dad
didn't know how to fish. All he knew was how to crunch numbers,
whatever that meant. One day he'd gone to work and hadn't come
home. He was in the hospital, Tommy's mom had said, and she left
Tommy with their neighbor Leon. Neither of his parents had ever
come back home. Leon told him once it was better that way.
Tommy hadn't believed him until Leon had to
kill his own girlfriend because she'd gotten sick and tried to hurt
Tommy. After that, Tommy figured it was better to remember his
parents as his parents, not as creepy sick people who wouldn't even
know who he was anymore.
"I know how to fish," Jessie said. "Want me
to teach you?"
Tommy shrugged again. "Sure." He had nothing
better to do.
Jessie had a fishing pole she said she found
half-buried underneath one of the logs. She stuck something slimy
on the hook and showed him how to fling the hook with that slimy
stuff out into the water.
He stood next to her and watched until one
of the waves came up higher on the shore than the others. She
laughed at him when he backpedaled away from the water.
"Are you afraid of the ocean?" she
asked.
"No. I'm just not supposed to get my shoes
wet."
That had been one of Leon's rules. He'd seen
a movie once, he said, where shoes were the next most important
thing after food and water. A person had to take care of their
shoes if they wanted to survive. According to Leon, wet shoes wore
out faster. Tommy didn't know if that was true or not, but
everything else Leon said was.
Well, almost everything.
"Says who?" Jessie asked again.
Tommy shrugged, embarrassed to admit he
still followed Leon's rules even though Leon wasn't around
anymore.
"Look, you can't fish from so far away from
the water," Jessie said. "Take your shoes off."
"Isn't the water cold?"
She wriggled her bare toes in the wet sand.
"You get used to it, and then it's kinda fun."
Tommy supposed that was true, too. He'd
gotten used to a lot of things since the day his parents hadn't
come home.
He took off his shoes and balled up his
socks. He tucked the socks inside one shoe and left his shoes in a
hollow in the sand by the log where Jessie had been sitting.
The water was cold, but Tommy didn't mention
it. He let Jessie hold his hands on the fishing pole, and let her
help him when he flung the hook and the slimy bait out into the
water. She made him do it over and over again until she said he did
it right.
They caught two fish. She bashed their heads
on a rock, and Tommy watched while she cut out the fish's guts and
skinned them. He made a fire out of driftwood and dried bark. She
poked a stick through pieces of fish and held the stick over the
fire, and when she said the fish was done, they both ate.
Tommy hadn't really liked fish all that much
before everyone in the world got sick, but he supposed it tasted
okay. Jessie laughed when he asked if he had to watch out for fish
bones. She told him the bones were big enough he'd notice, and he
did.
That night was the first night in a long
time he didn't go to sleep hungry.
They slept on the beach on the dry sand near
a concrete wall a long way away from the water. Tommy kept a
blanket in his backpack along with an extra jacket and a rain
slicker. Jessie showed him how to use the slicker with pieces of
driftwood to make a little shelter against the wall. Tommy huddled
under the blanket, his shoes and socks back on his feet, wearing
his extra jacket. Jessie had her own blanket and jacket, but when
Tommy woke up in the morning, she had curled in next to him, a warm
little presence that felt odd but good at the same time.
The next day they fished in the morning and
then went exploring. Jessie said she'd been inside an abandoned
restaurant at the back of the bay, and it had all sorts of cool
things inside. She wanted to show him, she said, and she sounded
excited like he always used to when he had something cool to show
his mom.
Tommy didn't want to go inside the
restaurant. Leon always told him to stay outside
didn't know how to fish. All he knew was how to crunch numbers,
whatever that meant. One day he'd gone to work and hadn't come
home. He was in the hospital, Tommy's mom had said, and she left
Tommy with their neighbor Leon. Neither of his parents had ever
come back home. Leon told him once it was better that way.
Tommy hadn't believed him until Leon had to
kill his own girlfriend because she'd gotten sick and tried to hurt
Tommy. After that, Tommy figured it was better to remember his
parents as his parents, not as creepy sick people who wouldn't even
know who he was anymore.
"I know how to fish," Jessie said. "Want me
to teach you?"
Tommy shrugged again. "Sure." He had nothing
better to do.
Jessie had a fishing pole she said she found
half-buried underneath one of the logs. She stuck something slimy
on the hook and showed him how to fling the hook with that slimy
stuff out into the water.
He stood next to her and watched until one
of the waves came up higher on the shore than the others. She
laughed at him when he backpedaled away from the water.
"Are you afraid of the ocean?" she
asked.
"No. I'm just not supposed to get my shoes
wet."
That had been one of Leon's rules. He'd seen
a movie once, he said, where shoes were the next most important
thing after food and water. A person had to take care of their
shoes if they wanted to survive. According to Leon, wet shoes wore
out faster. Tommy didn't know if that was true or not, but
everything else Leon said was.
Well, almost everything.
"Says who?" Jessie asked again.
Tommy shrugged, embarrassed to admit he
still followed Leon's rules even though Leon wasn't around
anymore.
"Look, you can't fish from so far away from
the water," Jessie said. "Take your shoes off."
"Isn't the water cold?"
She wriggled her bare toes in the wet sand.
"You get used to it, and then it's kinda fun."
Tommy supposed that was true, too. He'd
gotten used to a lot of things since the day his parents hadn't
come home.
He took off his shoes and balled up his
socks. He tucked the socks inside one shoe and left his shoes in a
hollow in the sand by the log where Jessie had been sitting.
The water was cold, but Tommy didn't mention
it. He let Jessie hold his hands on the fishing pole, and let her
help him when he flung the hook and the slimy bait out into the
water. She made him do it over and over again until she said he did
it right.
They caught two fish. She bashed their heads
on a rock, and Tommy watched while she cut out the fish's guts and
skinned them. He made a fire out of driftwood and dried bark. She
poked a stick through pieces of fish and held the stick over the
fire, and when she said the fish was done, they both ate.
Tommy hadn't really liked fish all that much
before everyone in the world got sick, but he supposed it tasted
okay. Jessie laughed when he asked if he had to watch out for fish
bones. She told him the bones were big enough he'd notice, and he
did.
That night was the first night in a long
time he didn't go to sleep hungry.
They slept on the beach on the dry sand near
a concrete wall a long way away from the water. Tommy kept a
blanket in his backpack along with an extra jacket and a rain
slicker. Jessie showed him how to use the slicker with pieces of
driftwood to make a little shelter against the wall. Tommy huddled
under the blanket, his shoes and socks back on his feet, wearing
his extra jacket. Jessie had her own blanket and jacket, but when
Tommy woke up in the morning, she had curled in next to him, a warm
little presence that felt odd but good at the same time.
The next day they fished in the morning and
then went exploring. Jessie said she'd been inside an abandoned
restaurant at the back of the bay, and it had all sorts of cool
things inside. She wanted to show him, she said, and she sounded
excited like he always used to when he had something cool to show
his mom.
Tommy didn't want to go inside the
restaurant. Leon always told him to stay outside
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