Heart in A Cage

“Here, hold this,” Aunt Karen demanded as soon as we were out of the house the next morning. She fumbled with the unfamiliar house keys momentarily before locking the door. After making sure it was in place, she turned around with a smile and bounded down the steps. “Just put your stuff in the back,” she said, unlocking her car, “so we don’t have to worry about it.” The trunk securely locked, I was just about to get into the backseat when Aunt Karen stopped me. “Sit up here with me, hon,” she called over the rumble of the engine. “Kelvin will want to sit back there.”

As we pulled out of the driveway, I stared at the dashboard intently, willing myself to not look back. Finding a distraction, I asked in a confused voice, “Kelvin?”

Keeping her eyes on the road, Aunt Karen waved her hand distractedly, stirring up the air of nonchalance. “We have to pick him up from school,” she explained. “As for Nelson, he won’t be home from soccer until later.” Glancing at me, she asked, teasingly, “You do remember your cousins, don’t you, Connor?”

“Of course I do,” I said in a hard voice.

Aunt Karen almost seemed to shrink back a little, but smiled nonetheless. “Good, good,” she said. Only a few moments passed before she spoke up again. “Hand me my phone, will you?” With flitting fingers, I dug it out of her purse, where it lay under a tube of shiny lip-gloss and God knows what else. “Call the moving company,” she ordered, ignoring my grimace. “The number is in there. Check the contacts.”

A little confused, I quickly scrolled through the list and found the number under ‘AV Moving Company.’ The ring on the other end started its drone almost immediately after I pressed the button. Aunt Karen smiled and took the phone from me.

For the first few minutes, she talked in a calm, normal voice – and then she turned all stern, asking things like, “What do you mean you couldn’t reach me? I specifically left my number!” and “Look for it under either Karen Walter’s name, or Byron Leitner’s!”

I knew already from the ‘talk’ I’d had in the morning with her that all of our furniture would, for the time being, be moved into Grandpa Byron’s place, which happened to be only two blocks away from Aunt Karen’s house.

Tuning out the heated one-sized conversation, I glanced out the window and watched the world move by at a slow and steady pace. As it was around two o’clock in the afternoon, schools were yet to be out of session, and almost all of the parents were still at work, which meant we had no trouble with traffic.

The changes in the scenery were becoming more and more obvious as we moved into the more central part of town, where all the main shops were. The hills I’d had no trouble spotting from the balcony back home were slowly disappearing, being replaced by large buildings; the road seemed to be getting wider; the empty places on both sides of the street were being filled in by fast food restaurants and gas stations.

Before long, I found my eyes closing on their own accord; the images before me meshed and blurred before becoming a vast hole of darkness that I couldn’t help but fall into.

*

“Connor,” a voice said from somewhere close boy. “Connor, hon, come on! We’re here.”

Groggily, I opened my eyes to see Aunt Karen walking towards a door. The first thing I noticed was that there was a sign on the white surface – one of those bright, tacky things that say something like ‘Welcome’ or ‘Home Sweet Home’ in cursive letters. Aunt Karen’s car was parked in a large driveway, alongside a shiny silver van which I immediately recognized as Uncle Jeff’s. I realized that my surroundings were more familiar to me than I would’ve expected. For as long as I could remember, I have been coming to the Walters’ for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner, so it really should’ve come as no surprise. But, under the odd circumstances, I really didn’t know what to think anymore. Pushing at the seat belt, I stepped out into the cool September evening and stretched, giving my muscles a chance to sigh in relief.

“Hi, Connor!” someone squeaked from behind me. I turned around, a little startled; a nine-year-old Kelvin stared back at me, a toothy grin in place. He was the exact replica of his mother, with blonde hair that fell into his blue eyes. Wiping a hand across his stained t-shirt, he waved at me, trying to get my attention.

“Hi,” I said back, managing a half-smile.

“I can’t believe you’re going to live with us!” he said in an enthusiastic voice. His hand reached out to tug on my jeans. “Come on inside! I want to show you my room.”

