Buy the book Growing Up Itchy

That summer, Dad decided it was time to move into the house. It wasn’t quite like other houses; you could see boards and insulation on the inside – but it was finished enough to live in. It had been wall-less; bare to the wind and weather for a long time, but summer was coming to an end and Dad had been making real progress. He hustled, pounding away with his hammer every day after work, and on weekends too. Tin was banged up onto the roof, and plywood up onto the walls.

The boys were going to get one of the rooms upstairs, and Mom and Dad would have the other. Grey thought their room seemed so big after the tiny bunks in the trailer. Grey could touch the sloped roof above his head. It was low on one side; so low that you had to stoop to walk; but the other side was just tall enough for bunk beds.

Mom built shelves and set up a big board for a counter-top in the kitchen, and Dad brought home a metal sink. Mom installed it with the drain pipe running down through a hole in the floor. Grey could look down the drain hole and see the dirt below. The sink would drain right onto the ground. A puddle would form, a muddy spot that lasted as long as they lived there.

When the house was fully prepared, the move didn’t take long. Grey and Ash helped carry boxes from the trailer down the hill to the house. Dad brought home a used couch, a table and chairs, and some beds. Finally, the trailer was no longer their home.

“At last!” Mom said. She was extremely happy to be inside four walls again.

The next day Mom set up her sewing machine in the living room next to the barrel stove. She began to sew; the treadle clackety-clacking with a noise that rumbled the plywood floor.

“What are you making?” Grey asked, as he looked at the bright red-and-white cloth running under the needle.

“School clothes for you boys.”

He had gone to kindergarten back in California when he was four years old, before the big move. It wasn’t particularly horrible, but he hated all places where there were crowds of strangers. A memory came unbidden into Grey’s mind. He was standing in the hallway, swinging his arms. A girl walked right into his hand without even trying to turn aside. She told the teacher that Grey punched her in the stomach, and he got in big trouble! School was no place he wanted to be. Those kids were just plain crazy, he thought. And the teachers were all mean.

He didn’t like school back then, and he was not interested in going now. The thought of it soured his mood.

“It’ll be fun!” Mom said. “You’ll meet new friends!” She seemed a bit too enthusiastic about the idea of school.

Mom encouraged Grey and Ash not to complain, but they dreaded it still.

After dinner, Dad took the boys for a walk. He angled down-slope away from the house, towards a rounded hill a little ways down the mountainside. One lone Ponderosa pine perched on top, piercing the sky with its spear-like point.

“The school will be down there… in Midway.” Dad pointed.

Grey and Asher looked down the mountainside, at a tiny village in the valley below. This land was Canada, which the boys both knew was a completely different country; even though it had the same grass, flowers and trees as the place where they stood. The idea of exploring a new place was interesting, but it battled with Grey’s dread of school. He didn’t really understand why they couldn’t keep having school at home, with Mom as their only teacher.

Two weeks passed, and Mom finished making their school clothes. Finally, the day before school snuck right up on them. Tomorrow was their first day, and Grey almost felt sick to his stomach.

The big day dawned bright and full of hope (or so Mom thought.) The boys didn’t notice. Mom got them out of bed way too early.

“Up, Up! Time to get up!” Mom’s cheery voice pierced his warm fuzzy sleep, the sound of it almost unbearable. It was like a thin, rusty knife rending your favorite cozy blanket.

“Mommm!” Grey moaned.

She laughed and prodded him. “Get up!”

He could tell she was trying to be loud.

On this first day of school, the boys did not have to take a bath, because the baths had been taken two evenings before. The way Grey saw it, he was still cleaner than he cared to be. Mom dressed them in new clothes: each wore a button-up shirt with red and white checkers on it, and dark blue pants. Dad handed him a shiny red tin lunchbox with cartoon characters on it, and made them stand for a picture. The old Pentax clicked three times, and they climbed into the truck.

The gate into Canada was a white board that swung down across the road. Grey watched the old lady that came out of a building to greet them, and she talked with Mom while they waited in the truck. Mom finished her conversation, the board went up, and they rolled up to a building on the other side of the board. Border guards came out to the car and welcomed them into Canada.

School was a house – a big, nice house resting on short green grass. The boys stared, and Ash pointed.

The imminent reality of being forced to mingle with strange kids brought a rush of blood echoing in his ears.

“I really like that house.” Ash said.

“Behave yourselves today, and don’t point, it’s not polite.” Mom said.

Grey nervously watched as kids climbed out of other cars and trucks. Each child had the same clothes as he wore, dark blue pants or skirt, with a red-and-white gingham shirt. Some of the other kids looked as nervous as he felt. They walked slowly and didn’t speak to anyone; but others were obviously friends. The din of laughter and excited talking rolled over the lawn.

