"...a number... kid? kid..."
Their voices faded in and out. Hunter closed his eyes. Not now, not now. He couldn't do this right now.
He should have died in that crash.
It wasn't always bad.
For as long as Hunter could remember, he had lived with his uncle. The neighborhood was tucked away in a town called Bonesborough. Right before his kindergarten year, they had moved Hunter here to this grey two-story house after the abrupt death of his father. He had a backpack with some changes of clothes and a toothbrush and a frog plushie. He had no mother, and no siblings. He was a drifter, alone in the world. Or he would have been if not for Uncle Phillip, his only living relative.
Uncle Phillip fed him, clothed him, sent him off to school, and kept a roof over his head. He had sat with Hunter and taught him how to read and helped him with his math homework. He took him to church on Sunday and taught him his prayers. Hunter owed him everything.
So he tried his very best to be a good kid. He just wasn't though.
He would inevitably mess up. He would leave messes, be way too loud, get into trouble with the neighbor's kid, Luz, or be caught over at Miss Eda's. He was not allowed over there.
Then he would need to be corrected. Which wasn't so bad.
When the other kids at school drew their families, they were sometimes surprised that Hunter only drew two figures. Other kids had two parents. Willow had two dads (imagine, two whole dads to play catch with and swing with, and read stories with). Luz drew her cousin Vee and her dad up in the clouds and her mom, who was always so nice. Other kids had older siblings, little siblings, or dogs and cats. But Hunter didn't feel jealous. He was lucky that he had his uncle at all.
All things considered, he had it good. Imagine if I wasn't there, Uncle Phillip would say, where would you be now? Why you could be anywhere in the whole state.
He wouldn't have any family to draw. He could be drifting out way further.
Some of the kids from school also went to the same church they did, and Uncle liked it when Hunter made friends with them.
Too bad that was really hard to do. Those kids didn't want anything to do with Hunter most days, and one little girl with pink hair enjoyed tripping him.
Maybe if he just turned the other cheek enough times, she would get tired and want to be friends.
Any Sunday now.
Aaaaaany Sunday now.
Gosh, Unce Phillip was so tired sometimes. It was nearly impossible to wake him up to ask to go outside.
If he were awake, what would he say? Hunter thought about it, holding his soccer ball close to his chest. Maybe he would say, get me another cold one from the fridge before you go. The 'cold ones' were on the bottom shelf so Hunter could reach them when asked. Otherwise, if he wasn't asked, the consequences of touching them were painful. Even if it was just to run his finger over the condensation and feel the chill.
He preferred it when Uncle took those from the shelf in the fridge at the end of the day. He would tell Hunter goodnight and stay up by himself, but Hunter knew he wasn't doing anything fun. Just sitting in that big old armchair of his doing nothing.
Hunter looked at the time. It wasn't too late. He had time before dinner. So he eased the front door open, hopped down the porch steps, and started kicking around the soccer ball. He wished his friends from school lived closer, maybe he could go to Willow's house if she did. She was good at soccer. The best.
That's why he needed to practice, he wanted to win at least once during recess. He wound up for a big kick, one that he imagined would go right into the net and score a goal. The ball flew in a beautiful arc-
-right into the yard of the next-door neighbor.
Oops. Hunter ran to go get it, kicking it up to bounce on his knees.
"Hey!" A shout from the porch startled him. He whirled around to see the man who lived in the house standing there. "Get off my lawn, kid! Don't you have enough room at your uncle's?"
"Sorry, sir!" Hunter shouted, running as fast as he could back home.
"Take your ball with you!"
"Sorry!" he turned back around to retrieve it, face burning red. The man let out an exasperated sigh.
His uncle was still fast asleep when he went inside. He sat by the big armchair and waited for him to wake up, shaking him a few times. He didn't. Dinnertime went by, and so did bedtime, and Hunter fell asleep leaning against the big old armchair. His arms were wrapped around his middle so his tummy wouldn't growl.
He didn't tell his uncle what he had missed or failed to do while he was asleep anymore. It always seemed to make him sad. He would apologize to Hunter.
Hunter didn't like that. He did enough already, it wasn't a big deal if Hunter himself had to make dinner sometimes, and learn how to use the stove. It was learning, Hunter was good at learning his uncle always said. And he liked mac and cheese, so it didn't matter if that was the only thing he knew how to make. And he knew all the prayers, he could say them himself before going to sleep.
The first time Hunter had gotten himself up all by himself and gotten on the bus, his uncle seemed happy when he got home.
"You're a good kid, Caleb," he mumbled.
It didn't matter that he had said Caleb. Hunter knew what he'd meant. It was the intention that mattered, right?
In fifth grade, Hunter brought home a paper about the Talk.
His uncle had fumed and thundered around the kitchen about something called promiscuity. Also, words that Hunter knew, like mortal sin. And hell. That one made him shudder.
He told Hunter: don't listen to anything they tell you there at school. It's a trick, it's a lie. Uncle Phillip would tell him everything he needed to know to keep safe and go to heaven.
Hunter's door was taken off its hinges that day to prevent sin, and he sat out in the hall the next day while the boys went to one classroom and the girls to another.
Sometimes bad things got into his uncle. Things that were much different than the 'cold ones'- alcohol, Hunter had learned. (alcohol was supposed to take things away and make you sleepy he guessed but it seemed to do the opposite sometimes for Uncle Phillip, he would be awake, so awake, and stumble around). These newer things were different.
