Down and Out on the Road South

By Jean Campbell

Too bad Derek, Cole's new foster brother, shows up. Late one night, Cole overhears Derek's thug friends, but he thinks it's none of his business. A week later, he's caught up in trouble he didn't ask for, with no way out. With his savings, dirt bike, and a backpack of clothes, Cole flees south for Texas where what's left of his real family lives. His funds dwindling, he wonders if leaving Alaska was smart. Two kids lead him into a streetwise world of hobo camps and freight trains, but what awaits Cole in Texas is a different kind of trouble.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613099285

Book preview

One

Rose Colored Glasses and Used Bunk Beds

Yesterday it rained buckets, it was the first day of fall, and the new foster kid arrived. My foster parents picked Derek up at the airport, but I didn’t go. I had to work, I told everyone. That was the first day I lied to them—I’m usually a very honest person. It’s a good thing they didn’t check with Uncle Gary, my dad’s brother and my boss at the airport. He’s the head janitor, and my job is janitorial assistant. I don’t brag about it at school, but it’s a lot better than working at McDonald’s because my uncle is chill.

I’ve got my reasons for not liking Derek. It’s obvious my foster parents are excited, so I tried to act like he’s the best thing since the invention of the ballpoint pen.

The problem is he and I are going to be rooming together. I told Mom and Dad I would do literally anything to avoid sacrificing my own space including building an addition to the house, but my foster dad said we don’t have the money for that, and anyway, it’s temporary. I’m not sure what he meant by that. Like, in the larger sense, as in ‘everything is temporary?’

Derek is sleeping on the lower bunk of a used bunkbed set my dad and I dragged in from the thrift store last month, then assembled.

This looks like a prison bunk, I said, after we set it up.

Quit joking around, Cole.

Seriously, how long am I sharing a room with this guy?

My foster dad leaned against the bunk’s metal frame and sighed. His forehead was sweaty from lugging the thing inside, but then it was nearly ninety degrees outside. He had that look, like he was controlling his annoyance.

Do you remember when you got here? How did you feel?

I recalled the way the house smelled like fresh laundry, and how I was praying it would be my last foster home.

I mean, I guess...nervous?

Sure, and it’s the same for Derek. This is his first trip to Alaska. He’s lived in Seattle his whole life, and that’s where he’s been in foster care for years. Just like you—in and out of the system. So, we’re going to pull together as a family and welcome him. And that’s going to require sacrifices, Cole.

I guess Derek’s whole family died in a plane wreck when he was in grade school which is objectively horrible. My attitude would be better if I didn’t have to share a room with him, but I’d already said my piece, and as usual, I got a lecture.

Uh-hunh, I said. Then I nodded and gave a weak smile which was enough for him to re-focus on our task and leave me alone.

After we got the beds set up, I moved my pet ants off the desk to a small table. I figured I’d need to explain my weird hobby to Derek and how he shouldn’t touch the ant colony, especially the heating pad, because if the ants got cold, the whole colony could die. The colony was growing fast with probably a thousand ants, and the last thing I needed was someone messing with it. My foster parents always asked why I didn’t raise a bee colony like a normal person.

Derek is a year older than me, but we’ll both be juniors when school starts. I’m ahead of most kids my age since my birthday’s in early September. I could just as easily be a sophomore, but my birth parents decided to throw me into kindergarten when I was barely five.

I rode my bike home after the rain stopped ready to explain how I’d gotten out of work early. I walked in the house like I owned the place. My parents were sitting in the living room along with my foster sister, Kaylee, and everyone was sipping out of glasses of Coke with ice on account of it still feeling like summer and because that’s all we ever had in the fridge.

Derek stood up slowly. He’s not a real tall guy but stocky. He’s got thick, wavy, blond hair and I could tell from the first second he wasn’t shy. I’m the physical opposite—dark hair and black eyes, and most people say I’m a beanpole. Being tall and wiry means I’ve been recruited for basketball since elementary school.

I’m not very outgoing, either, or at least that’s what my buddy Emby says, and I hate basketball and always have. I’d rather race dirt bikes even though my foster parents complain it’s dangerous and expensive.

