Baxter's Very Bad Day
By Jeremy McLaughlin
Baxter Stockman sat at the kitchen table, perusing the old Sears catalog for what must have been the hundred thousandth time. His eyes locked on the ad for the Official Space Heroes Ultra Science Officer's Laboratory Kit. Circled several times in red magic marker. His heart pounded in his chest at the mere thought that today may be the day that it was finally going to be his. Baxter smiled, his awkward metal smile. The braces gleamed under the glow of the florescent lights.
“Baxter sweetie, finish your cereal or you're going to be late for school.” His mother called to him as she walked into the kitchen, the sound of her high heels loud on the tile floor.
“Alright mom.” Baxter said, fumbling around blindly for his spoon.
But Baxter didn't eat. Instead he just stared longingly at the lab kit. It was all he could thing about, ever since he first saw it in the magazine two years ago. Birthday's came and went, no lab kit. Hanukkahs rolled through and eight days passed with no lab kit. But today was going to be different, he could just feel it.
Baxter's mom sat down at the table, there was a giggle in her voice. “Baxter, are you staring at that thing again.”
“Yeah mom. I've never wanted anything so badly in my life.” Baxter looked up from his magazine and took a bite of his soggy Cheerios.
“Well, you'll be turning fourteen here in a few days. Maybe you'll get it for your birthday.” She looked at him with her large brown eyes tucked behind the sharp catlike black glasses frame.
They were tired eyes. Her whole face reflected how tired she was. Dark circles under her eyes, frown line that cut into her fair face. She looked like a woman who was down on her luck, struggling to get free. But Baxter didn't see that when he looked at his mother. She was warmth incarnate. If anyone ever asked Baxter to describe his mother in one word, all he would have to say is 'home' because that's how he felt when he was with her. She always had a smile for him, every time he came into the room. It always made him feel welcome.
“Mom...you do know what the day is right,” Baxter said, adjusting his big black framed glasses over his brown eyes.
Mom froze in mid bite of her cereal. “Oh no, is it the eighth already?”
Baxter nodded slowly. “Yep.”
“Oh sweetie I'm so sorry. I've...”
Baxter chimed in, lightly rubbing the back of her hand. “You've been busy with the second job. I know mom. Don't worry about it. I'm not mad or anything.”
It was truth that Baxter wasn't mad, but he was disappointed. Still he didn't want his mother to know. She always worked so hard to give him a decent life, ever since his dad ran out on them when he was six. She would push herself all the time to make money for the family. Seventy hours a week sometimes. Most times she would work ten days straight before she got a day off. Whenever she was off. She made sure to spend as much time with him as she could. Even if that meant she lost sleep.
“Baxter you're such a good kid.” Mom got up from her chair and gave Baxter a hug around the neck.
“Well I guess that's good then. Since you're the best mom ever, we make a good team.” Baxter laughed, his voice muffled by his mom's bosom.
“Yes we do. Alright honey, you have to get going to school, or you'll miss the bus. I'll be home early, so we can have cake and open your present, before I...” Mom hesitated on the thought of going back to her second job.
“I know, go back to work. Don't sweat it mom.” Baxter's smile was unwavering.
“Yeah...I'll make it up to you, I promise.” Mom said, her voice was so quiet.
“I know you will mom. I love you. I'll see you when you get home.” Baxter picked up his backpack and headed towards the front door of his apartment.
“I love you too, Baxter.” Mom sat back down in her chair.
The last ting Baxter saw before he walked through the door, was his mom resting her face in her hands. She was genuinely upset with how things were going in her life. Even though Baxter was young, he knew that she was struggling. That was why he worked so hard to not be a burden in her life. Baxter closed the door behind him and headed down the stairs.
The stairwell was filled with yelling and shouting of his neighbors. The landlord yelling eviction threats to Mrs. Wilson, the lady with the thirty cats. Mr. Ross had collapsed in a puddle of vomit in front of his door. Mrs. Carson throwing her husbands clothes through the door at him. Telling him to get lost. Just another Monday morning, Baxter thought. Down the stairs he went and out into the dirty streets.
