Anything But Sugar

"Gavin, honey! Go out to the coop for the eggs before you leave for school."

The call reached Gavin in his bathroom where he stood in his boxers brushing his teeth. He spit a white glob into the sink, "Alright, Ma." At 18, he already had an impressive growth of facial hair which he examined in the mirror. Gavin liked it because it made him look like his dad. Gavin's mother on the other hand didn't like it because it made him look like his dad. In his room, freshly shaved, he pulled on his well worn jeans and a gray t-shirt, Thornbury Stinging Wasps in gold and red emblazoned across the front.

"Morning Ma." Gavin greeted his mother with a quick peck on the cheek.

"Morning dear. There's bacon on the stove. I need the truck for some deliveries if you don't mind taking the car to school."

"It's all the same to me. Let me get the eggs. Do you want me to load anything for you before I go?"

"Oh I'll be fine. You'd better hurry or you're going to be late."

Gavin headed for the back door, snagging a handful of bacon on his way. The sun was beginning to rise illuminating the small farmyard with beautiful golden rays. The chicken coop was in the back right corner of the yard, though the chickens were free to roam. The large old barn which had once housed horses, cows, pigs and goats was to the left dwarfing the small white farmhouse. Their single cow was already in the pasture, leaving the barn eerily quiet as he stepped in to grab an empty egg carton. As Gavin turned to leave a rustling came from the stalls behind him. He squinted into the darkness, but it was impossible to see. Probably just a cat, he thought.

He crossed the yard, his mother’s large garden plot on his left, the house on his right. The sound of morning news was drifting out the open windows, another girl missing in the state was the headline, again. Gavin ducked into the chicken coop and began loading eggs from each nest. They kept over a dozen chickens, ensuring at least a dozen eggs could be collected each morning. Today there were only 7. That was the 3rd day in a row the eggs had been short. He put the half empty carton with the rest of their stock in the barn cooler and left for school.

Margaret watched the small blue car pull away down the driveway from the front porch, blowing a kiss after her beloved son. She thanked God again that she had a healthy young man and not a healthy young girl to be snatched away from her at a moment's notice. 10 girls had gone missing in 5 short weeks in the state. All of them under 18, all of them blonde and beautiful. Her stomach churned with every news story, the line of smiling girls on the screen growing longer each time. The world was cruel, always take, take, taking.

Margaret turned to make her way back through the house, pausing in the hall to press two fingers to her lips and then to the framed photo of Gavin, herself, and Steven. It was taken at the state fair just two short weeks before the accident. Back in the yard she backed the pickup to the barn and threw the door open to let in the full light of the sun. She loaded several crates of produce and a single crate of eggs, frowning at the half empty cartons left in the cooler. As she was sliding the door back in place a rustling in the loft made her pause. She took a step back into the barn, clicking her tongue. An orange blur shot down the ladder, through her legs, and into the yard. "Morning to you too, Ginger." Margaret mumbled closing the barn door.

The pickup pulled away down the drive, leaving the chickens clucking in the yard, Ginger basking in the sun, Spot grazing in the field, and an unknown guest sleeping in the barn.

"The library closes in 5 minutes, June, time to wrap it up."

"Thanks, Hannah." June rose from the table, carefully packing a steno pad filled with cramped cursive scribbles into a fraying, dirty backpack and throwing it on her shoulder. She returned the reference book she had been reading to its place on the shelf and headed for the door. She looked back to wave goodnight to Hannah. Nowhere left to go but home, she thought darkly. On the sidewalk June paused to pull her long flaxen waves into a loose bun.

"You should let that beautiful hair flow free, sugar." The raspy voice came from the shadows. A lighter suddenly flared up in the dark illuminating the face of a man leaning against the library beside the door she'd just come out of. June gasped and took a step back, her hand reflexively rising to her hair as if she could protect it from his gaze.

"Uh, thank you, s-sir. Goodnight." June turned hastily to retreat.

