The Silent Sounds of Chaos (7 page)

“Who is Finn?”

“Just … a boy in a movie I saw.” That much was true.

“Do you like pretending Finn is your friend?”

She wasn’t pretending, but didn’t want this new person to know that. So instead Snow replied, “I guess.”

“Why do you like to pretend talk to Finn?”

This was a question she could answer. “When I first came here I didn’t have lots of friends. They called me mean names at school. Finn was my friend and was nice to me, and helped me when I was sad.”

“Kids can be very cruel,” Miss Jenn agreed. “I’m glad you had a friend to help you when all the kids at school weren’t being nice to you. And what about now? Do you have friends at school?”

Thinking back to all the girls and boys in her class, Snow shrugged. “Some. Amelia has lots more.”

“Some friends can be just as good as lots of friends.” Miss Jenn nudged Snow with her shoulder playfully, trying to get the girl’s fallen face to perk up. “Now that you have new friends, do you still talk to Finn? Even as just pretend?”

The lie was on the tip of her tongue, but Snow was unable to speak it. Her young mind struggled to come up with a way to answer the question without giving away the truth. Carefully, Snow replied, “I like to say things in my head when people are mean or I’m scared.”

When Miss Jenn smiled and patted her leg, Snow figured she’d said something right. She flicked her gaze back to the movie, pleased that no more questions were asked. A few minutes later Miss Jenn got up and walked to the kitchen, speaking quietly with Snow’s mom. Snow couldn’t hear what was said, but did know one thing after this strange conversation with a mystery lady.

From now on, Finn would be her little secret.

Finn wandered around the convenience store, sneakily tracking his mother’s progress. It had been a happy coincidence that she’d already been in the store when he entered on his way home from a trip to his graveyard garden—happy only because he knew with her there, walking out with some snacks under his jacket was going to be so much easier.

From behind a rack of chips, he watched her grab her usual stock of vodka, cigarettes, and beer. The scent of corn nuts and pork rinds hit him from the bags by his head, making his stomach rumble and reminding him he hadn’t eaten since last night.

The grating sound of his mother’s hoarse laughter had him shaking his head and slipping down the farthest aisle to get away from the racket. After grabbing a bag of chips, of course, tucking it beneath the leather jacket and sniffling in attempt to hide the crinkling sound. Another laugh had him grabbing a pack of gum. His mother was likely flirting with the cashier to get free cigarettes. She did that a lot. When flirting didn’t work, she convinced them to disappear into the back room for a few minutes. For a long time he didn’t know what she actually did when that happened to score her free stuff, until talk around town clued him in to her actions.

When he saw her leading the cashier, a middle-aged man with a beer gut and a gold band on his left ring finger, down the hallway behind the beer coolers, he knew it would be one of those days and rolled his eyes. He’d learned not to be ashamed of his mother, just disappointed, and instead trash talked her just as much as the other kids and adults did behind her back. It was easier that way.

While both parent and cashier were distracted, Finn took the opportunity to sneak a few candy bars, a small bag of chips, a bottle of Coke, and a single serving of cereal into his pockets. He wore the too-large leather jacket given to him by his mom’s long-past fling, and the size gave him plenty of room to conceal his goods. Before the cashier returned he waltzed outside and found his mother’s car, deciding it was easier to catch a ride home than walk in the heat. He’d tear into those snacks when he was alone in his room. Otherwise
she
would take them for herself.

His mother appeared a few moments later, bags in hand. He doubted she’d paid for any of her items either. Not with money, anyway. “Where’d you come from?” she asked when she dropped into the driver’s seat and lit a cigarette.

“Around,” he answered vaguely, knowing she wouldn’t question his whereabouts. It was their arrangement. He didn’t ask about her men, she didn’t care what he did all day.

“Whatever.” When she pulled out on the street, opposite direction of home, he sat up a little straighter.

“Where are you going?”

“Have a stop to make. It won’t take long.”

“I want to go home.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come along.”

Finn slumped back against the seat and stewed silently as his mom made the drive to the edge of town. He recognized the neighborhood only by stories he’d heard told by others. It wasn’t quite as bad as his own trailer park, but it wasn’t a place he’d be all too happy to see at night, either. Graffiti covered the sides of buildings and shops were locked behind barred windows. What few cars were parked on the side of the road were in worse condition than his mother’s own beat-up vehicle. Up ahead was a building that looked to Finn like a bar or club. It sat against a backdrop of old warehouses and was wrapped in blacked-out windows to protect it from prying eyes.

She pulled up next to that building where nothing good could possibly happen, its neon lights flashing in the growing dusk. Without a word to her son, she hopped out and strolled inside, taking the keys with her. Not wanting any part of whatever would go down in that place, Finn stayed put, deciding to enjoy his pilfered treats while he still could.

When his food was gone and boredom set in, Finn sat back and stared at the building’s front door. Above it, reddish-blue letters spelled out the word
Infinity
. Inside he knew he’d find the city’s most infamous names, including one of his mother’s visitors—and the man who gave him his leather jacket. But no one had gone in or out since his mother, and he was starting to wonder if she’d slipped out the back and left him there.

