“What are you looking at grandpa? You probably can’t even hear us, old man!”
I sat from our front porch and watched the scene unfold. Three teenagers bullying the old man who lived across the street from us. The man—unfazed by their disgusting remarks—continued on with his walk down the block. I took my pencil and sketched away. Unusually muscular for a man of his age, his arms jutted out of his tank top. He glanced at me and nodded, as I quickly lowered my head to the page, pretending to not have seen him.
I was just a teenage girl new to a neighborhood where I did not fit in. It took me a few weeks before I mustered up the courage to introduce myself to the three others on my street who were around my age. It did not go well.
“Oh my god. Did you dip your face in a pool of eyeshadow? Who are you trying to impress?”
Julie giggled alongside Kenny and Rob.
“Can we help you with something or are you just going to stand there all day and drool over this body you’re looking at?” Kenny said and high-fived Rob.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to—”
“We’re not interested. I know you’re new here, but you can’t just like join our group like you know us. Plus, you look ridiculous. I mean, who wears a studded belt. I can’t. I just can’t with you right now.” Julie shooed me away.
As I held back tears and retreated to my house, I noticed the old man who lived in the red door house. He rocked back and forth on his porch chair. A look of pity visible on his face. After going inside and plopping down on the couch, I heard a few knocks from the front door.
My parents were at work most days, so I was usually home alone until the evening. I pulled the living room curtain to the side. It was the old man. He caught me spying on him through the window, so I had no choice but to open the door.
“Hello neighbor, figured I’d introduce myself. The name’s Randall. Been on the block for fifty plus years. Nice to meet—”
I extended my hand out. “Sorry, just not a great start to the day. I’m Emma. We just moved out here.”
“Those kids you were talking to. Nasty bunch. Been ignoring me their entire lives. Treat me like gum on the bottom of their shoe. Think I’m a pest, even though I never caused them any harm. Guess you sort of get discarded when you get to my age. I’m real sorry about how they treated you.”
“It’s okay, was just trying to make a friend or two around here. You must have a lot of friends if you’ve been living here for that long.”
“Emma, all my friends are dead. You’re lucky if you get to my age with a beating heart. Tommy sure lost a bet, thought he’d make it longer than me. He was a real pistol though, lived a little too long in the fast lane. Poor guy, sure miss him. Anyways, if you and your folks ever want to come by for a chat, you are always welcome. I make a real mean hot dog on the stovetop.”
I chuckled. “Thanks, nice to meet you. Those woods behind your house, are there any like trails to walk on?”
“It’s funny that you bring that up because I go out there almost every day. I’ve kind of built my own trails. There’s this clearing about a mile out that is so peaceful. Sometimes, I bring a folding chair out and just sit for hours, working on my sticks.”
“Sticks?”
“Oh. Walking sticks. I carve walking sticks. You are welcome to join me sometime.”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
As Randall walked back to his house, Kenny rammed into him with a football tucked against his chest, but it was the oddest thing; Randall didn’t flinch. Never lost his balance. He stood his ground and shrugged him off.
With the summer days passing by slowly, even drawing was starting to become a bore. Even though I carried a pencil and pad everywhere I went, I needed a new adventure. Randall was the only person to show any kind of interest in my existence, so one day, I ventured into the woods with him. Folding chair in hand, I accompanied him through his man-made trail. The shade from the trees was such a relief from the blistering heat. But it was the quiet—the sounds of nature—that really struck a chord with me. When we reached the clearing, we took a seat and just ate up the silence for a few minutes.
“Emma, I don’t know much about you, but everyone deserves friends. Those kids on our block… that ain’t right how they treated you. My old heart chipped when I saw you walking back to your house that day. Listen to me. It’s okay to be different. Hell, I’ll put on some of that black stuff on my own damn eyes. Don’t bother me a bit.”
I smiled. “Really?”
“You might look different from them, but nothing wrong with that. You be you. All my friends growing up had their own odds and ends about them, but we always supported each other.”
Randall and I hung out for two hours. He taught me how to create walking sticks with his little knife, but more importantly he made me feel better about myself, helped seed some confidence in me, instead of letting my angsty teen self sour my day.
A week later, Julie disappeared. Her bedroom window was open when her parents found her room empty. Missing person posters covered the telephone poles throughout town. I was a bit shaken up and started to get second thoughts about hanging out in the woods every day, but Randall was my best friend, my only friend. Being in his company was the best part of my day.
But then a week later, both Kenny and Rob went missing. Rumors swirled around town that maybe the three of them had run away from home, but it just did not add up. Their parents saw no logical reason for them to run.
With my own safety starting to feel in jeopardy, I clung onto Randall. I’ve always loved my parents, but this was the eighties, and at the time, they were more preoccupied with their own lives than mine. One afternoon, as we walked along the trail towards the clearing, I spotted something unusual from the corner of my eye; Randall’s walking stick looked different from the others. Upon closer inspection, it resembled a bone. Multiple bones that were like glued together. When we reached out spot, I tried to remain calm and casually ask about his new stick.
“Where did you get the new stick? I haven’t seen that one before.”
“Oh, I found some bones in the brush the other day, probably just an animal that was eaten out here.”
I had a hunch that Randall was not telling me the truth, but with the two of us a mile from civilization, I played along.
“That’s cool,” I replied.
As I opened my folding chair and wiggled it into the dirt, I noticed a bloody finger inches from the chair.
“What the—”
Randall’s deer in the headlights face provided all the proof I needed. I knew at that moment, I was in danger, that I had to make a run for it. But I had poured my trust into Randall, so I just stood there frozen, waiting for him to say something.
“Emma. I did this for you. They can’t bully you anymore. You understand, right? Are we still friends?”
I said nothing. Fear coursed through me like a wildfire. Randall took a few steps my way. I reached into my purse and grabbed my pencil.
“We are still friends, right? You’re my only –”
I jabbed the pencil into his neck, and he fell back to the ground. He recovered quicker than I expected, but I was on my way at that point. I ran back on the trail, back to our neighborhood. I knocked on Julie’s door. Her mom opened up and called the police.
Randall did not emerge from the woods alive. The authorities found his body in the clearing. He had slashed his own throat with his knife. Further out, a pile of flesh that belonged to Julie, Kenny, and Rob. And as for that walking stick, femur bones glued together.