Chapter Four

Things with Mother were different now, not a good different, a touch a go type deal. She would hit me and I would go to garage. September came and that meant school. School… my salvation. This was the only place of escape for. I got new clothes and shiny new lunch pail. They didn't stay new that long though because I had to wear them day after day and week after week, by the time October came they were already weathered and greatly used. Mother didn't even bother to cover my bruises anymore, she knew I would lie and I did.Mother was also "forgetting" to feed me dinner. I would get leftovers from my brothers for breakfast and I relied on school for lunch. Mother packed me the same lunch everyday, two peanut butter sandwiches and a few limp carrot sticks. I would fanaticize about food, normal food, a cheeseburger with everything on it to be precise. I got so wrapped up in food and eating I started to steal at school. I would go to put my lunch down while all the other kids were outside and I would dig through to find my treasures that could join my lunch. Soon kids started noticing food gone and it came back to me. Mother was notified and I paid for it, like always. That wasn't the last time I stole. I couldn't stop thinking about other ways to eat and get food. I was always thinking of other plans. My punishment was not being allowed to eat on the weekends but that just gave me more time to think of better fool proof ways to steal. I started going to other classrooms where the teachers and students didn't know me that well but once again I got caught and Mother found out. Now I wasn't a member of the family and I was referred to as The Boy. I could no longer eat with my family, play, watch tv, etc. Everyday after school I had to change into my work clothes, complete my chores, and resign to the basement, where I stayed until Mother summoned me to come out. I became Mother's slave. Everything I did just led to more trouble. Mother and Father were always disagreeing or something in their drunken states of mind, it was all over me. Usually Father would try and fight for me with little effort and Mother would always have an answer and she would win. I was used to it. Sometimes Mother would leave after the arguments and return within the hour and Father would pack an overnight bag and leave for work in the middle of the night, I would just lie shivering on my cot. When Father left Mother would make me pay for it because it was my fault, she would take me up to the kitchen and smack me around. I would lie on the floor but she would pick me up and make me fight to stand, I was so tired.Second grade finally came and Mother was having her fourth child. My teacher, Miss Moss took interest in me. She would ask me specific questions and out my nature I would lie but she knew the truth. Eventually Miss Moss reported her concerns to the principal. He knew me as the food thief and once again called Mother. Once I got home it was like an atomic bomb hit, Mother was more violent than ever. She was furious; she referred to Miss Moss as the "hippie" teacher reporting false accusations. After the beatings I had two bloody noses and a missing tooth. Mother had to go to school and explain her side of the story and of course she takes my baby brother, Russell and lies to them saying that I am jealous of the new baby and I am making things up to attention because I let my imagination drift. She told them not to believe my silly wild stories.I will never forget that summer after second grade. We vacationed to the Russian River. Father was supposed to take us out to play and Mother said I was being to loud and could no longer go. She tried to force me to eat Russell’s dirty diapers and I tried to fight back but she shoved my face into it. I tried to push myself out of it but couldn't. Finally, Father and my brothers returned and it stopped. She threw a wash cloth at me and told me to hurry up and wash my face. I blew contents out of nose and acted as usual. I could still smell the nasty smell of the diaper. After that summer we never went back.I started school again and began the search for food one more time. I planned my way to the store that was up the street. I started counted my steps and timing on my way to and from school. I soon had a master plan and had to put it into action. I felt like I would get caught but I had to eat I had to accomplish this. One day I finally got the courage to leave school and go to the store. I made it in less time that I planned for, that was good. I walked up and down the aisles looking for something worth stealing. I felt like everybody was staring at me, I guess I didn't take my smell into thought when I did this. I quickly grabbed what was in front of me and ran. I looked as I got out the door, a box of graham crackers. I ran to the school bathroom and ditched the box into the trash can so I could later go back and eat them. Later in the day I asked to be dismissed and went to the bathroom, they weren't there. The custodian took out the trash before I got there. Shortly after doing this I got caught again and punished and the same thing happened when I went from house to house begging. My life wasn't going any better than I thought it would. I continued to fight Mother through it all and through the Ammonia and Clorox, through the choking affects and hard hits, even through the neglect of my father. I still think I am lucky to be living and I still know that I will survive.