The Silent Sounds of Chaos (2 page)

Just before they both drifted off to sleep, one in a closet, and one in a bed an unknown number of miles away, he needed to hear her voice one last time.

Will you be my friend, Snow?

Forever, Finn.

He was in his bed when he woke, though he didn’t remember getting there from the closet. The room was warm—air-conditioning was something he only enjoyed at school and the convenience store on the corner—and smelled funny, though that was pretty normal. Flashbacks of the night before played in Finn’s head. The shouts. The man with pictures on his arms. The bad things he threatened to do.

“I hate this stupid house and the people in it,” he muttered, crawling from the small bed and wincing at the soreness in his body from being crouched in the closet for so long. He stretched as he pulled on a stained white shirt and torn jeans, then walked out of his room, creeping around the corner and hoping his mother was still asleep so he could sneak out of the house. Not entirely sure what day it was, he decided it felt enough like the weekend, and didn’t feel like going to school. His favorite hangout was where he needed to be.

All was quiet, which wasn’t surprising. Finn didn’t bother looking for his mother—or anything to eat—before he slid outside and raced across the front yard. There was a dark car in the driveway; another thing that wasn’t surprising, given his mom’s frequent visitors. A shout behind him nearly had the boy turning, but he decided against it, picking up his pace until he reached his destination.

The cemetery was his favorite place to go. It was the perfect hiding place, so easy to duck around sprawling oak trees and behind decades-old tombstones. Bad guys covered in ugly pictures couldn’t find him here. Plus, he enjoyed the silence found only in the well-groomed gardens. There were no fights, no names being screamed at him. Just him and his thoughts.

This time, though, Finn sought more than the silence.

He sat with his back against the tree he loved most, staring into a patch of yellow flowers, concentrating on his thoughts as he tried to channel the girl who came to him in thought last night. He didn’t know what she looked like or even her real name. All he could use was the connection he felt to her, one that hadn’t left him since last night. It was like the feeling he got when he sensed someone standing behind him. Except, more welcome, like the person coming to see him was a friend.

Snow?

Only the chirping birds and rustling leaves answered his call. So he tried again.
Snow? Can you hear me?

Confused by her disappearance, and a little worried she wasn’t real after all, Finn plucked a few blades of grass, twisting them in his thin fingers. He refused to believe he’d just made her up because he was scared. Plus, he could
feel
her in his body. Somehow, he knew he wasn’t alone, his new friend filling an empty void he’d never even known he had until last night.

Snow? Do you … do you still want to be friends?
The question made him sigh and look down at the grass. He’d worked the blades into the crude shape of a person, with rounded arms and legs and a frayed head.

“Fine,” he said to the grass with a smirk, just as his stomach growled. “You’ll be Snow since she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

Torn between disappointment and hunger, Finn chose a brief moment of play, imagining his new friend Snow in her fancy life somewhere else, with parents who loved her. Though, he couldn’t imagine not being able to swim.
That’s just weird. Who doesn’t know how to swim?!

The grass figure moved atop the ground smoothly, over to a piece of fallen bark. “Make me some bacon,” Finn murmured to a nonexistent parent, then danced the character on top of a rock. “And you, put on some cartoons!”

As his mind replayed old cartoons he sometimes watched at friends’ houses, Finn let himself drift out of the real world. The cemetery was the only place he could escape and he intended to enjoy every minute of solitude.

“Hey!”

A call behind him had the boy turning, seeing one of the girls who lived down the street from him standing at the metal fence surrounding the cemetery garden. He liked her, especially since she was good at racing and never asked to come inside his trailer. “What?”

“Cops are at your house!”

Finn was on his feet in an instant, shoving the grass woman in his pant pocket before jogging over to the gate. “What do they want?”

“How should I know?” she retorted, dark hair blowing in her face when the breeze picked up. She pushed it back with a grimace. “Ma said to come find you and let you know.”

They ran back together, his friend offering a quick wave before turning at the end of the street, leaving Finn to make the rest of the trip alone. When he approached, he saw the same car in the driveway, except now there was a man and woman standing by the back. The woman was writing something on a pad of paper sitting on the trunk while the man—dressed like a cop—stood watch. Both turned when he all but skidded to a stop in front of them.

“Who are you?” Finn challenged the woman before either could speak, breath heavy from the run. He crossed his arms in a childish attempt to look tough, the move mimicking the sneer crossing his face at her nice clothes. People who dressed like that didn’t come into his neighborhood unless they wanted something. And when they did, they usually wanted something bad. The fact that she brought a cop along told Finn this woman was trouble.

With a gentle smile, the strange woman lowered herself to her knees so she was at the boy’s level. “Hi, sweetie. My name is—”

“I don’t care. What do you want?”

Now the policeman stepped forward, his expression just as gentle. Finn was surprised, given how snotty he knew he sounded, and since cops were never nice when they came knocking on doors on his street. “Son, we got a call from one of your neighbors about some loud noises last night. Are you okay?”

“Don’t I look okay?” The question wasn’t meant to be answered, and he followed it up with another. “When are you leaving?”

