. And maybe he's right - if my real parents had had a place like this, I guess we all would have been working, and then I wouldn't mind. What I do mind is that I hardly see my so called foster parents; they almost don't talk to me, they almost never eat with me, I would have been pretty much on my own if it wasn't for Andrew.
And his dad. I see him more than I see Mr. Hartridge, but I wish it was the opposite. Mrs. Hartridge is another thing. She leaves the house early and comes home late, and when she comes home, all she does is cleaning and the laundry and tells me to not drag any dirt into the house. She never asks me anything. Both Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Collins at least asked about my day, and cared about me, but she doesn't seem to even want a kid.
But worst is is the lack of contact with Darry and Soda. I'm worried about them. I don't know what they're doing and what they're thinking, and sometimes I wonder if they are even doing anything to try and figure out where I am. Or why else won't they come? I wait every day for them to show up or call me, but they don't. What if something has happened to them? But then Ms. West would tell me ... right? They are my brothers, she knows how much they mean to me.
I sniff once, but I have already cried too much over this. Instead, I start to work harder, and try to think about something else.
xXx
Two days later thunder is in the air. The morning is clammy and hot, and around lunch time, we see the dark clouds gather on the horizon. Andrew shades his eyes with his hand.
"Do you think it's a tornado?" I ask worried beside him. One of the dogs sits by my foot, buffing at my hand, and I pat him on his head. I have never seen a tornado before, but I have heard of them. You can't live in Oklahoma and not know what a tornado is. But to my relief, Andrew shakes his head.
"Nah, just a storm. We can't do anything about the cows, but we better take the horses inside."
He walks away, and comes back just a minute later with two halters. He gives me one, and I take it awkwardly.
"C'mon, then!"
I pat the dog one last time, and then I go after Andrew. He opens the gate and lets me in before closing it. The pasture is quite big, but we see the horses standing by the trees in the middle, and they look up as we approach.
"You take that one," Andrew says, and points at the golden brown.
"Um. Okay." I try not to show that I'm nervous, but the horse must notice, because it keeps moving away from me when I try to get the halter over its head. It kind of reminds me of Soda's horse, Mickey Mouse, but this one is a bit nicer. Finally I manage to catch it, and I turn to Andrew who curses as the first drops of rain start to fall. I hear the rumble in the distance, and knowing that thunder moves fast out here, I start walking toward the gate. I know it's dangerous to be out in open fields, and to be standing under trees when there's lightning.
We get the first two horses to their stable, and then head out again to get the others, and now the rain is really pouring. The way to the pasture has turned all muddy, and my shoes almost get stuck as I try to walk. Andrew has boots on, but I only have my thin tennis shoes.
I see the lightning and count - the thunder is only about a mile away now, so I hurry after Andrew as he opens the gate again.
This time it's even harder to catch the horse. This one keeps putting its ears back as I approach, and I don't want to get bitten. I can't get close enough.
"Take this instead," Andrew says and hands me the web lead. He catches my horse pretty quickly, but I don't know if the one I'm holding is much better. It sidesteps as the thunder gets even closer, and I have a hard time holding it. It's darker out now and I can hardly see because of the rain, but I manage to follow Andrew.
I see Mr. James outside the fence, and he holds up the gate at us, gesturing at us to hurry up. I walk past him, but right then a lightning streaks down really close, and the noise makes the horse I'm holding rear up, and the web lead slips out of my hands. Before I know what's happening, the horse gallops away over the yard.
"You stupid boy!"
My face explodes and the world turns. Delusional I realize I'm on the ground, and my nose and lip are throbbing with pain, but there is something else too. Not only the cold rain and mud and screams and Andrew shouting. I try to move away, but what feels like lashes keep falling on my side and back and shoulders.
"Dad, stop it!" Andrew shouts again and everything goes still. I lie on my stomach, with my arms covering my head and I hear voices above the ringing in my ears. I hear myself breathe too, fast and ragged, and someone touches the back of my neck.