Hunter was in middle school the first time it happened.
He seemed very happy at first. It seemed like something good had happened. And then he was very sick. Hunter tried to get him to the bathroom. He was walking very slowly, and he talked to Hunter even slower.
When Hunter was sure he was done, he led him to his room and told him to lie down. He put a bin by the bed, the one his uncle would sit next to him when he was sick.
Once, his uncle had gotten into a fight with one of his friends. Hunter wasn't sure which one had put his fist through the window, but when the police showed up talking about a call from a neighbor, Hunter wasn't sure what came over him.
"It was me."
"You?" the officer asked. His nametag read Steve. Hunter was a very good reader, his uncle said so. When Uncle Phillip misplaced his glasses, Hunter read things to him. The prices of food at the grocery store, labels on pill bottles, and the newspaper.
"I... Hunter glanced into the living room. "Was playing soccer. Inside. It was a bad idea."
"Hm." The man Steve scribbled something down. "And what about the yelling? Your neighbor said he heard two men yelling very loudly. Is your uncle home?"
Hunter shook his head. "I turned up the TV too loud. Maybe that's what he heard."
"Are you sure?"
Hunter nodded. The man Steve looked at him for a long moment. And then he said goodbye. When the door shut, Hunter could finally breathe easy. His heart was beating so fast. He had lied.
Thank you, God, he believed me.
"You're a good kid, Hunter," his uncle said afterward. "I'll get that window fixed."
The plywood covering the broken window sounded fun when he tapped on it. Tap tap tap. It sure was taking a while to get fixed (it had been months) but that was fine.
His ear was grabbed and pinched hard. Hunter bit his tongue to hold in the yelp he felt rise in his throat.
"Would you be quiet?!"
"Okay."
"Sit and read the verses for next Sunday if you can't think of anything else better to do."
Every morning, Hunter stood on the sidewalk at the corner, waiting for the bus. Luz always ran from the other direction to join him. The other kids at school said she was weird and loud, but Hunter liked to be around her. Maybe it was because he was weird and quiet. One opposite trait, and one common one. It made sense in his head.
"You look tired. Did you stay up too late?" Luz asked him, leaning a little too close for comfort. Sometimes she forgot about personal space but that was okay. Hunter just stepped back.
"Yeah, I did."
Uncle Phillip had been very sick and hadn't wanted to stay in bed. Hunter had been shepherding him back in, away from the door, and out of the kitchen. That fucking snitch, he'd been muttering. He glared over at the neighbor's house. Why did he dislike Darius so much? Sure the man was rather cranky but as long as Hunter stayed out of his yard, neither had a real problem with the other.
"What were you doing?"
Hunter wasn't sure why he lied again. It was becoming an instinct. "I was reading."
His stomach felt icky all day after that. Why would he lie to Luz? Friends weren't supposed to lie to each other.
Thou shall not lie.
But nephews probably weren't allowed to say bad things about their uncles either. Why should he talk about his uncle being sick? Why did they need to know? Hunter could handle it and make him better.
Honor thy mother and father.
That one probably applies to uncles too.
"My uncle said you aren't allowed at our house," Hunter blurted to his friends.
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I wish you could come over."
"We'll just play soccer at my house," Luz said. And they did. One of Willow's dads dropped her and Gus off, and Hunter walked there. Mrs. Noceda always had the best snacks.
Uncle Phillip forgot that they went to the grocery store on Sundays, so Hunter shoved his pretzels in his pocket before he left. He didn't see Mrs. Noceda's concerned look.
"I'm sorry Hunter," Uncle Phillip pressed the gauze to the cut on Hunter's face. Bits of the bottle still glittered on the carpet, he hadn't gotten them all off the floor.
Hunter didn't say anything.
"I didn't mean to, you know that right?"
Hunter nodded. He never meant to. He shouldn't be angry. His uncle was keeping him on that straight and narrow path. It is easy to fall prey to temptation.
"I love you, Hunter," Uncle Phillip said. Hunter believed him.
She's pretty, he'd said about a lady in the movie his uncle was watching.
His uncle had laughed good natured-ly, and agreed with him.
Gosh, she's pretty too.
You're right. She is.
Hunter stood by the big armchair and kept watching. A man swept on screen. His voice was smooth and low, and he took the lady's hand. Hunter swallowed.
I think... he's pretty too, Hunter said, trying to express how he felt the best he could. Pretty wasn't exactly the right word, but the way he felt toward the ladies was about the same way he felt toward that man. He hadn't expected his uncle's reaction to suddenly turn violent.
He wasn't supposed to find men pretty or anything like that, he learned.
It was okay, he guessed. He could still find girls pretty. And he did. So it wasn't exactly a lie.
Hunter mattered enough to correct. Not like the people Uncle shook his head at and said they're going straight to hell. Hunter could be helped.
This was helping, right?
He was always too tired to drive. They were missing church.
"God will understand. I don't feel well, Hunter, quit badgering me."
Hunter held 'church' in his room, and made sure to include a prayer for Uncle Phillip to feel better. He felt sick all the time now.
Little thoughts kept creeping up in his head, he could get better if he wanted to. Hunter squashed those. He needed to have faith in his uncle.
He tried to touch it once, laying there on the table in a pile. It looked like the sand at the beach but paler. And it felt smoother.