It was a brisk spring morning in Queens, the darkest, dingiest part of New York City. It was still the best that Baxter's mom could do right now. Once she finished getting her registered nurse license, things would get better. But those were thoughts for another day, hopefully in the near future. Today was Baxter's fourteenth birthday. The goal of getting the lab kit was firmly in his sight. All he had to do was get to school and...
Baxter mind was pulled away from his day dreaming by the beeping of his cheap plastic Space Heroes watch. The alarm was set to time when Baxter thought the bus would arrive. Usually he was out at the bus stop whenever it went off. He was running late. If he didn't hurry he was going to miss the bus.
Baxter started jogging, trying to pace his breathing so he didn't have an Asthma attack. That's all he needed on the greatest day of his life. Baxter rounded the corner and saw the bus at the end of the alleyway. He still had time, if he just pushed himself a little harder. Which he did. Unfortunately he didn't see the bum's foot sticking out from under the pile of cardboard boxes. The toe of his generic sneaker caught the bum's foot just right so he tripped. Falling face first into a puddle of muck in the gutter. Baxter sat up. His clothes were drench with a foul smelling liquid. His knee was banged up from when he fell on it. There was a tear in his khaki pants, blood dripped from a wound in the ebony skin.
Slowly he pushed himself up. Trying not to think about the pain in his knee. He limped the rest of the way down the alley. When he reached the corner of the building, the bus had pulled away. It was too far down the road for him to catch up to it with his busted knee.
Baxter pondered for a moment of whether he should go back home or just go on to school. If he went back home, then his mom would be forced to drive him to school, which would make her late for work. There was no way he was going to burden her like that. As usual Baxter wore a plain button up dress shirt, underneath his sweaters. Just in case he ever got dirty it was always good to have a spare. Baxter dropped his bag onto the sidewalk and pulled his gunk soaked sweater off, tossing it into a nearby trash bin. It wasn't one of his favorites sweaters anyway. So it was no big loss. Today was still going to be a great day, Baxter thought, before starting off to school.
The limp was going to slow him down some, but at least the walk to school wasn't that long. Thirty minutes or so. Baxter knew he would be late for his first class. The first time he had ever been late to a class. He was sure that once he showed his knee to the teacher and explained what happened. Everything would be good again. That was the plan, Baxter thought, as he ducked into a alley across the way.
Using the alleyways was a good way to avoid long traffic lights and the heavily populated sidewalks. Many people in the city believed it to be dangerous to travel by alleyway, but Baxter did it all the time. He'd never seen anything funny during his treks. Plus nothing ever happened during the daytime, he imagined it would be way to risky for the amount of reward the criminals would get.
Baxter looked down at his watch. Even with the busted knee, he was making good time. Ten minutes out from the school and only one more alley to cut though. Then he was home free. The jovial thought played through his head. That he'd managed to fix this problem without bothering his mother for help. Baxter was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the feet shuffling up behind him.
“Hey you're Brixter Strokemen, ain't you.” A weaselly voice slithered from behind him.
The sound had startled him to the point that he stumbled into the wall. When Baxter snatched around, he saw three guys coming up the alley behind him. The one in the front was a scrawny looking guy with dark ratty hair. The two behind him were both larger in stature. They looked like they could be football players. He'd seen them before around his school. They must live in the area.
“It's Baxter Stockman.” Baxter's prepubescent voice cracked.
“Whatever! Where the hell do you think you're going?” The weaselly guy was putting on his biggest tough guy facade.
Which must have worked, because Baxter didn't wait around to see what they wanted. He pushed himself way from the wall and continued on his way at a brisk pace. Quietly he urged himself to not look back. By horror movie rules, looking back would only ensure that the three people following him, would appear in front of him. Instead something worse happened. He could hear the pounding of feet coming up behind him faster, like the sound of a demon train aiming to run him down. Ignoring the hot pain throbbing in his knee. Baxter pushed himself into a full sprint. Then at once, he felt something hit the side of his foot, throwing it into the back of his other foot. Then the world went spinning. He was airborne for a second, before coming down hard on the ground again. His left wrist bent back painfully under the weight of his light body. His already busted up knee had been the one to hit first, so that the wound was open fresh yet again.
