Brother (7 page)

Wade left his seat without another word, and Michael half-expected Rebel to follow suit. But Reb sat wooden in his chair, like he'd been electrocuted. He gripped the seat on both sides, his head bowed, a man desperately trying not to lose control.

“Reb?” Michael chewed his bottom lip. His brother's posture was scaring him more than Momma's outburst had. Those same ropes that Momma had now stuck out against Reb's neck. ­Michael imagined him grinding his teeth down to powder inside his mouth. He dared to reach out—something he wouldn't have usually done, but Rebel's words from earlier were still fresh in his mind: brothers were supposed to stand united. It was time they started acting like a family, sticking together no matter what. But as soon as Michael grazed Reb's elbow, Reb windmilled both arms outward in a burst of energy. His chair went skittering backward as he stood.

“
Don't touch me
!
” he yelled.

Michael's eyes went wide. He sat stock-still, afraid that moving would push Rebel over whatever edge he was toeing.

Misty slunk around the table to gather Wade's plate, her gaze flitting from Reb to Michael and back again.

“I shoulda gotten rid of you like she said,” Rebel growled, the words so quiet he probably didn't mean for anyone to hear them. “Shoulda taken you out into the trees and did to you what I did to that stupid fuckin' dog.”

Michael's stomach twisted around his dinner as Reb marched out of the room, leaving Michael and Misty to stare at one another.

“What's wrong with him?” he whispered, wondering if his sister had an explanation for Reb's weird behavior. When she didn't answer, he stitched his eyebrows together and frowned. “You shouldn't of said that,” he told her, keeping his voice down. “The thing about him drinkin'.”

“Well, it's
true
,” she retorted. “And besides, he ain't got no right calling you names like that. Makes me mad.”

“Except now you're in trouble,” Michael reminded her.

Misty scowled at the plates in her hands and dropped a handful of silverware on top of the stack. Michael shook his head and slid out of his seat. Crouching next to Momma's broken plate, he began plucking ceramic shards off the ground, carefully piling them in the palm of his left hand.

“What would be so bad about goin' to the grandparents' place anyway?” Misty asked. “What would be so bad about that, huh?”

“I don't know, Miss,” he said, murmuring toward the floor. “But we ain't never seen Lauralynn again after she went off there. You wanna go there forever?”

Misty looked like she was holding her breath in response to his question. Michael looked down to the bits of plate scattered around his feet, his chest suddenly tight. He knew Misty's answer without her having to say a word. Because anywhere was better than here. He only hoped that in the end he wouldn't be left on his own.

R
AY COULDN'T REMEMBER
being more excited. Wade and Momma rode inside the cab of Wade's pickup. Ray, Lauralynn, Misty Dawn, and Michael sat in the bed of the truck, chattering like a bunch of chickens, excited to arrive at the Cabell County Fair. Michael had been with them for nearly two years; he'd become part of the family and hardly ever asked about his other parents anymore. To Ray's chagrin, Momma had stuck him in Ray's room, and for the most part Michael drove Ray crazy with his endless questions and babyish ways. But today was going to be a good day. Today, Ray was going to spend his savings on corn dogs and cotton candy, and then he was going to make himself sick on the Ferris wheel. He was going to ride that thing until he puked.

The Fair was a big deal, and Lauralynn and Misty Dawn were wearing matching dresses for the occasion—a set they had outgrown but that Momma still squeezed them into because there was no money for fancy things like Sunday best. Momma's own mother, Grandma Jean, had given the girls their dresses during a rare visit a few years back. Grandma Jean was meaner than sin, and even Momma looked uncomfortable when Grandma Jean and Grandpa Eugene spent a week at the Morrow farmhouse. Ray had laughed when Misty and Lauralynn had come downstairs in their matching getups. They had pulled their hair up in pigtails and stood at the foot of the stairs, Lauralynn stoic as ever, Misty clawing like a helpless chimp at the fabric that bit into her armpits.

