Transcontinental (36 page)

Leroy felt his cheeks go hot as he looked around, but everybody else was busy with their own work, as if nothing had happened. Relieved, he resumed his job, trying to emulate the tall boy’s technique.

A cow’s resonant moo droned from the field to his right, startling him. He didn’t know they could be so loud from up close. A foul stench whopped him, and he turned to see a proud pile of dung on the ground behind the animal. Well, he
had
wanted nature.

* * *

The supper bell had rung a few long minutes ago, freeing Leroy of the manure smell. As the boys and girls marched toward the dorms to wash up in separate, single-file lines, Leroy rotated his shoulders. The work hadn’t been as difficult after he’d adopted the tall boy’s technique, but it was still damn tiring. As he walked, he inspected his stinging palms, grazing the newly-formed blisters under each finger. In a way they were trophies; he’d never done anything with his hands besides drawing, which for all he knew would never lead anywhere. This was real work. This was part of something bigger.

Leroy entered the building, last in line, feeling productive. They came to a stop at the door to the bathroom, and a handful of boys were sent inside by an adult. The rest sat, lined up against the wall. Leroy wondered if it’d really take so long to wash up that they’d need to sit, but as soon as he did he realized how much better he felt off his feet. He’d sleep well tonight.

To his other side, a group of chatty boys exited the bathroom in clean evening wear. Leroy scooted down the wall as more boys were allowed in. His bladder wished he was nearer the front of the line.

After much scooting, stomach rumbling, and holding in his pee, Leroy was finally at the front. The adult checked the bathroom, then stepped out and let the last three kids inside.

Sinks lined one wall, stalls and urinals the other. Leroy did what he had to, tediously scrubbed the dirt from his hands and under his fingernails, then proceeded to the back of the room, ready to eat. Instead of an exit, however, he found an open shower room full of the kids he’d just spent the afternoon working with. Water rolled off their shiny naked bodies. His eyes shot to the floor, and he stood against the wall, stationary under the weight of uncertainty, embarrassment, and a tinge of disgust.

Between the bathroom and the showers, Carl peeked in at him, keeping his eyes off the others. “What’s the deal? Something wrong?”

Leroy gave him a bewildered glare.

“It can be awkward at first, but you get used to it. Sooner you finish, sooner you can get out and eat. Put those dirty clothes in that bin.”

Leroy looked down at his shirt. “They’re not that dirty, actually.”

“Look, I know it’s weird, but nudity is natural. If you can make peace with that, you’re already one step closer to knowing God. Don’t you want to know God?” Carl questioned. “Like the Bishop?”

He let slip a sheepish nod.

“Then hop out of those clothes and get washed up for supper, please.”

“Just… right here?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll turn around.” He did. “When you’re finished, dry off and take an outfit from the bin by the exit, then head to supper.”

“Where’s that?”

“Straight down the hall you came in, then make a left, then…” He looked off for a moment. “Know what, you’ll be the last one out, so just follow me when you’re done. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Carl walked back through the bathroom. Leroy heard the door close, then carefully lifted his gaze to the showers, avoiding the few remaining bathers, who were all using the utilities on the far wall, leaving those on the close wall unused. At least there was that, Leroy thought, slipping out of his outfit.

He hesitated before dropping his underwear, glancing around to see if anybody was watching, but managed to tune out his embarrassment and removed the worn out boxers. He had to do it. It was just another bump on the way to becoming an adult. Until then, what was he? Just a kid.

Leroy turned the tap to hot, and before long steaming jets of water sprayed the tile floor. He inched his hand under the stream, and it burned. He turned the temperature down until it was bearable, then stepped into the water. After a searing moment, his body adjusted to the heat, and he relished it. He realized how long it’d been since he bathed. Ant had hurried him out of the Reno hotel before he’d gotten a chance to shower, which meant he hadn’t washed since the day of his mother’s funeral.

Ant’s face crowded his thoughts. He suddenly felt filthy, so he grabbed a bar of soap and began to scrub away the strangest week of his life.

* * *

Steamed vegetables, a mountain of mashed potatoes dripping with gravy, a square of cornbread, and three thick, juicy steak strips—Leroy’s mouth watered. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had such a full, balanced meal.

“I know we ladies make some fine food, but keep it moving, hun,” said the wide woman who’d lumped the mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

He turned to walk away, but the woman spoke up again.

“Well, how about those manners! You come see Mama Sarena after you finish eating,” she ordered. “I’ll give you something
good
.”

Leroy smiled at her, then turned back toward the cafeteria. With so many loud children crammed into long wooden tables, he felt like he was back in school, searching for an empty seat he wouldn’t get kicked out of. Luckily, he’d become an expert at finding them, and soon spotted a gap at the table furthest back. He wandered the perimeter of the room.

The seat was directly between two boisterous groups of kids. Leroy placed his tray down, then sat, prepared to be picked on. He glanced to either side, but the conversations continued uninterrupted. Content to be unnoticed, Leroy chewed a mouthful of the freshest carrots, green beans, and broccoli he’d ever tasted. Coming to SpiritWood had been worth it for the food alone.

As he ate, his eyes drifted to the other tables. The children seemed to sit toward the opposite end of the room, near the food counter. His position at the furthest table ostensibly put him amongst the oldest kids. At a glance, he guessed that some of the kids might be seventeen or eighteen, even.

His gaze landed near the end of the table, on the girl from the van. His breath lodged in his throat for a second. She was staring right at him. Then, without saying or expressing anything, she turned back to her friends and rejoined the conversation, giggling and chatting.

Leroy studied her. She was the only girl whose hair wasn’t braided; it hung just above her shoulders. She had an effortless smile, when she let it out. And there was a grace to her movements, like a fish navigating a tight maze of coral, smooth and purposeful. Beside her, he noticed the tall boy from the fields, talking to some of the other boys, then averted his gaze.