Baxter rolled over on his back looking up at the weaselly faced guy. “Hey dork, did you honestly think you could get away from me?”
Baxter didn't say anything. He was focusing on keeping his breathing under control. He could feel his airways starting to clench up. His ears filled with the sound of his heart pounding. This is it, he thought. My mom is going to read about me in the paper. Beaten to death in an alleyway. That worried him most of all. Not that he was about to be beaten into a greasy smear on the pavement, but the fact that he mom would have to read about his demise in the paper the next morning. Perfect reward for her staying up all night, worrying about him.
“Buster Ridemen, you're about a rude little shit ain't you? Well, I was going let you go with a warning, but now you have to pay the toll.” The weaselly guy slapped Baxter firmly across the cheek several times.
“What do you want?” Baxter said, fighting back the hot tears building in his eye.
“Your backpack, straight up. You refuse and Moose here will tear it off of you through your mouth.”
Baxter winced at the crooked smile on the weaselly guys face. “But I need it for school.”
The weaselly guy shook his head and shifted quickly, kicking Baxter hard in the side. The alley was filled with a painful cry. Baxter rolled into a fetal position clenching his ribs. He no longer cared if these bullies saw him cry. The pain inside of him was nothing like he'd never felt before. Without another word. One of the large lackeys, Moose, Baxter guessed. Reached down and forcefully pulled the backpack off of him, handing it to the weaselly guy.
“Alright Dorkster Swallowsmen. I hope you got the message. Next time, we won't be so gentle.” The weaselly guy chortled, as he walked away, the other two joining in on the laugh.
Baxter lay there for a long time. The clattering of laughter echoed in the back of his mind. When the pain finally subsided, he managed to push himself up onto his feet. It had taken some doing, since his ribs hurt when he breathed. But once he was up, it didn't hurt as badly. The pain in his wrist was working itself out as well. Baxter had been concerned that he'd broken it. Slowly he limped his way through the rest of the alley and out onto the street.
When he rounded the corner he could see his school in the distance. It was going to take some doing, but he was almost there. When he looked down at his watch, it was late. He'd already missed his whole first class. He must have been laying in the alley for longer than he thought. Baxter bit his bottom lips and hurried. Being late to Geometry was an offense punishable by detention. Hopefully Miss Pendercrass, would understand why he was late.
“Certainly she would. What kind of heartless person, would give detention to someone who got beat up on their birthday.” Baxter smirked, the ever positive glow moving it's way back into his heart. “Today is still going to be a great day.”
Baxter sighed out, his ribs aching as the breath left his lungs. He hated waiting to talk to the principal. In his mind, this was what he imagined it to be like, when a prison was waiting for their death sentence to be carried out. Miss Pendercrass hadn't been as understanding as he'd hoped that she would be. She didn't even give him a chance to explain, before telling him to go to the principal's office. In her defense. He did break the rules by coming to class almost an hour late. So Baxter couldn't be too mad at her for not listening to reason.
Besides, Principal Douglas was a very reasonable man. When Baxter explained everything that had happened to him this morning. They would all have a big laugh about it and then he could get back to enjoying his birthday. Maybe they would even feel so bad about the whole mix up, that he might not have to do homework tonight. Thus giving him more time to play with his lab kit.
“Blister Boxman, Principal Douglas will see you now.” The office assistance called to him from behind her tall desk.
“Baxter Stockman.” Baxter corrected, his voice cracked in the quiet room.
“Yeah, that's what I said. Get in there right now.” The assistance voice peaked frustratingly.
Baxter swallowed hard and got up from his chair, taking his time. The pain in his side and knee both throbbing in resistance. When he stepped into the office. The portly man behind the desk didn't look up from whatever he was doing on his computer. Which was fine, Bater didn't really want Principal Douglas to see him limping until he had time to recount his story first. Then he would show his battle damaged leg.
“Alright Mr. Sickman, Miss Pendercrass tells me that you were almost an hour late to her class. Is that true?” Principal Douglas looked at Baxter from over top of his reading glasses, before looking back at his computer.
“Yes sir, but...” Baxter was interrupted as Principal Douglas talking over him.
