Alvin Ever After:

Alvin in the Second

A novel by Danny

AND ON WE GO...

Hello, my name is Alvin Holloway and what you are about to read is just a small excerpt from my life here in Lewiston, Maine. You see, up until recently I lived with my parents, John and Melody in the glorious town of Chula Vista, California, but when John had lost his job, he sunk into a deep depression and began drinking... a lot. To keep us from ending up on the street, my Mom had to take two jobs waiting tables, but it all got to be too much for both of them. Therefore, when my grandparents offered to pay for us to move east to Lewiston, Maine, my parents jumped at the chance for a new beginning without consulting me at all.

Back in Chula Vista, right up to the point where John had lost his job, I had for the most part, lived the life of a California prince. Yeah, I know I’m being overly dramatic and romanticizing it to some extent. Then again, these are the accounts of my life and I can tell them anyway I darn well feel like, now can’t I?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent there. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, I lived the life of a prince in Chula Vista. I had several really good friends, teachers that liked me and best of all, the ocean was my playground. For the past two years, I’d won the Junior Surfing Competition and I was the odds on favorite, to become the youngest surfer, to ever hold the teen championship title. However, that dream was snatched away from me when my parents forced me to leave California.

Allow me to interrupt myself again, so that I might share a little fact I picked up on since we moved here. Did you know that most of Steven King’s novels are set in the state of Maine? And, in case you’ve never read one of his books, let me tell you that most of them center on someone or something killing younger people!!!! OK, sorry but I just had to point that out and now I will get back to what I was saying.

Something had occurred during our trip across the country that had a profound impact on how my life has played out here in Lewiston, Maine. You see, I have a problem with wetting my sheets at night. I’m sure you can guess that sleeping in the backseat of our car for a week and a half, with someone who wets at night, wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience for my parents. John was seemingly unreservedly vocal about it.

Through a series of events, we had ended up as overnight guests of a really nice African-American family in Ohio. There, my mother had put me back into diapers for the first time since being potty-trained. Ok, that isn’t exactly how it happened. Saying it like that makes it sound like she had forced me to wear them. But in fact, what she did was much more devious; she tricked me into trying on a diaper and once I was in it, she made me sleep in it. Of course, the inevitable happened that night but to my surprise, when I woke up the following morning, I found that my bedding and pajamas were completely dry!

Much to my horror, my parents decided, they liked the idea of me in diapers and I suppose, I have to admit that waking up in a wet diaper beats waking up with wet sheets. However, the part that I didn’t like was the fact that for the remainder of our trip, John and my mom kept me in diapers day and night. That’s right; they gave me no choice but to wear them all stinking day long, so that we would not have to make as many stops for me to go to the bathroom. At least, that was the excuse they gave me.

Putting the whole thing with the diapers aside there were some cool things that happened, while we were on the road. I got to meet a lot of nice people, including the African-American family I mentioned before. They are the Doleshire’s and live in West Dayton, which is kind of down in the southwest part of Ohio. Mr. and Mrs. Doleshire have a grand total of eight children, seven boys and just one daughter, who was about my age. It was their daughter Jacquelyn, which I became instant friends with and to this very day, she is still my friend. We write back and forth all the time and I even got to talk to her on the phone once. There is more to tell about Jacquelyn but I’ll save that for later.

Jacquelyn wasn’t the only lasting friend that I made during our journey. You see, because of the diapers, I had the chance to meet another boy a couple years younger then me, who also wears diapers. His name is Joey and despite the fact, that he and his mom live in Canada, the two of us have remained friends threw letters and postcards. Once I got settled into school, I discovered that there were computers in the library that I could use to send Joey emails. That made keeping in touch so much easier for the two of us.

Though Joey is younger then me, we have quite a lot in common, with the most obvious being that we have problems with wetting our sheets. Now, unlike me, he had been wearing diapers forever; and not just at night but during the daytime too. Where as I have only been wearing them a relatively short time and, except for when we were traveling, I only wear them when I am sleeping.

Life in Maine is nothing like life was in California. For one thing, it is always cold here. Back in California, what we called a cold winter day, is what the people in Maine call a typical summer day. I mean, for the love of Pete, I’ve been walking around with a runny nose and a scratchy throat since stepping foot in this retched state. Heck, I can’t even go for a short walk around the block without putting on a wool sweater or a jacket. You can be sure that I’ll never run around butt naked in Maine, the way I sometimes did in California! Man, I just want to go back home!!!!

My parents on the other hand, have fallen head over heals in love with this half-frozen suburb of hell! They love the city, the state and all the people. My mother forbid me from ever saying again that this city, state and all the people that live here both suck and blow at the same time! Of course I still say it, just not when my parents or grandparents are around.

John is working again and he stopped drinking too. So, I guess, those are two really good things. However, I honestly believe, that if he could have got a good job in Southern California, he would have done just as good as he is doing here. Then again, that is why we are here. Around where we lived, if you weren’t of Mexican decent, the best paying job you could hope for would be a minimum-wage job with part-time hours. I don’t know if that is true or not but that is, what John always used to say.

John’s now working in my grandparents’ seafood restaurant. I’m not exactly sure what it is, he’s doing there, but he seems to be thriving at it.

