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“Keith! Get back here!”
Keith isn’t stupid enough to answer. Instead, he crouches lower beneath the busted wooden fence. He hears the storm door slam, so he creeps forward.
The byway provides decent cover, but he can’t linger here. He knows Natalie will wake up Ted, and this is the first place they’ll look. Neither of them have been in a good mood recently, and Keith doesn’t want to stick around to find out what they do when they’re really mad.
A window on the second floor squeaks in resistance when it’s roughly opened.
“Keith!” Ted calls. His voice is gruff with sleep and menace. “You better hope I don’t find you!”
Keith can hear the glass rattle in the pane as it slams shut.
Time to go, Keith thinks as he darts further down the alley.
The sun is setting behind him, and the sky is an array of vivid color. Keith had hoped he could wait to make a break for it once it was already dark, but Ted and Natalie forced his hand.
Keith barely has a plan.
He figures he’ll make it up as he goes... Well, as he goes wherever it is he’s going. At the very least, he knows he’s going the fuck away from here.
Part of him wants to try to get back to the desert shack, but if it’s still there, it won’t take anyone long to look for him there.
Luckily, there’s a bus stop a few blocks away from Ted and Natalie’s apartment; he figures it’s his best option, if he can make it there.
Keith really, really doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he doesn’t make it.
With nothing but the clothes on his back and a few meager supplies, Keith is fully prepared to take on the world rather than try yet another stint in a foster home.
There’s a granola bar stuffed in his pocket alongside a wad of cash he stole from Ted’s dresser.
The only other things he brings with him are bruises and a sprained wrist.
As if sensing his bleak ruminations, the storm door shudders in its frame again. The sound sets off a cacophony of barking. Great, Keith thinks, dogs.
Keith listens carefully for the heavy crunch of gravel in the byway, but it doesn’t come. Hopefully, Natalie’s gone back inside to smoke, and Ted is looking for him on the main road.
Entirely absorbed in his surveillance assessment, Keith doesn’t immediately realize that he has an audience.
“What are you doing?”
If he’d been younger, he would’ve jumped out of his skin, but he’s seven and knows better now. He just flinches violently.
A boy about his own age is staring at him from across the alley while enjoying a popsicle. He has brown hair, dark skin, and bright blue eyes, and he’s looking at Keith like he’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen.
“I didn’t think any other kids lived in Hunk’s neighborhood. What’s your name? I’m Lance,” Lance chats casually. He seems a little rightfully wary of Keith, who is hunkered down behind an old, rotting couch.
“KEITH!”
Fuck, Keith startles again.
The boy frowns, “Is your name Keith? Did you get in trouble? What did you do?”
Keith’s stare is blank.
Perturbed, Lance asks, “Do you talk?”
Furtively looking down the byway, Keith ignores Lance. Keith is concerned that Ted will enter the alley at any moment and spot him, and Lance’s presence isn’t helping.
Keith lurches to his feet and tackles the other boy.
Lance is taken completely by surprise. Keith slams a hand over Lance’s mouth. He manages to wrestle him to the ground and shove them both through a gap in the fence.
Fortunately, this yard is empty of both people and pets. Good.
Keith rests his full-weight on Lance’s back to keep him from moving, and he hisses, “Shut up!”
Lance stops struggling.
Ted stomps down the byway. In a low tone, he snarls threats as he paces. Keith and Lance only catch snippets, but it’s enough to get the message across.
Lance goes completely still and silent.
“You can’t hide forever, you little shit,” Ted grumbles before going back inside the apartment complex.
Keith listens. He hears the traffic on the neighboring streets, the hum of a lawnmower, and the cicadas. Nothing else. He sighs in relief.
Frustrated and confused, Lance eventually resumes squirming. His attempts to throw Keith off are unsuccessful.
Keith blinks in surprise and studies Lance like he’s forgotten he was there.
“Don’t scream,” Keith warns, removing his hand and backing off the other boy.
Lance surges upward and grabs the collar of Keith’s tattered shirt, dragging the shorter boy to his feet.
“What is wrong with you? ” Lance demands. “Are you some kind of crazy person?”
Lance can’t believe this short, skinny boy had taken him down so easily.
Keith glares at the ground.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Finally, Keith lifts his chin to glower at Lance with defiant, violet eyes.
Lance’s anger is abruptly overshadowed by disbelief. Because Keith’s right eye is faintly discolored, and there are darker bruises blooming under the gaping collar of his shirt.
Shocked, Lance lets go and whispers, “Was that your dad?”
Lance isn’t sure if he’s asking about the shouting man in the alley or the bruising.
He remembers Shelby from kindergarten came in with bruises, too, and one day she didn’t come back. The teacher told them Shelby was going to live with a nice aunt.
Keith bristles, “No.”
“Who was he?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Having had enough of this treatment, Keith easily jerks out of Lance’s grip. He shoves Lance to the ground again.
“Hey!” Lance complains. He sprawls in the grass and grimaces at Keith.
Keith’s eyes are hard, “I was never here.”
Lance’s mouth is an angry, firm line, but he nods tightly.
Keith tilts his head in gratitude and then goes to the fence running the length of the neighboring yard. In spite of his sprained wrist, he makes quick work of clambering over it.
Lance watches his progress until he disappears behind a brick house.
Afterward, Lance stands and dusts himself off. He finds a better gap in the dilapidated fence and squeezes through it.
Through no real fault of his own, he knows he’s going to be late getting home from Hunk’s. His mama will be worried, but he hopes she’ll believe him.
With this in mind, Lance quickens his stride.
He’s more than halfway home when he sees Keith again.
Somehow, Keith looks both taut and sullen as he waits for the bus to stop. The doors creak open to let teens and adults file on and off. Keith’s gaze wanders just before he climbs onto the lowest step. Their eyes meet briefly.
Then Keith turns away and steps fully onto the bus.
Through the glass, Lance regards Keith as he deposits a few coins in the appropriate slot and finds a seat to himself near the back. The bus sputters to life and pulls away from the curb.
Keith’s eyes close as he rests his head against the cool glass.
Lance almost waves.
Lance’s mother is waiting at the door when he gets home. Her hands are perched on her hips, and she’s clearly agitated.
She fusses at him while she ushers him to the table for dinner, and he does his best to explain why he wasn’t home sooner. He gestures emphatically to the scrapes on his forearms and the dirt on his clothes.
His mom frowns, “What was this boy’s name? Keith?”
“Yeah,” Lance answers as he shovels a forkful of rice into his mouth.
“He was about your age? Where was he going?” She worries aloud. A wrinkle forms between his mother’s brow.
“I don’t know.”
His mom bites her lip while she spoons another helping of chicken onto his plate.
“I’ll be right back, mijo.”
Lance listens half-heartedly as she talks on the phone in the next room.
When she comes back, she affectionately smoothes Lance’s hair away from his face.
The rest of the evening is fairly uneventful. He, Marco, Luis, and Veronica alternate between playing video games and watching TV. Their mom joins them and tucks Lance into her side. He snuggles against her and laughs at the flickering images on the screen.
By the time they go to bed, Keith is almost a bizarre, distant memory. His mother tucks him in and presses a kiss to his forehead.
“Dulces sueños,” she says as she turns off the light.
Lance listens to his brother’s soft snores and closes his tired eyes.
Lance has no way of knowing that he will see Keith again.