Grocery Day

By Gabe Hayes

The boy sat alone at the back of the bus. It was Thursday, which meant grocery day.

Every week at this time, his mother would peel herself off the mangled couch and drag herself over to the counter. The boy would sit at the bottom of the stairs and watch as she would reach into a little box and pull out a wrinkled wad of paper bills. She always talked to him so sweetly, when she was free. The boy had always listened when she was off the couch, closed his eyes and imagined she was an angel speaking to him. “Here you go, my darling,” the angel said to him, crumpling the wad of cash into his outstretched hand. “Go get us some food, and don’t forget to keep your hood up.” He would always keep his eyes closed until he heard her hollow shuffles give way to the creaking of the couch frame, and he’d always open them again to see the mound of flesh and cloth lying motionless once more.

The windows were beginning to fog now as the chill of the outside air whizzed past the glass. The boy sat himself up from the grimy seat and breathed onto the pane, watching as the vapor spread like a shadow across the slick surface. He raised his finger to the glass, his nail unnaturally long and sharp. He was careful to smudge away the fog with only his fingertip; one time he had used his fingernail and it had left a big scratch, and people had looked at him funny. He etched a tiny pattern into the fog, revealing the grey haze of the buildings and smog zooming by. The boy let out a faint smile at the pleasant distraction and repeated the process, each time creating a new pattern he thought would be prettier, but nothing seemed to suit his fancy. Almost in a trance, the boy continued until he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the damp glass. His hood was down, cast in a lump of cloth behind his neck, exposing his shaggy hair and the two clusters of hard skin on each side of his head. His mother had told him to keep his hood up. It wouldn’t be good for people to see him without his hood up. The boy quickly reached back and pulled the hood all the way over his head, drawing the strings on his hoodie to keep it tight against him. With a sigh, the boy turned away from the window and stared off towards the front of the bus.

In front of him was a man, bald, wearing a thin jacket in a less-than-appealing shade of tan. At the seat to the man’s left sat a woman with tightly drawn black hair with a thick, velvety coat over her shoulders, reading a book. Next to her was a younger child, a girl who looked to be no less than six or seven wearing a pink sweater. She was staring at the boy, her large eyes holding a curious but timid look. The boy glanced back nervously. He gave a timid grin, trying hard not to show his teeth, which were sharper at the corners, so much so that it seemed to hurt more than usual if he ever bit his tongue. The little girl didn’t smile back, only continued to watch, her expression blank. The boy gave a quick glance to his left and right with his eyes, then stared back at the little girl. He slowly raised his hand and gave a playful wave, but this too solicited no response from the girl. The mother, the woman in the velvety coat, looked up from her book for a moment, noticing first her daughter and then at the boy she was staring at. The woman’s eyes grew wide for a moment when she realized what she was seeing, and with a grunt of disgust she gave a sneer, grabbing her daughter’s face and turning it into her side before returning to her book. The boy’s half-smile faded, and he continued to look to the front of the bus.

The vehicle arrived at the end of the street and grinded slowly to a stop, the red of the stop light seeping in through the pouring rain outside and onto every surface in the bus. The bus driver’s hand appeared from the covered seat and pulled the lever, the gush of compressed air followed by the pitter-patter of the rain on the pavement. Heavy boots thudded onto the floor of the bus as a large man wearing a brown raincoat stepped on board, fumbling his way towards an open seat nearby. Behind him followed a dark-skinned woman wearing a thick, feathery cap and carrying a large black umbrella, dripping with rain. The boy could hear the exchange of words between the man and the bus driver, but when he saw the woman heading towards the back of the bus, he drew his hood even tighter against his head and turned to face the window again. The woman wove her way through the crowded lane and slung her umbrella forward, splashing a bit of water onto the boy’s side. She turned and began to settle into her seat, but as she lowered herself down, she let out a shriek of surprise. The boy was startled by the sudden outburst and sprang up to see the woman staring at him with an evil look in her eye. “Oh, God,” she shouted at him, “how dare you! Making me sit on your disgusting tail! You ought to be ashamed!” The woman let out one last grunt of disapproval as she quickly turned away towards the front of the bus. The boy quickly recoiled further back into his seat as the eyes of every passenger turned back to face him. He quickly reached to the seat beside him and gripped the end of his tail, wrapping it back behind him out of view of the passengers. His eyes were wide with embarrassment now. He remembered to keep his hood on, but how could he be so stupid as to forget about his tail? The boy started to stammer out an apology, but it was too late; the woman was already at the front of the bus and beginning to open her umbrella outside the still-open door. “I’ll wait for the next bus, thank you very much! I’d rather sit out here and get soaked to my socks than sit with that horrible thing!” She was still ranting to herself even as the doors hissed shut and the pitter-patter of the rain could be heard once more.

Everyone’s eyes were still on the boy, who sat holding his hood close to his face. He stared out the window again before shutting his eyes, imagining once more the voice of the angel. He was worried what other voice he might have to hear if his mother ever found out he had made a scene again. He felt the bus lurch forward as the engine hummed, the green of the light now flooding into the cabin. The engine of the bus was loud, but he could still make out the disapproving murmurs of the other passengers, the reshuffling of bodies in seats or of newspapers in hands. After a while, things died back down to normal, and the boy was invisible again.