“And my assistant tells me you were harassing her.” This time Principal Douglas didn't look up from his monitor.
“Well I wasn't really harassing her...” Principal Douglas interrupted Baxter again, this time a frustrated tone riddled his voice.
“Listen here. I know you're young and full of angst. I was a teenager once too. Lord knows I use to get in trouble a lot, but I cannot have you coming into class late and back talking my faculty members. There is no excuse. If I let this slide, it will make me seem like I'm weak...” Principal Douglas stopped talking for a minute and winced, jerking his head back.
“Sir I understand, but...” Baxter was interrupted once again.
“Gotcha.” The principal whispered under his breath, still fidgeting with the mouse.
Baxter leaned over, craning his neck so he could see what Principal Douglas was doing on his computer. It looked like he was playing a game. World of something or other, Baxter hadn't gotten a good enough look, before the principal spotted him. Baxter sat back in his chair, so quickly that a pang of pain pushed it way through his chest.
“Snooping huh? I should figure as much from you people.” Baxter pursed his lips, what people was the principal talking about?
“You know what Dexter Jetster? I was going to let you off with just a lecture, but here you are invading my privacy. Taking advantage of my generosity. I just can't let that slide.” Principal Douglas pulled out the middle desk drawer.
Baxter was on the edge of his seat. He wanted to explain what had happened. He wanted to say sorry for snooping. He want to apologize for harassing the office attendant. But fear washed over him, freezing him like a deer in headlights. Everything slowed down around him. The sound of his shallow breathing was joined by the pounding of his heart. Principal Douglas pulled out a pink pad of paper from the drawer. Bringing it down in slow motion onto the desk with a firm slap. The color drained out of Baxter's face and his body went numb. Oh no, he thought.
Baxter stepped out of the office into the crowded hallway. He was dealing with a new injury now, besides his knee and his ribs. The sting of a detention slip. Now instead of being at home watching cartoons and playing with his lab kit this Saturday. He was going to have to spend the morning in detention. In a way, Baxter knew he deserved it. If he wouldn't have taken the short cuts through the alleyways, this never would have happened.
The day still had a chance to turn around at least. It was lunch time and since Baxter hadn't finished his cereal this morning, he was starving. Baxter made his way to the lunch line. Like always it was incredibly long. To make matters worse he was stuck standing behind Byron Johnson, a Junior who was the lead linebacker for the high school football team.
Byron had everything going for him. Rich parents, a nice car, a hot girlfriend, a nice smile, not to mention, he was exceedingly handsome. The guy had everything Baxter wished he could have. The one thing Byron wasn't known for, was being a nice person.
Baxter slunk down into himself. Hoping to keep as low a profile as he could. Keeping his face front, periodically looking up at the giant mound of man in front of him. He was horsing around with the two people in front of him. One of the other jock shoved Byron back, causing him to step on Baxter's foot. Baxter let out a sharp yelp and pushed back against the large man standing on him. There was a moment a clarity that passed through Baxter's head. Had he just pushed Bryon Johnson? It was quickly followed up by an intense fear. Baxter Stockman was was a dead man.
“What the hell little man?” Byron turned around, glaring down at Baxter, who was easily a foot and half shorter than the giant man.
“I'm sorry. You were standing on my foot, by mistake I'm sure. I just wanted to help rectify it.” Baxter's voice was piqued with fear, it creaked and cracked.
“And supposing I wanted to be standing on your fucking foot, what then?” The man was menacing just to look at, but not nearly as menacing as when he was yelling.
“Well I guess, that would...” Baxter started talking, when a grizzled voice called out from beside him.
It was the physical education teacher, Mr. Garson. “Is there a problem here, maggot?”
“Nah, I was just talking to my buddy Blister Buttman.” Byron looked up at the gym teacher, who was a foot taller than he was.
“Uh, well you kids be good.” Mr. Garson was glaring directly at Byron. “If not, I'll give you so many detentions that you'll think it's a career. Got it?”
“Yes coach.” Byron said, his voice sounding much less menacing that before.
“Good.” The large man turned on his heels, as precise as a military man who had trained to do it for a long time.
“Nice going dweeb. I'm going...” Byron stopped talking when he heard Mr. Garson yelling again.
