Page 2 of Dare You to Run
“Help her!” I tell them all, but no one listens.
“We can’t, baby bird. I’m sorry.” Daddy squeezes me tight and I hug him around his neck.
I watch mommy try hard to get air. She takes a deep breath and blows it out. I wait for her to do it again, but she doesn’t. She just stays very still and very quiet.
The nurse looks at us and nods her head. She looks sad. Grandma starts crying really loud and throws herself on top of mommy. I don’t want to see, so I snuggle into Daddy’s shoulder.
He rubs my back and says, “It’s okay, baby bird. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Just like mommy said. He kisses me tons and tells me he loves me over and over, and I let him.
Later, some men come and take mommy away. I guess they’re the angels taking her to Heaven. I tell Daddy I don’t want her to go, but we can’t bring her back once the angels come.
My heart starts to hurt again. It feels like it’s broken into little bits. And it hurts because now I don’t have a mommy. I think my heart might stay broken.
HENDRIX - 16 YEARS OLD
The crickets chirp and the cicadas are deafening as they sing in the trees. The full moon is the only light guiding our way through the dark streets of Cattywump Bay, as we push this heap of junk up the street.
It’s a heap of junk now, but I’m going to make it into something amazing.
“Fuck, Henny. You couldn’t have found a bike that had an engine that worked?” Danté grunts as he pushes on the seat, while Malik and I take the handles.
“Well when you’re stealing it, you kinda take what you can get,” I remind him.
I saw this bike in old man Rutherford’s backyard this morning and since it was surrounded by overgrown grass and rust, I didn’t think he’d mind if I took it. I’ve been tinkering around with cars and bikes whenever I can get my hands on them, and I thought I’d be neighborly and fix it up for him. Well…not really for him since I plan on keeping it.
“How’re we gonna hide this from Ms. Shirley?” Malik asks. “We can’t just stick it in the corner of our room and throw a blanket over it like we did with the skateboards you ‘found’.”
“I’ve already taken care of that. Brandi said I can put it in her shed. Her dad never looks in there.”
“Is that what she says when you fuck her? Put it in my shed, Henny. Daddy never looks there,” Danté mocks
I let go of the handles and the bike starts to roll backwards, the brunt of the weight falling on Danté. He struggles to catch his balance and I grab hold of it once more. He growls at me, but I don’t take him seriously.
The three of us –me, Malik and Danté– are brothers. Maybe not by blood, but in all the ways that matter most. We’re brothers at heart, in soul, and in arms. We’ve each been through our own war. We didn’t travel to a foreign country and fight with guns, but we have fought against foster dads who roughed us up when they came home drunk and had no one else to blame for their misfortunes. We fought the pain of being abandoned, not wanted by our own parents, and we braved the storms that come with being dragged from one foster home to another.
We’ve all given up hope at finding a family. No one wants a troublesome sixteen year old boy when they can get a fat baby with pink cheeks to call their own. So we decided two years ago, when all three of us showed up at what is most likely the last group home we’ll live in, to make our own family. Just the three of us. We call ourselves the Dare brothers, because we dare anyone to try and rip us apart. It’ll be the last thing they ever do.
“How much further, man?” Malik puffs. “I’m sweating like a hooker at confession.”
“Just a little bit, then I can coast it downhill. Then you whiny ass fuckers can go home.” Malik –pronounced like the singer– throws me the middle finger and goes back to pushing.
A few more yards and we sit at the top of the hill. I hop on the bike, having already popped the clutch when we started pushing, and take a deep breath. My hands are wet as they grip tight onto the handle, and I wipe them on my grease stained jeans. I lift one foot, propping it on the foot peg, and push off with the other.
Slowly I begin to roll down the hill, and the wind whistles in my ear as I pick up speed. I feel free and light and like all the problems that make my life mine, don’t exist. The weight of the bleak future that awaits me disappears. The hot and muggy air hits me like a heater on full blast, but I don’t care. The electricity that runs through my veins is like a drug, my body already craving another hit.
The voices of Malik and Danté begin shouting behind me and I open my eyes, realizing I had closed them for a brief moment while lost in the feel. When I blink them open, I see what has them shouting. Feet in front of me is a rickety wood fence that is set to greet me in the harshest way.
I try to turn the handles, something I should have already done, and only end up propelling my body into the fence at a rapid speed. I know I’m going to barrel through the worn wood, so all I can do is brace myself for the impact.
I squeeze the brakes to try and stop the unavoidable from happening, but it’s too little too late. The front tire begins to lock up while the back tire spins out of control, fishtailing as I slide across the grass. I hear the first splintering of wood as the tire crashes through it and I’m jerked by the force. My hands try desperately to keep their grip on the handles, but the speed in which my body is being flung is too powerful and I lose my hold.
Though I know my body is moving at a rapid speed, my brain processes slowly. Ever see one of those movies where a crash happens and as shards of glass break apart in slow motion, an operatic voice begins singing? That’s what happens to me until I slam to the ground and the voice comes to a screeching halt by the sound of bones crunching.
In an instant all of the loud screeching and splintering of wood comes to a full stop. I lay on the dry grass with my eyes closed, trying to assess the damage to my body. The pounding of feet grows closer and when it stops, I lift one lid to see Dantéand Malik standing above me, hunched over and heaving as they catch their breath.
“Are you…o…kay?” Malik asks, out of breath.