When the bus came to a stop once more, the boy quickly rose from his seat. He made his way to the front of the bus, keeping his tail close to his body and making sure not to accidentally bump anyone along the way. He heard a few wretches from some of the people on board before making his way out, the hollow farewells of the bus driver interrupted by the speedy closing of the door and the revving of the engine. The boy stood in the rain at the corner of the street, his hands above his head in a vain attempt to keep his hood as dry as possible. He searched around quickly for the neon sign of the dollar store that illuminated the grey mist that seemed to hang off the streets, his tattered shoes splashing in the puddles as he ran to take cover. He ducked and weaved between the pedestrians passing both ways, accidentally bumping into some. “Ugh, watch it!” shouted a woman. “Keep moving, creep!” ordered a man. The boy just continued to look down; he didn’t want to continue his bad luck anymore by saying anything. He made his way over to the little corner shop, reaching up to grip the soaking door handle and pull it open.

The bell made a low cling as he walked into the shop. Like every Thursday, it was mostly empty aside from a few people, usually in dingy coats and with greasy hair. The boy trudged his way into the loosely-arranged aisles, which didn’t seem to be organized in any particular pattern. He came to the edge of the first and quickly grabbed a loaf of cheap bread that was piled up next to cough drops and deodorant bottles. At the other side of the store he grabbed a small box of microwave rice, which were stacked along with tissues and candy items. The boy took a look at the selection of sweets on display: a couple of assorted chocolate bars, some fruit gummies, and a few hard candies. He took a look at the price tag on the bread bag and on the rice box and determined he wouldn’t have enough to get both and a candy bar. He hoped maybe next time his mother would be a little more tired and accidentally grab an extra dollar bill or so.

The boy made his way to the cash register where a man with grey hair and a beret was leaning over the counter, examining him. “C’mon, kid, I don’t have all day,” said the man in a soft, slightly raspy voice. “It’s bad enough I let you in here every week as it is, but if the wrong kinda person walks in here I’d be in big trouble.”

“S-sorry,” stuttered the boy. “I-I was just l-l-looking at the candy for a second, s-s-sir.”

The man motioned with his head for the boy to hand him his items. The boy lifted them up onto the counter as the man gave a quick glance out the glass window, quickly scanning the items. The boy took back the bag with his food from the man, then reached with his clawed hand up to the man again.

“Sorry, kid, no change today,” said the man. “Fresh outta extra cash in the register.”

The boy gave a small nod as he retracted his hand, shuffling his way across the counter and back towards the door. As he went for the handle once more, the door quickly flew out in front of him, knocking his bag to the floor. “Well, well, well, what’s going on in here?” came a voice from outside. Three young men entered the shop now, their thick clothes sopping wet from the rain outside. They each stomped their way into the market as the other patrons looked on, first to the ruffians and then to the boy who was anxiously trying to retrieve his fallen food. The young men hollered and whooped as they tore into the shop, crowding around the man’s register. “Got anything for us today, old man?” said the one in the middle with long, thin hair, giving a sly grin to the shop keeper and raised one eyebrow. To his right the second laid his hands on the middle one’s shoulders and the third rummaged around the small goods on the countertop.

The man hesitated for a second, glancing down briefly at the boy pawing around on the ground. “Well, um, no, not much today…” The shop keeper’s voice trailed off as he continued to glance at the young men and then back to the boy. “Just uh, just made a sale to this-this lad here.”

The young man in the middle spun on his heels slowly and looked at the boy who was now franticly trying to shove the bread and rice into the plastic bag, one hand on his hood.

“Who? This little kid right here?” retorted the young man. He took two swaggering steps towards the boy who glanced up in fear, then bent down and took the boy by the hood. “What’s wrong, little kid, can’t get your little snack?” said the man with a sneer as the other two chuckled behind him and harassed the store keeper. The boy whimpered and attempted to stammer a reply, but the young man gave a sharp tug and tore the hood off the boy. When he saw the horned clumps beneath, he whipped his entire body back into the counter. “Woah-ho! Lookie here, boys, we got ourselves some kinda poor sick freak!” The other two hooligans mocked the boy, echoing the words “poor” and “freak” under their breath alongside their giggles.

“Hate to disappoint you, kid, but freaks ain’t allowed to be shoppin’ at our store.” The young man in the middle reached down and quickly swiped the bag from the boy, who was gasping in fright. The boy shuffled back towards the door as the young men began tearing apart the bag and its contents. The boy shrieked with terror as the gang chucked the slices of bread and poured to rice onto him, shoving him around in a circle. The man at the register shook his head in disbelief, but he simply backed away slowly, his eyes filled with what looked more to be relief than pity. The other patrons of the store looked on, some ignoring the incident completely, as if it was a mere annoyance. The young men continued to shove the boy around even as tears began to form in his eyes, and next thing he knew he felt the dull pain in his chest as the young man in the middle gave a sharp kick, sending him flying out the shop door. The other two men jeered and laughed then turned and began to make a mess of the store. The long-haired one stepped out menacingly onto the streets and began to chase the boy. The boy made to run, but slipped and fell a few times before finally bolting away in the rain as the young man laughed. All he could hear were his own gasps for air and the splash of his shoes in the puddles on the pavement.

