Ever since they’d found out about Ty, Zell had stayed inside, refusing to come to the pool and cooking up a storm instead. The house smelled good, and there were always cookies cooling on the counter. More cookies than any of us could eat. She kept sending stuff over to Mr. Doyle’s house, making me carry food across the street nearly every day, forgetting all about her warning to stay away from him. He always opened the door with that little smile, told me what a good girl I was for bringing him food. I told him that I wasn’t doing much, just delivering. Then one day he asked me if I was ready to earn some money, to finish the pond he’d started for his mother.
I gave him a confused look and almost said, “But she’s dead.” Then I thought maybe that wasn’t the nicest thing to say.
He knew what my confused look was, though. “I’m going to finish it in honor of her. A memorial,” he explained. “That way Jesse and I can sit outside by the pond and think about her.” I’d never seen Jesse sit still if there wasn’t a video game involved, but I didn’t say that.
He rested his hand on my head and looked sad. “I was inspired by what you and Zell have done,” he said, and pointed across the street at our pond, which had shaped up nicely, if I did say so myself. “You’ve created something so lovely.”
“I better go ask Zell,” I said. “She might, um, have something else she needs me to do.” The truth was I didn’t know how Zell would feel about that. Carrying food over to his house and coming back home was one thing, but working for him for an afternoon might be another.
“OK, well, go on and ask, and if you can, you should change into some work clothes and come back right away.” He got this nervous look on his face for about a minute. Then he smiled at me and waved me in the direction of Zell’s house. I hurried back across the street, hoping Zell would say yes.
“Zell!” I hollered when I got inside the house. She came limping into the kitchen, looking startled. She’d been so jumpy and weird since everyone had found out about Ty. I guess she thought people would think bad of her because of what her son did. But I didn’t ask her about it. I just let her keep on cooking stuff and hoped she’d snap out of it.
“Can I go help Mr. Doyle make a pond in his backyard? He asked me to and said he’d pay me.” I raised my eyebrows and gave her my serious look. “I could really use the money,” I added.
Zell laughed, but I didn’t see that anything was funny. She glanced in the direction of the Doyle house, looking concerned. It was quiet as she thought about it for a few seconds. “He’s doing it for his mom.” I realized how weird that sounded. “In her memory,” I explained. “Isn’t that nice?” I gave her my puppy-dog eyes. That’s what my mom always called them. I only used the puppy-dog eyes for special occasions. If you used them too much, they didn’t work the same. It was better to hold them back for when you really needed them. My mom called it “bringing out the big guns.”
Zell walked over to the door that led from the kitchen out onto her driveway. She opened the door and leaned out, looking at Mr. Doyle’s house, then back over her shoulder at me. She raised her eyebrows, giving me her serious look. “I’m going to carry my magazine and sit out on the driveway in one of the deck chairs. So I’ll be nearby if you need me. I want you to peek your head around the corner and wave at me every so often. OK?” she asked.
I nodded my head really hard. “OK!” I said. Then I ran off to change my clothes before she could change her mind, calling, “Thank you!” over my shoulder on my way up the stairs. In Ty’s room, I threw on some work clothes, the same ones I wore all those long, hot days when we worked on Zell’s yard.
When I got back to Mr. Doyle’s house, he pointed me toward a big pile of flat, jagged, dark-gray rocks he was going to use to border the pond. But what he showed me didn’t look a thing like our pond. It only looked like a big old mud pit. He could use some lessons from Zell. But I didn’t say that. I just thought about what I was going to buy with the money he gave me. A present for Cutter. A present for my mom.
I carried those heavy rocks back and forth, back and forth, the sun beating down as I worked. Every so often, I kept my promise to Zell and poked my head around the corner to wave at her that I was safe. I was a sweaty mess, and my head hurt from the sun. The work was hard and long, and I was starting to think maybe the money wasn’t worth it. Mr. Doyle was trying to install a fancy fountain, but it wasn’t going so well. He was cussing and sweating, his frustration growing the hotter it got.
He went inside to get us water bottles and left me out there alone, and I took the opportunity to stop moving for a few minutes. I stared at my reflection in the sliding glass door that led into his basement. I thought of the padlock he’d had to have to keep his mother from falling down those basement stairs. I wondered if he’d taken it off the door yet, seeing as how he didn’t need it. I stared at the glass door so long I thought I saw the curtain move, and it spooked me. I thought of his mother, and wondered about a ghost. I took a step away from the door, my reflection growing smaller as I did.
Mr. Doyle came around the corner and called my name. He handed me a water bottle. “Break’s over!” he said. “Back to work!” He turned me around and pointed to the rocks. Then he resumed working on the fountain. I sucked down half the bottle and started arranging the rocks. We worked side by side like that for a while. I could smell our sweat in the air, mixing with the heat. I wished I’d never said I would do this. I glanced back at the curtain hanging over the sliding glass door, but I never saw it move again. My mind was playing tricks on me in the heat. And there was no such thing as ghosts.
When we were finally finished, he dug in his pocket for the money and fished it out, holding it up to me. I went to reach for it, but he stopped me. “I get a hug first,” he said.
He was sweaty and he stank. I didn’t want to hug him. But I wanted that money, and I got the feeling I had to hug him to get it. I couldn’t tell how much money was in his hand, but it looked like a lot. I stepped toward him and let him pull me into his arms. He was a lonely man who’d lost his mother. So what if he stank to high heaven? The hug would last a second, and then I could go home and shower.
He pulled back and looked at me, and then he moved his face closer, his mouth closing over mine before I knew what was happening. He used his lips to pry mine open and put his tongue in my mouth. I tried to get away, but he held me in place. Mr. Doyle was surprisingly strong when he wanted to be. He should’ve been the one carrying those rocks.
He stopped kissing me, and I looked away, toward the direction of Zell’s house, longing to run back to it. But he held me in place, one hand on each arm. My mind was racing with a million thoughts about how gross and awful what he’d done was. I expected him to apologize. But all he said was, “Don’t ever tell anyone I did that.” He didn’t have to worry about that. I would never tell anyone. It was too terrible to say out loud. Then he handed me the money and released me. I ran away from him as fast as I could, still feeling his fat eel tongue inside my mouth, unsure whether I would ever outrun what had just happened.
ZELL