The woman continued to stare at him, her bright eyes seeming to see enough to make him uncomfortable. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

His back straightened at that. “I’m fine. Just playing with my friends. I’m going to get some food now.”

Finn was surprised when they let him leave, though they didn’t drive away like he expected them to. Sparing them a suspicious glare, he stomped up the front step and slipped inside, locking the door behind him.

“The hell you been telling people?”

His mother’s palm met his cheek just seconds after he stepped inside. Finn could only hold the side of his face and stare as she raged, fury mixed with fear swimming in her eyes. She spun around and dropped to the floor, rooting through one of the kitchen cabinets. He knew what she was looking for. She only ever paid that much attention to one thing, though he was surprised she actually had to look for it. Glancing around, he saw it was weirdly clean for once, no cans or bottles on the floor or cigarette butts in the ashtray.

He didn’t have time to wonder where all the junk had gone or who cleaned up before his mother pulled out a glass bottle and swung back around to face her son. “You think you can get somethin’ better out there? Think you
deserve
somethin’ better?”

“No,” he replied quietly, staring at his feet. “I didn’t talk to anyone.”

“Then why are those people outside, huh? Why did they want to come in here and talk to me? To you?”

“I don’t know.” He wasn’t lying, which made her anger even more hurtful to the child. “I don’t know who they are, I swear.”

Bony fingers gripped his chin, jerking his head up so he was forced to look into her eyes. His mother was in one of her raging moods, but she was also scared—and that scared him in return. “Well I know who those people are,” she told him, chapped lips pulling back into a snarl. “And let me tell you, boy, if you talk to them, and they get you, then your life will be hell. You hear me?”

His life was already hell, though he didn’t voice that opinion. “I hear you, Momma. I promise I didn’t talk to them. I remember what you said.”

“You better. You better never talk to anyone. People are liars. People will take everything you got until you’re on the streets. You want to be on the streets?” she repeated the words he’d heard his entire life.

“No.” The reply was but a whisper, though there was an edge to it. An edge she heard, and reared back to smack him again, but he yanked out of her grasp and darted away to the safety of his room, back to his closet with the soft yellow blanket lying forgotten on the floor.

Curling up around it, Finn pulled the grass figure from his pocket and traced his fingers over it, deciding not to call for Snow again. She didn’t need to know about the life he wished never existed at all.

THE GIRL CURLED up in the top corner of her bed, snuggled beneath a soft star-patterned blanket and listening to the sounds of morning time just outside her bedroom door. Her parents’ voices echoed through the wooden door, laughing as breakfast was made and plates set on the table for their first Sunday meal.

She knew those voices, loved them with all her young heart. One belonged to the lady who smelled like caramel, with her curly brown hair and friendly eyes that always seemed to be smiling. The other belonged to the man who laughed like Santa Claus, with his thick, dark hair, equally dark eyes, and big hands that made her feel safe each time they picked her up for a hug.

She hadn’t known them long, but, already, she’d come to love them.

Sunlight blinked through her curtains, urging the girl to rise. As she did, memories of last night came to mind. The voice. The boy. The conversation that lasted until she fell asleep. She took a moment to reflect on that conversation, remembering how she’d been lying in bed, staring up at the glowing stars stuck to the ceiling and feeling so alone, when a voice suddenly spoke inside her head.

Please make it stop
, the little boy had said.

Perhaps she should have been afraid, but instead, she was intrigued, and a little worried for the boy who sounded so scared as he pleaded for help. Of course, he refused to admit he was afraid, or that he was crying and called for help.

Boys
. The girl shook her head to herself and crawled out of bed, making her way down the hallway. She liked talking to him, even if he was a stranger. She didn’t have many people to talk to in this new town with new kids who already had friends of their own, and the boy who called for help was all hers.

Her young mind couldn’t process the possibilities of his voice in her head, but then, it didn’t need to. She had a friend. How she made that friend didn’t matter.

“Good morning, honey,” the lady at the stove greeted when she walked in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” the girl replied around an exaggerated yawn. Her hopeful sapphire eyes that perfectly matched the pale hue of her hair turned up to the frying pan. “Can I have some pancakes, please?”

“Silly goose, you know you don’t have to ask.” The lady smiled down at her. “You take a seat at the table and we’ll serve you up a nice, big breakfast. How does that sound?”

“Good!” The girl did as she was told and took a seat across from the man with the Santa Claus laugh. He scrunched up his face at her, crossing his eyes in a way that made her giggle. She liked it here, with these people. They were funny and nice, and liked it when she laughed.

When the lady set a plate of pancakes and eggs in front of her, the child nearly bounced up and down in excitement. “Thank you, Mrs…”

Her voice trailed off uncertainly, but the lady who tucked her into bed last night wasn’t fazed. “Sweetie, you know you can call me Mommy, if you want to.”

She did want to, desperately. “Thank you … Mommy.”

Her new mommy—the best mommy—leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You are most certainly welcome, my beautiful little girl. Now, dig in. I can hear that belly rumbling all the way over here!”

The girl giggled again and did just that, stuffing her mouth with the best-tasting food she’d ever had. After a few minutes of eating, the man she guessed she could call Daddy spoke up.