House of the Unwanted: A House of Frost Novel

Chapter 5

By Dabeagle

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“What the fuck was that?” Leonard muttered. We all gathered under the truck, though I didn't know what I was looking for. There was another metallic sound, and the truck shifted.

“Damn. I think the frame just rusted through,” Leonard muttered. “Let's get the tires back on it and get a look in a spot that won't kill anyone if it lets go.”

They lifted the tires, and I'd hand over lug nuts or the electric gun to tighten them down. Leonard showed me how to lower the forks on the lift, then he grabbed a creeper when it was lower down and slid under with a light to look around.

“What a fucktangle this is,” he muttered.

Keaton got down low and peered in through a wheel well. “How bad?”

“Eh. Give me a screwdriver or something?”

I moved to the tool cabinet and grabbed a Phillips head and handed it down to him. I heard him banging around and muttering. “Well. Frame's shot.”

“Weld it up?” Keaton asked.

Leonard sighed and slid out from underneath and sat up on the creeper, letting his hands dangle between his knees. “If I was going to restore it, I'd say sure. It broke in one spot, but there's a few more look just like it. I was only going to drive it while the other one gets done up – now I'd have to get a new frame for this one and drive the other.” He shook his head. “Let it sit too long, maybe.”

“Shit,” Keaton muttered. “So, what now?”

Leonard stood up and pushed into the small of his back with the heels of his hands. “First, put a battery in and see that it runs. Maybe you take a few pictures for me and put it up for a grand; the motor doesn't have that many miles on it. Someone can maybe use it and get me a few dollars back.” He narrowed his eyes and looked back toward the door that led out to where the cars were kept outdoors. “Then I'll see what else might work for now.”

“I was working on that little diesel Mercedes he's got out there,” Keaton said. “Smokes, but runs okay. I think it needs brakes.”

Leonard looked up toward the ceiling. “How much you bet your dad's going to ask for it?”

“Less than if you ask him to rent it until your truck's done.”

Leonard shook his head. “Smart ass.”

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The next morning was busier than any other since I'd arrived. Dorothy was going to drive down to the school to get me registered and then drop Leonard off at the garage. Truthfully, I'd rather go to the garage and stay with Keaton, but I figured the more I could blend in, the better off I'd be. Going to school rather than getting some kind of truant officer looking for me seemed a smarter idea.

The diesel Mercedes turned out to need brake lines rather than just brakes, which I was shown are a good deal more time. The parts weren't there so we'd had to have Keaton drop us off. He'd promised to tell Lewis where I lived in case he followed through on bringing me to school. I'd rather have Keaton do that, but if wishes were wings and all that.

“Well. I guess I'd better get that snow shoveled before we leave,” Leonard said as he pushed down on the table to stand.

“It snowed last night?” I asked.

“Five, six inches,” Dorothy said, nodding toward the window. I guess I'd been thinking about school and where I'd rather be and hadn't registered the day outside.

“Oh. Well, let me do that,” I said, standing.

“With one arm?” Leonard said with a smile. “Appreciate the offer, but I think I may get done a little faster than you, old or not.”

I chuckled. “Snow is just frozen water. Did you forget what I am?”

He stopped moving and looked at Dorothy, and I turned to look at her as well.

“You know,” she said, “people – humans – are really good at forgetting things in short order, if it's not in front of them.” She smiled at me, though not a big one. “Most of the time I don't see a maggie, or whatever you said it was. I just see a boy who needs some meat on him and a bit of love to help him finish growing. So no, I didn't forget. It's...still hard to conceive of, really.”

I nodded slowly. “I guess I can see why. But...let me show you I can be useful.” I shrugged on the coat and stepped outside. I heard them both come up behind me. It struck me then that I wanted them to not be afraid of me. I'm sure they'd talked after what I'd done to Don, but this was a chance to show them I wasn't a wasteful hammer, like Leonard had said about a gun before. I could show them I was useful, and not a danger to them.

I focused, and although I didn't need it I wasn't afraid of a little theater, so I held my hand out. As if by an invisible wind the snow began to part and move, swirling off the path to the driveway. Given how Dorothy liked the tea flower I'd created for her, I set the snow to dancing about ten feet away from me – roughly my limit for distance – and set the snow to falling while two people twirled in a dance. It wasn't too fancy, more like a cardboard cutout of two people spinning with the snow falling, still it was kind of cool.

