his grandparentsâ house. The woods that ran alongside the town side of the creek were a ten-minute walk from the other side of the store. Tommy planned his route carefully. His short criminal career already had taught him that itâs best not to call attention to yourself if you can avoid it. And, walking back and forth in front of the store on his way to and from the woods was something that even the old fart who owned the store might notice. He decided to take different routes to and from the woodsâmake it look like he was just taking a walk, checking out the town.
At the end of the block, he made a right turn, walked to the end of the block and then turned left, heading in his original direction, but a block beyond the store. He would, he thought, take this street past the main drag and on to the woods, where he could find someplace to hide the knife. Then he would go back to the store, get what he needed, and return for the knife. As he walked, he scanned the trees for squirrels or other animals he could hunt and kill. He saw a cat and made a mental note. It would do if he couldnât find anything else. A cat would be a disappointment, though,because he really wanted the thrill of stalking something wild. Maybe he could find a raccoon or a deer.
As Tommy neared the woods, he noticed a path that seemed to lead from the edge of the cornfield into the trees. He turned and followed it. As he walked, he realized that it wasnât an animal trail but one made for and used by humans. He looked for evidence of people but saw nothing. The path was at a slight incline and as he crested the small hill, he found himself in a clearing. Directly in front of him was an enormous tree anchored by a massive tangle of thick, knobbed roots. He pulled the bundle from his waistband, placed it in the crevice between two prominent roots, and quickly covered it with sticks and leaves. He stepped back, surveyed his work and, convinced that only someone looking closely would be able to see it, turned and walked back along the path out of the woods.
I learned this part of the story later from Grace, who, unbeknownst to Tommy, was lying on her back in the Nest, her eyes closed, her head resting on the cleanest of the cushions. She wasnât sleeping; she was thinking. Unlike Natalie and me, her mother didnât insist she stay homeânot that she would have wanted to. At home, she had to deal with her motherâs depression and Reggieâs unwanted attention. She preferred the solitude of the Nest. It was one of the few places where she felt safe and at peace. So, while Natalie and I tried to figure out how to escape, Grace walked her bike along the dirt path to our clubhouse, stowed her bike in the bushes, and climbed to the solitude of our fortress.
And there she was when she heard the noise of something moving through the trees. At first she thought it was a deer and crept silently to the edge of the tree house to look out. What emerged from the trees wasnât a deer, but a tall, slender boy with dark hair who wandered through the clearing toward the large elm we called Goliath. She watched as he looked around the clearing, pulled something from under his shirt, and then knelt to hide it in the heavy tangle of exposed roots.
From her birdâs-eye perch, Grace watched him leave and wondered what was so important that he would hide it in thewoods. She considered climbing down to investigate, but ultimately decided not to. Later, when I asked her why, she said that it was out of respect for the boy we later came to know as Tommy.
âSometimes,â she said cryptically, âItâs nice to have something thatâs all yours.â
Chapter 6
After I got off the phone with Natalie, I wandered aimlessly around the house, stopping occasionally to sigh dramatically. My mother, who was dusting, ignored me for about five minutes before she said, âItâs not going to work, Birdie. Iâm not going
At the end of the block, he made a right turn, walked to the end of the block and then turned left, heading in his original direction, but a block beyond the store. He would, he thought, take this street past the main drag and on to the woods, where he could find someplace to hide the knife. Then he would go back to the store, get what he needed, and return for the knife. As he walked, he scanned the trees for squirrels or other animals he could hunt and kill. He saw a cat and made a mental note. It would do if he couldnât find anything else. A cat would be a disappointment, though,because he really wanted the thrill of stalking something wild. Maybe he could find a raccoon or a deer.
As Tommy neared the woods, he noticed a path that seemed to lead from the edge of the cornfield into the trees. He turned and followed it. As he walked, he realized that it wasnât an animal trail but one made for and used by humans. He looked for evidence of people but saw nothing. The path was at a slight incline and as he crested the small hill, he found himself in a clearing. Directly in front of him was an enormous tree anchored by a massive tangle of thick, knobbed roots. He pulled the bundle from his waistband, placed it in the crevice between two prominent roots, and quickly covered it with sticks and leaves. He stepped back, surveyed his work and, convinced that only someone looking closely would be able to see it, turned and walked back along the path out of the woods.
I learned this part of the story later from Grace, who, unbeknownst to Tommy, was lying on her back in the Nest, her eyes closed, her head resting on the cleanest of the cushions. She wasnât sleeping; she was thinking. Unlike Natalie and me, her mother didnât insist she stay homeânot that she would have wanted to. At home, she had to deal with her motherâs depression and Reggieâs unwanted attention. She preferred the solitude of the Nest. It was one of the few places where she felt safe and at peace. So, while Natalie and I tried to figure out how to escape, Grace walked her bike along the dirt path to our clubhouse, stowed her bike in the bushes, and climbed to the solitude of our fortress.
And there she was when she heard the noise of something moving through the trees. At first she thought it was a deer and crept silently to the edge of the tree house to look out. What emerged from the trees wasnât a deer, but a tall, slender boy with dark hair who wandered through the clearing toward the large elm we called Goliath. She watched as he looked around the clearing, pulled something from under his shirt, and then knelt to hide it in the heavy tangle of exposed roots.
From her birdâs-eye perch, Grace watched him leave and wondered what was so important that he would hide it in thewoods. She considered climbing down to investigate, but ultimately decided not to. Later, when I asked her why, she said that it was out of respect for the boy we later came to know as Tommy.
âSometimes,â she said cryptically, âItâs nice to have something thatâs all yours.â
Chapter 6
After I got off the phone with Natalie, I wandered aimlessly around the house, stopping occasionally to sigh dramatically. My mother, who was dusting, ignored me for about five minutes before she said, âItâs not going to work, Birdie. Iâm not going
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