Pushed Daisies Chapter 1

“Get your butt in here now.”
That’s how it all starts out anyways.
Mom was a harsh woman, always has been. But lately, since dad left, she’s been ticked.
“Dinner is getting cold, get in here now. Before I drag you by your toes, and hang you over the chimney by your ears.”
Yup, normal mom.
I glanced at her, better not tick her off anymore then I have too. She had a short fuse. Miami mom, tiger mom, whatever you want to call her, she was like a broody hen. Always pecking at your knuckles until they bleed to satisfy her, and then, finally, she’ll give you a withered pebble of an egg. Nothing more, nothing less.
She’s her, a bitter sweet crudely made, and crudely grown flower. She was pretty at one time, why else would I have been born if she hadn’t been? But time takes its toll, and its toll is a high price to pay. Her breasts sagged with age, her face was starting to wither. Punk streaks of gray winded their way through her hair like a silver river.
“About time you got in, we have chicken. A few days old, but it’s good. Go eat, get that smart mouth of yours chewing before I knock your teeth out and you won’t be able too.”
We lived in the ghettos, a wonderful place to raise an eleven year old boy. Don’t you agree?
Mom’s real name is Patty, an ugly name she says, “It reminds me of hamburger patties that are dripping of grease.” It’s always followed by a snort. Always.
My dad, I don’t know him. Mom says he’s in jail, that I’m the child of prostitution. Never really cared though, it’s not my fault. Although she tends to blame me, “You’re just like your father!” How would she know that? He was just a one night stand.
That chicken isn’t just a few ‘days’ old. It has maggots. Wormy white things, you know, those. “Mom, this thing has worms.”
She retorted, “So do you. Now eat it, I can’t afford anything else.” She followed it by sniffing up some white powder, “I spent all the child welfare money on red wine, and your dang clothes. Eat it, now. Or no supper for the next week or so.”
I shrugged, and pushed my chair up to the table.
“More for me.” She grunted, I was disgusted. But you have to be careful not to show it around her. Never show disgust, or fear, or even pity. It means no food for the next month, and the box.
The box is a black rectangular thing. Mom will shove me, or when I had my sisters, into it if we talk back to her. My sisters weren’t as lucky as me.
My sisters tried to escape the house, one got pregnant, Eliza, she was the lucky one. But later her boyfriend was hitting her, and caused her miscarriage. Shortly it was followed by her suicide.
My other sister, Lisa, went into the box, and never came out. Mom never talks about Lisa, whenever you bring her up she shoves you into the box. So I keep my mouth shut. When the services, or at least that’s what I call them, show up. Mom’s always sweaty, always yelling, “Lisa ran off! I don’t know where she is, and I don’t care! We don’t need that good for nothing dog anyways!”
Don’t ask about Lisa.
I head over to Jessy’s house now and then to escape. Like right now, mom is hovering over my plate. I can’t watch her swallow those worms. It’s disgusting. “Jessy, she’s acting crazy again. She has the white powder out too.”
Jessy is sixteen, going onto seventeen. She’s my only friend I have here. And she’s the only one that wants to get me out of the ghetto, and into college. She’s a genius. Or at least that’s what the kids at school call her, other then freak.
She sighed, “Come on Mark, I’ll get you washed up.” She started back into her house, “I’ll tell John you’re here.”
John is her roommate, he’s not really a boy. He’s actually a she, her real name is Jo-Ann, but we call him John. He prefers it. I don’t care that John is a trans-gender, it doesn’t matter. John is nice, and he cares about me too. Like Jessy.
“Thanks Jessy. I’ll pay you when I’m older.”
“Since when have you ever payed me?” She threw her head back and laughed, “Don’t worry about it Mark.”
Jessy doesn’t know, but I owe her five hundred dollars in food. I’ve counted. Mom does this a lot.
Jessy yelled, “John! Mark is here, his mother is… Doing powder again.”
Jessy doesn’t know, but I know what the white powder is. It’s cocaine, a drug. It’s bad. But I’ll let her believe I’m still an innocent little boy that doesn’t know how girls can get pregnant, and that drugs could ease my pain.