"Ponyboy?"
Andrew drags me up to sit, and I wipe my face, but it doesn't help.
"C'mon, let me help you up."
"I want Soda."
"Stand up, okay? We have to get inside, it's gettin' worse out here."
If it's possible, the rain is heavier, and the thunder roars around us. There is no time between lightning and rumble; it's right over us, and I stumble to my feet with Andrew's help, following him over the yard and into the house.
"No dirt inside," I mumble, but Andrew just chuckles beside me.
"Too late for that."
He takes me to the bathroom, and I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. My face is all muddy, my hair, my clothes - it's everywhere.
"Take off those clothes, huh?" Andrew says and sits down on the toilet lid. I do as he says and drag the t-shirt over my head, wincing when I feel pain.
"Why did he hit me?" I ask with a small voice.
"That damn horse," Andrew says. "You would think it's the most important thing in the world. I should've taken him myself."
"Where did he go?"
"Not far. Donald caught him, he ran towards the stable anyway. Dad is just so fuckin' uptight about him. Thinks he's worth a lot of money."
"Is he?"
"Hell no. Dad has no clue about horses." He rises. "Hey, let me see that."
He turns me around, and I feel his fingers on my back. "Does this hurt?"
"A little." Actually, a lot, and I bite my lip and jerk when that hurts too.
"Go take a shower and I'll help you later, okay?"
I nod, and he leaves. I lock the door before sitting down and dragging off my shoes. I wonder if I will get new ones, these seem almost destroyed. My clothes are not much better, and the jeans are wet and cold and feels stuck to my skin.
When I'm done in the shower, I drape the towel around me and stare into the mirror again. My nose looks terrible. I poke at it, carefully, hoping it's not broken, but it doesn't seem that way. My mouth is swollen too, and I drag my tongue over my lips before turning around, trying to look at my back and shoulders. There are a couple of long red welts over my skin, and some shorter on my left side over the ribs, and I shudder. I don't know what he hit me with, but it's a lot worse than what Mr. Collins did. Then it was mostly embarrassing, like that last time when he said to pull my pants down and I could hardly sit for a few days, but he only hit once. This is something else, and I wipe my eyes, carefully so as to not accidentally touch my nose.
I sniff and swallow and do everything to keep it down, but I hardly manage. I want Soda, god, I want him to be here.
xXx
I go to my room and get dressed. The storm is still not over; the rain clatters hard against the window, and I refuse to go outside again. I don't want to meet Mr. James. Instead I sit down on my bed, but not much time passes until Andrew plunges in.
"I made us some lunch."
"I ain't hungry," I mumble, sniffing once. It's embarrassing, him standing there seeing me cry. Angrily I wipe my face. I thought I was done crying by now.
"Shit," Andrew says when he sees my face. "It ain't broken, right?" He takes the floor in a few steps and leans down to get a better look.
"Don't," I say weakly and jerk back when he touches the bridge of my nose. "Ouch."
He drops his hand. "How's your back?"
"Okay," I lie.
"I'm gonna talk to him," Andrew says, but he doesn't even try to make up some excuse. But he does coax me out into the kitchen, and we sit down and eat chicken soup and bread. I eat mine slowly, finding it hard to eat because of my mouth and the strange feeling inside, but Andrew sticks to me the whole time. As he puts the dishes in the sink for Nancy to do later, I nervously fiddle with my hands in my lap.
"Andrew?"
"Yeah?"
"Why can't I call my brothers?"
He turns around and looks at me, his face a bit troubled. "I don't know," he finally confesses. "I guess they have their reasons."
"Maybe I could call them from your house?" I try.
His expression becomes a bit amused. "Maybe you could, but we don't have a phone."
"Oh."
"No worries. I bet they're fine."
I nod, looking down. They might be fine, but I'm not.
Thank you so much for reading and all reviews! I hope this story comes out realistic, please tell me if it doesn't. And I have no idea what work you do on a farm so... yeah. Hopefully I got it right.