“I gotta go,” I quickly muttered and raced away from him, taking a curved path I hoped would get me back to the house. I knew my beating would come and that it would be the worst one I’d ever gotten, but I sure didn’t want him to see me get it.
I stayed away from the swimming pond for three months, but I thought about it every day. Most of us at the house were homeschooled by Julie, which made it even harder to find time to disappear. When the opportunity came one day, I slipped away and found my way back. Elio wasn’t there, but I enjoyed just sitting and looking at the water. I went as often as I could after that, always being sure I wouldn’t get caught.
I leaned against the tree and pulled out the little notebook Cara gave me the other day. One of the movies the older kids were watching said it was good to have a journal to help control your thoughts. I liked that idea. I took pride in how well I could spell. I believed it was from all the late-night reading I did, desperately longing for an escape. My favorites wereThe Lord of The RingsandHarry Potter. Both were about surviving and making it through to the other side.
I scribbled the date in the top left corner and started to pour the earliest memories I had on the small white pages, not wanting to forget them. Faint images broke through the surface of my brain, and I remembered the smell of something old. My mother wore a green jacket, and I also remembered being held in her arms, and the comfort of that fleeting memory sent a tear down my cheek. More words came, and five pages later I closed the book and looked back in the direction of the house. I held the notebook to my chest, suddenly nervous of what could happen if they ever found my private thoughts. I used the Ziplock bag that I’d brought my lunch in and slid the notebook inside and hid it well under a rock. I felt a lot better about leaving it there. I raced back home, feeling lighter than I had in a very long time.
A few times, Elio came. He never stayed very long, but he would always talk for a few minutes before he left. Other times, I might find a bit of food waiting for me in our spot with a note. The first one saidThought you might like to try my mama’s tortellini. -E
Even cold, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted. I only could handle a few bites, butohhow I loved it. I tucked his note inside my notebook and wrote about his kindness toward me. Carefully removing a small piece of a page from the back of the notebook, I responded withIt was great. Tell your mama thank you. -S
I smiled when I wrote the “S,” mimicking his signoff. I tucked it next to the paper bowl the pasta was in and leaned back, enjoying the comfort of a full tummy and the knowledge that I had a friend.
Even though I barely knew the boy, something drew me here, and I knew he was a major part of it. It was a welcome, safe place for me. Elio never made me uncomfortable or said hurtful things. He just occasionally left me bits of things to eat, and sometimes left notes. He always checked to make sure I was okay. That was the way it went for two years, just little moments together, but treasured ones. It allowed me little glimpses of what a real friend was like. Cara was wonderful to me, but Elio was different.
“Right there.” Elio pointed as he flipped his shaggy hair out of his face to show me where the frog had just laid her eggs.
“Where?” I leaned in and lost my balance, and the first thing that raced through me was that my good outfit was going to get wet, and how was I going to explain it.
“Whoa!” Elio grabbed my hand and pulled me back to steady me. “You good?”
“Yes, thanks.” I smiled slightly, beyond thankful he saved me from a lashing, but what really surprised me was I didn’t flinch when he grabbed me. I felt no fear with him.
“Right there, there it is.” He went back to our quest.
Weeks later, I returned to the pond with a fresh new journal in hand, proud that I had managed to save up for it without anyone noticing. As I always did, I checked our secret spot and saw a note sitting next to a plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookie.
Something sweet? I have to go away for a few days, but I will be back Sunday. Meet me here at 1 p.m.? -E
I tucked his note away safely with the others and wrote a reply.
The cookie was very good. Thanks. I will try! -S
I took my place under the tree and let the summer sun warm my face as I thought about what I wanted to write today. Elio’s face worked its way inside my head, and I found myself growing warm on the inside. Before I knew it, I was scribbling my thoughts out on the page.
To me, boys were nothing but annoying, mean, and cruel, but when I met Elio he showed me that isn’t always true. Maybe kindness could be found in others, but they need to be good, like Elio. Like when he saved me from falling in the pond or when he brings me treats and leaves me notes just so I know he is thinking of me. I like that in a person. I want that in a person.
Questions for Mom: Is it strange that when he’s near me, I feel warm and my head gets foggy? Is it normal for me to study parts of his face that I like? His lips and dark eyes. But more than anything, is it normal that I want to spend all my time with him?
I dropped my pencil into the center of the book with a sigh. I would give anything to have my mother answer these questions. Slipping it into a new bag, I tucked it away with the rest of my journals and walked back while I enjoyed the lovely taste of chocolate that still lingered on my tongue.
It wasn’t easy for me to get away, and as I got older it became even more difficult. I was working at the dockyard, and my life had become even harder, especially now with the unwanted attention my developing figure drew from the workers and the boys at the house. I didn’t like their attention. I wished they would look at me the way Elio did. He made me feel pretty and smart. He often liked me to read out loud to him, and I loved nothing more than sharing with him that way.
When I turned sixteen, my life went from bad to worse. I was embarrassed to see Elio now, as I didn’t want him to see the bruises were getting worse. Though Renzo was old enough to leave the house, he stuck around. I was sure it was just to torture me. He would pinch my arms or twist my wrist, which left red marks, then bruises. Then one day he found the money I had stashed in my mattress, and in that one night I went from someone with one small hope to just plain hopeless. Finding money had never been easy, but now that everyone’s pay went through Andrew, he only gave us enough to buy a few clothes, and we even had to hand over the change and receipt to prove we hadn’t kept any.
My only blessing was their youngest sister Cara, my only girlfriend. She didn’t use me to do her chores or to take punishments for her. She hated it here just as much as I did, and she was their own child. We would talk and dream about what we would do if we ever got away from here. We sometimes talked about boys, and I told her my secret about the swimming hole. After that, once a week she would cover for me so I could race down to the swimming pond. I would stay very close to the shore and use a small piece of stolen soap and wash. It was wonderful to be able to bathe without fear. Renzo was never far away at the house, and the small washroom we were allowed to use had no lock on the door. He had made enough comments to let everyone know he claimed me as his. The very thought made me fold inward. So far, he hadn’t made any attempt to touch me, but I knew that day wasn’t far off.
One sunny day when I arrived at the pond, I checked our spot and found at least eleven notes that he had left me. I loved that he had started to number them so I could read them in order.
I waited on Friday – meet me here Wednesday? -E
The frogs had more eggs. -E
I miss my pond friend. -E
I hope you’re coming by soon. -E
Are you okay? It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen you. -E