It took me about ten minutes to walk up and down the driveway a few times, clearing all the snow and ice from their path. I walked back to them, smiling a little.

Leonard was mashing his lips to together. He glanced at Dorothy, who had a faint smile on her lips, and then he looked at me.

“Well. Sure beats pushing a shovel.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You definitely want me on your side in a snowball fight.”

Leonard looked to Dorothy again, and she looked at him, placing her hand on his arm.

I frowned. “Dor...I wanted to show you I wasn't a danger. But you look scared.”

She turned back toward me and took a step, looking down as she did, and then she reached out and touched the side of my face. “When we don't understand things, they can be scary. I'm not scared of you, Tilman. What you can do...it's a little unsettling. I'm struggling to understand it and put it in a world where it didn't fit before.” She leaned forward. “But I'm not scared of you. You're a good boy.”

I relaxed a bit, feeling some tension flow out of me. She probably was a little scared of me, to be honest, but she was trying.

Leonard pursed his lips. “Maybe, if people stay indoors, we can rent you out.” I dropped my chin a bit, and he laughed. “Thank you. I'm glad I didn't have to shovel. Let's finish getting ready and get down to the school.”

In short order we were on the way. The school was old, something designed before the 50s. It seems like everything from that era and just after had many flat lines to it. Older schools had a more ornate, official look and feel to them. Many new ones made me think they'd been designed in a wind tunnel for aerodynamics, even though they didn't move.

We went inside to the school office. Dorothy went up to the counter, and Leonard had me sit with him. The most interestingly unexpected thing happened then. When the person met Dorothy at the counter, Dorothy became someone I didn't know.

“Oh. I hope you can help me,” she said in a voice that was slightly shaken. “My daughter went here a long time ago – oh, you're too young to remember her, I'm sure.” I wasn't sure what she was thinking, the woman looked to be close to Dorothy's age. “But she passed away.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” the woman said, sounding very sorry indeed.

“Thank you, dear. She left a grandson behind.” Dorothy waved toward me. “The county came by and told us they'd found academic records, but we don't have anything yet. I don't want him to fall behind – and he's already missed school. Did I mention the fire? Oh, I don't think I did.” Dorothy twisted her hands together. “They lost everything. I just need to get my grandson enrolled while we're waiting for his records.”

The woman patted Dorothy's hands. “We can make it work. Let me get some papers, and I'll help you.”

“Oh, you're a dear.”

I looked at Leonard and leaned in, lowering my voice. “What just happened?”

He leaned in toward me. “Dorothy just played her like a fiddle to get around bureaucracy.”

I thought for a moment. “I didn't think to ask – I'm sorry – but I heard you talking to the county woman about not hearing from your daughter? The one...who’s supposed to be my mother?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “All our kids grew up, headed out in the world to find their way. They're all doing well, 'cept her. She was just always looking for the hard way, and let me tell you, she found it.” He shook his head. “Haven't heard from her in a quite a few years. It's...hard. But...people make their choices, and everyone has to live with them, one way or another.”

I felt a confusing mix of emotions that they'd not heard from their daughter, especially one who they were willing to pretend was my mother. I wonder what that feels like, to have raised someone, but they turned out so poorly? Yet others whom you raised were fine?

“Do you see your other children?”

“Once in a great while. They moved out of state, pursuing careers, their spouse or both.” He smiled at me. “Every few years they come to visit. Once in a while we venture out to stay with them. It's not what you hope for, in a way, but in another it's exactly what you hope for. Bittersweet, like so many things.”

The woman helped Dorothy with the paperwork and said they could request my records on their own. She said she'd call the woman from the county for some information – she was due to call her on another matter, anyway, so it was no trouble. Soon I had a schedule, and they were going to call someone down to show me around.

“Oh, uh, is Lewis...” I looked at Leonard.

“Oh, yeah, Lewis,” he said and looked to the woman behind the counter. “He's met Lewis Nolan. They, uh, hit it off you might say.”

I covered my face with my hand.