His uncle's shoe hit the side of his head.
"Get away from that!"
Uncle Phillip grabbed his wrists and shoved his hands under the faucet in the kitchen. The water felt too hot, but Hunter stayed quiet. The powder washed off his fingers.
"That stuff is dangerous. Don't you ever, ever touch it again."
He wanted to protect Hunter. So he kept him away from it.
(But still kept it in the house)
Darius was standing at the bus stop on Friday. "Well, you finally showed up," he looked relieved when Hunter showed up.
"Yeah?" Hunter stood a good distance away. Luz rounded the corner, her face brightening when she saw her friend.
"Hunter!" she barreled into him, wrapping him up in a bone-crushing hug. He hid his wince. The bruise on his ribs ached badly but there was no reason to make her worry. "Were you sick? I missed you."
"I... yeah, I was sick." There it was again, another lie.
His uncle had been the one who was sick. He had tossed the bad things in the garbage and gone what he called 'cold turkey'.
He shivered and shook. Hunter thought he had a fever but he didn't. He took painkillers for the ache in his bones, he tried to get back in the trash for the stuff he'd wrapped up, but Hunter managed to get him to lay back down on the couch and he took the trash out, wheeling the big bin to the side of the street. He made mac and cheese for dinner, but Uncle Phillip had only thrown up.
He told Hunter over and over, "Don't call 911. Don't call 911."
He had almost disobeyed when Uncle Phillip's legs started shaking and jerking badly in the night and he couldn't get up. Hunter had picked up the phone a few times, only to return to praying after his uncle yelled at him not to call, not to call.
Luckily, the worst of it had passed. Hunter felt like he could leave to go to school without anything bad happening.
Darius had a weird look on his face.
"What?" Hunter asked.
"Nothing. You're feeling better?"
"Yeah."
Darius always seemed concerned these days.
He checked for Hunter at the bus stop when he went out to get his mail. Luz waved to him, and Hunter begrudgingly put up his hand as well.
He asked him why one day. "Just making sure you kids are okay." How vague of him.
But he didn't really have time to wonder about Darius, not when he was so busy with his uncle. That man Steve had come back another time to ask about Uncle Phillip again, ask questions about his friends that came over. Hunter managed to answer the questions right and evade any sort of punishment.
God forgive me for the lies I'm about to tell. You understand, right?
His uncle would give his friends little packages of the stuff he wasn't allowed to touch. Drugs.
"He works very hard, of course he's tired all the time."
Hunter knew it was probably wrong in the eyes of the law.
"He works the night shift, he's sleeping right now."
Uncle Phillip sometimes didn't show up to work, money was tight.
"Yes, I'll tell him you came by. Have a good day."
Uncle Phillip had taken care of him for so long when he didn't need to. He could have not taken Hunter in and left him at the mercy of the foster care system. (Oh, the horror stories he told about foster care.)
It was only right for Hunter to take care of his uncle in return.
Surely God understood.
Hunter signed the papers the way his uncle used to, with the little flourish in the e in Wittebane, the big P followed by smaller 'hillip'. It looked just like his uncle's signature.
He turned the papers in and became part of the middle school soccer team.
Practices were Wednesday and Friday after school. The coach, the middle and high school Orchestra teacher Mx. Whispers, noticed that one boy never got picked up after practice. He just set off walking.
He brought it up at brunch with his friend, and Darius looked up from his waffle. "Which kid? A little blond one?"
"Yeah, Hunter Wittebane. Do you know his parents?"
"They're my neighbors. Him and his uncle," Darius muttered, looking a little sullen. "Called the police on Mr. Wittebane once. There was yelling coming from that house, so loud. I thought someone was going to get killed. The police said the kid broke the window, and the noises were from the TV. I find that very hard to believe."
Raine's brow furrowed. "That's weird. Anyway, do they... have a car? Is he just too busy to come to pick his kid up?"
"I hardly ever see the man out. According to his nephew, he works the night shift and sleeps all day. I've never liked him. Weird guy."
"Hm," Raine poked at their pancakes. "I just worry about him, walking all that way home. It's not a terribly long walk but there is that highway... I worry."
Would he even accept help, Darius wondered? He seemed like one of those self-sufficient kids who didn't like to feel babied. Besides, if Darius brought it up, he would know that his neighbor and his coach were talking about him and that would be weird.
"Willow is so good, she's probably the best player on the team," Hunter said.
"She's in your grade, right?" Uncle Phillip asked. It was one of his good days, and they had driven to church and gone grocery shopping and everything was good. (His neck ached under this turtleneck) They were going to go home and start a puzzle: Hunter's favorite one, featuring the scene from the bible with the bread and fish. Everything was just great today.
"Yeah. She's the girl with dark hair and glasses. She's really pretty."
His uncle chuckled. "Well, maybe you should ask her out."
"She was talking about maybe going to get pizza together after practice next week," Hunter admitted shyly. "Do you think maybe I can go?"
"Of course. Who would drive you? Or would you walk?"
"She says that one of her dads would drive us there."
"What did you say?"
"One of her dads-"
Uncle Phillip stopped the car. Oh. That was the wrong thing to say. Hunter's heart dropped into his shoes. "I mean- I mean Mr. Park. Willow's dad."
