March 2010
South Oklahoma City

The stench of the backpack was capable of knocking out anybody within a five foot radius. That was part of the reason it took so long for anyone to notice. Not many people at school got within five feet of me at eleven years old. I preferred being invisible.

That was why when I was called to the school counselor's office that day, my stomach clenched with panic. I had been to her office a few times this year for various reasons, all of them embarrassing; the lice incident, that day I didn't have a coat when the snowstorm blew through, and that time I didn't go on the field trip with everyone else because Mom hadn't signed the letter or paid the ten dollars. I had to spend the day watching Disney movies in there. Nothing good ever came out of being called to the counselor's office.

As I trudged slowly through the empty hallways of my fourth elementary school in five years, I began to think. I was catching on to the fact that people were starting to notice me, and not in a good way. The school nurse wanted to see me all the time, supposedly checking for lice, but she didn't just look in my hair; she wanted to look everywhere. It wasn't only at school either. Earlier this year people had started showing up at the house too; people in business suits who carried laptops and asked a bunch of weird questions. Mom always cleaned the house on those days, and Ray stayed away.

We moved so much because if we lived anywhere for longer than six months, these people would start poking around without fail. We had been living in the house with Mom's friends since school started, and it was March now. This was the longest I had ever lived anywhere. Something told me it was all about to come crashing down.

"Hi, Austin," said the counselor, Mrs. Moran, who was a tall, pretty lady with dark hair.

I just stared. I tried to talk to people, I really did, but it was like my mouth had forgotten how. When I attempted to speak, nothing came out about fifty percent of the time. But it never mattered much. Usually Mrs. Moran always did the talking anyway.

"I'd like to ask a favor," said Mrs. Moran, getting out of her chair and walking over to me.

I was frozen with my mouth making soft sputtering sounds, like a glitch, as Mrs. Moran came closer.

"I'd like to see your backpack real quick," she said.

I shrugged the backpack off my shoulders and handed it to her. I was not aware of the stench of the bag because my whole world reeked. The house I lived in was filthy. And as for myself, I did absolutely everything to avoid bathing, changing my underwear, brushing my teeth and washing my clothes. That was because the only person who demanded I get clean was Ray, which always meant something bad was going to happen to me later, so at some point I had stopped attempting personal hygiene unless Ray absolutely forced me.

"I'm going to look inside," said Mrs. Moran gently.

I tried to say no, but nothing came out, and she didn't see me shaking my head. All I could do was watch helplessly as she pulled out item after item: individual-sized milk cartons bulging with rot and threatening to explode, packets of brown goo that used to be fruit, chicken nuggets gone green and moldy pancakes still in their plastic wrap. About halfway through the bag, Mrs. Moran called a couple of people just before barfing into her desk trashcan. She did this with her back to me, but I knew what was happening, just like I knew she was also crying. She kept shaking her head and tearfully whispering, "You poor boy. You poor thing." Over and over.

More people came into the office. Even the school security officer who walked around at recess. My backpack was thoroughly searched, but nothing else was in it except the food, which got even grosser and more rotten at the bottom.

"Can I go back to class?" I asked, finally finding my voice.

The school officer shook his head. "I'm going to drive you home today."

We didn't leave right away though. I had to go see the nurse again, but this time there was another doctor there too who I had never seen before, and they made me take off all my clothes, underwear too. And they looked me all over, even my privates, as I stood there shivering in the air conditioning and dying of embarrassment.

"Am I going to jail?" I asked hopefully as the officer and I finally walked out of the school building together.

The officer stopped walking and looked down at me. "For what?"

"Because I stole the food." There seemed to be no other explanation for the fact that everyone was making such a big deal over this.

The officer shook his head. "No. You aren't going to jail. You're not in trouble."

My heart sank. Jail would be better than home. Jail was better than facing Ray.

At home, another police car was parked in the driveway, and still another car I didn't recognize was parked behind that one.

Nobody answered the door, so I opened it for everyone with my key. The officer asked me to get my mom, so I did.

It always took a long time to wake her up. In fact, she had been asleep for several days now. The room smelled like cigarettes and dirty people. Even the late afternoon sunlight looked grimy as it tangled with a torn and stained brown curtain. I pushed my mom and pushed her until I was practically shoving her.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled, cracking open one eye.