A few minutes later Lewis joined us in the office, and my...grandparents...handed me off to him.

“It's lunch, so let's go do that – you can meet people – then we can go find all your classes,” Lewis said. As we walked, he chatted idly, never at a loss for something to say. “Keats says you got the car bug, huh?”

Keaton talked about me? “I don't know about that,” I replied.

“Hung around the garage all day, that's what I heard,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Sure sounds like you got the car bug.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was there with my grandpa. He was going to drive home a truck that turned out to have a cracked frame.” I was kind of proud to say that and actually understand what it meant.

“Yeah. Heard that, too.”

I glanced at him and in a bored tone asked, “Do I really need to tell you anything else, then?”

He grinned wider. “It's okay to admit you got the car bug. You're among friends,” he said, trying to sound stuffy.

I smiled back a little. “It was kind of fun. I learned a lot.”

“That's good. I like cars, but I'm not insane like the rest of them down there,” he said, leading me to the back of a line of people. “I know what the tools are, mostly because everyone with a dick in my family likes wrenching.”

“What do you like?” I asked, amused.

“I'm a song and dance kind of guy.” He leaned in a bit. “Show choir. It's where the girls are.”

I chuckled at him. We went through the line, and he explained how the payment went to an account; the lunch person just took my name and said it probably wasn't set up yet and gave me a form to get filled out at home. I followed Lewis out to a table with a few people already seated.

“Y'all, this is Til. Til, that's my girl, Jas. That's Gomez, that's Gary, and that's Sid.”

I nodded to them all and sat down.

“What happened to your arm?” Gomez asked.

I looked at Lewis. “You want to take this one?”

“OhMyGod,” Jas said, her jaw dropping for a moment. “Lewi! Is this the guy you hit?”

“It was snowing! Like the wind kicked up, and I couldn't see him!” Lewis said, sounding henpecked. “I swear, I was slowing down when it happened!”

I looked at Jas and pointed to my eyes. “I used to have brown eyes 'till he hit me.”

“You lyin' sack of shit,” Lewis said, laughing at me. I grinned back at him and got to eating my lunch. There was a bit of trolling Lewis for hitting me, and then some jokes about how I couldn't join show choir, because if I couldn't avoid a truck, I couldn't move fast enough to dance.

“Fair enough,” I said to the last thing. “I can't dance.”

“Now you did it,” Gary said.

“Everyone can dance,” Lewis told me. “I got everyone at this table to dance – and now you're on my list.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Lewis, but you're not my type.”

That set off more chatter and promises from Lewis that he'd get me to dance. You're not who I'm thinking about dancing with, I thought. At some point I really had to figure out why Keaton was hitting me so hard. I mean, this was a next level crush, if that's what it was. I'd obsessed about a guy here and there, but damn.

After lunch Lewis showed me around so I could find all my classes, and I shared a few with him.

“What are you doing after school?”

“Uh, probably go to the garage? My grandpa will be there, I guess. I don't know if they know when school lets out, so....”

“I can drop you off,” he replied promptly.

“Lewis,” I said. “I appreciate you trying, but you don't owe me. It was an accident.”

“I know. I mean I do feel bad, but I know.” He tilted his head. “You seem chill, though. I mean if I'm giving you some kind of weird vibe, I get it.”

I shook my head. “Nah, you seem like good people. I just don't want you to feel so guilty. Like I said, you don't owe me.”

“Okay, bro. I got you. Friends?” He held his fist out, and I bumped it.

“Friends” I agreed.

“Aww, how cute.” Someone large went past me and slammed their shoulder into my sore one, and I gasped in pain.

“Moody! Douche, he's got a dislocated shoulder!” Lewis said, but his tone wasn't straight up angry. He was nervous.

“How 'bout I give you a dislocated jaw to go with it?” he said casually, turning around to walk backward, and I got a look at 'Moody'. Some people are just ugly. I don't necessarily mean objectively; I mean the rot is deep, maybe from the core and working its way out. For some people it makes an exterior, no matter what they look like, ugly. This fellow had all the hallmarks of someone whose rot ran deep, who was lazy and mean. There may have been – likely were – some environmental factors to play into that, but the fact remained.