Maybe he was too young for this table. He checked for an empty seat at the next table, but it was full. He restricted his eyes to his food.

He was working on a steak strip, the back half hanging from his mouth and dripping grease onto his chin, when the tall boy dropped his tray onto the other side of the table. Leroy bit through the steak and the uneaten half fell to the plate. He snatched up his napkin and dabbed his face. “Sorry.”

“Save them manners for the Bishop.” He sat down across from Leroy. “Let’s get the intros outta the way. Clayvon Winters.”

“I’m… Marcus Jackson.”

Clayvon’s eyebrows shot up and he nodded with slow sarcasm. “
Sure
. Good enough for me. How you likin’ the steak, Marcus Jackson?”

“It’s great.”

“They sure do like to make a good first impression.”

“That’s what the Bishop said, too.”

“
I
never much worried ‘bout ‘em. But then, look where I’m at. Anyway. That cow you saw takin’ a shit today? You chewin’ on him.”

Leroy’s chewing slowed to a stop. “Nuh uh.”

“Where you think they took him when we went inside?”

Leroy processed the thought. He knew that all meat came from a once-living animal, but it felt different when he’d witnessed the before as well as the after. Still, he wasn’t about to think his way out of a delicious meal. He swallowed, and took another bite.

“Psych!” Clayvon leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Someday it will be, though. Every cow get eaten sometime. Remember that.” He forked a whole steak strip into his mouth. “Tasty,” he garbled.

Leroy forced himself to smile.

“Jemisha said they—”

“Is that her name?” Leroy asked, looking at the girl.

Clayvon stared at him. “Yeah. Jemisha Winters.”

“Oh… I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get that shit all the time.”

Leroy was surprised Clayvon would curse at a place like SpiritWood. He figured God would look down on that kind of thing.

“She said they found you at the train station. What was you doin’ there?”

“Just passing through, you know.” He and Ant hadn’t exactly planned a backstory for this possible outcome. “On my way here, actually.”

“You was comin’
here
?” Clayvon asked, apparently surprised. “Pshhh. Now I
know
you fibbin’. Don’t nobody come here on they own.”

Leroy picked up his cornbread and bit into it, trying to buy time.

“It’s all good, though. Most of us got plenty we don’t wanna talk about. What’d you tell ‘em ‘bout God when they asked?”

“That I never thought much about it.”

Clayvon winced. “Should’a told ‘em you believe.”

“Do you?” Leroy asked, surprising himself.

“I believe in the Bishop,” he said with a wry look. “I believe what I’m told.”

Neither spoke for a minute.

“Anyone to watch out for?” Leroy murmured.

“Besides the Bishop? Pastor Mercer got ears everywhere. Most everyone’s pretty a’ight. They’s a few fools in the group, but usually if God can’t keep ‘em in line, the belt can. I can introduce you around, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay, I—”

“Hey y’all,” Clayvon announced, “this Marcus Jackson. He new.”

A few kids waved, some muttered a muted “hello,” and others nodded at him. But his eyes were locked with Jemisha’s, who still refused to acknowledge him with more than her gaze. Again, she looked away.

“You want her, you got some stiff competition,” Clayvon said.

Leroy grimaced. “Sorry.”

“I get it.”

“Hey, you know Mama Sarena?”

“What about her? She tell you she’ll give you somethin’ good?”

Leroy noticed how excited Clayvon got at the thought. “Yeah, she did.”

“Well hell, go get it! And give some to me when you get back. That woman’s lemon meringue pie is damn near the reason I’m still at this dump!”

* * *

The creamy citrus taste of that delectable pie danced on Leroy’s tongue all through bible study. The compelling stories of bravery, honor, and faith had fascinated him, inspired him, and validated his decision to come to SpiritWood. The men in the stories lived up to every standard Leroy had come to hold for an adult, and he yearned to be like them. With God’s help, he felt he could.

In the darkness, Leroy heard one of the boys shift in his creaky bed, and wondered if it was Clayvon. His bed was near the door, clear across the room from Leroy’s. It felt like an adventure, as if they’d all embarked on an endless camping trip. He was too excited to sleep.

He rolled onto his other side and slid his hands behind his head. A dull soreness marred his movement. He was sure he’d work it off tomorrow, and then some. And, he found, he was looking forward to it. The feeling was foreign, but it was strong and pure and it drowned out his doubts.

Leroy fell asleep imagining the burble of the small waterfall out front.

* * *

He heard the footsteps before he woke up, thinking they were a figment of his dreams. Then, the light flicked on, and his eyes opened. A few of the boys groaned, apparently feeling like Leroy, as if they’d just fallen asleep.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo, boys,” said Carl as he passed through the dorm, tapping bedposts with a flashlight. “Breakfast in a half hour.”

An alarm clock on the only table in the room read five-fifty-six. Leroy forced himself to sit up, and saw the other boys doing the same.

“Marcus Jackson,” Carl called out.

Leroy stretched his sore arms tenderly.

“Marcus Jackson,” he said again.

Leroy perked up. He still wasn’t used to being called by another name. “Sorry. That’s me,” he said, raising his hand like he was in class.

“Come with me, please.”

He looked around as he stood up, but nobody else was paying attention; the rest of the boys, or at least those who could wean themselves off their pillows and sheets, were heading out the door.

“Don’t want to keep the Bishop waiting.”

With newfound verve, Leroy jumped up to follow him.

They entered the grand atrium, past the sweeping marble staircases and across the polished granite floor. Leroy couldn’t stop wondering what he’d done wrong, why he was in trouble, but he didn’t want to ask and risk digging deeper.