Gavin always beat his mother home on the days she worked at Larabee's and tonight was no different. He parked the car and made his way about the farm, feeding, watering, cleaning, weeding, harvesting, all the things that had to be done before dinner. In the barn he shoveled out Spot's pen and headed for the loft to throw down a fresh bale of hay.

As his head came over the floor boards he found himself suddenly face to face with a hollow pair of grey eyes sunk into a dirt covered face. Gavin lost his grip on the ladder, jarringly sliding down and landing abruptly on his back on the barn floor. He wheezed and gasped struggling to regain his footing, sure whatever creature he'd just seen was about to pounce on him. He heard it rustling around the loft and grabbed the pitchfork he'd left against the stall door. Gavin raced up the ladder pitchfork raised and quickly pulled the string on the bare bulb brightening the dim loft- just as abruptly as he'd grabbed the pitchfork it now slid from his hand.

It was a girl. A rail thin, dirty girl in a ratty yellow sundress huddled in the straw like a cornered animal. Gavin's blood still beat loudly in his ears and his mind scrambled to make some sense of what he saw in front of him. Then he realized she was speaking.

"Please, please, please, please. I don't wanna go back. Please, don't take me back. Please. " She rose to her knees. "Please, I don't wanna be there. I'll do anything. Here. You can have me, just don't take me back." She started pulling at her dress exposing her boney white shoulders.

Gavin flung his hands up and the girl flinched back, clearly expecting a blow. "No, no. It's ok. I won't take you anywhere. I don't want anything. You can leave your clothes on. I'm not going to hurt you." She was still whispering, her pleas barely audible but she obediently straightened her dress. She was still on her knees in the straw rocking back and forth rhythmically.

Gavin sat down, maintaining the space between them and just stared. She couldn't have been much more than 5 feet tall. Her skin was ghostly white, a stark contrast to the black and brown dirt crusted to her and the shabby yellow dress that just touched her knees. He suspected her hair was a pretty blonde color, but it too was obscured in layers of dirt and matted together in several spots. She wouldn't look directly at him, just remained huddled pitifully in the straw. He had recovered from the initial shock but he still couldn't believe there was some wild girl in the loft of their barn. Part of him knew he should call the police but he felt an irrational desire to protect her. Her strange pleas rang in his mind. Wherever she came from, he couldn't risk the police taking her back. He couldn't guess her age, she was so small and thin she could be a child, but her eyes…

Gavin realized she had raised her eyes to his and they were now just staring at each other. She had such sad, tormented eyes like a steely sea in the throws of a hurricane. "My name is Gavin. What's yours?" The girl only shook her head. "Are you hungry?" Another head shake. "Have you been here long?" No response. Gavin scratched his head and fell silent again. His watch told him his mother would be home within the hour and he wasn't sure what he should do. "Stay here. I'll be right back." The girl nodded and sat down in the straw seeming to relax with the issue of a command, though Gavin hadn't meant it as one.

When Gavin returned to the barn she had not moved a muscle. A strange expression had settled on her face, eyes blank and straight ahead, lips curved up slightly at the corners in what could have been a smile, but just sent a chill down Gavin’s spine. He stepped closer to her half expecting her to make a run for it, but she didn’t move. He held out his hand, “Let me help you up. I brought you a robe. Why don’t you come inside? You don’t need to hide in the barn like an animal."

"Please don't take me back," she whispered, tears now falling down her cheeks, but she raised her bony arm and placed her delicate hand into his rough one. Once he had her on her feet Gavin held the lavender cotton robe open for her to slide her arms in. She wrapped it around her tiny figure, a much needed layer of protection, she could feel just the slightest bit of tension leave her. The girl followed Gavin down the ladder, looking back for just a second at the loft that had been her refuge for a length of time she was unable to define.

She was so tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of stealing eggs and eating scraps. This boy, Gavin, was nothing like Ray. Where Ray was polished smooth and clean like a cold stone, this boy was unkempt and rough. She recalled the strange rough palm of his hand and found it a comfort. So she followed him from her hideaway, into the rays of the setting sun and still further into the little farm house.