The damage had already been done. And here came the lecture on being too close to sin. Hunter understood what his uncle was meaning to say, but he just couldn't imagine Willow's dads being bad. They always seemed so nice and the one Willow called Pa always laughed so loud in a way that reminded Hunter of Santa Claus. And they never hurt Willow. She was the strongest and nicest girl, and they were always there for her. Being near... sin... wasn't hurting her. Was it?
Maybe it was but Hunter couldn't see it. He was doubting his uncle's teachings, that was wrong. He was stupid for trying to excuse it. It was a sin.
Because...?
It just was.
"You are not allowed to associate with that girl anymore, Hunter. You will tell her so. Find a different girl to ask out."
He really, really didn't want to. He had liked Willow for such a long time. When she touched his hand just last week when she was borrowing his pencil, his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to hang out with her and hear her laugh.
Honor thy mother and father.
And uncle.
His uncle's eyes burned into his own. Hunter could tell this was not something he wanted to negotiate.
"Okay."
The doorbell rang, and Hunter panicked. He swept his uncle's things off of the coffee table into a drawer and tossed the old milk that Uncle Phillip had forgotten on the counter all day yesterday while he was at school. He hung his backpack up on the hook where it was supposed to be, then tried to even out his breathing. He'd spent all morning putting his room back to rights after his uncle had gone through like a hurricane, trying to find where Hunter had hidden the alcohol.
Hunter hadn't hidden shit, Uncle Phillip just forgot to go to the store again. He'd have to remind him about it when he was in his right mind again.
He opened up the door, ready to sign for a package, shoo away one of his uncle's friends, or be perfectly friendly to officer Steve.
"Darius?"
"Hi, kid."
"What are you doing here?" Hunter tried to sound casual but his tone was too stilted.
Darius's heart squeezed. He looked too guarded for a kid his age. "I have a favor to ask you. You know Spring Break is coming up, and I have somewhere to be Monday through Friday. A business trip."
Hunter nodded, opening the door wider.
"I need someone to come over to my house twice a day to feed my cat, Wolf, and change his water. There's money involved, of course, I wouldn't just ask someone to do it for free. Since you're right here, next door, I figured I would just ask you."
Hunter felt another pang of hunger. His uncle forgetting to go to the grocery store was becoming a too-often occurrence. He could use some cash.
"I'll do it."
Darius smiled. "Great. I'll come back tomorrow with more details, okay?"
Hunter resolved to clean up the living room better before tomorrow. "Okay."
Wow. A phone.
Hunter fiddled with the buttons. It was an old one of Darius's he had set up.
"I want daily updates while I'm gone," he'd instructed. "And you need my number to contact me if something goes wrong. Hopefully, it won't but you can never be too careful."
"I- I could always just call you from the house phone-"
"I'd prefer a text. I'm going to be very busy on this trip, I won't be available at the same time every day. Besides, how old are you?"
"Almost fourteen, sir."
"Kids your age usually have phones. And don't call me sir again. It makes me feel old."
So, now Hunter had a phone of his own. Luz was excited when she found out. They sat in Mrs. Eda's living room, and Hunter felt on edge. He technically wasn't allowed to be here. Eda Clawthorne was... many things. He didn't even understand some of the words his uncle used in relation to her. He'd asked her about one of them and she had seemed upset.
("What is a dyke?" "Where did you hear that, kid?" "I dunno. Around." "It isn't a very nice word." "Oh. Sorry." "It's not your fault, kid. It pretty much means when one woman loves another woman. A lesbian. But that's the mean word for it.")
She was also apparently a devil-worshipper. But her house was so cozy, and Luz had begged him to hang out with them and finish their science project.
If Mrs. Noceda let Luz be over here, how bad could she really be? In truth, Hunter wasn't even sure if Mrs. Eda was a bad person at all. But he'd never let on to Uncle Phillip that he thought this, or was over there at all.
He would probably say that he'd gone to the library. He wouldn't say anything about sitting in Mrs. Eda's living room, surrounded by all her owl decorations peering at Luz and him starting an Instagram account.
"Here, I'll look up my account and you can follow me and see what I post," Luz said. "It's on private, I'll just accept you right now..." she pulled out her phone and pressed a few buttons. Her feed showed up on Hunter's phone now. "And go to the people I'm following. There's Willow and Gus."
Hunter hit the blue buttons next to their names. He had declined that invitation for pizza but he still talked to Willow at school. Even though he felt guilty every time he did it. When she smiled (and her eyes would crinkle and oh god it made him weak in the knees) he couldn't stand to say the things his uncle suggested he say. He couldn't make that smile go away.
Besides, didn't the Bible say to love your neighbor? Even if they are close to sinners? Why should he hurt her?
"Here, let's post something so they know you're RulerzReachF4n." Luz turned his phone to the side, pulled up the camera, and tugged him close for a selfie. In a matter of seconds, she had it posted. "There, now they know it's you, and they'll accept your request!"
Wolf was a well-behaved cat. He was brown and very fluffy. He rubbed against Hunter's legs and purred when he went over to Darius's house, making the boy giggle.
It felt weird being there. Everything was so neat and clean, and... purple. Someone obviously had a favorite color. It felt so different from his house. Quiet and peaceful. He snapped a blurry picture of Wolf eating his food and sent it to Darius. He and Luz were the only two people in his contacts. Darius had wiped everything of his from the phone before giving it to Hunter.