Welcome home, Cole, said my mom in an overly cheerful voice. This is your new foster brother, Derek.

I nodded. Hey, how’s it going?

I’m good, said Derek. So, you just got off work?

Yeah. Neither one of us reached out to shake hands.

That’s cool. I hope I’ll be able to get a job. I used to work at the auto parts store back in Seattle.

I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t care about Seattle.

I’m gonna grab some water, I said and turned on my heel to the kitchen. I opened the fridge for a bottled water and realized I wasn’t thirsty. I spent most of my time at 7-11 nursing my go-to beverage, half Sprite and half unsweetened tea.

I heard footsteps and turned around to see Kaylee.

Hey, bro, she whispered then rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the living room.

I smiled. At least Kaylee understood, but then she was twelve going on thirty and more like an older sister half the time.

I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue, and we both giggled.

Come on in here, you two! said my mom.

Just a sec! I yelled back. Kaylee and I locked eyes again, and I suppressed a giggle. I’m almost sixteen, but sometimes I feel like I’m still ten. I closed the fridge door then gave my sister a playful punch on the shoulder. I couldn’t hide forever, so we both shuffled back into the living room.

Cole, why don’t you show Derek your bedroom? said my foster dad, who was standing up. I’m as tall as he is, six feet even.

Man, there was nothing more in that moment I wanted than to tell Derek to move the hell back to the lower forty-eight and leave my family alone. My foster dad, Ed, is a social worker, and he can’t help but take in strays. Thank God my foster mom, Sandy, is normal—but she usually went along with Ed’s plans. She told us our foster dad was a die-hard optimist who wore rose-colored glasses.

What are rose-colored glasses? Kaylee had asked.

They make the world look a lot prettier than it really is, our foster mom told her.

This way, I said as I led him toward the short hallway. Kaylee was sitting like a queen on her throne in the bright blue, oversized beanbag chair that takes up half the tiny living room. She was watching Derek like a chameleon scouting a meal, and I don’t blame her. Our family life is usually drama-free, so this was a big day.

It wasn’t a very long walk down the hall because this house is a small, three-bedroom bungalow. When I grow up and make money, the first thing I’m buying is a house with five bedrooms and a bathroom for each person. I hate sharing a bathroom. But for now, all I want is my own room, and I’ve got a plan since I’m turning sixteen in two months. I’m confident I can talk my foster dad into splitting the room in half if I volunteer to do some of the labor.

I led Derek into the room and up to the bunk which was literally three steps inside. It was the largest room in the house, but the bunk stuck out at an awkward angle like it wasn’t meant for the space.

I’m sleeping topside, I said looking Derek in the eye.

He nodded, and I noticed he had a little pink scar about the size of a dime by his right eye.

Sure, whatever you say, He tossed his duffel bag onto the lower bunk. I guess we’re gonna be cellies, he added and flashed a big smile.

Yeah, cellies, I said. What the hell had I done to deserve this guy?

I saw Kaylee standing in the doorway. She shrugged and gave me the universal gesture for ‘Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own.’ Then she put her hands together and made a heart and retreated to her room.

Derek sat on the bunk. I took the chair next to the desk.

This is a pretty big room, he said.

Yep, it’s the master since we have to share.

He nodded, glancing at my ant colony.

I guess we’ll be in the same grade, he said. Your parents said we’re both juniors.

They’re my foster parents. And, yeah, we’ll be in the same grade.

You play sports?

Not at school. I race dirt bikes, I said pointing behind me to the posters on my wall. I’m guessing he saw my trophies, too.

Oh. I was thinking about trying out for wrestling.

They’re state champs.

Seriously?

Four years running. Go Bears. The coach is a bit of a monster. But hey, it’s good for guys like you.

What d’ya mean? he asked.

You know, I started. What I meant was short guys, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings even though he just moved into my room.

Like, if you don’t want to do the usual like basketball or football.

I realized my explanation made no sense. I should’ve said, muscular guys like you.

Hunh, he said.