"Mom," I whispered urgently. "Someone's here to see you. Lots of people."

Mom sighed. Ray was beside her with one of his tattooed arms slung over her stomach, but lucky for me he was still asleep.

"Who?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "They're in the living room. Please come."

Another guy was sleeping on the floor beside the bed, wrapped in a thick quilt. I had seen him before but didn't know his name. There were other people here too, friends of Mom and Ray who came and went, but they were curled up in corners or on makeshift beds in the bathtub. They all slept at once, and they all slept for days. I wasn't sure why everyone slept so much, but I didn't mind. It made my life easier.

I led Mom by the hand so she didn't trip over the guy on the floor. With her free hand, she ran her fingers through her stringy blond hair, trying to make it lay flat.

"The police are here at my request to collect Austin."

The voice belonged to a lady in black pants and a button-up pink shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore high heels. It was one of the laptop people. I had seen her before. What did she mean by "collect" me?

"What? No, you're not! What's this about?" Mom demanded.

"Austin's teacher noticed his backpack had a strong smell. When school officials checked the bag, they discovered at least a month's worth of cafeteria food that hadn't been refrigerated and was completely unfit for consumption. Apparently, he has been hoarding food for some time. That, in addition to our earlier visits and reports, has culminated in the decision to take Austin into our custody today. Effective immediately."

"No! You can't take him!" Mom cried, wrapping me in a protective hug that was mostly just uncomfortable, because she never hugged me.

I had once again turned into a glitch, sputtering but unable to finish any of the words I wanted to say.

"This arrangement is in his best interest. You will, of course, have a chance to talk with the courts and-"

"No! Please don't take my son! Please-"

"What the hell is this?" boomed a loud voice.

It was Ray, who had just stumbled in from the bedroom. My body went cold.

"She's taking Austin!" Mom cried, tears running down her cheeks.

"You can't do that," Ray said, pointing his finger in the lady's face. "You can't just come take somebody's kid! You need court orders! You need papers!"

The social worker stiffened, and she seemed to grow taller as anger flashed across her face.

"Not when I have sufficient evidence that the child is in immediate danger, as I do here."

"What are you talking about? He's fine!" Ray shouted, gesturing at me.

"There is no food in the kitchen. He's starving! Hoarding rotten cafeteria food! There's drug paraphernalia on the table, this house is filthy and crawling with roaches, and the boy is covered in welts and bruises, as the school nurse can testify. The police will take Austin into emergency custody, after which he will be placed in a foster home. I will stay here until that happens."

I had slowly sunk behind my mother, quiet as a mouse. Ray stormed up to the lady, getting right in her face. That lady had no idea. She just stood there. She had no idea what Ray was about to do to her, and I wanted to close my eyes but I also couldn't close them. I had seen Ray beat a guy to death before with nothing but an old wrench. I'd wanted to look away then too, but I hadn't been able to. I wanted to scream at that lady to get out while she could! Why did she just stand there?

"GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE, BITCH! I'M TELLING YOU YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIM!" Ray shouted.

Mom clutched my arm so hard I couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped my mouth.

"If you continue to interfere with this process, you will be placed under arrest," the social worker said calmly.

At this, Ray backed off. He looked at Mom and then at me with rage in his black eyes. I shrank inside myself. Ray didn't even need to stand close anymore or get in my face or raise his voice. He could control my every move, my every thought, just with his eyes.

"Fine, take him. But this isn't over. We're getting him back," Ray said.

The social worker and one of the cops accompanied me as I went around the house packing a small backpack with clothes. I had never had many toys to play with, and now that I was older I only kept one raggedy stuffed rabbit that I slept with. I packed it. I saw myself in the bathroom mirror as I grabbed my toothbrush. I looked dazed and far away, like I didn't know where I was. Like I was a ghost boy.

"Austin," Mom said. She stood on the front porch watching me walk away to the waiting police car.

I looked back at her with glassy eyes. I wanted to say something but didn't know what. She still stood there watching as the police car drove away with me in the backseat. I saw her wave, and I meant to wave back, but before I could lift my heavy arm we had already driven around the corner.