Hoping for the best, he started rooting around the car in search of entertainment, finding it in the form of a random copper wire. Already seeing its potential, he began to shape the thin metal, looping a head, bending legs, twisting and tying a piece of his candy wrapper to form clothes. When he was done he had a tiny man two inches tall, with one arm slightly longer than the other.

“No one’s perfect,” he told the figure, deciding not to fix it. A glance out the window showed him the doors were still closed, the sidewalks empty. “Bet you wouldn’t let a lady like that take you to the back room,” he said to the man, imagining him nodding back. “Bet you’re better than that.
I’ll
be better than that.”

When he went to move the man to the dashboard, ready to imagine him having a normal, happy morning with family, Finn felt a rush of worry, making his arms hesitate in the air. By now he recognized it not as his own worry, but belonging to the girl who didn’t know how to handle such emotions.

What’s wrong?
he asked Snow, already poised to help her defend herself. But, instead of bullies at school, she told him about a lady at her house asking about him, a friend of her mommy’s who wanted to know if he was in Snow’s class.

Don’t tell her nothing!
was his immediate response, now feeling his own worry that their secret was being revealed. He knew how scared Snow was of strangers and respected her wishes to keep their real names and homes separate—so who was this lady who knew about him, and would she make Snow stop talking to him?

She asked if I’m talking to you right now.

Finn sat up straighter, instantly mad at the fact some person thought she could butt into his friendship with Snow. His anger forced out a reply to sound as harsh and serious as possible.
Tell her no.

But that’s a lie.

“What’s so wrong with lying?” he muttered to himself, half annoyed by her unwillingness to say anything that wasn’t the truth. If she wouldn’t lie, then he could at least make it so she wouldn’t have to. So he sat with his arms crossed and pouted rather than say anything else.

Finn?

He heard her calling and debated answering. If there was a lady asking about him on the other end of their conversation, then Finn didn’t want her knowing anything else. And, he figured, if he stopped answering, then Snow could tell the truth. So he stayed silent, hating how much it hurt to ignore Snow’s attempts to contact him in a moment of need, feeling like he was betraying her. It felt like a hand reaching into his body and pulling him forward. But still he resisted, closing his eyes against the pain of silencing his own voice.

After a few long minutes the internal tugging began to fade. Finn released a breath, grateful Snow was no longer in need yet wondering what had happened. He considered asking her, but didn’t want to risk the woman still being there. Instead he returned his attention back to the wire man, and continued his wait.

AN HOUR LATER his mother emerged, one side of her face bruised and her hair a mess. “What happened to you?” he asked, half curious, half not caring. He was sure that whatever it was, she probably earned it one way or another.

“Mind your own business,” she snapped, peeling out of the parking lot and steering the car toward home.

He couldn’t help the snide comment that escaped next. “Owe more money?” At the tears in her eyes, he felt a strange stirring of sympathy and found himself softening. Even after all the terrible things she’d done, when she cried it made him feel guilty. “You could ask—”

“Shut up!” his mother shouted, swerving to the side of the road and stomping on the brakes. Finn barely had a second to catch himself before she grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him over until they were face to face. “You listen here, and don’t make me tell you again. We don’t ask for help. We are better than that. You got that, you little shit?”

His face a portrait of indifference, Finn nodded. But it wasn’t enough for her, and she all but snarled in his face, shoving him hard against the seat and swatting the metal man in his hand. It tumbled to the floor. “And why do you make these stupid things? Get you nowhere in life. Grow up and do something useful for once, will you?”

Retrieving the figure, Finn chose not to answer, not trusting his voice not to waver with the sadness burning in his throat. Slightly trembling fingers smoothed out dents in the wire to reshape the man’s head. He liked making them because it was the only thing in the whole world he was good at, and they distracted him from the suckiness that was his real life. But he would never admit that to anyone. Well, except maybe Snow.

When his mother sighed and focused again on the road, Finn adjusted his jacket and turned his head to look out the window. Accepting her hate, her miserable outlook on the world, was harder to bear these days. And now he couldn’t even talk to Snow about it.

Tears threatened to build. Finn shoved them back, angry at his own weakness, and stared at the club retreating in the side mirror.

“
You got balls, kid
,” Joe had said to him that day he dared to talk back to one of the toughest men in town.

“
Come see me at the club in a few years
,” had been his invitation, a summons to a specific place at an unspecific time for reasons unknown.

“
Joe, remember the name
.” A name Finn had already known, a name he would never, ever, forget.

As his mother turned down the street he’d grown up on, Finn told himself it was time to stop crying and time to stop letting his mom make him feel bad. He had to toughen up, forget the past and how he’d let people push him around as a kid. He had to grow up—and growing up meant focusing on the future, doing whatever he had to do to prepare for it.

Joe was waiting for him.

EXHAUSTED, SNOW FELL into the recliner, watching her four-year-old neighbor run around the living room using a blanket as a cape as she pretended to be a superhero. At thirteen, Snow considered herself pretty fun and full of energy, but she couldn’t keep up with the kid, especially when she was left alone to babysit while both sets of parents went out to dinner to celebrate some kind of “big win,” as her dad put it. And especially when her sister chose to spend the night hiding in her room instead of helping out.