My mom is also working in the restaurant, but she’s not waiting tables anymore, like she was in California. Now she’s helping with their books and managing their many employees.

As for me? I have yet to find anything here that I like, but then again, maybe you have already figured that out. From the first second after we arrived here, my life has managed to sink lower then any submarine has ever been. When we pulled up in front of my grandparent’s home, I actually got somewhat excited, but that only lasted a feeble instant. You see, besides owning their own restaurant, my grandparents also own a decent sized fleet of crab and lobster boats and let me tell you, there is serious money to be made, fishing for shell fish. Yeah, my grandparents are loaded, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to meaning, that my parents and I are loaded now too. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.

For now, my grandparents are allowing us to live with them until mom and John can save up enough money to get us a place of our own. My grandparents are nice enough, but they are also strict and firm believers in the old school teachings; that children should not be seen or heard. Therefore, when I’m home, I spend nearly all of my spare time in the room they put me in, except for when I’m allowed to go outside to play. The room is nice and it’s bigger then my room had been back in Chula-Vista. Oh and the furnishings are much, much, much nicer then what I had. However, the room is always chilly and the bed is so big and soft that, when I get into it, I have a great deal of difficulty getting back out again. .”

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Chapter 2

When John had stopped the car in front of my grandparents’ home, I started to get out. However, instead of stepping onto solid pavement or a concrete curb, I stepped right into a puddle of water. Cold Water flooded into my shoe soaking my sock and freezing my toes.

“Ah crap!” I complained loudly and got popped upside the ear by John.

“Hey, what was that for?” I complained even louder.

“Watch your mouth!” John warned, “You’re grandparents won’t put up with any of that kind of language, so I’d suggest you wipe all words like it from your mind!” I shot him a nasty look and thankfully, he hadn’t seen when I stuck my tongue out at him.

Mom came around the car and I guess she was excited or something, because she had forgotten to whisper. Either that or she purposefully wanted to embarrass the heck out of me. “Alvin, do you want me to change your diaper before we go in?”

“Moooooom!” I whined and looked around to make sure, no one had heard or were looking to see, whom she was talking about. Thankfully, the only other person I saw was in a passing car, with the windows all rolled up. Actually, I didn’t need a diaper change because I wasn’t wearing one, but neither of my parents knew that. As we were nearing the end of our road trip, I had struck a deal with John, that he would stop before we arrived at my grandparents and let me put back on regular underwear. However, John had gone back on his word and thus, I had to take matters into my own hands. Sitting in the back seat, I had quietly pulled off my pants, removed the diaper and then put my pants back on, without them being any the wiser.

“What?” mom said innocently.

“Do you have to say it so loud?” I asked with an insistent moan.

Thankfully, the front door to my grandparent’s home swung open and that ended the whole diaper subject... or so I thought.

Now, you need to remember, that I said my grandparents are strict; you do remember me telling you that, right? Well, I wasn’t even inside the front door, when I was being ordered to take off my shoes and socks by my grandfather. I had just lifted my foot to step over the threshold, when he had reached out and placed a hand over my heart to stop me from entering.

“You’ll get water all over the tile boy! Off with those shoes and be quick about it.” He grumped.

Oh yeah and I’m not Alvin anymore—at least not according to my grandfather. Not once since we arrived, has he called me by name; it’s either ‘boy’ or ‘you there’. Worse yet, ‘that one’ and let me tell you that I’m getting sick of it too.

You know something else that was weird? They didn’t hug us when we arrived. They hadn’t seen any of us in ages, so you would think that they would be glad to see us, but we didn’t even get a welcoming smile. The only greeting I got was, when I was told to take off my shoes and socks and then, my grandmother showed me to the room I’d be staying in.

Upon entering the room, my grandmother promptly took hold of my shoulders, leaned down, placed her ruby-red lips next to my left ear and asked in more of a horsed tone then a whisper, “I suppose, you’re still peeing the bed every night?”

I was a little taken aback by her abrupt nature concerning such a sensitive subject, but before I could reply, she pulled back only a few inches, flicked my chin with her manicured nails and said, “Want to know a secret?”

Her smile, at least I think it was a smile, was kind of creepy and as she stroked the side of my face with her nail, I felt goose bumps forming on my arms.

She spoke again and I noticed that her breath smelled of liquor and coffee. “Your grandfather used to pee the bed when he was little, just like you.”

Talk about taking the wind out of your sails. I was honestly stunned and totally without words to say. I was shaken to my core at the thought, that my grandfather, her husband, had been a sheet wetter just like me and I was equally horrified at knowing that about him.

She leaned close again and took hold of my ear to inspect behind it. After making a disapproving ticking sound with her tongue against her teeth, she then inspected my fingernails.

“How about if I show you, where you can wash up?” she said with that same creepy smile.

She then crossed the room to open a set of beautifully carved oak doors, revealing a large white marbled bathroom. Never in my life had I seen a bathroom like that one. White marble tiles adorned the floor and walls. Along the right side of the bath was a long white marble slab, which sat atop a magnificent white cabinet. The fixtures were all gold tones, with black accents and they matched perfectly with the bathtub and shower faucet. Yes, that is right; there was a bathtub and a shower in the same bathroom. The bathtub reminded me of the one, which Joey and I had played in, in his mother’s bathroom back in Canada, except this one was about half as big again and it was at floor level. At first I didn’t see, how someone could get in without jumping or dropping into the tub, but then I saw, that opposite the faucet were three small steps that lead down into the tub. The shower has glass on three sides, with the back being a solid slab of white marble.