“Hop out,” Mom said.

Grey paused with his hand on the truck’s chrome handle, and reluctantly clicked it open.

The boys clutched their lunchboxes as they got out of the truck. Grey’s feet felt like rocks – rocks that did not want to go into the school.

Mom led them in, and they tried hard not to jostle other kids as they went. There seemed to be about forty children there, but it felt like a hundred.

Once inside, they were made to stand in rows, with the short kids in front, and tall ones in back. Some of the kids were as young as Ash, but most of them were taller than Grey. He could not see them standing behind him, and he didn’t like the feeling of their eyes watching his back. He stared straight ahead, ignoring the boy on one side, and the girl on the other.

The principal and his helpers stood in front and greeted them, welcoming all of the children to the first day of school. He was tall, with thin hair and a kind smile, and Grey watched his face as he explained the routine. Each morning they would assemble into the same formation, then they would sing songs, and pray. They would read a chapter from the Bible (in order to have it memorized by the end of the month,) and next month they would start a new chapter.

The first chapter was called “Psalm 1.” IT was about trees and water. Things Grey liked.

Once assembly was over, it was time to go sit at the desks which lined the walls around the room. A teacher with a friendly smile showed Grey to his desk. It was made of white-painted boards, with two big dividers on either side, placed so that he could not see who sat to his right and to his left. He heard his mystery neighbors shifting in their seats. Grey looked down and saw blue pants and dirty brown shoes on one side, and white socks, and clean, shiny-black shoes on the other side. He did not know who they belonged to, perhaps they were the same kids who stood on either side of him during assembly. He could not know, because he tried hard not to look at any faces.

On the desk in front of him were his books, thin workbooks that he had to write in. Some of them had pictures, and comics! Grey thought they were the best part of the day so far, and he found himself eager to see what else the books contained.

The excitement of the books was eclipsed by the flags. In front of him were two holes drilled in the desk, and two little flags stood, poked into those holes. One flag was old glory itself, the banner of the United States. (The Canadian students had their own maple-leaf flag.) The other flag was new to him. It was white with a blue square in the corner, and a red cross inside that square.

“You must never turn around, or talk, or make any noise at all.” the teacher said. “If you need something, put a flag up and I’ll come right over.”

When Grey needed help, he was to take a flag and stand it up into another little hole high on the shelf in front of him. She would see his signal and come over to assist him.

Each flag had a different purpose. The Christian flag was for when he needed help with schoolwork, and his country’s flag was for any other need. He would have to choose which flag to put up. This was all so strange, but Grey and Ash loved those miniature flags.

The other thing he was happy to discover was the library – a cart with shelves on the both sides. It rolled around the house’s basement on silent wheels. Grey pulled a few books from the shelf, and examined their covers, judging. Some of these looked good! Maybe this would become one of his favorite parts of school, along with those flags. He discovered there were many stories on the library shelves that a boy like him would enjoy. He planned to read all of them, checking them out day by day. He’d go down the rows of books until he read everything worth reading. He preferred the stories about wild things – adventurers, spies, and warriors. He could see that other books were on the library too, and he supposed that he would be forced to read some of those as well. They looked academic and dull.

Lunchtime arrived, and Grey and Ash sat out in the yard to eat. The short, green grass was soft, with no sharp rocks, gopher mounds, or buzzing grasshoppers. They each had warm peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, a jar of water, an apple, and a little bag of popcorn. They ate quietly and watched the other children play.

“This ain’t so bad,” Ash said.

“I guess. Those flags are cool.”

“I heard we’re going to play sports,” Ash said. “Soccer and other games.”

Sure enough, not long after lunch it was time to go outside for something called P.E. – which stood for Physical Education. Whatever that is, he thought to himself. It was a brand-new phrase for the mountain boys.

“Line up!” Grey followed the boy in front of him, and they all exited the schoolhouse in a line. The principal was leading the students, and when they got outside, he started running slow. “Jogging,” they called it.

“Keep up, stay in line!” The principal shouted back. Grey waited for the kid in front of him to start jogging, and followed. Jogging? This’ll be easy.

His smug thought was shattered by a stranger’s voice.

“Hey! Can you go faster?”

Grey turned his head, the boy behind him was looking right at him.

“What?” Grey said. Talking to strangers made the blood rush in his ears.

“Go faster!”

“I can’t, I’ll step on his feet.” Grey pointed a thumb at the boy just ahead of him.

“What’s your name?”

“Greyson.”

“I’m Abner.”

“Abnur?”

“Ab-NUR.”

“Huh,” Grey said. “That’s a weird name.”