“How about you try not to piss yourself that I'm going to kick your ass one-handed?” I said, starting my focus, but feeling nerves jumping. Adrenaline and nerves make focusing harder, and I hadn't had to really fight anyone before, not a straight up, one on one.

“Scared?” Moody stopped and smiled, his face pinching more. He had thin, scraggly hair on his cheeks and chin – mere weeds poking up through the gravel of his pocked face. “Of you, one arm?”

“Yeah, of me. If you run now, maybe you won't get embarrassed.” People had begun slowing their pace and turning to see what would happen. I was getting a little nervous with all the eyes on me, and I was struggling a little with my focus. What if someone whipped their phone out? What am I thinking 'what if?' Of course someone has their phone out.

“I'm just going to break your other arm,” he said and took a purposeful step closer. Then he stopped suddenly, eyes going wide on his unlovely face. A hand slapped down as if to stop what was already happening as I forced the urine from his bladder.

I'd imagine it was uncomfortable.

“MotherFUCKER,” he cried out, holding his lower stomach as piss soaked his pants and began to puddle on the floor.

“Run along, little piggy,” I told him, though I can't be sure he'd heard me with the noise from the onlookers in the hall.

To my great surprise he didn't turn and run but yelled and started coming after me. Jesus Fucking Christ, I thought. I do NOT want his piss on me. He reached out, and I moved back a step to avoid his paw as he grasped for the front of my hoodie. I took another step back and to the side and guided the piss puddle on the floor under his shoes as he stepped.

Old schools like these have these pretty stone floors. They get slippery when they get wet. It's interesting how fast your feet go out from under you.

With a strangled yelp and a 'woof' as he landed on his back – and maybe a little splat, landing in his own piss – he went down.

“Damn, Moody. Maybe you should go back to a quart of body spray, bro. That new cologne isn't working for ya,” Lewis said, and laughter broke out around us.

“What's going on?” A teacher pushed his way to where we stood.

“Um. Mr. Moody didn't make it to the bathroom,” I said, trying to sound innocent.

Moody was scrambling to stand, but with a thought he was slipping again on frozen piss. Now that I was a little calmer, manipulating the urine to freeze it was well within my wheelhouse.

“Oh...God. Moody, go to the nurse's office,” the teacher said, looking a little unwell.

I melted back with Lewis guiding me away, leaving Moody to be sorted by the teacher. As we cleared the onlookers and made our way to a shared class, Lewis was giddy. “I've never seen him get so busted down. That was the best thing I've ever seen.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I'm telling Jas.”

“Bro. No. You don't understand.”

I waited a beat, then prompted him. “So...Moody. School bully or what?”

“Or what,” he said as we walked into the classroom just after the bell rang. I introduced myself to the teacher, said Lewis was showing me around to make up for us just getting through the door late. The teacher nodded, welcomed me and asked me to take a seat. Lewis was fairly focused through class, but when the teacher let the class talk quietly at the end, he turned to me.

“So, there's not just one Moody – there's a whole nest of 'em.”

“A nest?”

“Sure. I used to say a litter of them, but that's for puppies, and puppies are cute. The Moodys? Nothing cute about them, and I've seen the girls.” He paused. “They are just bad news.”

“How's that?”

He lowered his voice and leaned in, so I copied him. “They got a chunk of land just outside town. People say they cook meth there. I don't know if that's true, but I know every last one of them is mean to the bone.”

I thought for a minute. “Not just that they're poor or something?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Bro. I'm not like that.”

I held up a hand. “Wasn't calling you out. Just asking in general.”

He shook his head. “Nah. What you saw today was pretty normal for one of them. The girls are more dramatic, but the guys just seem to like to hurt people and break shit. The oldest got expelled for cutting someone at school two years ago. I heard he got a record out of it.”

I grunted. Well, maybe I'd have to deal with him again, then. Hopefully when I had two arms.

“I bet it was your eyes.”

I turned toward Lewis. “What's that, now?”

“Your eyes. I bet that's why he pissed himself.”

I lowered my chin. “You making fun of my eyes?”

“I'm just saying I bet he got freaked out. I mean, they almost look like there's no color to them – like you're missing the iris or something. It's a little freaky – though...they kinda look darker, now.”