While I was gaping at the wonders of the bathroom, grandmother had pulled a white towel and washcloth out from under the sink cabinet.

“I am sure you would like to clean up after your long journey.” She said, depositing the towel and washcloth in my arms.

“You can put your dirty clothes in there.” Grandmother pointed to a door flap at the far end of the sink cabinet. With that, she smiled again and left me standing alone in that... that... palace!

At first, I didn’t do anything. I suppose, I was in a state of shock and wonder, but I quickly snapped out of it and set the towel on the sink, so that I could get undressed.

I had just pulled my shirt over my head, when I heard the double doors to the bathroom open again. I quickly pulled my shirt back down, thinking that my grandmother had returned, but it turned out to be my mom.

“Mom, you scared the life out of me!” I said, grabbing hold of the marble counter for support.

Then I saw, that she looked upset and was holding a diaper. I guessed right, that it was the one I had taken off in the car, just before we had arrived.

“Want to explain this?” she said, holding it out to be sure I had noticed it.

We commenced to argue for the next ten minutes or so. I tried to make her see, that I didn’t need to wear diapers during the daytime, especially now that we were here. She on the other hand kept saying that I was only a boy and that she would tell me what I do and don’t need.

The argument got pretty heated and came to a boil when I shouted, “I liked you better when we lived in California!”

And then I said it! The words came out and there was nothing I could do to shove them back down my throat. I was so mad, so worked up and I screamed at her, “I HATE YOU NOW!”

What mom did next tore my heart into tiny peaces. She didn’t yell back, she didn’t hit me or punish me. She simply looked at me with glassy eyes, dropped the diaper onto the polished white marble floor and walked away.

“Mom, I’m sorry!” I said, as she turned away, but she didn’t stop.

I ran out of the bathroom after her. “Mom, I didn’t mean it!”

The door to the bedroom closed behind her and I fell to the bedroom floor crying.

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Chapter 3

I don’t know how long I sat there bawling my eyes out, but it felt like a long time. Eventually, the door to my room opened again and for a brief moment I had hoped, it would be mom, but it was John who walked in.

“Hey there.” He said timidly.

When I didn’t respond, he closed the door and continued talking. “You’re mother is pretty upset.”

“I’m sorry! I tried to tell her I was sorry.” I began to cry harder, “I didn’t mean it!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes saying you’re sorry isn’t enough.” John said definitely but somberly.

I looked up at him. He was standing directly above me, peering down on me.

“W-w-what am I supposed to do then?” I blubbered.

“Son, I really don’t know.” John said honestly, “But for starters, I think you should do as your grandmother asked and take a bath.”

I watched in disbelief as he too walked out of the door and left me alone. Sobbing heavily, I managed to get myself back into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. I remembered grandmother telling me to put them inside the door flap and when I did, they vanished down a long rectangular chute. I assumed that it was a laundry chute; at least I hope that is what it was.

I decided that I would take a shower and ended up being scalded, because I didn’t know how to operate the shower faucet. When the hot water burned into my flash I screamed something like, “Holy loving puss buckets from hell!” as I pressed my body in the corner of the shower in an attempt to hide from the falling drops of lava water until I managed to figure out, that I needed to not only turn the single control, but also push it upward, to get a tolerable temperature.

By the time I was done showering, I had for the most part stopped crying, but was still feeling horrible for what I had said to my mom. As I dried myself off, I decided, that I would go in search of her and apologies again.

Once dry, I dropped the washcloth and towel into, what I was now sure was, the laundry chute. I then returned to the bedroom, only to discover that I had no clothes.

“Ah Alvin, you idiot!” I verbally reprimand myself, as it struck me, that I should have at least held onto the towel until I found something to cover my nudity!

In the bedroom, there is a very large arch top armoire and since there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to look, I opened the single wide arched door with hopes, that I might find a bathrobe or something else to wear.

The interior of the armoire was divided into four equal sections on the left side by three wooden shelves. On the right side was a long section for hanging clothes. There were several fancy wooden hangers on the clothes rod, but no bathrobe. In fact, there wasn’t a single item of clothing in the roomy armoire; however, it was by no means empty! On the top shelf, which was beyond my reach, were six apparently unopened blue packages that said GoodNites on the side. My heart began to race at the thought that my grandparents had prepared for my arrival by purchasing those for me. What got me was the number of packages. I mean, did they really think I wet that much?

However, the six packages of GoodNites on the top shelf were not all that was inside the armoire. The next shelf down was empty, but the third shelf from the top wasn’t empty. It had been cram packed with stacks of, what I could only guess were GoodNites, seeing how they were already out of their packages. A bit more than a week ago, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that they were GoodNites, but things are different now; I’m different too.

As I stood there staring at all those GoodNites, I think my heart stopped beating. Then I spotted something residing at the very bottom of the armoire. Below all those GoodNites was what appeared to be a large green thermos. No kidding, it looked like someone had left me a family sized green thermos and by the look of it, I was guessing it could hold at least three gallons of bug juice. I eventually figured out, that it wasn’t a thermos at all, but a container for disposing of used diapers; or in this case, used GoodNites.