“You all look like you got tangled in them window curtains,” Ray had cackled, pointing to the ugly drapes that flanked the window of the front room. When Grandma Jean whacked him in the mouth with an open palm, he'd stared at her in a wide-eyed daze. Later that afternoon, Ray had spotted Lauralynn sitting on Grandpa Eugene's lap on the back porch. The skirt of her new dress was piled up on top of her thighs. Grandpa Eugene's left arm circled her shoulders to keep her close, his right hand lost somewhere in the ugly fabric of her skirt.

As Wade's truck bounced along, Ray tongued his chipped front tooth, remembering the way Grandma Jean's wedding ring had smacked against the enamel. Lauralynn smoothed the skirt of her too-small dress over the tops of her legs. Her hair shone in the sunlight like a pink-and-gold sunrise. She looked prettier than Ray had ever seen her.

“Now, you know there's gonna be lots of people,” Lauralynn told them as the truck turned down a rural road. “Lots of chances to get lost. Ray, since you're the second oldest, you're takin' care of Misty.”

“Aw, man!” Ray cried, but Lauralynn ignored him.

“Michael, you're still just a baby, so you stay with me.”

“I ain't no baby!” Michael protested, but again, Lauralynn wasn't swayed.

“You all can keep complainin' and stay in the truck, or you can keep quiet and have a good time at the fair,” she told them. “So which is it gonna be?”

Ray and Misty met eyes. She pulled a face at him as he scowled. He supposed it could have been worse—LL could have paired him up with Michael. If that had happened, the entire day would have been ruined for sure.

“We should just leave 'em with Momma and Wade,” Ray murmured. “That way we can go on the big rides instead of gettin' stuck on them stupid baby ones.”

“I don't want to stay with Momma and Wade!” Misty shrieked. “That ain't fair!”

The sound of Misty's complaining made Ray's skin crawl. He wondered how sad Momma and Wade would really be if she just up and disappeared.

“You're not stayin' with Momma and Wade,” Lauralynn told her, fixing one of Misty's curls. “You're stayin' with Ray, and we're
all
gonna stick together. But in case we get separated, you gotta hold on to Ray, okay?”

Misty nodded in approval and stuck her tongue out at her big brother in triumph, then smoothed out her skirt, mimicking Lauralynn. Momma had cut along the side-seams of Misty's dress and filled it in with different material so she could still squeeze into it. But the skirt rode up so high that, if she bent over, the entire fair would see her underpants. Ray supposed the only reason Momma didn't care about Misty flashing her undies was because she was only eight years old. If it had been Lauralynn, Momma would have had a conniption fit.

The Morrow kids waited patiently as Wade paid their admission. Wade had been worried about taking Michael to the fair, but Momma waved his trepidation away. The fair was a good distance from Dahlia, and besides, Michael had grown quick. He didn't look at all like he had when Ray and Wade had snatched him from his front yard two years earlier.

As soon as their tickets were torn, the Morrow kids ran through the gates like a pack of wild horses busting out of a corral. Ray grabbed Laura­lynn by one hand and Misty by the other while they dragged little Michael behind them like the tail of a kite. The chain of them ran for a row of food vendors. They bought candy apples and buttered popcorn with the pennies they'd saved all year. They washed the salty sweetness down with orange sodas and shaved ice flavored like cherries and ­watermelon.

After a round of bumper cars, a queasy spin on the Roll-O-Plane, and a couple of go-rounds on the Paratrooper ride, the quartet went back for greasy corn dogs and soft pretzels dotted with big cubes of salt. Ray gave himself a personal challenge and stuck his grubby hand into a ­barrel while the vendor wasn't looking. He stole a giant dill pickle before bolting into the crowd, laughing madly as the vendor screamed for him to stop. Some fairgoers looked on in amusement. Others shot disapproving glances at the culprit. But none were motivated enough to stop the pickle thief.

They rode the Sky Whirl and the Octopus and sang along to “California Dreamin' ” while on the Ferris wheel, kicking their feet high up in the air as they swayed side to side like four best friends. Ray spotted the massive clown's face at the back of the fair from the crest of the wheel, pointing it out to his siblings. Its mouth was a giant gaping hollow. Its eyes looked crazed rather than inviting. It dared only the bravest of children to enter its lair.

“That's next,” Ray announced. “I bet it's got a mirror maze and every­thing.”

“That looks scary.” Misty Dawn seemed unsure.