“Did it sound like I was joking, Dick Johnson? I'll see you for the next two Saturdays maggot.” There was a death glare coming from Mr. Garson's hollowed eyes.
“Y...yes sir.” Byron cleared his throat and turned back to face his friends.
“Don't worry about B-Dog. You'll get him later.” One of the other jocks said.
Baxter knew exactly who the jock was talking about. The realization would have come with a gasp, except Baxter's throat had close off from fear. Baxter reached into his pocket and pulled his inhaler out, taking a couple of puffs from it. After a couple seconds, he could breath again. His vision was swimming from a combination of lack of oxygen and the burning blush on his face.
When he finally got to the front of the lunch line, he was excited. Spaghetti was one of his favorite school lunches. Actually it was his favor food over all. Spaghetti always made Baxter think of his mother. It was one of the meals that was cheap and easy to make, not to mention tasty. So she made it for him often. The thought of his mom made him feel better, despite the terrible day he was having. Soon though, he was going to be home and enjoying the rest of his birthday. Things were going to be good again, he just knew it.
Baxter was glad to finally have his food and be out of the line. Not only was he starving, but it was good to put some distance between he and Byron. The heat still lingered in his face. His hands trembled from the confrontation. Baxter's anxiety was starting to mount. Making his heart race. His breathing to become tight again. Everything was building up nicely into a bad headache.
“Damn spring time sucks.” Bryon stated, Baxter was going to have to walk right by him. “I sure do miss the fall, don't you, Bitchster Pockman.” Bryon voice echoed through Baxter's head, adding to his anxiety.
When he turned to look at Bryon on his way by. He'd missed seeing the jock sticking his foot out. The toe of Baxter's shoe hit the jock's foot just right. Baxter would have liked to believe, that if it hadn't been his bad leg, he might have been able recovered his footing, but he didn't. That was the thought that passed through his mind as he went sailing through the air. A loud clap of the tray sounded out like an alarm when he hit the floor. Everyone in the cafeteria turned and looked to see what had happened. Then the place exploded in a wave of laughter. The pile of spaghetti did a poor job of breaking Baxter's fall. The air pushed from his lung and his ribs aching anew. Spaghetti was everywhere around him, in a colorful semi circle.
Baxter floundered around on the floor trying to get to his feet, but he kept slipping on the remnants of his food. He singled out Byron's deep laugh amongst all the other student. It was the laugh that hurt the worse. Baxter turned his head in enough time to see Mr. Garson grabbing Bryon's crisp Letterman Jacket, jerking him out of his chair.
“You think you're funny maggot, get your ass to the principals office, now.” Mr. Garson dragged Byron through the cafeteria, so that everyone could see.
“You're dead geek.” Byron shouted down at Baxter on the way by.
“Shut up you. That goes for the rest of you. Shut up and eat your food, or you'll go to the office with us.” Mr. Garson's word was law and everyone knew it.
It was spectacular how quiet everyone got after the threat was made. Baxter managed to get to his feet. For the brief second he was fighting to breath again, he felt justified. After everything that had happened to him today. Byron deserved what he got. Now that his breathing was back to normal. He started cleaning up his mess before going to the gym to change his clothes.
It was a stroke of good fortune that Baxter had a fresh pair of gym clothes in his locker. After he changed, he went right to his next class. Advance Reading Theory, one of his easiest classes. Usually the class would read a book and then write a summary of it. The teacher would read it, and then give out grades. Very rarely would anyone have to get up and verbally discuss what they were reading. When Baxter got to his class, he slipped into his desk. Out of habit he reached down to get the backpack.
Fear clutched his chest. Baxter's backpack was gone. With it was his book, as well as all of his notes. Maybe if he played it cool, he would be alright. Baxter knew that it would never work though. Mrs. Lexington would be expecting something from him. Whether it was a paper with a summary on what he read, or at the very least for him to be reading the book. Baxter knew he was going to have to head this one off, before it got too far.
When he walked up to Mrs. Lexington desk, the mousy old woman looked up from her book. Her gray eyes were hidden behind comically large glasses. Her thin lips were pursed so tightly that they showcased a dozen small wrinkles that went outward from her mouth, like the rays from a sun in a child's drawing.