OK, curiosity got the better of me and I just had to figure out why there was a big thermos inside a cabinet filled with dozens and dozens of GoodNites. I dragged the container out of the armoire and quickly figured out, what it really was and it sure wasn’t a thermos. Once I figured out what it was and how it worked, I actually found the big green container down right cool. You see, when you have a wet diaper, you roll it into a ball like the one I’d seen John do when we were on the road. You then lift the clear plastic lid from the top, drop the rolled up diaper in, close the lid, give it half a turn clockwise and the diaper is sealed inside a white plastic bag, so that the smells can’t get out. Cool, huh? You know something? I bet the next thing they come up with, will be self-cleaning diapers!

Once my curiosity had been satisfied, I returned the... at the time I didn’t know what to call it, so I just called it the big green thermos, but later I took to calling it the diaper pail. Anyway, I returned the diaper pail to the bottom of the armoire and just stood there butt naked, staring at all those GoodNites. It simply baffled me why there were so many in there. I mean, there is no way that I could use that many GoodNites in my lifetime. Ok, so I am exaggerating a bit here, but come on! There were just so many! How else was I supposed to react to such a find than complete dismay?

When the shock of the find had for the most part worn off, I returned to my original idea that I needed something to wear, so that I could go find my mom and apologize properly.

For the briefest of moments, and I’m talking nanoseconds here, the thought flashed in my mind, that I could try to put on one of the GoodNites. At least wearing a diaper, I wouldn’t be naked anymore and then I could go find my clothes or something else to wear. But no sooner had the thought occurred then it was immediately expelled from my mind.

Then something else occurred to me. The diaper that mom had dropped on the bathroom floor, was still lying were it had fallen.

I raced back to the bathroom, retrieved the crumpled diaper and returned to the open armoire. In some kind of perverted way, I enjoyed wadding the diaper into a sad resemblance of a ball, so that I could drop it into the big green diaper pail. Something totally awesome happened when I closed the clear plastic lid and gave it a quarter turn clock wise. The container made a sort of soft humming sound and I heard a sound, I can only compare to the sound of opening a brand new bag of potato chips. When the container had gone quiet again, I lifted the clear lid and looked down inside, but I couldn’t tell what had made the sound. Later I found out that, what I had heard was the container automatically sealing the plastic around the used diaper, so that when the container was emptied, the contents resembled a chain of diaper balls, linked together like spherical sausages.

Maybe I am just simple minded, but I found the diaper pail completely fascinating. I get a kick out of the way it seals each diaper.

So there I was, staring at the endless bounty of GoodNites, when I realized just how stupid I really am!

“Oh my goodness Alvin!” I said angrily to myself, “Why don’t you just get another towel out of the bathroom vanity cabinet?” For good measure, I thumped myself in the forehead for being so dumb!

For the record, I found plenty of white towels, washcloths and hand towels under the sink. I tell you that if I didn’t have rocks for brains, I wouldn’t have brains at all.

The towel was big enough, that I was able to wrap it around my waist three times before tucking it in. And, as I was leaving the bathroom again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair looked like I’d combed it with an eggbeater and I had a stupid expression on my face. I pointed at my reflection and said, “You have got to get it together, or you’ll never survive here!” I then flicked off the light switch and set out to find my parents.

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Chapter 4

Have you ever been in a big house or building and got yourself lost? Boy, I sure did! I honestly thought that when Grandmother had led me to what was to be my bedroom, I had paid attention to the path we took to get there, so that I could find it again later, but apparently, I hadn’t paid close enough attention. Either that or I made a wrong turn somewhere, because before too long, I found myself inside a huge study with lots of books on really tall shelves and some comfortable looking leather furniture.

“You there! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be in there!”

I spun around so fast, that I nearly fell down in the process.

“Grandfather!” I said, clutching at my thumping heart, “You startled me!”

“What on earth are you wearing?” he asked while giving his nose a flick.

I looked down at my bare chest and the towel that hung on me like a heavy white drapery. “G-grandmother told me to take a bath and I did, but then I realized, that I didn’t have my clothes from the car.” I said nervously.

Before he spoke again, Grandfather cleared his throat, straightened his tie and combed one side of his salt and pepper mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “So you thought it would be proper to run around the house in nothing more than the suit God gave you? Highly irregular boy! Highly irregular, indeed!”

He cleared his throat louder and combed the other side of his mustache, “And what, might I ask, were you doing in my study?”

Something in the way Grandfather looks at me causes me, to go weak in the knees. I guess he scares me a little with those big bushy gray eyebrows atop his steely blue eyes.

“Honest Grandfather, I didn’t know! I-I was lost!” I said, trying not to fall apart under his reproachful stare.

“Lost?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I was trying to find my mom and John to get my clothes and things.” I said, feeling less and less control over myself.

Grandfather shook his head while turning away, “Highly irregular.” He said, sort of mumbling to himself.

He stopped and looked back at me, “Well don’t dilly-dally boy! Hop to! Time wasted is time lost!”

I took his words to mean, that I was supposed to follow him; so I scurried after him.