I looked down at my shoes. I was too tired to explain how I had an ant colony and he’d better not mess with it or how Haines High has plenty more monsters than the wrestling coach: jocks and goths and cutthroat competition for college. I didn’t exactly fit in.

I’m gonna listen to some tunes, I said. I could’ve added, Welcome to Haines, we’re happy to have you here! but I didn’t.

Instead, I climbed onto the top bunk and reached for my headphones. Maybe Metallica would wake me up from this nightmare.

Two

All My Flags Are Blazing Red

I woke up in geography class, and the first thing I saw was a little puddle of drool on my textbook right next to the border between Canada and Minnesota. I pushed it away and sat up focusing on the map behind Mrs. Pierce. As usual, I was drawn to the Lone Star State, Texas. Down in the left corner is El Paso where my real brother Zack lives with our Uncle Silas.

I put together a killer presentation last week, but once you get on a teacher’s bad side it’s like crawling out of a deep pit, and so far, Mrs. Pierce and I weren’t getting along. The assignment was to plan a trip to at least five states, and mine was from Alaska to Texas. I hit all the cool Cali spots like Disneyland and Alcatraz, but she still only gave me a B+. Some teachers should just quit and find jobs where they can sit alone all day in a basement. My uncle Gary would be a much better teacher, and he does sit in a basement most of the time, plus he’s high as a kite half the time.

The other thing about Mrs. Pierce is she has a pink streak in her hair, but she’s at least fifty.

The bell blared, and I grabbed my backpack quick as lightning. I could feel Pierce eyeing me, but I made a quick getaway. The hallway was packed with kids, and I fell into a dreamy state as I made my way toward the glow of sunlight streaming through the exit door windows. It’s funny, but as I listened to the buzz of my classmates, I slipped into a memory from last year’s hunting season. Four of us were out when we met a bear. She was a grizzly with one cub, and thankfully she decided to ignore us.

I suppose I might’ve been mauled to death, but this she-bear decided to leave us alone. As the saying goes, it was quiet as the grave when she walked by. My heartbeat and breathing were plenty loud, and time slowed way down. They say that’s what happens in a car accident, too—time stops. I wonder if that’s what my parents felt when they got hit by the semi-truck.

That’s why I’m a foster kid—both my parents and my older brother died in a car wreck.

I snapped out of my daze, and I was outside walking down the sidewalk past the bike rack. My favorite part of school has always been my walk home through the woods and across the stream to Spruce Avenue, a half-mile of pavement to my foster parents’ house. I’d heard some kids say the woods weren’t safe but not for fear of child molesters or anything. You could run into a bear like Bobby Pulaski did two years ago. He did the smart thing and climbed up a tree. He had the ripped jeans and scrapes to prove it, plus his buddy Jesse ran back and told everyone.

Hey, we ran into a grizzly, and Bobby P’s stuck up a tree!

Now Bobby’s nickname is Grizzly Man which was a serious upgrade over what they called him in grade school: Bobby Pee. That was because he’d peed his pants on the bus in third grade when he was old enough to know better.

Today is dry, but after two days of steady rain, I expected the stream to be high. The forest opens to a wide clearing after a quarter mile, and the muddy trail peters out into sand before the creek. I heard the gurgle of the rushing water before I could see it. I was thinking about visiting Zack, maybe next summer. I’d mapped it out, and I could catch the ferry until the end of September. Last spring, my best friend Emby and I hitchhiked halfway to Juneau before we realized we’d better turn back—so I suppose it’s not realistic to go all the way to Texas until I do a lot more research.

The wind picked up and amplified the rush of the water. I was standing in the clearing, and I heard human voices call.

I heard Derek first then I saw his two sidekicks, Jersey and Stub. What the hell kind of a nickname is Stub? They were standing on the far side of the water chucking baseball-sized rocks into the stream. I brushed my bangs from my face to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. This was my territory, and now Derek is bringing along his two knuckle-draggers?

Let me back up—it only took five days for me to see Derek’s true colors, and that was over a month ago.

