To Hide Under a Leaf

To Hide Under a Leaf
By Jacob Reid

The fuzziness of the auburn and black caterpillar tingled my palm. I poked him with my free finger to see if he would move, but instead he curled stiffer into a little ball. Apparently they curl up stiff when they get scared, though I couldn’t figure why he’d be scared of me. Why, there was no way in heck I’d hurt him. I liked caterpillars! Though I did know how it felt to be scared, sometimes I, too, wanted to curl up stiff into a little ball. I couldn’t do that, though, because “fears and tears are for cowards!” as my fake daddy would warn. And I didn’t want to be seen as a coward, (unless I was alone and no one was around to see.)

Normally, I was alone, and I preferred it that way. Most summers I’d be off battling with sticks, chasing bugs, or climbing all sorts of trees. But today I played down by Grandma’s creek with my big brother, Gordo, and his friends, Marcos and Tom. We were sitting in a diamond, atop grass dotted with cow-patties, just a few feet from the river-rock shore. I felt small as a bug because they were tall kids, about twice my size. My brother was the shortest and the chubbiest of the three Seventh Graders. But I’d say he was meanest of the pack, like a snout nosed bulldog with a bone under his paw.

To the front of me, sitting cross-legged, was Tom, a white boy, tall and lanky like a greyhound racer. Marcos, who sat to my left, was a Mexican-Indian, pudgy and dark skinned like my brother and unlike me. No, I looked about as white as Tom, and I had long, straight and blonde hair, which was opposite to my brother who had short, curly, and black hair, for Gordo and I were half-brother’s with the same mother and different fathers. My father had been dead and buried now for three years, and Gordo’s father was a dog that ran away from home. Nonetheless, I was jealous to the core; at least he still had hope of having a father. My hope was lost after the fake daddy decided to be drunken and abusive. I hadn’t believed in daddy’s ever since.

“Does anyone have a cigarette?” Tom asked.

“Not me,” I said. “I don’t smoke.”

“Well, I kinda figured. Marcos?”

“I only got two!”

“Don’t be such a fag.”

“Fuck you, Weh!”

Feeling excluded, I shrugged and glanced down at the caterpillar, wondering if it would ever move. It couldn’t stay curled up forever; could it? I laughed.

“What you laughing at, Blonde Bomber?” My brother said.

Suddenly, I was spotlighted by six hounding eyes. I shied my vision to the eyeless grass and murmured, “nothing.” Well, I couldn’t think of anything else to say!

My brother laughed hysterically, his face flushing red like an apple. The same color it got when he was mad. Then that sad feeling swam into my heart. You know the one where you just want to run and run and run, but you know that you can never get away.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted as I felt the impending tears boiling up my eyes. I jumped up and ran barefoot behind the old Maple tree. “Why?” I cried. “Why was he so mean to me?” I put my bareback against the tree and slid down onto the grass, squeezing in my hand the caterpillar that I had almost forgotten.

“Jake,” Tom said.

“Jake,” he said again.

“What you want?”

“Come out here. I want to show you something.”

I stalled for a while, listening to my brother chat to Marcos. I knew that Gordo would be whispering or giggling if he was up to something mean, so I rolled out into the open grass, my skin feeling chilled from the breeze. The scene had changed. Now Gordo and Marcos sat side by side, while Tom stood and gazed towards me, holding in his hand a Mountain Dew pop can, which was crunched into a rectangle with black holes punctured in its tin.

“Come here.” He waved me towards them.

I inched closer, then curled down with my knees bracing my chin. Tom smiled and sat back down, crossing his legs. He took off his Mariner’s cap and pulled out a plastic baggy.

“You need a lighter, Weh?” Marcos said. He and my brother both spun toward Tom. I had never seen my brother with such a shallow look in his eyes. He reminded me of a goldfish that my mom once scooped out of our fish tank. I wanted to ask him what‘s the matter? but I got distracted when Tom pinched some green stuff out of his sack and placed it onto the pop can. I had seen that green stuff before. It was the same thing that my momma’s boyfriend smoked when he wasn‘t drinking.

Tom burned the stuff until it turned orange and his cheeks pressured up like a teapot. He coughed and gagged until the eyes almost popped out his head. Gordo and Marcos laughed. I laughed. It was all funny until it got to me when I had the can and the lighter in my hand. I stared at the green stuff, now black and charred.

“Maybe if you take a hit,” Tom said, “you might not flip-out over such small things.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t know how.”

“It’s nothing. Flick the lighter, burn the leaf, release the carb, inhale, and exhale. It’s simple and safe.” Tom smiled again. I looked towards my brother, but his red eyes offered me no advice, so I followed my fake dad’s advice: “Fears and tears are for cowards.”

“Simple and safe,” I repeated. “Simple and safe.” I followed his instructions. Clicking the lighter with my right thumb, I burned the leaf and inhaled the ashy air. When my lungs started to sting, I exhaled.

I forgot, though, to take my mouth away from the can. The air blasted into the can’s chamber, and the rest of the burning green stuff whisked like meteors onto the grass.

“Fuck!”

“Goddamnit!”

“Shit!”

They all stared at the green stuff like a soldier had fallen.

“I’m sorry!” I cried. “I just didn’t know how. I’m sorry, Tom! Please don‘t be mad, Gordo. I won‘t do it again!”

“Jake, why you such a fucking idiot?”

“I didn’t…”

“Tom you’re an idiot,” said my brother. “I told you it was a bad idea. He’s too young to be smoking grass.”

“Fuck both you guys,” Marcos said. He bent down and started pinching the burnt flakes off the grass and placing them in his palm. “I’m gonna get high. I don’t give a shit.”