The Lava in My Bones Read Free Page B

homeroom class. Her blonde hair rose in an elaborate, twisting labyrinth. On her shiny pencil case gleamed a picture of a mountain, and inside—thiswas the exciting part—she carried a jerky-limbed wooden man with hinged joints, bulging thigh muscles, and sequins for eyes. At night Sam dreamed the man leapt from her pencil case and dance-kicked his square feet, flapping his arms in the air. Clatter-clatter, he’d go. Clatter-clatter. From his desk Sam eyed Esther, hoping she’d zip open her case.
    One day he gathered stones by the seashore, fastened them together with knotted dandelion stems, and tied a flower on top. At recess Esther moseyed through the empty hopscotch court when Sam shuffled over and shoved his gift into her hand. Her cheeks reddened, her eyes watered, but with pain or gladness Sam couldn’t tell. Then she frowned and said, “I don’t want any of your stupid presents,” and smashed his rock-bundle against the school wall. Dandelion stems oozed juice onto the pavement.
    â€œCan I at least see the man in your pencil case?”
    Esther gasped, slapped him on the face, ran to a teacher, and complained that Sam had tried to put his hand between her legs.
    His parents were notified. His father scoffed, “’Tain’t no harm in what he did.” Mortified, his mother demanded that Sam attend the Friday night Bible-study group. Sam was expelled from school for three weeks and later placed in a different class than Esther. He was distressed because now he’d never learn the secret to her wooden man. Who and what was he?
    On Halloween, he discovered the truth. Everyone wore costumes to school, and Sam was able to crouch incognito in a robot outfit outside Esther’s homeroom. His lips trembled as he watched her slip the man from the case; she stuck a pencil into a hole hidden in the top of his head and began to grind, grind,grind until the man’s brains were full of sawdust. He was only a pencil sharpener!
    Sam soon realized he was over-imaginative and expected too much. Years before, his mother had coyly said the tooth fairy didn’t exist and he stopped eating for five days. Learning that the Easter bunny was a fantasy, he raced into the kitchen, snatched the coloured eggs from the fridge, and smashed each one on his father’s armchair. The Christmas his mother announced that Santa was make-believe—“The pastor says these lies are Satanic. Forgive me for not knowing sooner”—he refused to open any presents. “I’ll have them all for myself then,” Mother crowed, “for only God and Jesus exist.” Sam knew this wasn’t true. At their church everyone waved their hands in the air, wailing, screeching, straining so hard toward belief, Sam sensed the whole thing was fake.
    At the age of eleven, he devoted himself to reading the science journals in the town library. From now on he would know the world exactly as it was and not be wounded by unwelcome surprises. Two years later, hormones shot through his bloodstream and body parts spun round his brain like clothes in a dryer. Still, he would never again allow himself to feel desire mixed with a belittling hope. The first time he masturbated, the drop of sperm on his thigh caught the light and winked up at him like an eye.
    In high school, Esther re-entered Sam’s life. She remembered her earlier cruelties and felt responsible for his becoming an anti-social outcast. Now she pitied him. Esther assumed Sam was still attracted to her, and any boy who desired her automatically became a friend. In the high-school hierarchy, a guy wholiked you, no matter how peripheral, earned you a point, and she wanted more points than anyone.
    Sam didn’t want to date Esther, but enjoyed watching her. He’d discovered girls were most attractive when seen in the distance. He still loved the labyrinth of hair on Esther’s head; he sensed unresolved mysteries there.
    Life