Her visits to the tree house went on as so for a while, sometimes once or twice a month, other times were as far as six months apart. But every time Mr. Mattler handed her a box of coke, or a broken package of candy as she headed out the door, she knew who they were meant for before he even had to tell her. "Bring these to those young boys at the treehouse willya?" he would ask her. And while she knew it was more of a demand than a request, it didn't matter, because our girl quite enjoyed the walk to the treehouse.
It was on the opposite side of town from where she lived. To get there, she got to walk down alongside Main Street, then up by Shandler's Creek, where if the load was light, she would jump across the stream of water, and count how many times she could jump back and forth before she fell. And while she got so good at this game that she made it all the way without once stepping a foot in the water, every once in a while she would show up at the tree house dripping from the knees down with water.
No matter the time or day she arrived, the boys were in the treehouse. She began to wonder if they lived there because they could have for all she or anyone else knew. Often the array of boys in there shifted, sometimes the Bueller twins were thrown in the mix, other times they were replaced by the Nadler boy that every seemed to hate at school. But the four other boys were constant members of the club. The ashen-haired boy being one of them.
The next time our girl came to the tree house, this time with a small package of Oreos so small she could slip in her sweater pocket, was two weeks after the Coke endeavor. Once again, she approached the base of the ladder, and waited. It wasn't long before a bigger kid with a shaven head burst out the door. As he saw her, his eyes got big and wide and he started jumping up and down. "G-girl Gordie! Teddy there's a girl out here!" Our girl knew this boy to go by the name of Vern. He too, was in the biology class.
Out the door like clockwork, out the door came Gordie, then Teddy, and then the ashen-haired boy. "Oh Verno, shut up. I know her, she's the one that brought us Coke that time! Hey!" He shouted and waved. Our girl smiled and waved back. "I've got Oreos this time."
He smiled and stepped over near her, as she held out the package. "Er...sorry, I think some got crushed on the way here..."
"Don't worry about it. Here." The ashen-haired boy pulled open the top, grabbed three or four of the cookies with his right hand and offered them to her. "Oh, um, that's fine I--"
"Aw just take them, willya? You came all this way." And though there weren't many cookies at all in the small little package, she took them anyways and thanked him.
"Chriiiiiis...." The other groaned from behind him. He smiled at her, before turning around to join the group again. "This is a men only tree house! You hear me, MEN ONLY!" The short and stubby one that went by Teddy shouted out to her. At that comment he got a sharp jab from both Gordie and Chris, one from each side. "OW. Jerks..." he whispered under his breath. With that, she left without another word.
At school, she passed them in the hall. They exchanged glances but not much else. And as the years passed and the trips to the tree house grew more and more, she would get a smile from Gordie or the ashen-haired boy. Sometimes even from Vern. But never from Teddy. He would make a point to wear a great big frown on his face as he passed her, and his tongue would shoot out for a quick second. It was all in jest she knew, and soon passing them in the hallway became her new favorite time of day.
She had friends but not many, none that she knew well enough to have over to her house, though she knew the rest of them got together when she wasn't around to be there. That way they would have an excuse if she ever found out. She found out but never said anything because she felt sorry she was there. They were kind enough to let her sit with them, so she figured she should be kind too and let them hang out without her every once in a while. In those slow passing years, she sometimes felt like her only true friends were the boys in from the treehouse, yet they weren't really friends with her at all. She often imagined herself walking up to their table one day with her blue lunch tray of goop and they would all look up at her, Gordie and Chris smiling, Vern shifting in his seat, Teddy with his tongue out. She would ask if she could join them and they would gladly say yes, and clap her on the back and continue in conversation as if she had been part of the group all along.
She never once did, but she spent most lunches gazing longingly over at their table, full of rough boys laughing and snorting and stuffing green beans down their milk cartons and making a hamburger and green slop soup. And though there must have been at least fifteen or sixteen boys at that table that constantly shifted around, she noticed that the boys from the treehouse always made sure to sit next to each other. Maybe they would have made room for her. Maybe they would have laughed with the other boys and sent her away. But the idea clung with her as she listened to her friends drone one about a new hair product, or a new dress, or a new boy.
Her favorite days became the ones where Mr. Mattler sent her to the tree house. Every time he would tell her, this would be the last time, because she knew that he felt guilty sending her on this long walk to give a box of cookies to a group of boys. But every time she would tell him the same thing. I enjoy the walk Mr Mattler. Really. He must have believed her because no matter how long time passed, he would always eventually send her back.
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It happened on August 31. The night she decided to leave. The night her father announced he was planning on marrying Ms. Glinda Galvanza who was on her third year of being her father's "lady friend" and her forty-seventh year of being a huge pain in the ass to everyone else on the planet. Though she always wore glued on fake eyelashes that sat on the lids of her eyes like tiny bushes and wore fake neon nails that came to sharp points and threatened our girl like little knives every time she jabbed a pudgy finger near her face, it was no contest what she hated most about Ms. Galvanza. It was the way her soon to be step mother turned her father against her. It was the way she complained and whined to her father about her, like our girl was some pest in her eyes that she could never quite swat away.
"Keep that little brat away from me, she won't stop touching my things."
"You need to be more stern with her, teach the little brat that her actions have consequences."
"God, if the little brat was mine she'd know the back of my belt as well as the back of her hand."
Little brat. Our girl's name at home. She wondered sometimes if she would one day forget her name, the name little brat rewritten over it in her memories. Oh how many nights she would storm into her room and bury her head deep in the pillow in an effort not to scream in Ms. Galvanza's caked over, pinched face.
On the night her father announced the marriage, our girl turned to see his fiance's smug face glaring right at her as if to say, Checkmate, you little brat.
"And when I'm your mother, first thing I'll do is send you off to a boarding school in New York where they'll teach you how to be a real young lady, won't that be nice?"
That was when our girl burst. That was when she finally did let out all she was feeling, all she had been suppressing over the past three years, all the screaming she had wanted to do. But instead of screaming at Ms. Galvanza, she screamed at her father, asking him over and over again how he could possibly marry such a woman.
The night that our girl made up her mind to run away was the night her father finally did take to the belt. It was the night that her father gave her a fresh burning welt across her thigh. It was the night her father left a mark that lasted a hell of a lot longer than the two week one across her leg, but one deep in her heart. Her father who had once taken her down by the creek to splash and swing every Sunday, her father who would sew together clothes out of spare pieces of fabric for her Raggedy Ann doll, her father who would once let her crawl into his bed on the nights she couldn't control the sobs and haunting thoughts of her dead mother. Her father and last person she truly loved was gone. And whatever was left was some man crafted and formed by the hands of Ms. Galvanza who wasn't going to give up, until our girl was gone.
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Leaving Castle Rock//Chris Chambers
Fanfiction"I'm never getting out of this goddam town." "You could. We could leave right now. Together." Betty has always longed to be apart of the group of boys that spend the hot summer days playing cards in the tree house. After her father threatens to send...
