The Battle for Jericho (19 page)

“Yes, doctor. I’ll do that.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, but Mac kept standing there, and suddenly the whole situation got awkward. He needed something, I could tell. Maybe he wanted to talk. With all of his mood swings lately, I was certain something was bothering him. But I could only handle one friend in need at a time. Mac might be troubled, but he still had his parents in his corner. Hutch was homeless. “Sorry, man,” I said, rubbing my hand over my stomach. “I’m feeling kinda sick down below. If I keep standing here, I think I might yack all over your feet.”

Mac hopped back as if I’d taken a whack at his white Nike sneakers with a meat cleaver. “Call me later, man,” he said with a little disgusted frown on his face, and he took off for home.

“Who was that?” Hutch asked when I returned to the kitchen.

“Just Mac.” I took my seat at the table.

“You didn’t tell him—”

“Of course not.” I could almost see Mac being one of those protestors marching around in front of Dylan’s house with one of those hateful anti-gay signs. I was hardly going to tell him I had Hutch in the house, let alone
why
Hutch was here.

“Good,” Hutch answered, relieved.

I spread peanut butter on a cracker. Before popping the cracker in my mouth, I said, “Hutch, what relatives do you have besides your mom and dad?”

There came the hurt burning in his face anew, just as I thought it would. Damn it. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I needed to know, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get to the subject but to ask. “I don’t have anybody else, Jerry,” he replied.

“What?” He had spoken so softly that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

“I said that I don’t have any other relatives.”

“You mean… uh, no grandmother, no aunts or uncles? Not even
cousins
?”

“No. I had a great-grandmother, but she’s dead now. It was just my mom and dad and me.”

It was right about then that I felt like crying. Mom and Dad had left me a hundred bucks in cash for emergencies. I figured I could use the money to get Hutch a bus ticket to the home of some out-of-town relative, but that plan had just gone poof. This was hopeless.

“I know this lawyer,” Hutch said. “Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe he can tell me what to do.”

“No, hold off on that,” I said. “I’ll come up with something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

Chapter 16

M
OM
and Dad made it back home at four Sunday afternoon. I met them in the garage, just as Dad parked the Taurus.

“Well, London, you were right,” Mom said when they were both out of the car. “Our son did not burn down the house.”

I went to her smiling. “Very funny, Mom,” I said as I hugged her. “You have a good time?”

“We had a wonderful time,” Mom replied. “There was a beautiful jazz club downtown. Your dad took me dancing. I even got your dad to go swimming. The hotel had an indoor pool.”

Dad popped the trunk. “How did things go, Jericho? You have any trouble while we were gone?”

“No, sir. Everything was great. I missed you guys.” I met him at the trunk with a hug.

“Get the hell off me,” he said, but he let me hug him to my heart’s content. “Did you have to use any of that emergency cash we left?”

“No, sir. It’s still in that cup on your dresser.”

“Good.” Dad looked delighted. “Grab these bags. I’m worn out.”

I grabbed their luggage and followed them into the kitchen.

“Well, what have we here?” Mom stopped by the stove, where pots were simmering. “You cooked dinner for us, son?”

“Of course. You trusted me to stay home by myself. The least I could do to show my appreciation is to feed you.” I hefted the luggage. “I’ll take these upstairs for you.”

“Thanks,” said Dad. He reached over to help Mom out of her jacket.

When I came back downstairs, they had draped their jackets over the back of a chair, Mom was seated at the table checking messages on her cell phone, and Dad was peeking into one of the pots.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“Spaghetti,” I answered. I moved in and took the lid from his hand, placing it back over the pot.

“Where’s the meat?”

“I didn’t have any to go in there, Dad.”

He frowned at me. “There was two pounds of ground turkey in that refrigerator when we left.”

“I made burgers for dinner last night.”

“You ate
two pounds
of burgers last night?”

“Well, uh… I was hungry.”

“No, it sounds like you were feeding half the neighborhood. On
my
money.”

“Leave him alone, London,” said Mom. “He’s a growing boy.”

“No, he’s a walking digestive system.”

We had a nice dinner together. Mom and Dad told me all about their trip. I told them that Uncle Vic called twice and Mrs. Travis sent Mac over three times to check up on me, that I talked with Lissandra several times, that I was careful to clean up behind myself, and that I played a lot of video games.

“So you didn’t run into any trouble here by yourself?” Mom asked.

“Not one bit,” I assured her.

“And you cooked this fabulous welcome home dinner for us. We’re so proud of you.” Smiling, Mom turned to Dad. “Aren’t we proud of Jericho, London?”

Dad looked at me. “Where the hell is the dessert?”

A
FTER
we finished eating, Mom and Dad went up to their room to unpack and unwind from their trip, and I cleaned up the kitchen. Then I put the leftover spaghetti in a bowl with a fork and a slice of bread, grabbed a peach soda from the fridge, and went to my room.

“Hey, dude,” I said quietly. “Dinnertime.”

Hutch crawled from under the bed.

I
T
SEEMED
to be the only thing I could do. I had considered telling Mom and Dad that Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson were going out of town and wanted to know if Hutch could please stay with us for a few days. The downside to that one was that Mom and Dad might insist on talking directly with Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson before they agreed. Also, I couldn’t be sure just how long it would take to find a permanent solution to Hutch’s problem, and my parents would get suspicious if Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson were “out of town” for more than a few days. I had also considered telling Mom and Dad the truth, but knowing how strongly they believed in the Bible, I figured they wouldn’t want the sin of homosexuality under their roof any more than Hutch’s parents wanted it under theirs.

So that left the option of hiding Hutch in my room.