As I followed, I noticed that the way Grandfather walks, isn’t like I’d ever seen someone else walk; he sort of marches in a somewhat dignified sort of way. You know what comes to mind? A man of royalty, like in the movies.

I guess I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were going, because when he came to an abrupt stop, I ran right into the back of him.

“Oomph!” I exclaimed as I fell back onto my butt.

Grandfather turned around looking very displeased with me and said, “Boy, you’ll never get anywhere in life sitting on your backside!”

I nervously nodded, “Yes sir, sorry sir!” and rubbed my now aching butt.

He gave himself a little shake, kind of the way a dog does to dry off, only not nearly as vigorously. “Right then.” he rapped his knuckles on the door he was standing beside, “This is the door to the room you will be staying in, while you are with us.”

“Oh we’re back.” I butted in.

“What?!” he said with annoyance, “Now, stop interrupting boy!” and the old guy popped me on the top of my head with his knuckle. Granted it didn’t hurt much, but still he didn’t have to thump me like that.

Again, he rapped on the door, “This is the door to the room you will be staying in while you are with us.”

I rubbed the top of my head and shot him my meanest look, “What’d you go and do that for?”

He recoiled, scrunched up his nose and looked at me, as if I had suddenly just transformed into a hideous spider.

“Now listen here boy!” Grandfather started to say, “If you interrupt me again, I shall become quite cross.”

I nervously stopped rubbing my head, nodded and waited, for what I thought would be instructions on how to go find my parents, but instead he said, “You are to wait inside until your parents come. I shall send them up directly.”

Then he left me standing there alone. I went back into the room and with nothing else to do but wait, I climbed up on the bed to sit down. However, I hadn’t expected the bed to be as soft as it was. With my back to the bed, I gave a little hop, thinking that my bottom would land on the mattress, but instead I fell over backward into the downy bedding. I was nearly swallowed alive by that darn bed and by the time I was able to free myself, I had made a mess of the bed coverings. As it was, while thrashing about, I had also managed to loose my towel. Therefore, when John came in, with his arms loaded down, I was sliding off the far side of the bed, totally naked again.

“Alvin? What are you doing?” John asked.

“John! That bed tried to eat me!” I said as I smacked the bedpost out of spite.

John must have thought I was playing, because he didn’t say anything further about it. He put all my things down on the floor at the foot of my bed and sensing, that he wasn’t going to say anything more, I quickly asked, “Is mom still mad at me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a lungful of air.

“I tried to find you guys a few minutes ago, but I got lost and Grandfather brought me back here.” I said.

John nodded, which told me, that he already knew about that. “He told me, that he had found you snooping around in his study.” He said.

“I wasn’t snooping!” I nearly shouted in defense, “I didn’t even go inside! All I did was open the door, because I was lost!”

John sat down on one of the suitcases and just looked at me for a good, long time. When he finally spoke, he sounded upset and tired too.

“Alvin, we have a chance at a new life here. I know you didn’t want to come here. Heck I didn’t want to come here too, but none of us had much of a choice. Now that we’re here, we have to make the best of it. And your mom and I need you to help us with that.”

He paused, massaged his brow to reorganize his thoughts and then continued, “It’s not going to be easy for any of us at first. You’ll be going to a new school and making new friends. Your mother and I will be starting new jobs, while trying to carve out a life for ourselves here.”

He stopped talking again and I thought he was thinking, but then he looked at me and he seemed like he was about to start crying, but he didn’t.

“Alvin, I’ve not been a good dad to you or a good husband recently, but I want to change that. I need to change that! I love you and your mother so much, that it hurts right here,” he thumped his chest with his fist, “knowing that I’ve caused you both so much pain.”

He stood up and crossed to the window to look out. He didn’t say anything else along those lines, nor did I. I only watched him until he turned to me and said, “Well it’s about time to eat. Let’s get you dressed and we’ll head down.”

John didn’t say a word when I fished out a pair of my underwear and put them on. I also found a pair of pants and a shirt, but I skipped socks, seeing how my shoes were still downstairs. At least, that is where I’d left them. Instead, I found my sandals and put those on.

The meal can be described with just five words, mostly gross and totally boring. I don’t think anyone said more then five words all through the meal and then there was the food. First, they served me a bowl of cold green soup, that they called Shrimp Cocktail Soup. Ok, for starters, soup is not supposed to be cold and I’ve had Shrimp Cocktails before, and that soup tasted nothing like that.

Then I was given a bowl of some yellow round vegetable with mushy seeds in the middle and a plate, of what I was told was fish. I know fish; I think you know that I know fish! I could write a whole book about fish and I’m here to tell you, that I have never seen or smelled fish like that stuff. I think I only ate maybe two bites of it; the first bite was bad, the second was worse! However, I ate all of the yellow vegetable stuff. At first, I was hesitant, but after I tasted it, I found out, that I really liked it. I had been told what it was called, but I don’t remember now and we haven’t had it again since that first evening. Whatever it was, it was bright yellow and crunchy on the outside, kind of pale yellow and mushy inside and it tasted like... well, I have never had anything like it. It was ever so slightly sweet, with a hint of butter; oh, it was so lip smackingly yummy!

When we were done eating, I tried to talk to mom, but all she said to me was, “Go get yourself ready for bed.”

