Bio:  Short fiction by Lynn Stearns has appeared in The Baltimore Review, The Bitter Oleander, descant, Troika, Wascana Review, and other publications. She is an instructor at the Writer's Center, leading "Story Construction" workshops, and finishing a novel.

"Anybody" was published in The Baltimore Review, summer 1999 issue.

Anybody

by Lynn Stearns

“Hey!”  The child’s voice floated through the air.  “Somebody look at me!”

Amber left the trowel embedded in the rich earth under the dandelion roots and peered between the boards of the privacy fence.  The neighbor’s child stood at the top of the slide, hands on his slender hips, eyes staring intently at his screen door.

“Somebody?  Look here.”

Jamie, she thought his name was.  Jamie is what she had heard the parents yell to him, to wash for dinner, to pick up a mess he had made inside.

“Hey!  Anybody?”  He drew his shoulders back.

Amber thought he looked about four, or maybe a small five, almost angelic with the late afternoon sun shining on his auburn curls.  She followed his gaze toward the house as she swatted at a gnat worrying her ear.

The noises coming from inside were those of drawers and cabinets being flung open and shut, hard.  Silverware clattered on a kitchen counter and a couple of pieces jangled when they hit the floor.

She looked at Jamie again.

He hiked his pants up and jabbed his hand downward against his shirt, tucking it into the elastic waistband of his jeans.  An odd, mature thing for such a young child to do.

He called to the back door again with a voice not so sure of itself as it had been before.  “Look at me.”

The sounds of heavy footsteps and angry voices flowed through the screen and across the lawn.

“Give me your word it won’t happen again and I’ll let it go.”  A male.  Jamie’s father, she thought.

“Since when did my word mean anything to you?”  The mother, not sure if she wanted to beg or be belligerent.  “Besides, you wouldn’t let it go if it killed you.”

Jamie spread his arms out like airplane wings and very quietly this time, in a monotone, said, “Hey.  Anybody.”

He froze with pale, wide eyes glued to the door.  Several minutes went by.

Amber watched the tousled head, glowing in the sunlight.  Finally it tilted forward, ever so slightly, the boy straining to hear a response as he whispered, “Anybody?”

Another exchange of harsh words.  Words a small boy should not have heard cut through the air, then a slap.  Flesh against flesh.

©Lynn Stearns