He was wary of what the icons were. Uncle had a thing against modern technology and social media in particular. The phone in their house was still one of those wall phones with the long cord. He didn't bring it up at school anymore after figuring out that it was weird to have that kind of home phone, and not very common to have home phones at all anymore.
Hunter dutifully fed the cat all week and sent a picture every time.
Darius started to really look forward to the blurry pictures. One of them was a clumsy selfie of the boy cradling Wolf like he was a baby. He tried to tell himself he was not getting emotionally attached. He just couldn't in good faith keep going without being able to keep closer tabs on the kid, what with his weird situation. That was the whole point of this, to make sure the kid could ask for help if he needed it. Now he had Darius's phone number and a way to contact him from just about anywhere. But only for emergencies after this week, Darius resolved.
He was not getting paternal.
Hunter started spending more and more time with Wolf. He figured he may as well entertain the cat a little while he was there. They played together in the warm sunroom, and Hunter even accidentally dozed off on the purple couch in the living room once.
When Darius got back he seemed pleased. He counted out the promised amount of money and Hunter tucked it in his pocket, trying not to look so eager but thinking about how much this would help with groceries.
Hunter tried to hand back the phone.
"Oh no, keep it. It's not like I'll use it."
"Oh. Okay."
"And if you need something you have my number, yes?" Darius looked at him intently, searching his face.
"Um- yeah," Hunter said, privately resolving to never need to ask for any favors.
He could handle himself.
"Uncle Phillip, why is this in the house again?" When Hunter opened the drawer his blood had gone cold.
His uncle promised he was only selling it, not using it.
"I am trying to get better, Hunter. You don't understand, it isn't easy. But I'm trying, for you."
No matter how many times Uncle Phillip tried, the drugs had a hold on his mind that he couldn't shake.
Not even for Hunter's sake.
That summer, Darius needed to leave again for the weekend.
"What for?" Hunter asked. He was sitting on the porch, Wolf in his lap, enjoying the breeze and watching Darius type up an email.
"An important meeting."
"What do you even do?"
"I'm a software engineer," Darius mumbled, switching tabs.
"Is it hard?"
"Well, I had to go to college for it and learn a lot. It isn't bad."
"Can I see?"
Darius sighed. Suddenly, the boy's eyes went wide, and he fell quiet. "Sorry." He got up and went to try and coax Wolf into playing. He shouldn't be annoying, or he wouldn't get to be here anymore.
"It is almost lunchtime," Darius finally glanced down at the time, realizing how long he'd been working. "Is that why you're getting antsy?"
Hunter shrugged, avoiding meeting the older man's gaze.
"What do you feel like having for lunch?"
"I'll probably go home and make mac and cheese."
The kid didn't sound very excited about that. Darius wrinkled his nose. He wouldn't be either if that was practically all he ate. He shut his laptop. "What do kids like to eat that is not mac and cheese?"
"I'm not a kid."
Darius snorted and started laughing louder than Hunter had ever heard him laugh. "Yes, you are!"
Hunter felt himself blush furiously. "Well, I'm not a little one!"
"How old are you again?"
"I'm almost fifteen! I'm starting high school this fall! I am not a little kid!"
"Sure thing, pipsqueak. Now, what should we have for lunch?"
"Where have you been?" Hunter heard his uncle's voice- gravelly from sleep- when he shut the door behind him.
Should he tell him? I was over with Darius, I've been going there for dinner at least twice a week almost all summer, and he sent me home with leftovers this time and he's really good at cooking. Now I can make things other than sandwiches and mac and cheese. It feels good to have someone care like this. Even though he calls me a brat and a pipsqueak, it feels good to be around him and he is taking care of me the way you used to, the way you promise you will again but you can't anymore. For some reason, the true answer sticks in his throat.
"Oh, I didn't think you'd be awake," he blurted. It was obviously the wrong thing to say, especially right now, with Uncle Phillip in a mood like this.
"When I realized you were gone, I worried. Why do you want to make me worry, are you trying to make this harder for me?" His voice caught, and he started coughing.
"Uncle!" Hunter rushed to his side, only to be pushed roughly away, hip slamming into the corner of the coffee table.
"I understand, you don't have the time or patience for your old, sick uncle anymore."
"No, that's not it," Hunter scrambled to stand, a jolt of pain running down his leg, to make up for whatever he'd done.
"I understand. Keeping you from a dangerous 'care' system wasn't enough. Nothing I ever do is enough."
"No, you try, I know you do, I appreciate what you do, I promise- I lost track of time on my walk. It won't happen again," Hunter rambled, internally not being able to come up with specific things his uncle does now that he should be grateful for. Hasn't broken the window again? Goes to work sometimes? Went one full week without injecting anything into his veins before relapsing two days ago? Has gone one year without a severe medical emergency that scared the shit out of Hunter?
Were those things to be grateful for?
His uncle's expression suddenly softened and a wave of relief washed over Hunter. "Alright. I believe you. Come on, let's pray."
They knelt next to Hunter's bed and recited the old, comforting words together.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
Amen.
When the prayer ended, Hunter helped his uncle stand.
"Are we friends?"
Darius looked up from his sewing project. "Hm?"
Hunter set down his needle and thread, looking quite frustrated with his own project and more interested in the conversation. "I mean I come over and hang out sometimes. Does that make us friends?"
"Don't you have any your own age?"
"Yeah. Kinda. Does that mean you can't be one too?"