No, I won’t let her know.
John walked in through the door, “Welcome back Mark! Nice to see you again, you mom again?” John paused, shifting his weight uneasily, he was always awkward when talking about mom.
“Ya, she’s on the powder. She tried to feed me chicken with worms this time.” I answered, giving him a nervous smile. I don’t like talking. It takes to much time.
John gave Jessy a worried look, then glanced back at me, “Hey kid, can you stay the night? I don’t want you at your mom’s house today. She seems… A bit off.”
I nodded, John’s a good guy. But I know what he’s up to. Tomorrow, he’ll call services. If services don’t save me, then it’s the box. I swallowed, “Okay John, I’ll stay the night. Do you still have that library?”
I always hope John will forget to call services, but no. He always does, so that’s why I tend to avoid John. John means the box, even if I’m taken away, somehow, she always gets me back.
John gave me a genuine smile, “No kid, I got something better. We can afford TV, you know what that is?” He winked at Jessy, “You can watch whatever you want on a big box. It’s like magic.”
It is like magic, to watch small people on a small little screen. I’ve only seen TV’s in that small corner store. And it’s always on a soap opera for the clerk to watch while customers were away. I love soap dramas, they’re a different reality.
“Is it in color?” I could feel the edges of my mouth curl, I’ve never seen a TV in color. But John’s job allowed him to have money. Him and Jessy together had a job at the local book store out of the ghetto. I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s a better income then what mamma makes.
Jessy looked pleased, “Yes, it has color. You want to see it? We can watch Seinfeld together.” Jessy took my hand and strolled me into the room. When I was younger, I wondered where Jessy’s parents were. But I know now, Jessy only has John, her brother. “Look see? Like magic.” She pushed a button, and it came to life.
“I’m going to make mac and cheese.” John left the room, and Jessy picked me up and put me on a floor matt. They don’t have couches. This was my bed when Mom was on the white powder.
Jessy wrapped me in a blanket, and sat next to me. Sometimes, I wished Lisa had a person like Jessy. Jessy was a moral compass, like Atticus, in To Kill a Mocking Bird. Maybe Eliza wouldn’t have killed herself if she had someone like John.
Maybe I’ll survive.
(Just a dream I had that gave me a random thought, hope you like it. ~Lyre)

Chapter 2
Maybe I should clear this up, my father, I’ve only met once. No, not even met. I’ve seen him through a window pane when he gave my mom a child welfare check.
But I have had several step fathers, Thomas, my dad of the month, left a few days ago. Before that was Charlie, the preacher. My mom dragged me to church and stopped using for the next two months. She even talked about rehab. She even talked about how it was wrong to sleep with a man that you aren’t married in the ‘lords eyes’ for a while.
But Charlie, was a fake. So a month later, Mom started to date Thomas. I don’t care for Thomas. Mom made me call him dad, he was fat, balding. And he creeped me out. Maybe it was just the way he stared at me, like how he stared at little girls, and even at mom.
Mom made me call Thomas dad. Thomas enjoyed it, like how he enjoyed putting me in the box when he went to do drugs with mom. I learned to go to Jessy’s when Thomas was around. Thomas meant the box, like John. But he wasn’t nice, he didn’t make me mac and cheese. He killed cats, and took other woman that I didn’t know to mom’s house and put me in the box.
I don’t like the box. And I don’t like Thomas.
Thomas left when I hit him. He tried to beat me with his leather belt, he had done it before. But this time was different, he tried to make me take the white powder, and even stick me with a needle with brown liquid saying, “This will make the pain stop Mark. Just let me give you this, and the pain will go away.” I’m not stupid, I know heroin when I see it. So I hit Thomas, square in the jaw. I never hit a man before, I’ve never touched a soul in my life. Not after I saw Steven –another boyfriend- hit mom. Thomas left in a rage, yelling at mom how I hit him. Personally, I didn’t care about Thomas.