He regretted saying it as soon as it had left his mouth, but was relieved to see the boy was in agreement.

“I know,” Abner said. “My brother’s name is Boaz. That’s even weirder.”

Grey thought those names were equally weird.

“My brother’s Asher.” Grey replied. “He’s back there a ways.”

The line of students was roughly arranged from tallest to smallest, with the big kids in the front. Grey couldn’t see where Ash was, because he was grouped with the slightly smaller kids. Plus, Grey didn’t want to trip on anyone’s feet, so he didn’t look back long, and re-focused on staying in step with the boy in front of him.

The whole parade left the yard that surrounded the school, and took to the sidewalk. They jogged down the road and took a few turns, going somewhere. Grey didn’t have to wonder about their destination long – in less than ten minutes they arrived at an enormous rectangle of grass near the edge of town.

“Soccer field.” Abner informed him.

Someone threw down a black and white soccer ball onto the green grass, and Grey felt a tiny bit of excitement creep up inside him, despite his palpable fear of the unknown. It would be fun to kick that ball as hard as he could. It couldn’t roll away down the mountain here, like it did at home.

The principal and one of the oldest students arranged the whole group of them into four standing rows, organized by gender and size. Grey was just about the smallest kid in his row, and Ash was just about the biggest kid in his row. The girls stood apart in separate rows.

“Now listen up!” The principal shouted. “I’m sure you all know how to play soccer. Don’t touch the ball with your hands, and try not to kick the other players! Remember to pass the ball to your teammates – don’t hog it!”

Grey listened, intent on the principal’s words. He did not know how to play soccer, but he sure wasn’t going to let on. It seemed like all eyes were on him, but that could just be his imagination; no one knew he was clueless. Not yet. He would pretend, and no one would be the wiser.

Teams were picked, and they all ran out on the field. Someone told him where to stand, and which direction to kick the ball in. No problem.

The game started. The field was so huge! The biggest boys took the center of the field and started the game with a mighty kick. Grey couldn’t really tell what happened and missed the start. The wind was sweeping through the valley and sometimes the voices didn’t carry his direction. People were running now, trying to kick the ball.

He knew where to stand though, and he quickly mimicked the “ready” pose of the other boys, all standing far apart.

He waited. Shouts and kicking, people running around far down the field like chickens being let out of a coop. This game was downright enormous – most of the time the action was far, far away. He began to relax, but quickly changed his mind as a soaring kick sent the ball down to his end of the field.

It fell and bounced between him and another boy, and just as he was about to consider running out to kick it, the other kid ran to get it. Grey relaxed and walked back to his spot on the grass, clearly marked by the scuffing of his feet. He could follow instructions. It made him look like he knew how the game worked.

This isn’t all that great. The thought lazily rolled into his consciousness.

The ball went bouncing up the field again, so distant that it was once again like a white speck on the green expanse. Grey yawned, the hot sun starting to make him a little sleepy. It was a beautiful day, the sky was blue, and the distant shouts of other kids drifted around him. The voices were softened by the sun and wind to something close to a lullaby.

Grey looked around. Asher was playing soccer with his group, all clumped together in a buzzing mass of kicking feet. Shouts of the teachers could be heard, piercing above the rest of the voices. It sounded and looked a lot more exciting than the game Grey found himself enduring.

The girls had two games going as well, and everyone looked like they were really enjoying the exercise.

Grey yawned again, big. He wiped the water from his eyes, and turned back towards the game at hand.

The world exploded, and he saw red. The sudden SMACK took him full in the head, a crack of hard Canadian leather and soft face intersecting at what was surely a hundred miles per hour. The world rocked dangerously, and the grassy field leaped up to meet him. It wasn’t so green now. The whole world was bright, full of stars, swimming with black blotches and red around the edges, like a freshly skinned cow hide covered in glitter.

The black spots danced in his vision as the biggest, most powerful sting he had ever felt spread from his face into his soul like a scalding river of lava. He was on the ground, gasping.

His instincts were strong, almost as fast as the surprise fastball that nailed him to the earth. He clamped down hard on his teeth, grinding down on the cry that threatened to escape as he rolled over onto his side. No one was close enough to hear the groan of pain.

The rest of the day was a complete misery for Grey. His whole face was bright red, and he was pretty sure other kids were talking about it.

When it was time to go home, Mom arrived with the truck. She found Grey and Ash waiting far down the road from the schoolhouse, sitting alone on the curb.

She stopped the truck, looking alarmed.

“Why aren’t you down there at the school, waiting for me?” she asked, looking hard at Grey’s red face.

Mom deduced the situation in an instant, motherly intuition kicking in with surprising accuracy.

“Never mind. Let’s go home. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”