Darius shrugged. "I guess I can be your friend."
That seemed to make the kid happy. Darius didn't know why. He wasn't very exciting company, at least for someone as young and restless as Hunter. Yet the kid kept coming back to sit on the steps of the porch, talk to him at the kitchen table, play with the cat.
And he didn't have the heart to tell him to stop. What was the harm in it?
(He couldn't shake the nagging worry about who was keeping track of him.)
"We hardly ever see you anymore," Mrs. Noceda said, "you should come over soon. You're always welcome."
He wished he could. He wished he could go over and play, like when he and Luz were kids. But he was just so busy.
Between school and his uncle, he hardly had time to go over to Darius's house and he was right next door.
He spent the nights trying to keep his uncle and occasionally his uncle's friends in check. At first, it had been hard to keep them out of his room without a door, but he figured out he could scoot his dresser over to block the doorway. He focused on keeping them quiet. Didn't need another call to the police, no matter how well-intentioned that neighbor had been. He couldn't leave for the afternoon or leave to go eat dinner at someone else's house. Who knows what would happen?
But he wished.
"Uncle? Uncle Phillip? Guess what?" Hunter was finally home from the soccer game. When he had come home to a sober Uncle Phillip he decided he would go. His uncle had grumbled about how late he was going to be out, but they'd won, they'd won the game, and he'd be proud, right?
(Was it wishful thinking to wonder if he may be at work right now for the first time in the past few weeks if he even still had that job and hadn't been fired finally.)
Hunter pushed his hair off of his forehead. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly switched it to silent. That was one thing Uncle Phillip never knew about, his phone and the Instagram account on it. The team group chat must be blowing up right now.
"Uncle Phillip?" Hunter tried not to sound too excited but probably failed. Mx. Whispers had been so proud of the team. They didn't personally coach the high school team, but they had coached the majority of the team when they had been in middle school and had seen the whole game. Hunter was still buzzing with satisfaction and pride from the hug his old coach had given him.
There was Uncle Phillip, asleep in the big old armchair. Of course. Hunter knelt by his side. "Hey, I'm back," he said, shaking his uncle's shoulder. "Guess how the game went?" He flipped on the lamp beside the armchair. There were needles lying by it. Hunter scowled. He scooped them gingerly onto a sheet of paper and tossed them into the garbage. When he turned back to look, a chill went down his spine.
There was something wrong.
He rushed back to his uncle's side. "Uncle Phillip? Hello? Please wake up now."
He trailed off. His chest wasn't rising. Wasn't falling. His fingers didn't twitch. He didn't groan. He lay there. So still. Hunter took his hand, the dark veins that had only gotten darker and more sickly as the years went on stood out against Uncle Phillip's pale skin. He was so cold.
"Uncle Phillip? I don't like this. Can you hear me? Please?"
He was too cold.
His heart was still.
Hunter's heart dropped into the too-small tennis shoes that he had been wearing for the past three years. What did he do now?
Don't call 911. Don't do it Caleb
That's what he always said, wasn't it? Don't call 911, don't let the ambulance take him away with its flashing lights, don't call attention to this.
But he needed a doctor. Doctors could fix this, right? Doctors could fix anything, he just needed to get him there, yes. Get Uncle Phillip to the doctor, and get him back.
Hunter dragged his uncle to the car, laying him in the backseat and buckling both seatbelts across him to keep him secure. The car hadn't been driven for possibly... Hunter didn't know.
Hopefully there was gas in it. Oh, God, please let it start.
It did. The engine was purring, Hunter could feel the steering wheel vibrate slightly.
He had never driven before. But he had the GPS on his phone (that he wasn't supposed to have) pulled up. How complicated could it really be? Just a quick little drive to the emergency room then Uncle Phillip would be okay please God let him be okay. The key turned in the ignition and the engine was growling so loud so loud that Hunter jumped in his seat and please God, please let them be able to fix him. The gas, which pedal was the gas? Drive, he needed to put the car in drive first and turn the lights on and his hands were shaking so badly but he turned out of the driveway and stayed on the right side of the street he needed to go faster, he needed to get there before it was too late.
Turn right. Stop at the stoplight. Figure out how to turn on a signal, run the stop sign because there's nobody else at the intersection there's nobody there to care, and oh God, oh my God he's all alone isn't he with his uncle in the back but Uncle Phillip isn't okay all because he left him there at home he left him he was an awful nephew wasn't he just the worst and his breath was coming in gasps now he needed to go faster, he read somewhere that it was okay to push the speed limit a little and his vision was blurring a little around the edges and he never saw the other car that had long since passed the speed limit swing into the road a wobbly driver at the wheel and the drunk one met the eyes of the frantic one a split second before the screech of metal and the force of the impact threw the small one forward slamming into the steering wheel and his last thought before blacking out was aren't cars supposed to have airbags?
"Hey, can you hear me? Can you see me, hon?"
The boy's eyes open, and he squints against the lights of the emergency room. "Who're you?"
"I work here at the hospital. Do you remember why you're here?"
His eyes go wide and panicked, and the nurse has to hold him down. "Hey, hey, don't strain yourself. Stay lying down for right now, okay?"
"Uncle Phillip," Hunter croaked, "he needed help. Can you fix him?"
"Was your uncle the man in the backseat, hon?" The strange man's tone annoys Hunter. He isn't a little kid.