The first night we shared the room I can’t say there were any problems, but the next morning I noticed he’d moved my ant colony about three inches to the right. I already explained how he shouldn’t touch it and how ants are very sensitive to vibration.

Hey man, do not mess with the ant colony.

I didn’t touch it, bro, he said.

I’m not big on confrontation, so I didn’t say what I was thinking—I’m not your bro, bro. For my own sanity, I left a light trail of sand next to the container’s edge so I would know when he moved it again.

Time to move the colony somewhere safer, but so far, my foster parents nixed the living room and the kitchen wasn’t even up for discussion. Kaylee said she’s willing to keep it in her room but would have to charge me five dollars a week, explaining her friends would freak out and it would ruin her reputation if people knew she had ants in her bedroom.

Better safe than sorry. I could afford five dollars a week. My paycheck is a hundred and ninety dollars every two weeks, not bad considering I’m only making eight dollars an hour.

The next day was Wednesday, also the worst day of the week whether you make fun of it and call it Hump Day or just accept you are still in the thick of a school week. Anyway, Derek comes up to me in the hallway while I’m dragging my nine-pound history book out of my locker.

Hey bro, he says. I returned a dead-eyed stare.

What’s up?

You ever hear of a guy called Patrick, used to go here, football player? Real big dude?

Wow, what a shocker—he was a big dude and a football player?

You mean Patrick Coker?

Shhhhh. Yeah, that’s him. What do you know about him?

He’s a creep and his whole family are criminals, I said lowering my voice. And I think he deals drugs.

Like, how smart is he?

I dunno. Average? I mean, he’s no genius. He quit school. He has a cousin, kind of a wiry guy with bad acne, who carries a big knife with him everywhere.

All right. Hey, thanks, bro.

I really wanted him to stop calling me bro.

"Yeah, later, brah," I said, sarcastically, under my breath.

Then on Thursday I figured out why he wanted Patrick Coker’s bio, but that becomes crystal clear as this story goes on.

This kid Stub is a munchkin who’s always talking and annoys everyone. He’d gone through a growth spurt last year, but the nickname still sticks. I didn’t break my stride, but the sound of rushing water and a sapphire blue sky wasn’t enough—my mood had fallen down a well.

Co-ole! whooped Derek, come hang with us.

Gotta get home! I said, only making enough eye contact to see him smirking back at me.

C’mon—no one’s home...except Kaylee. He was shifting a golf ball-sized river rock from one hand to the other with a menacing smile.

I looked him straight in the eye. Stub and Jersey hung back, poised to take orders. The fact that he’d made friends with these guys was a big, fat red flag.

Yeah, well, I can’t today. But you guys have fun, I said. I was trying to look like I wasn’t trying to flee, but I’m not much of an actor.

Hey, bro, said Derek, sharply, "you think you’re too good for us? Can’t hang out! I know you got nothing goin’ on."

I stopped and stretched to my full height which, as I said before, is taller than average. Now, I don’t usually stir up trouble, but my Spidey senses were telling me these guys really wanted me to hang out. It was three against one, and no one else was around. This clearing is like outer space where no one can hear you scream. I’m a lot taller than Derek, but he’s no weakling. He also carries himself with the confidence of a guy who’d won most of his fights. Most people assumed he was a senior because of the way he strutted through the halls.

Dude, I have some business to take care of—

OK, asshole, we get it, said Derek, looking back. Right, guys?

Stub and Jersey nodded in unison. Stub had his arms crossed and Jersey had both hands shoved in his back pockets. He wore a Seattle Seahawks football jersey, which is how he got his name, and a sour expression. Jersey was reasonably intelligent, but I swear, Stub had to be the dumbest kid in Haines High. He walked around with his mouth wide open. I don’t know why his nickname isn’t flycatcher.

I couldn’t think of what to say, so I turned around and kept to the path which led back into the woods. I heard a shuffle of feet, looked up, and saw Derek had moved in front of me fast as a rattlesnake. He was maybe four feet away blocking the path. I swear I could hear the other two giggling, but maybe that was the sound of the stream or the rustling wind.

Aw, Jesus, Derek. I really have to get going! I clutched the straps of my backpack then put my hands out in a what now? gesture.