I chuckled. “I keep telling you, Lewis, you're not my type.”

“Eh. If I was single, maybe I'd challenge your ideas about that. As it is – I'm just kidding!” He burst out laughing at my dropped jaw. “I know, I'm in show choir and all, and I like to sing and dance, but believe me, bro, I'm not pretending to be something I'm not to get to the ladies. You dance with a girl, you get dates, my brother.”

I just shook my head.

When the day ended I met up with Lewis and Jas. They were going out for coffee but dropped me by the garage first. I hitched my bag and headed into the shop. I saw Leonard through the glass window of the office door, so I went in there first.

“Hail, the conquering hero,” he said and raised his coffee cup. “How was your first day?”

I shrugged. “Like a lot of other first days, I guess.”

“Lewis drop you off?” Andrew asked. “Didn't take another stab at running you over?”

“Nah. He was trying to take corners fast to see if the door would pop open, though.” They laughed and I smiled at their enjoyment. “Did you find a car to drive?” I asked Leonard.

“He's trying to cheat me,” he said, pointing at Andrew with his cup.

“Bullshit. I don't even want to sell it. That car belonged to Zsa Zsa you know.”

I looked at him blankly. “Who?”

Andrew looked at me. “Sorry, I meant Ga Ga, You know, as in Lady? That was her car.”

I looked at Leonard. “He's a terrible liar.”

They burst out laughing again.

“Who is Zsa Zsa? I asked.

“Someone my dad thought was hot,” Andrew said, still snickering.

“Is Keats here?” I asked.

“Yeah, he's banging around out there somewhere.” Andrew leaned toward me. “Hey. Why don't you suggest he work on that 65 Galaxie? He likes it anyway.”

“Why don't you tell him?” I asked.

“Because then he'd say no,” Andrew said sourly. “I mean, come on. A station wagon?”

Thinking of the folding back seats I said, “I can see the appeal.”

“Oh, Christ, don't tell him that!” Andrew said and burst out laughing. I shook my head and smiled at them before setting my bag down beside Leonard's chair and heading out into the shop. I found Keaton working on Leonard's truck, bundling wiring along the frame.

“Hey,” I said to him, suddenly feeling awkward being around him.

He glanced up and smiled at me. “Back again. How was your first day?”

“Eh. Fine. Lewis showed me around.”

He bobbed his head. “Lewis likes you. He's funny like that – he likes people or doesn't right off.” He paused and scrunched his face as if in thought. “Not very many people he doesn't like, at least a little.”

“He introduced me to a Moody.”

“Oh? Maybe Lewis doesn't like you, then,” he said with a grin. “Which Moody?”

I shrugged. “One with a weak bladder, I guess. Pissed all over himself.”

He snorted. “Must be using too much of his own product.”

Not wanting to talk about the Moody issue anymore, I changed the subject. “What are you doing?”

“Just gathering up the wiring that was disconnected from the taillights and rolling it up. Getting it out of the way so we can grind on the frame.”

“I thought L – uh, my grandpa was doing all this himself?”

Keaton smiled. “He does some of it, then goes in the office to shoot the shit with my dad. He pays me to help him.”

“I thought you worked for your dad?”

“Only off and on,” he said. “I'm not ready to lock into a life of garage work.”

I grinned at him. “Seems like you'd be at home in a garage.”

“I like it,” he agreed, zip tying the wiring and letting it fall under the cab. “But I don't know I want to work at it for forty years, like, starting now. I want to do stuff, too.”

I thought about that for a minute. “You graduated last year. Right?” I trailed behind him as he walked toward the tool chest.

“I did.”

“So...what kept you here?”

He snorted, but a smile curled at the edges of his mouth. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Mostly about cars, though,” I pointed out. “And maybe tools and their names. Informational, not personal.”

“So now we've moved to personal?” he asked, pulling out a tool I didn't recognize and loosening a retaining nut before removing a disc of some kind.

“Well, I mean I'm not trying to be nosy,” I said.

He laughed. “Yes, you are!”

I smiled at him. “Okay, sure, maybe a little,” I admitted. “I just mean...you said you're not ready to work here all the time, you want to do things...but here you are. Just makes me wonder what kept you here.”

