Toby

Intermissions/Grattan Street Press/October 2021

*Grattan Street Press is an Australian publication, hence the Australian spellings and single quotations marks.

We sprang up from the crouch by the fire. The boy appeared, rising out of the darkness, drawn by the flickering light. His shining face was surrounded by wide, scared eyes. His sweatpants had holes in the knees and streaks of black along the thighs. Despite the warm weather, he looked cold, his fists jammed into the front of his hoodie. I didn’t know if Lizzy was going to attack or embrace him. She was cagey like that, wiry and reactive. The abandoned house we called the Shack, where we secretly met on a few nights a week, loomed behind the boy. 

He stared past us. I could see he wanted something. The warmth of the fire, maybe. 

‘You got food?’ he said, moving closer. 

Lizzy reached down and pulled out her stash of Morning Glory Muffins. The boy lurched forward and snatched the Tupperware container. He started shoving the muffins into his mouth one at a time. 

‘So, where’d you come from?’ I said.
The boy made a gesture toward the house behind him.
‘You’re living in there? Why?’
‘Because it’s fun,’ said the boy, smiling.
‘How? What do you eat? What do you–’
‘You guys throw out some nice food around here,’ he said, looking around. ‘Wasteful.’
‘What’s your name? I’m Lizzy and this is Grey.’ She thrust out her hand.
‘I’m Toby,’ he said, shaking Lizzy’s hand. 

* **

We met Toby at the Shack a few nights later. Toby took Lizzy’s flashlight and showed us around the house. The floorboards creaked under our feet. 

‘How long have you been here?’ Lizzy said. 

‘Since April. Things got real bad at my Mom’s, so I just left. Walked all the way here from the city.’ 

Lizzy and I exchanged glances. There was garbage strewn around and some blankets bundled in the corner. 

‘Is this really better than living with your mother?’ I asked. 

‘Yes,’ Toby said. 

* **

Toby loved all the food and clothes we brought him, but he especially liked the National Geographic magazines and the podcast Reply All. He liked listening to our stories. 

‘What about you, T?’ I asked. ‘Who’re your friends? Family? Don’t you miss them?’ 

‘Naaa. I could either have family and friends or be alive. I choose being alive,’ 

* **

When school started, Toby grew restless, pacing around the Shack. We were busier, so he was alone more. 

‘You’ll need some warmer clothes for the winter,’ Lizzy said. 

We tried to keep Toby distracted with lessons. We taught him algebra on a whiteboard and assigned problems for homework. He liked watching the numbers narrow down to a single value. 

‘I like that about math’ he said. ‘There’s always an answer.’ 

* **

Thanksgiving was around the corner. We didn’t say a word about all the preparations or the amount of food. Toby refused to go to a shelter, despite the icicles forming off the Shack’s gutters. We reviewed our options, and considered asking an adult to help. 

‘Who knows what our parents – what the neighbours would do if they found out?’ Lizzy said. ‘They’d be more upset about someone squatting than a kid suffering. It’s too risky.’ 

We brought more blankets, but Toby just couldn’t get warm. Lizzy cried one night as we walked home. 

‘It’s like there’s nothing we can do,’ she sobbed. ‘There’s no way to fix his problems.’ 

Lizzy would be going to her aunt’s house in Ohio. She felt terrible leaving Toby. 

You have to bring him some Thanksgiving dinner, she texted. 

Definitely, I replied. 

* **

It snowed the Sunday after Thanksgiving, something I usually enjoyed. I forced myself to forget Toby. Eventually, it felt like it never really happened. I was busy playing Xbox and eating leftover stuffing and pie. 

Hey. How’s Toby? Lizzy texted. 

Dunno.
What? Be there. Tonight. 

* **

The grass was frosty as we walked that night, and the sharp air burnt our faces. 

‘I can’t believe you didn’t check on him!’ Lizzy spat out.
I slouched in shame.
Lizzy took her gloves off and banged out the secret knock on the  window. The house remained dark and still. 

He was gone. 

* **

It was spring before I noticed my bike was missing. Then they came to demolish the Shack. Rumours spread around the neighbourhood that there were squatters living there. 

Lizzy and I investigated the dumpster outside the Shack, finding the cans of fruits and vegetables Lizzy brought, and the blankets and clothes. 

‘At least we kept him a secret. We kept him safe,’ Lizzy said.
‘At least we didn’t get in trouble,’ I said. 
Lizzy’s head drooped as we walked away, her arms limp. 

We returned to our homes guided by the moonlight, hoping the same moon was leading Toby somewhere better too.