Zero - Pt. 2

He was sitting in his Government class listening to the teacher drone on about the Judicial Branch as he drew out plans on his notebook for some considerable stock investments in a cell phone company when he saw a greasy little forehead and a botched haircut peek in through the window.

“Zero!” he yelled and jumped from his chair.

The class laughed, the teacher dully told him, “no, Vito, what’s wrong? Take your seat.”

Zero bolted.

Vito burst from the door into the quiet outdoor hallway, “Zero, wait!”

She wound her way around a fence and took off full speed across the baseball field.

Vito groaned, looked back only a moment, and then took off after her.

She scrambled up the fence, chancing a glance back and nearly falling over the other side in surprise.

“Zero! Wait, it’s me Vito!” He flew up the fence.

They ran five long blocks, away from the houses and shops and city. She took a shortcut through a thick copse of trees, the thick branches snapping under her bare feet. She loped up a long, steep hill to the lone house at the top. Vito was losing steam, he couldn’t keep up, but it didn’t matter. He knew the house at the top of this hill and there was nowhere else to go. It was called Hatchet Manor and was said to be haunted, although he didn’t believe it. A family lived there, the oldest son was in some private school, but the younger twins had gone to Vito’s elementary school for a year. They had fine clothes, but their mother dyed their blonde hair black which Vito never really understood. The Manor was nearly five stories tall with a bell tower and a yard full of dying trees, old statues and a family graveyard. He stopped about ten feet from the Iron Gate, unsure if Zero had gone inside or continued running.

He stood catching his breath, when he spotted the pale figure he had been chasing. She climbed over the eaves on the roof of the house. She glanced down at him then flew across the roof with sure footing as though she had done this a thousand times before. She crawled in through a small circular window on the highest level.

Determined, Vito walked around to the back of the house where he found her path: an obvious trail through the garden and clean, polished wood running up the house next to a series of poles next to the patios and balconies.

Vito took a deep breath and jumped the fence.

The windows were all curtained; it seemed like no one was home.

He pulled himself up the five levels, wishing he had spent more time on his physical education. Getting over the hurdle of the roof’s eave was the hardest part. There were no hand or footholds, and it was a very long drop.

He flopped over like a walrus, nothing like the experienced, graceful deer that was Zero.

Finally he pulled himself to the top of the roof. He could see the entire city, the elementary school, the high school, the shops and theaters and hospital and people. He could see the whole town moving and beating as one, and there he was seeing what Zero had seen for years, an outsider filled with wonder. He wondered why she wasn’t a part of it, why she was only able to observe. He slipped around on the slats on his way to the window.

He peeked in.

It was the attic; dusty, old, and covered in grimy, long-forgotten children’s toys, boxes, easels, mannequins, old bedding, deflated soccer balls, moth eaten bags, a bent bicycle with one wheel, a ratty couch missing a cushion, broken shelves, wood planks, metal bedframes, and one Zero.

 She was sitting in the middle of the floor, near a stairwell, picking at wounds and scabs on her bare feet. Vito pushed open the window just a crack, about to get her attention when she jumped up to her feet.

A momentary beam of warm light and a door slammed shut.

“What the hell is going on up here you wretched girl!? If you’ve been out on that roof again I swear I’ll chain you back in that closet!”

Zero backed away shaking her head violently.

A skinny, wretched, angry looking woman climbed into the room. She had dyed black hair, horn rimmed glasses, necklaces and bracelets dripping over her silk shirt and expensive trousers. She carried a long loaf of bread.

“I asked you a question you little bitch, what were you doing?” She raised the bread and thumped her on the head. 

Zero shook her head.

“Don’t you lie to me you useless piece of shit. You were on the roof again, I heard you,” she grabbed the front of Zero’s shirt, the stiches and ties ripped; it looked handmade from the same shirt material she wore when she was little.

“You’re lying to me you filthy disgusting thing,” she threw her to the ground and kicked her once.

“You’re a good for nothing little brat. You always have been. Now get in your bed.”

Zero clambered to her feet.

“I said get in your bed! Hurry up,” she kicked her again as Zero climbed over the rickety wood of a filthy baby crib and curled up inside.

“That’s right you little bitch,” the woman turned to walk back down the stairs.

Zero jumped to her knees and made a noise, “Muh.”

The woman stopped and sneered, “What did you say?”

“Mum…” Zero said holding a tentative hand out.

“I am not your Mother. I have no daughter,” she ripped a quarter of the bread loaf off and tossed it onto the dusty floor, “there’s your three days’ worth, eat well. You get less if I hear you on that roof again.”

Then: creaky footsteps, a hopeless beam of warm light, a door slammed, a lock clicked, and the woman was gone.

Zero jumped from the crib and scrambled to the bread, eating hungrily.

Vito pushed the window open all the way and climbed in, his heart pounded, fiery anger and tears burned behind his eyes.

“Zero.”

She jumped to her feet, tripped and fell backward, she grabbed onto a moldy teddy bear, but didn’t know what to do with it. She shook her head violently, jumped to the couch and fell over behind it.

Scared the woman, her mother, would return Vito held out his hands and whispered, “Zero, please be quiet, it’s me Vito, remember? Your friend. We played on the swings and ate together after school?”

Zero’s greasy hair peeked over the couch.

All that mattered was being friends.

“Zero, it’s time to leave.”

This time she stood and she didn’t run.