“In a minute,” I told him, gently prying his hand away. I expected him to start whining, but he surprised me by shrugging and running into the house, his small backpack bouncing against his back.

I walked over to the back of the car to get out my stuff. While I was pulling out a black duffel bag, I took a moment to look around. The place was definitely larger than what I was used to; it was a two story brick house with a two-car garage and a wide wrap-around porch. The front yard was a grassy area with a round flowerbed placed in the centre; I could spot a few white lillies and daffodils from where I stood.

Aunt Karen walked out and saw me observing the neighborhood. “I can ask Deon to show you around after dinner,” she offered, patting down her hair.

“Maybe,” I replied nonchalantly. “Where is he, anyway?”

As if on cue, a beat-up red pickup truck came roaring down the street towards us.

“There he is!” Aunt Karen exclaimed, stating the obvious. She watched as Deon parked the truck alongside the curb and got out, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Deon!”

“Hey, Mom,” he called, jogging up and giving her a one-armed hug. Then he noticed me. “Oh hey, man,” he said, giving me a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

I begged to differ – under the circumstances and all – but answered with a “Yeah, you too.”

“What are we standing outside for?” he asked, giving a low chuckle. Rubbing at the barely visible stubble on his chin, he motioned towards the house. “Come on. You hungry?”

I shrugged. Aunt Karen watched us with a bright smile, like she couldn’t believe we were actually getting along. In a way, she did have a reason to worry: as kids, Deon and I had always made sure to make each other’s lives miserable. Not only did we pull the worst pranks, but we had always made everything a competition – whether it was to see who could run to the better swing faster, or who could shove the largest amount of M&M’s in their mouth without throwing up.

Once inside the house, with my “luggage” set safely in one of the guestrooms upstairs, I sat at the dining table and listened to Deon talk about his not-so-long-ago graduation, and what college he was planning to attend. Here and there, he asked me questions about my life – avoiding any subject relating to Dad’s death, of course – but I could tell he was only trying to distract me. And it did do the trick, at least for a while.

“So what are your plans?” Deon asked, popping a salted cracker in his mouth.

Tracing the pattern of the tablecloth with my finger, I shrugged and said, “Just get through high school, I guess.”

Deon snorted and nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean,” he said in a somewhat sympathetic voice. “That’s all I gave a shit about, too, when I was still in Creston.” He took a sip from the metal can – some energy drink I’d never heard of before – he held in his hand. “Don’t worry, though,” he assured me, “you’ll like it here.”

I could only hope he was telling the truth.

My last school, Moorefield’s High, had been the all-too-familiar cliché that was featured in every teen drama movie. There had been so many cliques and groups, I’d bet anything that they could’ve made a whole fucking country of their own. There were the jocks and the cheerleaders who excelled at everything they did; the stoners, punk rockers and the party people who basically had the same motto, even if they hung out in different social circles: smoke some, get some, and fuck some over; your average everyday nerds and outcasts; the theatre and the band geeks; the tomboys and, finally, the rich kids.

The only reason I even went there in the first place was because, a) the only other high school consisted of only about two hundred people, including the teachers (which should tell you something about it right there) and b) it had a high reputation in society for its various sport programs, which stood out to my dad as a ‘good thing.’ But since I’d never taken an interest in any of those, I really couldn’t have used it to my advantage, no matter how much my Dad wanted me to.

This was one of the reasons why Tyler Darwin, the closest person I had to a friend, and I clicked the first time we met: we’d both never lived up to our parents’ expectations.

Tyler was one of those seventeen-year-olds that adults always warn their ‘innocent’ freshmen kids about. He had that whole surfer thing going on, even with a shaved head that had been the result of a dare gone horribly wrong. He smoked, drank, and, above all, was a party animal. But the thing about Tyler was that he took shit seriously, something that set him apart from the other stoners of the school. His mom had been having heart problems ever since his dad bailed on them five years ago, so Tyler had two part-time jobs to pay the rent and feed two mouths.