He sighed and tossed the disc aside, digging into a cabinet and extracting a new one. “I was dating when I graduated. Thought I was all in love and shit. And, well, it went to shit.” As he attached the disc to the tool he said, “I thought we were going to spend the summer on the road – maybe drive out west or up to the mountains or...I don't know.” He glanced at me and back to the tool. “Anywhere, as long as it was together.”

My chest felt a bit tighter as I quietly said, “That didn't happen.”

Tightening the disc he nodded. “Yeah. Didn't happen.” He brought the tool over to the frame and set it down, then pulled down an extension cord from a hanging spindle. Plugging the tool in he looked at me. “Broke up with me and left for Mexico. Was going on vacation; decided I was too much trouble. Didn't want a road trip.”

“What an asshole.”

He snorted and shook his head. “I didn't take it real well. By the time I had my shit together, had enough money I could take the trip on my own, it was heading for fall. I don't have any desire to camp in my car in the winter. Summer? Air mattress and a few windows cracked open? Sure. Freeze my ass off? Fuck that. Maybe in the spring.” He sighed. “But then I bought the new front end. I probably will buy more parts, just out of frustration and get stuck here next summer, too.”

My heart skipped a few beats – maybe stopped entirely for a second – and then I blurted, “Well. Maybe I could go with you.”

He picked up a set of safety glasses and turned to look at me. He smiled and waved a finger, “Nah. I know you – guys like you. Know what your problem is?”

You have no idea, I thought. As it happens, I didn't have to ask him.

“You're cute and you know it. Guys like you just sweet talk your way into hearts and leave them all hollowed out.” He slipped the glasses on and gave the tool's trigger an experimental squeeze, making the disc spin. “I'm not falling for that.”

“Wait, wait,” I said, holding up a finger, the wobbly feeling in my chest intensifying. “Let's go back to the part where you think I'm cute. Let's just start there.”

Instead, he squatted down and started using the tool on the frame of the truck, sparks flying where the disc made contact with the metal. Okay, he was using car work to avoid this chat, but that's okay. The fact he was attracted was a lot to gain for one afternoon; that I'd have to show him I wasn't there just to wreck him was something else, which should have stopped me in my tracks a little, but it didn't. After all, this town was supposed to be temporary until I heal up, or maybe finish growing up. When he stopped, I took the conversation in a new direction.

“Your dad says I should tell you to work on that Galaxie.”

He snorted. “Yeah. He'd like me to man up and drive that.”

“I kind of like it.”

He rolled his eyes, and he looked at me. “I'll bet you don't even know which car it is out there.”

Oh. He was right. I mean...I knew he liked it, but I kind of stepped into it – and probably reinforced his idea I was trying to play him.

“I'm not sure which one it is – wait, wait! I just know what kind of cars you like, so I think I'd probably like it, too.”

“That is such a line! You're terrible at this!”

“Come on, it's not a line!” I said, smiling at him.

He set the tool down and lifted the glasses to rest on his head. “Okay, you know what? I'm going to call you on your bullshit. You want to use a line like you know my aesthetic already and can pick out the car I like out there? Come on. Let's go out, and you spot it.”

“And if I do? Will you at least consider I'm not trying to play you?” I asked.

He snorted and laughed. “I'll consider that you may not be entirely full of shit.”

I mashed my lips together. “Okay, fine. But you know what your problem is?”

“Oh, you think you know already?”

“Well, you think you know mine. Only fair I get to tell you yours,” I replied.

He pulled his beanie off, dropping the glasses. He picked them up and snapped his beanie out, his hair falling to cover part of his face. Using one hand to push his hair back, his sweatshirt rode up to show off a sliver of his stomach before he secured the beanie back in place.

“Okay. What do you think my problem is?”

I tilted my head and considered him. “That people like your last boyfriend only saw how hot you are.”

The ends of his cheeks colored, and his lips twitched. “Isn't that how you attract people?”

“It's not how you keep them,” I said. “I bet he couldn't pick out a car you'd like.”

“Yeah. Okay Mr. 'you just met me and think you have me figured out'.”

I hummed. “Not yet. But I'm gonna.”

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