"Yes, yes, I couldn't wake him up, is he okay now? He said earlier not to call, so I tried to bring him right here, you guys fixed him, right?"
"The doctor is with him right now." That was not a proper answer, and Hunter told the man so, hating how his voice shook. "We're just going to have to see, honey," the nurse said. "For now, is there anyone else we can call?"
"For what?"
"For you. Who's going to take care of you? When the car crashed you suffered a minor concussion, and your foot... well, it's going to need some time."
The world seemed to come into focus now, the ringing in Hunter's ears fading away. "I can take care of myself," Hunter snapped, sitting up. It made him slightly dizzy but he scowled and tried to swing his legs over onto the floor. A heavy boot weighed one foot down and the movement sent a jolt of pain up his leg.
It took that nurse and one other to get him to lie back down. The man fiddled with the bags hanging next to his bed, and in a few more moments, Hunter was feeling very fuzzy again.
"Do you have any parents or grandparents we can call?"
He shook his head. "Aunts? Uncles? Friends? You know what, hon, what school do you go to?"
Hunter couldn't remember if he'd muttered the answer or not before he was asleep again.
Darius was woken from a peaceful slumber by a ringtone. It wasn't his boss's, or the one he'd set for Raine. It wasn't his sister's.
The high school...?
"The fuck..." Darius muttered and picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Darius Deamonne speaking."
He listened, growing more awake and concerned by the second. Emergency contact? Hospital?
There had been an accident.
"Where did you say he was? Yes, I'll be there, I can be there."
God, the kid looked so pale. He was out cold, with his foot encased in plaster and a nasty bruise on his forehead.
"There wasn't anyone else?" Darius asked again.
No other family. No other adults were listed on his emergency contacts for school. Just his next-door neighbor whose cat he'd watched twice and who sometimes tolerated his company.
Darius listened to the other half of the news with growing disbelief and anger. The whole reason Hunter had been out driving without a license was to get his uncle to the hospital.
His uncle was dead and had likely been dead the entire time.
Overdose, one of the doctors told him. An overdose of heroin.
Heroin? Darius's head was spinning. How hadn't he known, why didn't Hunter say anything before then? Had he known? God, imagine he hadn't, how horrible of a surprise finding him there would be. But he was a regular user, the doctor had said. The signs were there. The drugs had affected his veins, his skin, and inside, his brain.
Hunter had to have known. He had driven him here. Darius couldn't even imagine it, some little kid dragging his uncle out to the car hoping to fix him.
Darius wasn't the one who had to tell Hunter, but from outside the room, he did hear the boy's broken sobs.
He cried and yelled and pleaded with them to try again please, his uncle was all he had and he couldn't leave him. He didn't do it on purpose, he always tried his best. Uncle Phillip was trying to quit, he promised, so you have to try, please? Please, it was all my fault I left him there at home, I left him to go to that game but he needed me more than the team did and how am I supposed to make it up to him? I failed, I failed I couldn't get him here fast enough-
They had to put him back to sleep.
Darius felt sick to his stomach.
When Hunter woke up again, it took him a few moments to remember what had happened. When he did, it felt like a hole had opened up in his chest. He was alone.
Drifting.
With no more Uncle Phillip.
Where would he go now? Was he allowed to get his stuff? He thought about his backpack. His homework is due Monday which he hadn't done yet. Sprig and Flapjack, his stuffed animals.
Uncle Phillip's armchair. Where would that go? They wouldn't let him live in that house alone.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, God, God no-
"Kid, hey, I need you to relax."
Someone's hand squeezed his own, and he linked his fingers desperately with theirs. The ceiling was blurry and he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe-
"In for four... out for four. Can I put your hand here?"
His palm was pressed to the soft material of someone's shirt and he tried his best to slow his breathing along with theirs.
"You'll be okay."
Hunter gasped in a breath and realized he was crying. "He died."
"Yes." This person doesn't sugarcoat or lie or avoid it. They only squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I'm sorry."
"Because of me."
"Not because of you."
"I wasn't there when he needed me."
"You didn't put those things in his system. It was his choice. In the end, it was his choice, not yours."
Hunter felt his chest squeeze in on itself again and wheezed. Darius helped him sit up and he could breathe easier. "Darius?"
"Yeah?"
"What are- why did you come here?"
His neighbor smiled without any real happiness in his tired eyes and shrugged. "Someone has to keep tabs on you."
"You don't have to," Hunter responded, feeling numb.
"Then tell me who will."
Hunter was quiet for a long while. When he tried to open his mouth to say 'the state of Connecticut I guess', all that came out was an embarrassing sob.
Hunter expected there to be more people at the funeral. He fidgeted in his seat and glanced backward.
"Expecting someone?" Darius asked.
"I don't understand. He had plenty of friends, they came by the house all the time. Where are they?"
Darius didn't answer. He didn't know either.
They lowered Uncle Phillip into the ground. Hunter felt sick to his stomach.
When the service was over, he was faced with a small grey headstone. Phillip Wittebane. And a set of years. Nothing else. No line of poetry, nothing about his family. No spot next to him was reserved for someone who would join him later.
He was alone.
"Ready to go, or do you need a second?" Darius asked.
It felt like the words came out of thin air, not his own mouth. "I'm ready to go."
Darius grabbed his crutches from where they lay on the ground and Hunter situated them under his arms.