“Mom mentioned you wanted to take a look around town,” Deon said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You want to go now instead? I’m dropping over at the mall with my buddy; you can tag along.” He got up and grabbed his keys from the granite counter.

I shook my head. “Nah, not today. I’m pretty beat.”

He shrugged and said, “Alright.” Just as he was about add something else, the doorbell rang. “Shit!” he muttered under his breath, searching his pockets for something. His green eyes landed on me. “Can you get that for me? It’s probably Lukas. Be back in a minute!” With that, he dashed out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time.

I got out of the chair slowly and stood up, making sure to put the snacks back in their respectable places before going to the front hall. Ignoring the small peephole which seemed to be calling out to me, I opened the door. Immediately, I was greeted by a gust of cold air. And a boy I’d never seen before.

“Hi,” he said, smiling. “Is Deon home?”

“He’s upstairs,” I took a step back and looked over my shoulder, then back at him. “You can come wait inside,” I suggested awkwardly.

“Sure,” he said. Running a hand through his short black hair, he walked past me and into the house. It looked as though he knew his way around, as he was the one leading me into the living room. “So,” he said, plopping down onto the sofa noisily. “I’m Lukas Reynolds.”

“I’m Deon’s cousin,” I answered, staring at his forehead so I didn’t have to look anywhere else, like at his face. “Connor Stiver.” At your service, I added silently, and then slapped myself inwardly.

Lukas eyed my face, his gaze intense. “Sorry to hear about your dad,” he said suddenly, rubbing at his bare arm. “I mean, it’s none of my business or anything, but…”

“That’s okay,” I said quickly. How did he even know? Pushing the fleeting thought away, I managed somewhat of a smile. “You want something to drink?”

He seemed surprised at the sudden turn of events, but hid it well with an uncertain smile. “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, shrugging.

I nodded and got out of there. Then I realized I hadn’t even asked him what he wanted. Peeking around the doorway, I tried to figure out what kind of person he was by staring at the back of his head. It didn’t help. Rolling my eyes slightly, I poured some Coke into a glass, followed by two ice cubes. As the liquid fizzed lightly, I picked up the glass and took it out into the living room.

Deon, who was halfway down the stairs, spotted Lukas right away. “Hey!” he yelled. As he was about to jump off of the second last step, his foot caught on something and he landed on the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

Lukas, who was standing up with his hands behind his neck, chuckled lightly at Deon’s sprawled form. While Deon laughed and started to get up, Lukas turned his eyes on me. As he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt rode up a little, exposing a strip of tan skin; I quickly looked away. “Hey, that mine?” he asked.

“What?” I asked before I realized he was talking about the drink in my hand. “Oh, yeah.” I walked over and handed him the glass. He nudged my knuckles with one of his fingertips, smiling. “Thanks.”

Quickly pushing my hands into my pockets, I nodded at the two of them. “See you guys later.” Before they could respond, I quickly climbed the stairs.

Back in the guest room, I dug out my cell phone from one of my suitcases and dialed Tyler’s number. It only rang twice before he picked up with his usual line: “Tyler here, what do you want?” As soon as I heard his voice, I felt as though I’d swallowed a bubble. Suddenly, the day’s events felt too overwhelming to keep locked inside of me. I wanted to tell him everything.

“Hey,” I said into the phone, glancing at the door to make sure it was shut. On the other end, I could hear small sizzling sounds in the background; I knew right away he was at Mo’s Diner, where he worked three times a week. “It’s Connor.”

“Hey!” he said, his voice relaxing. “What’s up?” I opened my mouth to reply, but he continued before I could: “Listen, Con, we’re really busy right now. If I don’t get back to work, that bitch is going to report me.” This was followed by somebody shouting a distant “Asshole!”

“Oh.” Trying to hide my disappointment, I laughed it off. “Tell Lisa I said hi,” I told him, crumpling the crisp bed sheet in my hand.

“Will do,” he answered. “Bye.”

There was a sharp click, and he was gone.