When I tried to apologize again, she stomped her foot, pointed the way out of the room and said, “Bed, now mister!”

I dropped my head and slunk from the room, but I didn’t go directly to my room, because yet again, I got lost. However, this time I ended up in the kitchen, where this slightly overweight woman was washing out a shiny copper pot.

“Excuse me.” I said timidly.

Boy, I scared that lady so bad, that she nearly jumped out of her skin. She let go a screech and turned on me, like she was going to brain me with that copper pot.

“OH!” she exclaimed as she clutched at her heaving breast. “Oh my, you gave Micah such a fright!” she said with a thick foreign accent.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean,” I tried to say.

She then became stern with me. “W-what you doing in Micah’s kitchen? You should not be in here!” she said, waving that pot at me and for the second time I thought, I was about to feel it upside my head.

I held up my hands in defense, as I closed my eyes tightly and waited for her to hit me.

“What you doing?” she asked with just as much feeling as before.

I opened just one eye to see, that she was standing there, looking dumbly at me.

“I'm not going to hit you.” She said laying a hand to her heart.

“W-well, I would be more likely to believe you, if you put down that pot.” I said with more bravery then I was feeling just then.

The heavy lady then burst into a loud, rumpus laughter, that seemed to rebound off the kitchen walls like cannon fire.

“Oh you are brave boy no?” she said, while setting the pot down on the stone counter.

“Ok! I put down pot. Now you tell Micah why you in Micah’s kitchen.” I noticed each time she said Micah, she would thump her round belly.

“Uh,” I grunted while trying to find something to say, “Is that your name? Micah?” I asked.

“Yes, am Micah and you,” she pointed a sausage like finger at me, “are in Micah’s kitchen.”

“Ok, I get it. So you are my grandparent’s maid?” I said and oh, you would have thought I had uttered some kind of racial slur against her.

She began to rant in some language I didn’t understand, while angrily returning the copper pot to the soapy water in the sink.

And then she scared me as much, if not more, then I had scared her before. She came charging at me with a large ladle in one hand and a dripping wet rag in the other. She stopped short of running me down, held the ladle right up to my nose and continued to spew angry foreign words at me.

“I’m sorry Micah,” I said, with quite a bit of fear poring out with my words, “but I don’t understand what you are saying.”

She stomped her foot the way my mother had done only a few minutes before, but when Micah had done it, I felt the floor beneath us shake.

“I no maid!” She said as if she were speaking a curse upon me.

“I NO MAID!” she shouted right into my face.

Scared? Yep, I was scared. Terrified even and though I tried to stop myself, I felt tears welling up in my eyes and I got a hard lump stuck in my throat.

“I-I’m sorry!” I stammered and she must have sensed that I was close to tears, because she suddenly became calm and smiled at me.

“Oh, now look. Micah has scared the boy!” she said and I flinched, as she threw her arms around me, nearly suffocating me in a bear hug. My face had become buried in her breasts, as she squeezed me so hard, I thought my head was going to pop off.

When she released me, I gasped for air, as she said, “You good boy, so Micah no kill you today!” and she pinched my cheek really hard.

“But I no maid!” she said, brandishing that ladle in my face again, “Micah is chef.”

She lowered the ladle and turned, as though she were about to return to washing her pots. “Micah cook good food and you eat. That is, what Micah do.”

I had a sudden flashback to that repulsive fish stuff that had been placed before me earlier and if that is, what Micah called good food, then I didn’t want any part of her cooking again.

“What they call you?” Micah asked me.

“Alvin,” I answered.

“Aben?” she tried repeating.

“No Al-Vin,” I corrected her.

“Al-Ben?” she tried again, trying to sound it out the way I had done.

“Close enough.” I muttered.

“Al-ben like Machewie that Micah cook tonight?” she said, while plunging her hand into the water.

I had no idea what Machuee... whatever, was, but I was honestly afraid of upsetting Micah again, so I simply grunted, “Uh huh” and left it at that. Or so I thought.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. Actually, it was more like she was looking threw me.

“Al-ben no like Machewie?” she said, as if she had just read my mind.

I shrugged, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are asking me.”

“Machewie! Machewie!” she said.

I simply shook my head to indicate, that I still didn’t understand.

Frustrated she threw down the towel she was using to dry that same copper pot and crossed the kitchen. She pulled open an enormous stainless steel refrigerator door and pulled out, what I recognized as the leftovers of that fish we’d had.

“Oh that’s, uh.” I started to say.

“Machewie!” she said for me.

She smiled at me while holding it out, as though she wanted me to eat more of it.

I smiled back and decided in that instant, to tell her the truth, “Um, if I tell you that I didn’t like it, are you going to kill me, like you said before?”

Oh, she thought that was so funny and laughed loudly again. She then reached under the plastic wrap, picked off a large chunk of the fish and then popped it into her mouth.

“Mmmm!” she said.

I shook my head as I said, “Yuck!”

“What Al-ben like then?” she asked me.

“Well, pizza, spaghetti, chili and stuff like that.” I said honestly.

She looked at me kind of funny like and then said, “I bet, I know what Al-ben like.”

After returning the fish to the refrigerator, she pulled out a large blue clay bowl that looked, like it had been hand made.

“What’s that?” I asked with a hint of anxiety, in my voice.

