Suddenly Levona screamed. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” The fire, which had died to coals, was flaring now. Once we adjusted to the new light, we realized it wasn’t the fire that was blazing; it was Levona’s hair. It crackled like burning pine needles, and her screams punctured the cave. Skeeter picked up the blanket and whacked Levona’s head to quell the flames. She rolled on the floor screaming, “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
Petunia grabbed her top and rushed over as Skeeter finally extinguished the last of Levona’s flames.
“Whud you do to her?” she screamed. Tilroy pulled his underwear back up to his belly button and zipped his pants.
“I dint do nuthin!” Skeeter shouted. “We was jus messin round an she laid back in the fire an her hair starts flamin. I dint do nuthin!”
Levona’s screams had quieted, muffled by the blanket that Petunia had wrapped around her head. Tilroy threw wood on the fire for better light. “Way to go, fuckwad,” he breathed. “I was jus bout to do her.”
“I dint do nuthin!” Skeeter insisted. Petunia knelt to Levona, who was curled in the fetal position on the floor, whimpering in pain. She carefully removed the blanket to inspect her smoldering, nearly hairless head. A wisp of smoke rose from her singed hair as if from a snubbed candle.
“Are you hurt, baby?” Petunia asked.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.”
“We gotta get her to the hospital. Her head’s all red an burned up,” Petunia said to Tilroy.
“You sure bout that?” he replied. “Looks like a bad sunburn to me. Mostly jus the hair what went.”
Petunia stood up and faced him with hands on hips. “We… are… takin… her… to… the… hospital,” she said with increasing emphasis on each word so that the last came out as a scream.
Tilroy and Skeeter grabbed the other blanket and the remaining beer and hustled out of the cave after Petunia and the whimpering Levona.
“It her fault; she laid in the fire,” Skeeter whined to Tilroy at the cave mouth.
“Shut up, fuckwad.”
It was the smell that brought everything back. It didn’t reach me until they had left the cave and Buzzy and I climbed from the crag hole. The smell of burning hair, acrid and sickly sweet, hung in the air on an inversion of smothered memories.
As I stood and considered the fire, the true and absolute horror of that day came streaming back in a single razor-wire vision. I knew that if I closed my eyes, the sequence of it, like the film loop of a bad dream, would start again.
Buzzy added more wood and we laid out our sleeping bags again. I was dark and silent and brought my knees to my chest, continued to stare into the flames.
“You know, you ain’t tole the cave nuthin,” he whispered. “You should do that now, fore we forget.”
“I don’t want to tell the cave anything. I don’t even want to sleep here tonight. That smell is gonna make me puke.”
“We can go sleep up the tree house then.”
“I’d rather just go home. I don’t want to be a wimp, but I really think I’m going to puke.”
“But you seen what happens when you don’t tell. Just tell a little an we’ll go.”
I shifted on my sleeping bag and gathered up the rememberings. I had kept the truth hidden for so long that the lies were rooted in me like weeds. “My brother wasn’t hit by a car like I told you,” I said.
“My momma said she heard that,” he admitted and looked down into his hands. “Why ain’t you tole the truth?” The fire popped and issued an arching cinder that landed near my foot. It glowed for a moment, then went dark.
“Because the truth is what’s making my mom crazy. I guess my dad thinks if we all lie long enough, the lie will eventually become the truth.”
“You don’t gotta tell if you don’t want to. Let’s jus forget the Tellin Cave an go home.”
But the memory had already shifted forward, and there was no possible way of sending it back. Like water overtopping a dam, it had to alight somewhere. I shook the ghosts out of my head and began.
Chapter 22
THE TELLING
Every Saturday back in Redhill I used to cut the grass. That was my chore, every Saturday.” My voice cracked as the sequence of images aligned in their proper order. “I cut the grass.” I paused and shifted my legs in the ash. “We had this brand-new riding mower. Used to take me only about twenty minutes to cut it all. I had band practice that day and I was late, but my father said I had to cut the grass before I left.
“I told him I would do it when I got back, but he made me do it then, even though he knew I’d be late for my practice. I could have easily cut it when I got back, but he made me—easily could have cut it after band.” I brought my knees up and put my jaw in the space between them. “So I backed the mower out of the garage, filled up the gas tank, and started cutting. Usually when I do it I put the blade on medium and go slow so it cuts everything nice and even. But I was pissed, so I put it on high and floored it. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was gonna miss my band practice. I could’ve cut the grass when I got back, you know. Could have cut it easy.” I was suffused with a bitterness and regret that seemed to be corroding me from the inside out. The fire had died a bit, and Buzzy was stirring the coals with a stick. I watched how they danced and pulsed at the attention.
“My mom came out with Josh to weed the garden and plant some stuff. Josh was three then and was into everything. I mean everything. One time Mom even found him curled up asleep in the dryer. He was into absolutely everything. And he was fast, too. Man, you had to watch him or he’d be gone like a shot,” I said and paused, remembering how Josh used to race across the lawn toward the street and how my mother finally had to get one of those kiddie harnesses with an extra-long leash to keep him in her sights.
“Anyway, I cut the backyard first. It was all uneven but I didn’t even care, I was so late for practice by then. I cut the side yard, then came around the corner to the front faster than I should have, and Josh was digging in the front flower beds with my mom and he just ran out in front of the tractor. Just ran right in front of it. I slammed on the brakes and swerved and just missed him. I mean, I just missed him. Mom didn’t see any of it, but I was shaking from it all and Josh was just laughing like he was at the circus or something.
“So I get off the tractor and take him over to Mom and tell her that I almost ran over him and I was late for band and that she should keep him off the grass until I was done. I swear I could have killed him if he’d got caught under those blades. I mean, it was that close.”
I looked over at Buzzy, who was staring at a spot in the coals.
“It was good you put them brakes on when you did.”