Curtis Creek

(Sensitive Content Warning: Descriptions of bullying, coarse language of a sexual and medical nature, profanity, mild violence)

Curtis Creek

“You’re full of shit, Daniel,” Mikey said. He tossed the ball to Palmer.

Palmer lifted his glove, caught it, then threw it to Daniel.

“Ask my old man,” Daniel said, catching the ball on a bounce. “He’ll tell you. She showed him too.”

“You’re old man’s full of shit too,” Mikey said. “Miss Caruthers never showed you her tits.”

He made a little come-on gesture with his glove. Daniel didn’t throw.

The rest of us—seven or so—sat on patches of yellow grass around the yard, eating our ice cream cones, catching the drips, pretending not to listen.

“Take that back,” Daniel said. He popped the ball into his own glove. Then he did it again.

“Your dad’s a drunk,” Mikey said. “And he’s a liar. And so are you,” He smacked his own glove. “Throw me the ball.”

Daniel held it. “You’re just mad because you ain’t got a daddy."

Mikey’s face tightened. “Throw the damn ball.”

“Take back what you said about my old man."

“Dan,” Palmer's said. “Come on. Throw it.”

“You taking his side?” Daniel said, still looking at Mikey.

“Easy,” Palmer said.

Daniel looked at Palmer. Palmer didn’t look away. We all watched from the grass. A moment passed, then Daniel looked down at his shoes and kicked at the dirt. We went back to our cones.

“Throw it already, you damn liar” Mikey said. He spit in the grass.

“Go to Hell!” Daniel said.

Mikey clenched his fist. He took a step toward Daniel.

“Michael?”

We all turned to look.

Mikey’s grandmother stood framed in the screen door. She was wearing dark glasses and had an apron tied tight around her middle. Her hands were on her hips, and on her feet she wore dirty little slippers with dirty little bows.

If she’d heard the cussing, it would be the end of the ice cream. We all knew that. Mikey kept his eyes on Daniel. The rest of us looked down at the grass and stayed still.

“Michael!” We flinched at the sound.

“Yes ma’am,” Mikey said.

“If you and your friends can’t keep quiet, they’ll have to go home,” she said. “Do you understand me? Your grandfather’s trying to sleep.”

Mikey hadn’t looked away from Daniel.

“I said, do you understand me?” Mikey’s grandmother said.

“Yeah,” Mikey said

“Excuse me?”

We all tried to make ourselves small on the grass.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mikey said.

She took a step back from the screen door and looked across the yard. “The rest of you keep that ice cream off the grass,” she said. “It brings ants.” She looked at Mikey again. “Now shut it.”

She turned and disappeared into the house.

For a moment, no one said anything. We all looked at Mikey. Then at Palmer.

Palmer brushed a fly away from his face, held up his glove, and clapped it twice. “Daniel,” he said.

Daniel smirked. “Yes ma’am,” he said. He tossed the ball to Palmer and looked at Mikey. “Better not wake Gramps,” he said. “Hey, how is Gramps, Mikey? How’s old Grampy doing?”

Palmer threw the ball to Mikey. Mikey caught it, wound up, and threw it hard at Daniel’s face.

Daniel got his glove up and caught the ball. He lowered the glove and glared at Mikey. Mikey glared right back. Daniel yanked the glove off his hand and whipped it at Mikey with the ball still inside it

The glove hit Mikey’s leg. The ball fell out with a thud. Mikey dropped his own glove and ran at Daniel.

We forgot our ice creams. We forgot to be scared of Mikey’s grandmother. We just sat and watched Mikey charge.

Daniel was just getting his hands up when Mikey tackled him. They hit the dirt and Mikey scrambled on top of him. We all watched. Buddy dropped his ice cream in the grass in a sticky mess. Not sure he even noticed.

“You damn lying bastard,” Mikey said. He was trying to punch Daniel’s ribs. Daniel reached up and got him by the wrists. He was bigger. Not a lot, but enough. Soon he had pulled Mikey off and flipped him onto his back. He straddled his chest. He shot a quick look toward the screen door, then slapped Mikey hard across the cheek.

“Take it back, you little fucker,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud.

“Go to hell,” Mikey said, also quiet.

Daniel slapped him again. This time he left a scratch.

Palmer walked over. He reached and grabbed Daniel’s arm. “Dan,” he said. “Let him up.”

Daniel pulled free. He slapped Mikey a third time.

“I said, take it back,” he said.

A thin line of blood was filling the scratch on Mikey’s cheek. He squirmed. “You’re a damn liar and so’s your old man,” he said.

Daniel raised his hand again, but before he could hit him, Mikey got his own arm loose and punched Daniel in the stomach. Daniel made a sound like, “Oof,” and rolled off onto the grass.

Mikey stood and backed off a few steps. He rubbed his face with a shirt sleeve. Daniel stood up too. He was breathing hard. They squared up. Palmer stepped between them and put one big hand on each of their chests. That was the end of it.

Daniel made a show of pushing Palmers hand away. “You’re always taking his side.” he said.

