Mason by Thomas Pendleton Page A

remember exactly when, but it was the day after Gene punished him that last time. His back had hurt really bad, and he felt sick from it, so he’d asked Aunt Molly if he could stay home, and she said yes. But he hadn’t asked Aunt Molly this time, and he wasn’t sick at all. Mason put his plate in the sink, convinced that he was in big trouble.
    He returned to his room slowly with none of the excitement he’d felt that morning. He shouldn’t have missed school. That was wrong, and it made him miserable. He sat on his bed and crossed his legs and gazed at the wall, thinking a mind picture of the park would make him feel better.
    But as he conjured the lawn and the checkered picnic cloth, the room remained dark. He was so afraid of getting in trouble for missing school he couldn’t bring sunshine to the scene. He placed Lightning on the grass next to his bed, but the dog immediately disintegrated into that other dog—the dark and sick one he’d shown to the ticket taker at the carnival. Mason attempted to bring a butterfly to the scene, but its wings were black and long, and its body grew fat and torn. Instead of a beautiful bug, an ugly crow circled the room, its eyes as orange as flames.
    The bird scared Mason, so he stopped drawing the mind picture and fell back on his bed.
    When he was a boy—before his mama and daddy went away—Mason had seen the scary birds. His daddy had let Gene use the old toolshed in the backyard as a fort. Gene bought a lock and kept the door fastened all the time, but one afternoon Gene told Mason he wanted to show him something. He’d been excited that Gene would let him into the fort, and Mason imagined they would play cowboys and Indians or some equally fun game. His heart had beat so fast, watching Gene slide a key into the padlock that held the door of the fort closed. His head had been so full of games—and joy that Gene was sharing this private place—Mason was all the more terrified when he finally saw what lay within.
    Gene opened the door and pushed Mason into the gloomy shack. The smell was awful. Mason had gotten whiffs of this stink when he played in the backyard, but he didn’t think much about it. Now it was everywhere, thick and clinging like syrup—foul, rotten syrup.
    Birds and squirrels hung from the walls. The crows had nails driven through their wings so that they looked like they were frozen in the act of flying. Deep cuts in their bellies revealed terrible things. Their beaks drooped to their chests, and black eyes like tiny marbles stared at Mason. The eyes of the squirrels were the same, but their furry little bodies hung above the old workbench, held to the wall with singlenails driven through their necks.
    Behind him, Gene slammed the door and locked it.
    Mason began to cry.
    He couldn’t remember how long he was trapped in that dim shack with its awful smell and Gene’s dead pets, but he remembered beating frantically on the door, begging his brother to let him out. Then he heard the sweet, soft voice of Mama.
    â€œIt’s my place,” Gene protested. “You can’t go in there. Daddy promised.”
    But the door opened and bright sunlight flooded over Mason. Tears had made his sight blurry, but he knew the dark shape standing in the door was Mama, and he rushed to her. She held him tightly and stroked his hair. Mama led him into the kitchen. She used a cool rag to wipe his cheeks and neck and forehead.
    Leaving the memory behind, Mason rolled over on his bed and held his pillow. His stomach felt all knotted up and pained from sadness.
    That night—the night after he saw Gene’s fort—Mason’s mama went to the hospital and never came back.

15
Muse
    Mason heard about Rene over dinner. He’d seen her picture on TV but didn’t really understand what the lady with the pretty blond hair was saying about her. He thought it was kind of neat to see a picture of someone he