Mom didn’t care for him much either, he was just a source of income. Apparently, Thomas got the bills payed. She shoved me in the box for scaring away Thomas.
I don’t regret it. Thomas was a bad man, I can tell.
I could tell when he listened to Lisa cry in the box. I could tell when he locked my door at night. I could tell when he watched me and Lisa get undressed. I could tell when he was taken away by the cops on several occasions. I can tell when he lied to me, and said that if I took the heroin, it’ll all go away.
Jessy is glad Thomas is gone, she didn’t like the way he looked at her. He was in his fifties, and he sold Cars for a living.
John is too, Thomas always tried to talk to him about Jessy. He stopped after he learned that John is a transgender.
And after John beat him up that one time for breaking into their house.
I don’t like to think about it, the police came, and the services. They questioned me and mom. This was just one occurrence when Thomas was arrested.
Mom still made me call him dad.
John came out with three bowls of mac and cheese, “Here you go Mark. No… Er… Worms in this one.” He glanced at Jessy with a frustrated expression, “I called C.O.P.S. They know, and they’re on it. We might get her for good this time.”
I know what C.O.P.S means, it means the police, and even the services are going to take me away. One time I was taken away for two years, until mom got into rehab and got me back.
Jessy answered, “Thank god.” She frowned at me, “Aren’t you going to eat Mark?”
I shoved the noodles down my throat, I’ll be beaten if mom finds out that the reason the services are coming is because of John and Jessy. I’ll get the box.
I don’t swallow, I let them slide down my throat. They remind me of maggots. I choked out the words, “Thanks John and Jessy, do you think the cops are going to get me out of here? With all the cocaine, and drugs going on.”
Jessy’s blue eyes widened, I love her eyes, “Oh god, you’re not a little boy anymore are you Mark?” She hugged me closer to her, “We’ll see if we can get the police to let you spend the night. Your mom is out of control. We can’t let this happen to you. You’re only a little-“ She pauses, “You’re only a boy.”
Her red hair fell gently over my face, it smells like coconut. And of the beach mom takes me to when she’s off of the drugs. I love her hair, I love Jessy.
“It’s fine Jessy, mom can’t hurt me anymore. Soon I’ll be able to get out of there, just seven more years, then I can leave.”
John grimaced, “You’ve grown up Mark. You’re too mature for your age. What the heck did they do to you? I shouldn’t even ask.”
Jessy hugged me closer and payed attention to the small colorful box, pushing my head against her cheek. Forcing me to look at it. I liked the box. I liked how Jessy could make me forget about mom, the cops, and even Thomas. Who was still on my brain, even though he left us. I liked this place. But it wasn’t home.


Chap 3
I’m in the back of a police car. The officer, Mrs. Thrasher, a nice name for a cop if you ask me. Was talking to me about my mom, “How long has she been back on the drug? Why didn’t you call us sooner? What happened to Lisa Green?”
I didn’t want to talk to her, she was nice, but I don’t like talking about Lisa. Lisa is old news, if I talk about Lisa, I get the box.
I don’t like the box.
Officer Thrasher and me had known each other for about a year now. We first met when she was arresting mom for something to do with parole. I don’t know what that is, and I barely remember what they said.
But she got my trust with a slice of Mario’s pizza.
I love pizza, like I love Jessy and John, like how I love Officer Thrasher. And maybe even mom.
She smiled at me, “You doing okay back there kid? You ready to go to the Smith’s?”
The smiths are my foster family. They have three kids, one biological. They’re nice, when you clean for them. They are just milking the foster care system, by making us pick oranges. But it’s better than the box.
“Is Mrs. Smith going to be there when you drop me off?” I grinned to myself, if Mrs. Smith is there, she won’t make me start picking right away. Not when Officer Thrasher is around.
“No, Mr. Smith will be there. Mrs. Smith is having bone spurs removed from her shoulders and neck today.” She nodded grimly, “I’ll stick around if you want.”
Officer Thrasher knew about the Smiths, their little secret. It’s not illegal, but she didn’t like it. She didn’t like how she couldn’t stop them from over working little boys like me. She liked to keep an eye on them though. The Smiths always are careful when she’s around.