I know you don’t work today, dude, I’m not a fool, said Derek. Are you calling me a fool?

I just wanna get home and see how Kaylee is doing. She missed school today. And no, I’m not saying you’re a dumbass.

I could feel my heartbeat rising. At the same time, I felt a deep sense of certainty: my instincts about this guy had been right on from day one.

All right, all right, he said, it’s cool if you want to hang with a twelve-year-old girl. His buddies snickered, and Stub looked down whispering, Dude! in vocal appreciation of Derek’s wit.

Derek pulled a crinkled package of Camels from his pocket and grinned then raised both eyebrows. He looked up at me, grinned, and raised both eyebrows.

I glanced at the cigarettes, another red flag. Who is still stupid enough to smoke?

Okay, then, are you gonna get outta my way? I said impatiently.

I walked past him, making sure to leave a few feet. I’d gone another three feet when I felt it.

Someone kicked my right calf, and I stumbled. I spun around in time to see a blurry fist. The blow glanced just above my nose and turned me sideways, but I stayed on my feet. I raised both hands in front of me in a boxer’s stance as I was taught to fight. The only other thing I know how to do is use my height advantage.

So far, I had been lucky, but then again, I have decent balance. Derek threw another punch, but I was ready this time and dodged it.

His third punch landed on my right cheek an inch below my eye, and I fell backwards on my ass. Derek was standing above me waiting for me to stand up.

He wasn’t saying anything just grinning, but I could hear shouts, Kick his ass!

I began pushing myself up, never taking my eyes off him and felt a baseball-sized rock. It fit snugly and perfectly in my right hand. I guess God placed it there. I palmed the rock and flung it toward Derek just as he threw his next punch. I heard a smack, an almost sickening sound, as Derek’s flying fist met the stone perfectly.

He yowled like an injured wildcat.

I  scrambled down the path. Stub was yelling, Yeah, run, coward, keep running!

I slowed down when I hit Spruce Avenue, catching my breath. I didn’t wonder why those guys weren’t following me or why Derek hated me or even if I’d broken the guy’s hand. I was thinking about my eye, which felt like it was turning black and blue. I was thinking about getting down to the lower forty-eight, to Texas to see Zack. And most of all, I was wondering how I’d explain this latest bruise to my foster parents.

By dumb luck, I’d broken up a fight the third day of school and come home with a face to prove it. My foster mom didn’t believe me when I said I was only breaking up a fight, even though it was the truth. Twice, she wouldn’t buy. But something told me snitching on Derek and his thug buddies was a bad idea.

Three

The School Superhero

When I was in third grade, when my parents were alive, I was the class clown. One day I came home from school feeling pretty good about getting all the kids to laugh, and my uncle Benny sat me down. Benny lived with us since he was on disability. He’d dove into a quarry lake when he was seventeen and after that, he couldn’t walk.

Cole, I got a call from your teacher.

He was using his serious voice, so I knew this conversation was going to suck.

You’re a clever kid, right? But making fun of people isn’t funny. I gotta ask you a big question. Are you ready?

Yessir.

Who’s your favorite superhero?

The Hulk!

Okay, the Hulk. And how does the Hulk get things done?

He punches people and destroys things.

Does the Hulk talk a lot.

Hardly ever.

That’s because superheroes are men of action. Talking is mostly a waste of time, right? Do you think people care about the Hulk’s opinion?

No, they definitely ignore him until he gets angry.

After a few more minutes I got the message: it’s okay to think smart-ass thoughts, but life was a lot easier if you kept them to yourself. Uncle Benny died exactly one week before my parents. If you can believe it, they got killed in a freak highway accident coming home from Benny’s funeral with my older brother, Stephen, in the car.

It was only luck that Zack and I got left with a neighbor that day. The accident was bad; the car caught on fire and killed all three of them.

I’d begged and pleaded and thrown a fit because I wanted to go to Uncle Benny’s funeral, and later I didn’t know how to feel. I still don’t. I’ve never understood why I didn’t die with them, but I never forgot what Benny told me about shutting