Page 21 of In Hiding

The block split cleanly in two. One piece fell to the left. The other to the right. The tip of the axe had dug into the log below, keeping it in place and giving him the freedom to find his next victim. He stepped back and scoured the wood pile, selecting a large round section of tree trunk from one of the trees they’d felled last year. Twelve months of drying had left it cracked, and ripe for separating.

William retrieved the long-handled axe and set down the wheel of wood as a cold gust of wind ruffled his hair. Spots of rain smacked against his face, forcing him to look up. The afternoon light had begun to fade, and clouds completely shuttered the sky. A storm was brewing. He could smell it in the air, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Will!”

He turned to see Mama on the path at the top of the stone stairs. The disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable and his heart sank. Had she spoken to his Math teacher, or his English teacher? Didn’t matter which, he sucked at both subjects. No doubt they told her he was behind. Old Mrs. Dunn had probably told her he copied most of his last essay and needed to rewrite the whole thing.

It was stupid.

School was stupid.

He didn’t want to go any more. What was the point when he couldn’t do the work? Besides, he preferred working with his hands.

“One more,” he called up to her.

She shook her head and waved him up. “Now.”

He ignored her and lifted the axe over his head. The movement came easy and the steel head sliced through the wood like a hot knife in butter. He set one half of the round log back on the block and prepared himself again.

Whack.

Why couldn’t life be this simple? Chop the wood and stay warm, or don’t and freeze your balls off. It was easy here at home. There were chores. They got done or he got in trouble, but they were straight forward. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to do it. He wanted to. Not like school.

Whack.

He smiled as the muscles in his arms burned with the effort. Behind him, he heard a footfall on a rock as the rain got heavier. The steady pitter patter of the drops against the leaves was soothing and the scent of earth grounded him.

“Not now, Mama.” He picked up the other half of the log and set it in place. “I have work to do.”

She said nothing as he swung the axe again. The piles of split wood to the left and right of his cutting block had grown substantial. Setting the axe down, he started stacking them in the wheelbarrow.

“Will,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble at school?”

He shrugged, stacking pieces of wood in the crook of his elbow.

“I could have helped you.”

“I don’t need my mother to fight my battles.” He turned and dumped the firewood into the barrow, each piece emitting a dull thump as it struck the metal. “I’m sixteen.”

She sighed. “I thought you enjoyed science.”

So it was Mr. White. Did that mean she knew about English and Math? Or just science? What did it matter? He’d embarrassed himself enough. How he’d go back next week was a problem he had no solution to.

“I do.”

Or at least, he did. How was he going to face the others now?

“Will, please. Stop and talk to me.”

He shook his head, stacking wood faster to avoid the guilt trip he knew was coming. She was good at that. She knew just what to say and just how to look at him to make him confess everything. Not today. Not now. If she got him talking, he didn’t know how much he’d say.

He grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and kept his eyes averted. “I should get this under cover before it gets soaked.”

His hand slipped off the wet handle and the barrow tipped sideways, spilling the wood down the hill toward the cliff. He swore and anger welled up in his chest.

“Tell me what happened, Will.”

He shook his head, not willing to say the words out loud. If he told her about the way the experiment reminded him of the blood or about the way the scalpel morphed into the hunting knife... He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. Rain drops splattered against his face, the icy water keeping him from falling back into the past.

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