Hutch and I worked out the details together. I wasn’t allowed to lock my bedroom door, but my parents never came into my room without knocking first. Hutch and I would share the bed, and he would hide under it if Mom or Dad wanted to come in. He could have his privacy in my bathroom when he needed it as long as I kept still in my room so it wouldn’t appear that I was in two places at once. I’d sneak breakfast in to him, and pack an extra sandwich for him to have at lunch. His dinner wouldn’t be a problem since I usually got home before Mom or Dad and always had an afternoon snack. I could just let him eat a sandwich or whatever he wanted and tell my parents that was my snack. Hutch only had to make sure he hid under my bed as soon as Mom or Dad got home. He’d have to sneak out of my window in the morning with his backpack before I left for school. On weekends, he’d sneak in and out whenever he could. I’d wash and dry his clothes when I did my laundry. None of it would be fun, but it was doable.

In the beginning, it seemed to work like a charm. On Monday morning, Hutch woke up at five thirty and quietly took care of business in my bathroom. He emerged fully dressed and ready to go. He got into his jacket, grabbed his backpack, took the peanut butter sandwich and apple I brought into my room last night as a “midnight snack,” and was out my bedroom window by six thirty. Then I took care of business in my bathroom and was in the kitchen at seven for a quick breakfast with Mom and Dad. At seven fifteen, I met Mac, and we started our walk to school. And there was Hutch waiting for us at the corner of Harvey Lane and Castle Street as always.

“What’s up, guys?” he greeted us self-consciously.

“Daaaaaamn!” Mac drawled in shock. “Hutch, man, what happened to your face?”

“Nothing,” Hutch replied with a shrug. The swelling had gone down a lot, and his left eye opened almost normally, but the skin around it was still a rainbow of colors. “I had an accident.”

“Accident my ass,” Mac barked back. “You look like somebody coldcocked you into next week.”

Hutch turned away, looking dejected, and said nothing.

I flashed an angry look at Mac. “Hey, man. We need to work on your vocabulary skills. Today’s word is
tact.
”

Mac ignored me. “Seriously, Hutch. Who did this to you? Tell me, and I’ll get you some payback.”

I jumped between Hutch and Mac. “He told you he had an accident, man!” I snapped at Mac. “Lay off, and leave the guy alone.”

Mac shifted his weight calmly from one foot to the other. “It’s a little late for you to play Hutch’s bodyguard, isn’t it, Jer?”

I wanted to tell Mac where to go in really graphic terms. I turned and marched off instead, and Hutch followed.

“All right, all right,” Mac said, coming after us. “I’m sorry. If Hutch says he had an accident, then he had an accident.”

Hutch didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He was willing to forgive and forget, so I did the same. As a peace offering, Mac stopped at Walgreens and bought a pair of shades that hid the worst of the bruise on Hutch’s face. Hutch’s teachers even let him wear the shades in class, once he gave them a glimpse of what lay beneath the dark lenses. The day passed uneventfully, I put in enough time with Lissandra to keep her from feeling neglected, and by three thirty that afternoon, Hutch and I were back at my house.

The rest of the week passed in much the same way. There were a couple of scary moments, however. On Tuesday afternoon, after starting dinner, Dad came down the hall and knocked on my door. Hutch and I were doing homework. In just a few seconds, Hutch disappeared smoothly and silently under the bed with his books, and I said, “Come in.”

Dad opened the door and looked in at me. “Boy, you sure as hell are eating a lot of food suddenly.”

“Uh… yeah. It’s like Mom said. I’m a growing kid.” I tried a smile.

Dad sort of snarled. “Growing kid? Hell, you eat now like you’re pregnant with twins. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No, sir.”

Dad looked around my room in a funny-weird sort of way.
He knows. He knows there’s somebody else here. He’s gonna look under the bed.
But a few seconds later he pointed his finger at me and said, “If you’re going to keep ‘growing’ like this, you’d better get a job.” Then he backed out of the room and closed the door.

On Thursday evening, Hutch and I were sitting side by side on the floor watching
The Terminator
when the door shook suddenly from a knock worthy of the title character himself. We both jumped at the sound. Hutch slid immediately under the bed. I got up and opened the door.

Dad stood there with that funny-weird look on his face again. In addition to that, suspicion was so thick in his eyes it seemed to shoot out like beams of heat. He stood there staring at me that way for what seemed like the rest of our lives. I actually felt a trickle of sweat work its way down the side of my neck.

“You sure spend a lot of time in this room lately.” The way Dad said that made it sound like a question; he wanted to know what I was doing in here.

“I’m watching a movie, Dad.”

“You could watch a movie in the den with your mom and me. We hardly ever see you these days.”

“Mom’s not even home yet.”

“She got home thirty minutes ago. You’d know that if you didn’t keep yourself isolated back here.” Dad’s eyes narrowed at me. “What the hell is going on with you?”

A river ran down the side of my neck then.

“London, leave Jericho alone. Come rub my feet, please. Every birth at that hospital today was premature, I tell you. I didn’t sit down the whole time I was there.”

Thank you, God, for Mom’s tired feet!

Glaring at me, Dad slowly backed up a step. Then he turned and went off to the den.

O
N
F
RIDAY
,
Hutch decided to eat lunch with some other friends of his, so Mac and I were on our own. As we walked down the hall to the cafeteria, we passed Gina Marie and a small, pretty girl named Donna Milbank who was almost as fine as Gina Marie. They had been best friends since last year. Mac breezed past the two girls as if they were just another pair of lockers attached to the wall. The girls’ eyes, I noticed, followed Mac down the hall. They smiled and exchanged whispers.

“Uh… that’s Gina Marie, man,” I pointed out.

“Yeah,” Mac grunted indifferently. “I saw her.”

“Well?”