“Yes dear?” She said, her voice soft and raspy.
“Yeah, I don't have my book, or papers. I was mugged on my way to school today and they took my backpack.” Baxter had expected her to interrupt him, with some outlandish claim that he was lying, or had left his backpack home on purpose.
The mousy woman, put her Gandalf bookmark back into her book and closed it. “That's too bad dear.” She reached into her desk, her hand trembling hard, like a hairless dog in a breeze. “Here.”
Mrs Lexington place a book on the desk. Oedipus Rex. A book that Baxter had read and reported on earlier in the year for extra credit. No doubt she must have forgotten that he'd done it already.
“Mrs. Lexington, I did this one for extra credit.” Baxter whispered back, his voice calm and patient.
“Oh I know you did dear. Do it again and expect to read your summary aloud in front of class tomorrow.” She picked up her book again and opened it to the correct page. “And don't think you can pull a fast one by using the old one, because I'll know. Now go sit down.” Without even waiting for a response, she went back to reading her book.
Baxter licked his drying lips and walked back to his desk. It wasn't the worse thing that happened to him today. However the prospect of reading in front of the class wasn't the most appealing thing in the world. Someone was sure to have a rude comment, or other wicked intent to make him feel bad about himself. It didn't matter though. That was a tomorrow worry, he could put on the back burner. Baxter slid into his desk and started reading. The good thing about doing a report on a book he'd already read is the knowledge was there. Baxter just needed to be refreshed on it and put down on paper. Today still had chance, however slight it was, to be a good day. Baxter thoughts already drifting to that beautiful lab kit awaiting him at the end of this terrible school day.
When the bell rang, Baxter jumped up from his seat and was out into the hallway without a second to spare. Just one more class to go he told himself. Unfortunately that class was physical education. No surprise that it was least favorite class by far.
When he walked into the large gymnasium, the room was thundering with the sound of talking and laughing from the other students. He stopped short at the sight of thirty or so dodge balls lined up along the half court line. Baxter's stomach twisted deep down inside. There was no game in the whole world he wanted to play less than dodge ball. Especially with all his aches and pains.
“Come on Baxter, you can do this. Just one more class and then the greatest day ever can begin.” Baxter vocally psyched himself up.
Baxter felt a hard shove sending him fumbling a few steps away. Byron walked passed him. He turned and drug his thumb along his throat, before pointing to Baxter. Baxter just shook his head and swallowed hard. Byron just grinned and nodded.
“Alright maggots. It's time to pick teams, lets line up.” Mr. Garson hollered, his voice sounding more grizzled than it needed to.
When the teams were picked, Baxter stayed back from the line. It was the best chance he had to not get pegged in the first few seconds. Byron paced along the line of balls. His stature not unlike a jungle cat ready to strike. When Mr. Garson blew the whistled, Bryon sprung. Grabbing not one ball, but two. Baxter let out a squeak when his eyes met Byron's.
That was the last thing he remembered from that period. Well not the last thing he remember. Every thing else had been lost in a whirlwind of confusion and pain. The whole world had slowed down around Baxter, the moment that ball left Byron's hand. The dodge ball had hit Baxter so hard in the face, that it had launched his lanky body off the ground. Sending him bouncing off the hard wood floor a couple times. It wasn't much different than defeating a challenger on Street Fighter. Having their echoed cries being followed up by the thudding of their bodies hitting the digital ground.
The biggest difference however, was when the ball hit Baxter face. He could have sworn he heard a snap. Was it his nose? It might have been, with how badly it hurt. The pain in his face subsided the moment that the back of his head hit the floor.
A small amount of panic flooded in, when he sat up and his vision was blurry. Had he suffered a concussion? Was his second though. His first thought was how badly his face and head hurt. It didn't take long for Baxter to realize why his vision was blurry. The hit to the face had been so hard, that it snapped his glasses in half at the bridge.
“Pixter, you're out!” Mr. Garson called out, not taking any notice of how badly Baxter had been hit.
Now it really didn't matter. Baxter would use this as a reason to spend the rest of the period laying out on at the nurses office. His first thought was sometimes things had to get worse before they got better. Maybe this whole day was one of those times.