                The boy continued to run. He ran as long as his legs still had strength. He was tired and soaking wet, and his chest felt like fire from the kick he had received. In his mad dash, he had forgotten to keep his hood on his head, but it didn’t matter to him now. He dashed away and turned into a shallow alley, then collapsed behind a large trash bin. He sat, clutching his chest, breathing in deep gasps. His head collapsed onto his knees as he continued to sob. How could he have messed up so badly? He should have known to be quicker, to be more discrete. Now he had lost the food for him and his mother, and the money she had given him. He feared more what she would think when he had to tell her he was seen again.

                The boy wept, consumed by his thoughts. He looked up for a mere moment to take in some more air, but when he did so he became aware of a presence next to him. The boy slowly stopped crying as he wiped his face and his eyes, sitting up. To his left sat a curious young girl, about his own age. She was wearing very long socks that appeared to have once been white, but where now yellow with dirt and age. Her sneakers were so beat up that the one sole was coming loose, and the other had no laces. She had a long pair of shorts that looked a bit worn, and a very long sweater with moth holes. On her shoulders she had a massive brown coat, but it was covered in hasty patches. Her hair was dark and matted and clumped together in some places, and her nose was redder than anything the boy had ever seen. She was staring at him, but not in the same way the other little girl had stared at him on the bus. This was a much calmer stare, and her eyes held a look of tenderness.

“I-I’m sorry…” stuttered the boy as he attempted to get up and away from the girl. He knew he shouldn’t be this close to another person.

The girl continued to stare for quite a while before softly asking, “Are you okay?” The boy was taken a bit aback by this question. It was usually never the first thing anyone asked of him.

“Um…y-yes? No? I’m not sure…” muttered the boy, staring back at the girl in confusion. He raised his hands up to pull his hood further down, but when he felt he realized it was back behind his head. He fumbled to grab it, but was unable to get a decent grip, so he quickly shoved his arms above his head to cover the horns.

“What are you doing that for?” whispered the girl. The boy looked around with his eyes as if the girl had asked this of someone else, but when he realized she was still talking to him he replied, “Wh-what? What do you mean? I’m c-c-covering myself up, because of my…” his voice trailed off.

The girl stared at the boy more deeply, a puzzled expression on her face. She lowered her head and extended her arm to grab the boy’s arms, and although the boy tried to resist, she was stronger than she looked.

“The what? I don’t see anything.” the girl replied flatly, wrapping her hands back around her legs.

“Y-y-y-you d-don’t?”

“No, nothing there that I can see. You sure you’re okay?”

The girl’s eyes were piercing into the boy’s very soul now. The more he looked at her the more he became confused, but at the same time her presence offered him a warmth and comfort he had only imagined before. For whatever reason, this girl didn’t seem to see him, or at least the parts of him that everybody else disliked. He was used to feeling invisible, but never like this before.

The boy didn’t really know what to say. He explained to the girl that he had to leave now and go home to his mother, and the girl didn’t stop him, she simply remained seated where she was. The boy stood up to leave, his eyes still fixed on the girl, and hers on him, but eerily on his eyes instead of the sides of his head or his tail.

“Do you want this?” the girl said just as the boy was about to turn around. She outstretched her hand and held out what looked like a thick piece of cardboard. The boy came closer and took the thing from her hand, and when he examined it, he realized it was actually a chocolate bar.

“Wh-where did you…” started the boy, but he was too dumbfounded to speak. “Sometimes people give me a bit of money. There’s a man up the street with a food store who let me buy it. I’m not hungry right now, so you can have it,” said the girl.

“Th-th-thank you…” replied the boy, who locked eyes with her for just a moment. The girl gave a friendly wave, and the boy gave a hesitant one back. He backed away from the alley and the turned down the street. When he looked back one final time, he saw her simply sitting there, gazing off at the wall in front of her, the giant coat still slung over her.

By the time the boy returned home it was nearly nighttime. He shambled his way up the stairs of the apartment complex and opened the door to his home, which was usually unlocked. He creeped in, careful not awake his mother sleeping on the couch nearby. As he walked in, he heard the buzz of the television screen and saw the mass of cloth that was his mother asleep on the couch, illuminated only by the glow of the screen. He walked carefully by her and entered the door on the other side of the hall, into his room. He closed the door slowly behind him and then crawled into his bed. When he was settled, he reached up again and touched the horns on his head with his clawed hands. She didn’t see them he thought to himself. He reached into his hoodie pocket and grabbed the chocolate bar and unwrapped it like a prized artifact. As he glared at the smooth, sweet surface, he laid down on his side, feeling his tail flop onto the bed behind him. He stared at the chocolate bar for a few moments more before letting out a soft chuckle and a grin before sinking his sharp teeth into the treat.