“Oh, you taste first then Micah tell you.” She said coyly.

I groaned, “Do I have to?”

Micah looked hurt.

“Oh ok, but you have to promise not to hit me with a pan, or anything else, if I spit it out.” I said, trying to inject some humor. Thankfully, Micah laughed again, as she stuck a big wooden spoon into the bowl and scooped out a healthy portion. Whatever it was, it was brown and goopy, with chunks of something.

“Open!” she instructed and I hesitantly parted my lips, to allow her to insert the jiggling brown lump.

“HEY!” I exclaimed, “Now that’s good stuff!”

It tasted a bit like a chilidog, but different too.

“See! Micah not such bad chef after all, huh?” she said.

“No way, that was really good.” I said, licking my lips.

Micah then asked, if I was still hungry and when I told her I was, she scooped a bunch of the stuff into that same copper pot and said, “Micah make it hot for Al-ben.”

She never did tell me, what was in it and I guess that’s better, because if it had turned out to be something gross, like goats brains or cows balls, I probably would have barfed all over Micah’s kitchen floor.

With a full stomach and another hug from Micah, she pushed me out of her kitchen and I’m not sure if she was joking or not, when she said to me, “Al-ben not belong in Micah’s kitchen! Al-ben go away and not come back.”

Actually, come to think about it, Micah was the first friend I made here. I mean, if you can even say that she is my friend, because most of the time, if I try to go into her kitchen, she chases me out with a pot or some other cooking utensil. However, on occasion, like if I come in after school or just before bed, she will let me sit off to the side and eat a little something that she would give to me.

It was during those times together that I would tell her about, how it was in California and she would tell me about herself. I found out that Micah was born and raised in Austria and she has only been in the United States for two years. She’s the oldest of twelve children and the last of her brothers and sisters to leave Austria. Micah really is a remarkable woman and I like her a lot.

__________

Chapter 5

After leaving the kitchen that first night, I wandered around my grandparents home until, completely by chance, I happened upon the door to my room. What was amazing is that during all my wandering, I didn’t once run into either of my grandparents or my own parents. That first run-in with my grandfather was enough to last me a while.

Once safely in my room, I got undressed down to my underwear and was about to get into bed, when I remembered all those GoodNites in the armoire. At first, I didn’t open the armoire; I only stood there contemplating. Eventually, I did open the door, but I didn’t grab a GoodNite; at least not right away. I was having a real mental struggle, but in the end, commonsense won out and I let my underwear drop to the floor. Boy that first GoodNite felt strange, but not so much, that I wasn’t able to get used to it quick enough. I think, I was feeling kind of embarrassed, because where as I was willing at first to get into bed wearing only my underwear, I wasn’t willing to get into bed wearing only the GoodNite. That is when it hit me that all of my clothes were no longer sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed, where John had left them before we went to eat.

I went back to the armoire and swung open the door. I couldn’t believe that before, I had been so focused on the GoodNites, that I hadn’t noticed my clothes. Someone had come into the room and put all of my stuff away in the armoire. What was more amazing was the fact, that all of my clothes, including the hand-me-downs that Mrs. Doleshire had given me, fit into the armoire with all my regular clothes.

“These will do.” I said, pulling out a pair of shorts and slipping them on over the GoodNite.

As I closed the armoire again, I decided, that I needed to clean up after myself. I took the clothes I had been wearing to the bathroom and pushed them all down the laundry shoot.

I also found the best way to get into that man-eating bed. I carefully climbed up and stood at the foot of the bed. Then I dived in.

Maybe only ten minutes had passed, before I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. Of course, there was no way I could get out of that bed easily, so I just called out, “Come in!”

The door opened and in walked mom, wearing her robe and looking like she had been crying. Without saying a word, she crossed over to the bed, found me down inside all those covers and kissed my forehead.

“Sorry I was so mean before. I didn’t mean it. I was having a butt-brain moment.” I said and she kissed me again.

“I know and I love you too.” She said, “Now you better get some sleep. You have school in the morning.”

__________

Chapter 6

Sure enough, the day after we arrived in this God forsaken city, I had to go to school and my first day at my new school was just as bad, as you might guess it would be.

Things started going wrong, right after I got out of the shower that morning, but I didn’t really know, that it was going to be a bad day, until I was standing at the bus stop, waiting for the school bus and this girl, whom I thought might be flirting with me, bursts out laughing. She proceeded to point out to everyone at the bus stop, that I was wearing two different socks. I mean, not just different colors, but different kinds; one white tube-sock and one brown argyle sock.

“It’s not my fault!” I wanted to say, but I didn’t.

Back in California, I knew were everything was in my room, but here in Maine I had felt lucky, that I was able to find two socks to wear that morning. I had rummaged threw that whole dang armoire, looking for socks. What I was wearing, was what I was able to find and the only reason I found them was, because they had been wadded up and stuffed into the pocket of two different pairs of pants. Don’t ask me why or how, just believe me when I say, that is where I found them.

The socks weren’t the worst of it. At least, no one at the bus stop knew that I wasn’t wearing any underwear, because all of my underwear also seemed to be suspiciously absent from the armoire. My, you know what, was so cold that it would have taken the Hubble Telescope to find it; that’s how cold I was without underwear.