When the last bell of the day rang. Baxter climbed on the bus, plopping down in the first seat that he came across. He pushed himself tightly against the wall, making himself as small as he could. Resting his sweaty head against the cool glass window. All he wanted to do was go home. Go home and see him mom. Enjoy what was left of his birthday in peace. Baxter was beyond read to eat his cake with his mom and playing with his new lab kit. That was all he had wanted to do all day. Soon it was going to be a reality. There is still a chance to have a good day. Baxter told himself, relaxing the moment the bus pulled away from the curb.
Once the bus pulled up next to his building, Baxter took the long way around. Wanting to avoid the alley all together. He had no intention to ever venture down another alleyway for as long as he lived. Even if it was necessary. Every noise that sounded out around him, caused him to jolt. When a car horn honked behind him, he picked up the pace.
Baxter didn't start feeling safe, until he was inside his building and climbing the stairs. Things were pretty much the same as they had been when he left this morning. Landlord was still yelling at the tenants to pay their rent. There was a chalk outline where Mr. Ross had been laying. One of the neighborhood kids must have done it as a joke, no doubt. Baxter didn't care to investigate further. All he wanted to do was get home and take a shower before his mom came back with his cake and his gift.
Baxter pulled his key out of his shoe and unlocked the door, stepping inside. The dingy smell of his apartment had never been more welcoming. Baxter closed the door, locking it, chaining it, and bolting it. Before heading down the hallway to take a shower.
The hours passed and Baxter sat at the kitchen table looking at the clock. Still waiting for his mom to come home. His stomach growling because he hadn't eaten anything all day. It was eight o'clock now. That was suppose to be the time when he mom showed up at her second job, at the diner. Could it be that she was working all the way through? Maybe she was trying to take the next day off from work, so they could spend time together. That would be nice, Baxter thought. Although selfishly he wished that his mom was there now. His hopes for the lab kit were gone, now all he wanted was to give his mom a hug. Maybe she could help erase this horrible day. Today was suppose to be the greatest day ever, clearly that was a mistake. Baxter grumbled, resting his head on his arms.
Just then there was a knock at the door. Baxter got excited, his heart starting to pound in his chest. What if it was his mom? Then he cocked his head in confusion. Why would his mom knock on the door, instead of just walking in. Because he had bolted and chained it, Baxter thought snapping his fingers and ran off towards the door. Quickly he worked through all the safe guards and threw the door open wide. It wasn't his mom. It was his Aunt Vera and she'd been crying. Without a word she rushed in. Dropping to her knees in front of him, before pulling him into a tight hug. Baxter didn't hug back. He just stood there like a statue. Something was wrong.
“Oh Baxter, your momma. She's...” That was all Baxter heard.
It hadn't really set in that his mom was gone. Not until he was standing next to her grave in the rain. All around him was a large gathering of strangers. People that he'd never seen before. They were nice people, who asked him if he was alright. Baxter didn't say anything. What could he say? That he's just peachy? That despite his mom croaked, he's having a wonderful life. That wasn't who he was. Besides these people were hurting too. All crying and gathered around a hole in the ground, that was swallowing his mother up. Taking her away from him. Just like everything else had been taken away from him that day.
Aunt Vera said it had been an accident. Baxter knew better. It had been fate. The driver didn't see hern as she was crossing the Sears' parking lot on her way back to the car. His mom had went there to get him the stupid lab kit. It was the only thing that survived the accident, Aunt Vera had told him. When she went to get it from the curb after they took his mom away, it was gone. Someone had taken it in the all confusion. Just like someone had taken his backpack. Taken his perfect attendance. Taken his Saturday. Taken his lunch. Taken his glasses. But more importantly, taken his mother, and his happiness.
When everyone bowed their heads to pray with priest, Baxter didn't. Instead he bowed his head. Clenching his hands so tightly into fists, that his nails cut his palms. Tears streaming down his burning face. They were washed away in the rain, just like all the good feeling he had when his mom was alive. Then he whispered a promise to himself, to heaven, to anyone that would listen. No one would ever take anything away from him again. Ever!