“Just be cautious kid, I know what they do.” She moved one of the mirrors to get a better view of me, “I’ll stick around until I’m called for duty. How does that sound?”
Officer Thrasher knew it was risky to put her job off for me. She could get fired, or worse. But she loves me, I’m the only kid in her care that’s ‘innocent’. That’s a victim, not a criminal.
We rolled up into the drive way, “Here we go kid. I’ll get out first, and talk to Joe. He better listen, if he doesn’t. Tell me kid.”
Her boots crunched under gravel as she approached the house. It was painted white, years ago. It has long since been beaten down, its floor sagged in several places, and the paint peeled.
But there are no maggots.
She walked into the house, I couldn’t hear them from the car anyways. Even if she left the windows rolled down. The car was running so I didn’t suffer in the Florida heat.
She walked out with a smile on her face and pulled the car door open, “Guess what kid, the field has been infested with bugs or whatever you call ‘em. I don’t care much about insects.” She frowned, “But they’re not picking oranges until the next crop. I don’t know how long that is, but they’re not letting the kids into the fields. They’re spraying poison.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the car, “Congrats kid, you’re alive so far. Let’s get rolling before the heat kills you.” She strolled me to the porch. The floor boards creaked. This wasn’t home, but it was close to it. “Mr. Smith, you know Mark Green. Take good care of him, and I’m keeping my eyes on you.”
Joe Smith is a harsh man; he’s not as bad as mom’s boyfriends. But he’s strict. He has a son, Tim Smith, but Tim doesn’t usually talk much. He’s mental. Their other ‘children’ are two boys, Rico, and Jussack. They’re both Hispanic. Rico is tolerable, but Jussack is Jussack, a crude boy that tortures Tim.
Like Thomas.
And Thomas is a bad man.
Jussack says I’m mental too, but I know I understand that word better than him. I’m not mental; Tim has an injury that made him like this. He was hit by a car when he was younger, his brain was scattered in the process. Doctors can’t figure out why he’s still like this.
Rico likes to hang out with me; he’s the only boy I’ve friended over the years. They used to let us go to the same school, but after blowing up the chemistry lab, they split us apart.
Jussack goes to the same school as Rico. They’re brothers, and they figured that since Jussack was an ‘angel’ in their classes. He’ll rub off on Rico.
Jussack is no angel, trust me.
Jussack likes to try to dip your hand in water while you’re sleeping. He does it to Tim especially, poor Tim, you can’t help but feel sorry for him.
I got tired of it one time, and shaved off all of Jussack’s hair while he was sleeping. Oh, I got to pick oranges for eleven hours straight with no water because of that.
Better than the box.
Jussack avoids me most of the time, he knows what I’m capable of. His life isn’t as bad as mine. His mom just left him, and his dad doesn’t care. He has a respectful approach after seeing the purple scars that cross my back one time. He doesn’t like me, but as I said before. He tolerates me.
Jussack leaned against the door and raised a eyebrow, “Welcome back chico. Welcome to infernio, Mrs. Smith was taken to the hospital today for a appointment, but we’re not picking today. You got lucky.”
Jussack is older than me, about fourteen. But by maturity levels, we’re the same.
I shrugged, “Officer Thrasher told me about it. Insects, she said. What kind, wait, I’m guessing Mealy bugs.”
Rico bounded out, we’re the same age, “Ya, Mealy bugs. They’re eating the younger oranges, and it’s gotten so bad a few of the bigger ones too.”
Rico, on a maturity level, is younger than me. You can see why.
I walked into the house and sniffed, “No food, eh?” I shrugged and shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of spoons and a jar of peanut butter, “I’m starving man, and someone get me some bread.”
Mr. Smith walked in and gave me a disapproving glare, “No bread. We’re not making money without the oranges. You’re going to have to stay hungry tonight, not with Lilly in the hospital.” He grunted and grabbed the peanut butter back, “Money’s tight.”
Yup. Home.