“It's only scary if you're a dumb chicken,” Ray told her. “You can stay outside.”

Ray crossed his fingers that both Misty and Michael would be too scared to tag along and would, instead, wait for him and Lauralynn next to the ring toss and the water-gun game. Once they got closer to the giant clown head, Misty decided that staying behind was a good idea, as long as someone gave her enough money for a funnel cake. But Michael clung to Lauralynn's hand and gave her and Ray a brave five-year-old's smile.

“I ain't scared of no clown,” Michael declared. “It's a
fun
house, so it's gonna be fun.”

Ray nearly protested, but he smiled to himself and patted Michael on top of his dumb head instead. This was going to be fun indeed. Ray would make sure of it.

Michael lost it in the hall of mirrors. With seemingly no escape from the darkened room, their reflections warped and leered at them like demons trapped just beyond the glass. Terrified, Michael threw his head back and screamed.

Ray thought it was funny at first. He took the opportunity to terrorize his little brother by circling Michael and Lauralynn, bounding from foot to foot like a crazy jester. But that was fun for all of thirty seconds; after that, all he wanted was for Michael to shut up again. The way he was screaming was just like how he had gone off in Wade's truck the day Ray had swept him up off the side of the road. There was a level of terror in Michael's wail that gave Ray a secret pang of joy, but it was also the kind that made other people nervous. Nervous enough to remember them.

“Hey, shut up, stupid!” Ray yelled as a pair of teenagers gave the trio a curious look. They were deciding whether they should get an adult to help or forget about the screaming kid and be on their way. “Shut up,” Ray repeated, more for the teens than for Michael's sake. “It's just mirrors, see?” He danced in front of one of them, putting on a decent show of trying to calm his kid brother down. The older kids shrugged and left them behind.

Lauralynn crouched in front of the screaming six-year-old. She wrapped her arms around him and cooed into his ear as she rocked him back and forth.

“It's okay,” she whispered. “There, there, Mikey. I'm here with you. It's all right.”

Ray stood by and watched the exchange while something ugly twisted into his guts like a rusty old screw. When he couldn't look at them anymore, he peered at the endless walls of mirrors instead. That's when he lost his breath. The way the mirrors were angled, the three of them only cast a reflection of two. There was only Lauralynn and Michael, the two of them clinging to each other like castaways with no hope of rescue. Ray twisted where he stood, startled as he took in each reflection, which seemed to trail off into infinity. Somehow, by some weird trick of angles and light, the fun house had erased him. His big sister held his replacement tightly in her arms.

Ray turned and stumbled out of the fun house, pale as a sheet. Misty Dawn was leaning against some metal railing near the exit. Her mouth was smeared with powdered sugar, and her eyes glinted with mischief.

“I thought it was only scary if you were a dumb chicken.” A smile of wicked satisfaction pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Guess you're a dumb chicken, huh?” She giggled, then folded a wad of funnel cake into her cheek. A moment later, she nearly choked on the pastry. Ray socked her in the arm as hard as he could before stomping away.

During the ride home, Ray sat on the opposite side of the truck bed from everyone else. He tried not to look at his siblings. But anytime he caught a glimpse of them, he could only note a single detail: Lauralynn was still holding Michael's hand.

R
EBEL WAS IN
a foul mood. He had hardly said a word as he lumbered around the house, waiting for Michael to get his boots on. Once the boys were in the Olds, he cranked the Rolling Stones so loud that it made Michael's head hurt. They drove for a while. Eventually, Reb parked the car along the side of the road and slid out of the driver's seat. Michael's ears rang in the silence. He could hardly hear the crunch of old leaves beneath his feet as he followed Reb up the hill.

They crawled across the crest the same way they had before. Michael folded his arms and rested his chin on top of his hands while Reb studied the green-shuttered house through his binoculars. Michael didn't like this part of the job. Scoping out marks involved a lot of waiting, sometimes in the blazing heat of the car—but he did like it here. Maybe it was the songbirds. There were tons of them in West Virginia, but it seemed that there was a greater concentration in this particular corner of the mountains. He closed his eyes and considered the possibility. Maybe there was magic in this spot. The thing that drew the birds to this location was probably what made him feel so at ease as well.