Our Boys

The Perfect Place

Harry runs away, but soon finds that the shed isn't big enough to hold everyone who wants to run away with him.

Harry gripped the handle of the lawnmower, pushing with all his might to get it rolling toward the back wall. Then, spotting a folded up tarp, he decided to use that to cover the ugly mower. He didn't really like having the mower in there, and he briefly wondered if his dad would mind if he just pushed it right on out of the shed. Course, if anyone found it set outside, they might get suspicious about who was inside the shed. Oh well, he'd just have to learn to live with it.

Looking around, he grimaced at the amount of clutter scattered on the floor: old paintbrushes, tools, newspapers and rags, among other things. If he could just get rid of some of the junk, this would be the perfect place for him, but then again . . . maybe the clutter wasn't so bad after all. He kind of liked it, in a way. For some reason, it made him feel more protected.

Still, if he was going to live there forever, he'd need a little more room. Eyeing the two shovels that were leaning against the wall, he decided to move them to a back corner, close to the lawnmower. He placed some of the paintbrushes and other odds and ends into a large bucket and hung the bucket on a big nail sticking out of the wall. A minute or so later, the nail, the bucket and its contents all fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Sighing, he tossed the items back into the bucket and shoved it into the corner opposite of the shovels and decided that was good enough.

He unrolled his sleeping bag, and with great effort managed to spread it out flat on the dirt floor; then he grabbed his backpack, set it in the middle of his new bed and plopped tiredly down beside it - running away from home sure was hard work. He wondered if he should eat one of his peanut butter sandwiches now, or save it for later. He unzipped the backpack and looked inside. Two peanut butter sandwiches, a Twix, three packages of fruit snacks and two juice boxes. Maybe he should have waited until after they went to the supermarket to run away?

His tummy rumbled and he licked his lips as the heavenly smell of the peanut butter sandwich tempted him. The sound of car doors out in the driveway distracted him for a moment. Closing the bag, he jumped up to peek out of the dusty window. Uncle Callux was just arriving. He watched Josh and Ethan run out of the house in only their socks and launch themselves from the porch right into Uncle Callux's arms. With a sniffle, he turned away from the window, dejected. They were going have lots of fun this afternoon, having a barbeque and watching football games. Nobody would probably even miss him. They were probably all glad he was gone.

Just as he was starting to feel like one of the family as well. He'd been living with them for just under six months, after his mum had gone to sleep for a long time - dreaming with angels as Josh and Ethan told him - and he'd tried his best to be a good boy and make his mother proud. It had been working too, he'd felt truly accepted and happy in his new home; that was until he'd messed it all up.

He hadn't meant to do it and he'd tried to give Ethan and Josh all his money so they could buy a new one; but the boys had said no, and even yelled at him! Ethan had said he was a killer and then he'd drawn pictures of Harry that said "Wanteb" on them. Harry didn't think the pictures looked much like him and he thought it was kind of funny that Ethan wrote the d backwards, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to hurt the boy's feelings. And then their dad made the two take down all the Wanted posters and apologise to Harry, which had made them even madder.

The truth was, though, he was a killer. The awful images - the results of his crime - began to swirl around in his mind, just like the beloved, tiny orange creature had swirled round and round before disappearing down the toilet. "It was an accident," he whispered pleadingly, but nobody was there to hear him.