Sammy runs.
He has energy after all.
He smacks into the car door, his hollowed-out lungs burning, and tongue so tangled the words barely come.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sammy says. ‘I’m sorry, he’s s-sorry, we’re so so sorry. He didn’t mean it. Pleasepleaseplease don’t take him to jail.’
Avery’s hunched in the back seat where they put the bad people. His school shirt is inside out because he hates itchy seams and he has a huge police jacket swallowing his thin shoulders. He’s running his toy car up and down his face. A bruise blooms over his filthy cheek, but he’s all right.
The policeman, crouched by the door now, catches Sammy before he falls. ‘Hey, whoa there, little mate. This is your brother?’
‘I’m Sammy Lou,’ he says. ‘He’s Avery.’
‘I know.’ The policeman is young with slicked black hair and brown skin. He has a split lip, but he smiles anyway. ‘See, our friend Avery here was a bit lost and scared and couldn’t tell us who he was, but we figured out his school uniform and got hold of the principal.’ His eyes take in Sammy’s shredded knees and sweaty face. ‘You were out looking for him?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sammy says again. ‘I’m sorry. Please let me have him back, I won’t ever lose him again—’
‘Hey, kiddo, calm down.’ The cop smiles again. ‘We’re bringing your brother home. Not taking him away.’
Sammy thinks he might cry.
He will not cry.
He glances over his shoulder at the lady cop talking to his aunt now. There are folded arms and frowns.
Sammy tries to reach into the car, but Avery shies away.
‘Come on, little mate,’ says the cop. ‘I’ll help you.’
Sammy steps back as the cop gently pulls Avery out – except suddenly Avery throws his arms around the cop’s neck and wraps his legs around his waist. Digging in like a bite. Like a barnacle. Like desperation.
The cop staggers in surprise, and then laughs. Avery’s small for twelve, but still too big to be carried, and yet the cop wraps his arms around Avery’s back and heads to the house. Sammy hops after them, teeth chattering. Avery doesn’t like adults, but right now his face is buried in the cop’s shoulder.
They must’ve been so, so nice to him.
Aunt Karen’s face is stony as they arrive. ‘Will there be charges since he hit an officer?’
Sammy’s heart plummets.
The cop’s cut lip.
You can’t hit a cop.
‘No!’ Sammy turns to the lady, so drunk on fear that he grabs her hand. ‘Please please. He didn’t mean to.’
The woman gives a small smile. ‘Ah, you must be Sammy. We thought Avery was Sammy for a while because that’s the only thing he’d say.’
Sammy feels sick. Avery needed him and he wasn’t there.
‘Please,’ Sammy whispers. ‘Don’t take him to jail.’
‘Of course not.’ The lady cop turns back to his aunt. ‘Look, usually we deal tough with violence against officers, even with kids. But I can tell your nephew has a disability and was terrified out of his mind being alone on the street like that. But what I don’t get –’ her voice hardens ‘– is why you didn’t report him missing straight away.’
Aunt Karen matches the hardness, cut for cut. ‘He wasn’t gone for that long.’
‘Five hours,’ Sammy says.
His aunt shoots him a poisoned look.
The lady cop folds her arms. ‘Look, ma’am, if your kid with special needs goes missing, you call it in immediately.’
‘Can I put him inside?’ says the other cop.
Aunt Karen nods tersely and tries to lead the way, but the lady cop blocks her with one arm and keeps going with her lecture. And Aunt Karen has to listen.
To all the ways
she’s neglecting and forgetting and hurting
Avery.
Good.
Sammy follows the policeman to the lounge, where he tries to pry off Avery and absolutely fails. He gives another laugh and then rubs Avery’s back for a while. ‘Come on, kiddo, home now. Safe and sound.’
Finally Avery lets go.
Sammy fetches his favourite softest sweater so he’ll give up the cop’s jacket. Then Avery runs his toy car up and down his arms and looks at the floor.
Too old for cars. Too old to be carried. Too old not to know his way home.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t find you.’ Sammy hugs him and Avery leans in with a sigh, running his car over Sammy’s cheek.
Sammy nearly smiles.
‘I’m lost,’ Avery whispers.
‘Not any more.’ Sammy casts damp eyes to the cop. ‘Thanks.’
‘I can tell you’re a good brother,’ the cop says, but then he sees Sammy’s knuckles. ‘You get into a fight?’
Sammy thinks of his dad, fists and belt buckles and shark eyes. In jail.
He tucks his hands behind his back. ‘No.’
The cop raises an eyebrow. ‘All right, Sammy, let’s talk seriously for a moment. You know what happens to people who punch others?’
‘They go to jail,’ Sammy whispers.
The cop nods, the lightness gone from his smile. ‘It’s trouble. A lot of trouble. You sort yourself out, hey? Your brother needs you and I don’t want to ever put you in the back of my car.’
Sammy nods, heart thundering.
It’s a lie, the nod. The cop wouldn’t understand. If kids hurt Avery, then what else can Sammy do? He has to hit them. Like today at lunch with those boys following Avery around the playground mimicking his tics and calling him horrible names and Sammy had to make them stop. He had to.
But he’s not like his dad. He’d never never go too far.
Aunt Karen comes back inside and holds the door angrily open for the cop. He waves to Sammy and gives Avery a special smile and shakes Aunt Karen’s hand.
‘You need to put some measures in place to make sure this doesn’t happen again,’ he says quietly. ‘He’s small now, but hitting a cop … when he gets older, it’ll go badly.’
‘I understand.’ Aunt Karen’s jaw is screws and hammers.
The police leave.
Aunt Karen locks the door and marches into the kitchen. She comes back out with the wooden spoon, the shout already on her lips. ‘I’ve had enough of this, Avery. You know better. Get up. Right now.’