“Shake hands,” Palmer said.

Nobody did. And nobody talked for a while.

We finished our ice creams, then someone said we should walk down to the fish hatchery behind the high school. Everyone looked at Palmer. He tucked his glove under his arm, squinted toward the school, and shrugged. He cocked his head and we all stood up.

Daniel and Mikey didn’t talk on the walk. The rest of us did. We talked about the carnival coming up, and about the girls at school who were starting to get their boobs. We talked about Miss Caruthers and her boobs.

Buddy said his Daddy had let him hold his Derringer pistol.

“You’re full of shit,” someone told him.

Lee Driggers drove by in his Plymouth Duster. We watched him pass, and talked about Lee’s car, and about the cars we’d get when we could drive. We talked about which girls we’d pick up in our cars, and about how much bigger their boobs would be by then. Someone asked Palmer when he thought the fish might be released into Curtis Creek, and he said it wouldn’t be long. “They normally do it before July.”

“‘I’ll tell you one thing,” Daniel said, pointing up the road where Lee’s car had gone. “If I had Lee’s car, I’d find some girl, take her down to some quiet place along the creek, and we’d do it before July.”

A few of us laughed.

We walked through the school parking lot and down the narrow gravel path toward the hatchery. We crossed the small wooden bridge over the creek. Daniel spit over the rail into the water. One or two of the little kids did too. We waited while Palmer and Daniel hopped the fence.

“They’re big this year,” Palmer said from the other side.

We all looked around at each other and grinned.

“How big?” Buddy said.

Someone pushed him and he stopped talking.

Someone asked Mikey if he was still mad at Daniel.

Mikey shrugged. “Just don’t like liars,” he said.

Someone else asked if Mikey’s grandfather still had those sores on his mouth.

“Who told you that?” Mikey said.

Nobody answered. It was Daniel, but nobody was dumb enough to say it.

“Well, it’s a lie,” Mikey said. “So you better shut up about it. All of you better just shut the hell up! None of you know what the hell you’re talking about. You hear me?”

We nodded.

Mikey turned and walked back up the trail toward the parking lot. He looked like he might have been crying.

We were quiet then.

Soon, Palmer came back. Then Daniel.

“What’s he sore about now?” Palmer asked, pointing up the trail. He wiped his brow with a sleeve. We told him about Mikey’s grandfather, and how Mikey had told us to shut up about it.

“Yeah, well you better,” Palmer said. “It’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is,” Daniel said.

Palmer narrowed his eyes.

“What?” Daniel said, and shrugged. “It is. You know it is.”

“That’s enough,” Palmer said. His voice was low.

Daniel looked at us. “It isn’t just his mouth,” he said. “Those damn sores everywhere. His hands, his legs. Even his dick.”

“Stop it,” Palmer said.

“He doesn’t even know who Mikey is.” Daniel said. “He just sits there all day, shitting himself.”

“Shut up, Daniel!” Palmer said. He shoved Daniel, and Daniel fell down hard into the gravel. Palmer stood over him and made his hands into fists.

Daniel lay on the ground holding his elbow. He didn’t look at Palmer. He didn’t look at us either.

Palmer left then. He turned and walked up the trail in the same direction Mikey had gone.

Daniel stood up, still rubbing his elbow. He looked up the trail. Then he looked at us.

“You’re full of shit, Daniel,” one of the little kids said. Some of us nodded.

For a moment, the only sound was the creek murmuring under the bridge. Then, Daniel took a big step forward and stomped the ground in front of us. We all flinched and backed off a few steps.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Little bastards.” He swept his foot across the gravel. Big stones flew up at us. He kicked again. And again. Pieces hit our legs and our hands. He laughed and kept kicking. One large sharp stone flew up and hit Buddy just below the eye. He cried out once, then bit it back.

Daniel stopped kicking. Buddy reached up and touched his cheek. He turned away and we heard him start sniffling. We waited and watched Daniel.

Daniel stared at Buddy. He took a step toward him, but it was a different sort of step. He lifted his hand–half a reach–then dropped it again.

“Buddy,” he said.

The creek hummed.

“Buddy, I–.”

His face hardened again.

“See what happens?” he said.

He turned and walked up the trail. We watched until we were sure he was gone. A breeze stirred the trees around us. Somewhere far off, a lawnmower buzzed.

“Hey Buddy,” someone said. “You ok?”

Buddy didn’t answer.

We left after that–back up the trail. Back across the bridge. On the way across, Buddy dropped a twig over the rail into the creek. He stood and watched it float away. The bruise under his eye was starting to show. Someone bumped him with their shoulder and told him to get the hell out of the way.

In the parking lot we didn’t see Palmer, and we didn’t see Mikey.

The sun was near the treeline and the shadows from the buildings were long and sharp. Far away on the other side of the parking lot we could see Daniel walking away from us. We waited until he was out of sight. Nobody said it. But we’d all believed him.

One by one, we peeled off toward our houses, and before long the parking lot was empty.

It rained all that night. The next morning, fish were swimming in Curtis Creek.