"Hunter!" he turned his head toward the source of the shout and saw someone in a letterman's jacket barreling toward him. He dropped the crutches to hold out his arms, and when they reached him and put their arms around him, he leaned his weight into them to keep himself upright.
"Dios mio, Hunter, I heard about what happened, I checked back at your house for days," Luz gasped for air, clutching at his shoulders. Her girlfriend who had been following close behind reached them, panting. "I'm so glad you're okay, you're okay aren't you?"
"I'm alive. He's not." That was all Hunter managed. He looked past Luz, at the headstone.
"I'm glad you're okay," she repeated. "Why didn't you call an ambulance?"
"Uncle Phillip said never to do that. So I- I was stupid. I couldn't help him."
"Hey, you tried, you tried your best, entiendes? Mira, you tried. That's what matters."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Luz's girlfriend said. Hunter didn't know her well. He hadn't talked to Luz in a while. His eyes were getting blurry with unshed tears.
"Where are you staying? Mami says you can stay at our house if you need somewhere to sleep, because they'll probably sell the house, and have you gone to get your stuff yet? How long have you been out of the hospital?"
"Hey, kid, slow down," Darius reminded her gently. "We're going to pick up his stuff today. He's staying with me. I was in his emergency contacts for school apparently." He knew his signature had been forged for that, but in the end, he didn't want to get Hunter in trouble and was glad there was somebody on that paper besides Phillip Wittebane.
What would have happened to Hunter if he hadn't been on that paper? Where would he be now?
Hunter still couldn't believe it. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He could hardly feel anything, he felt like he'd been gutted.
"I can help you if you'd like?" Luz offered.
"No, it's okay," Hunter managed in a croaky voice. "I've got it."
Darius tried not to let his reaction show when he saw the inside of the house. It was obvious that Hunter had tried to keep everything in order, but the chaos he lived in showed. Containing it was too big a task for one kid.
He went up the stairs behind Hunter, helping him navigate getting up there with crutches. The woman currently managing Hunter's case had handed him a black trash bag and told him to put his stuff in there. Darius thought that was depressing.
The kid turned to a messy room without a door. Darius had to help him move a heavy dresser to the side that had been blocking the doorway. "Sorry, I haven't tidied up in a while," he muttered. He made a beeline for the bed that was shoved into the furthest corner, sat on the edge, and tossed the pillow on the floor. He hugged a stuffed frog and a stuffed bird to his chest with the first smile Darius had seen from him in days.
This was just a kid.
Some little kid with fantasy books shoved under his bed that he asked Darius to get.
"Why are they under there?"
"Uncle didn't like them. Magical powers are a sign of the devil." The boy looked a little guilty. "It is just fictional though. It's not like I wish I had magical powers."
Oh wow. Darius has known his neighbor had been religious, but he hadn't known he was a religious nut. "And where did your door go?"
"Away," Hunter chirped, placing his stuffed animals in the bag along with a pair of jeans from the closet.
"Oh. Wow." Darius decided not to unpack that statement any further today and checked the tag on one of Hunter's shirts. "Hey, a lot of this stuff is too small for you."
Hunter shrugged. "It's alright. It'll last a little longer."
"Or we could just take the stuff that actually fits and get you new things." Darius took a too-small button-up from Hunter's hands. "You're growing like a weed. You're a teenager. It's not going to last much longer at all."
"Oh. Okay."
"What about those?" Darius pointed to another corner of the room.
A balled up set of sheets with little birds on them lay there, wrinkled, on the dirty carpet. Hunter tasted stomach acid again.
"No. Leave them."
"Okay. Anything else in this room you want?"
Hunter leaned down and picked up his backpack, slipping one of the straps over his shoulder. "There's also a notebook taped to the ceiling up there," he pointed in the closet.
"Taped to the ceiling?"
"Yeah. Can you get it, please?"
"Of course."
"Don't open it and don't read it please."
"Alright." Darius dropped it in the bag without even looking at the cover. Hunter looked relieved.
"I know secret-keeping is bad," he muttered.
"Secret keeping? It's just a journal, plenty of people keep those. It's normal."
Hunter didn't look convinced. "Is my uncle's room okay to go in?" He changed the subject.
"I think so. What do you need from there?"
"The Bible."
Darius fought the urge to roll his eyes. He reminded himself that religion was very important to the kid. He would just have to go along with it, even though he and religion had parted on not-so-friendly terms.
This room was in an even worse state. And there was a lingering smell to it. Luckily, Hunter located the book very quickly. But then he paused, staring at something.
"What is it, kid?"
Hunter slowly pulled a shoebox out from under the bed. A photo was sticking out, half of a man's face showing. Hunter opened the box and sucked in a breath. There were piles of photos and letters.
"That man looks like me," he whispered.
"Do you want to take this stuff with you?" Darius asked.
Hunter shut the box, set it on the bed, and started to struggle back to his feet. Darius put out a hand to pull him up and he got his crutches under his arms again. "Yeah, I want to take it with me."
"Okay. Is there anything else?"
The boys thought for a long moment. Everything he didn't take would go during the estate sale. The house he had lived in almost his entire life. The only house he remembered living in. The life he had lived with his uncle, pieces of it carried off by total strangers. He looked at the half-full trash bag with his stuffed animals, books, and the few clothes that still fit him. He looked at the Bible and the shoebox.
"No. This is it."