Later that same day, after returning from school, I had the chance to ask about my socks and underwear. Come to find out, my socks, underwear and t-shirts had all been put into the drawers in the bathroom vanity under the sink. Now it seems logical, that I should have looked there, but at the time, I didn’t have a clue.

All the way to school, people were pointing at me and snickering. I really wanted to say something, but most of them were bigger and older then I was, so I had no choice but to sit there and take it.

Heck, even the bus driver had some wisecrack, as I was getting off the bus. “Nice fashion statement kid! Next time you should try wearing your underpants on your head and your socks as a necktie.”

Then, on the way into the school, I stepped on someone’s freshly discarded bubblegum and it stuck to the bottom of my shoe. When I leaned against the flag pole to pick it off, this crabapple of a teacher began to yell at me.

“You there!” she shouted.

I looked around and seen this flabby skinned old woman with big white curly hair and so much loose skin under her chin, that she looked like a featherless turkey. She was pointing at me from across the quad, with a long judgmental finger. When I looked around and didn’t see anyone else nearby, I pointed at myself.

“Yes you!” she started to walk toward me, all the while pointing her accusing finger my way. I don’t know, maybe she thought, that her finger has some sort of magical powers, to keep wrong doers like myself from fleeing the scene of the crime.

“You’re not supposed to walk on the grass! Can’t you read?” she croaked and I could see the skin under her chin flapping with each step she took.

“Not supposed to walk on the grass?” I thought; “If I hadn’t stepped aside, I would have been trampled to death by the herd of students poring into the school.” However, I didn’t want any trouble, so I quickly grabbed the mashed wad of gum, pulled the majority of it off my shoe, flung it hard to the ground and slipped back into the crowd, before the old hag could get close enough to see, who I was. At least, I hope she didn’t get a good look at me. Maybe that finger of hers wasn’t meant to keep me from escaping, but maybe it had marked me somehow, so that she could later hunt me down.

Now, in my old school, on the first day of the school year, everyone went to the main auditorium, to stand in line to find out, what classroom you were supposed to be in that year. However, in Boyd Junior High, everyone seemed to already know where to go, except for me. They were running to their lockers, dialing in their combinations and then racing off to different classrooms. When the bell rang, I found myself standing alone by a row of lockers, feeling lost and scared.

“Why aren’t you in class?!” a high-pitched voice blasted behind me.

I must have jumped ten feet in the air and spun around, before I touched down again. I was standing face-to-face with a Hall Monitor. We had those in California too and I have had more then my share of run-ins with them.

“Didn’t you hear the bell?” she asked, while waving a pencil eraser in my face.

She had spiked blonde hair that pointed in every direction with the back was long and hanging down to her shoulders. I think they used to call that hairstyle a Mullet or something like that. It isn’t a particularly flattering way to wear ones hair, but on her, it somehow worked. When she spoke, her head jiggled like an enormous blob of Jell-O. She was also built like a linebacker, with the broad shoulders and thick neck that typically comes with those types of sports people. I instantly assumed that, besides being a dorky Hall Monitor, she must also be a jock, either volleyball or... do they let girls play football in Maine?

Sure, Hall Monitor slash jock is a weird combination, but it’s not unheard of. Back in my old school, we called the Hall Monitors, Hall Nazi’s, among many other, equally derogatory names. I must confess that besides my many encounters with the Hall Nazi’s... back in the fourth grade, I also used to be one of them for all of about two days, before I got busted for sneaking out of school to go surfing. Gosh, I miss surfing!

So there I was, being stared down by the She-Nazi and wondering, if she was going to jab me in the eye with her pencil, or put me into a headlock. It turned out that the big sport here in Maine isn’t volleyball or football; it’s hockey and of course, I know less then nothing about hockey.

“Let me guess, you’re the captain of the football team?” I said, trying to sound cool.

“What? Are you some kind of retard? I wouldn’t be caught dead, playing that pansy sport.” She said and I noted the throbbing vain, that had sprouted above her left eyebrow.

She turned to show me the back of her sweater. It read, ‘Boyd Bears’ and had an embroidered image of a bear wearing a hockey mask and holding a hockey stick.

“Sorry, I-I’m new here.” I managed to say without my voice cracking and giving away, how scared I was at that moment.

“No excuse!” She said pulling a red card out of her shirt pocket and handing it to me. “Homeroom assignments have been hanging on the front doors for over a month!”

“Huh?” I moaned in confusion.

She pointed down the hall to the doors I’d walked through only minutes before. I could see several sheets of paper, taped to the insides of the glass.

“But I didn’t know. We just moved here yesterday.” I said.

The girl sighed, “Alright, what’s your name?”

“Alvin, Alvin Holloway.” I said nervously.

“So Alvin-Alvin Holloway,” man, I couldn’t believe she used that old lame joke, “go look at the lists. Find your name and beside your name, there is a class room number and a locker number.” She stopped and scratched her left ear, “Well, seeing how you’re already here, you can’t very well find out the combination the normal way.” she said and I got the idea, that she was talking to herself more than to me just then.

“Normally, you call a special number.” She said, while scratching her head with the eraser, “and get the combination before school starts, but now you’ll have to go to the office to get it.”

I looked at the red card; it was just a normal piece of construction paper. It didn’t say anythin