Safekeeping: A Bad Pennies Story
Twelve-year-old Erica Stauffer had been asleep in her bedroom when something woke her. She blinked in the early morning dark and saw a figure in her room. The figure was facing away from her and seemed to be examining her dresser. A chill went through her that no blanket might stop.
She moved slowly, reaching one arm from her bed to the floor, her hand found some clothing, the television remote, and a ceramic mug she’d used for some Jasmine tea she’d put way too much honey in the night before. She picked up the empty cup, then carefully sat up, trying her best to be as quiet as possible. She heard the figure move the dresser as it scrapped across the wood floor.
Erica took aim with the cup and threw it in the direction of the figure. The moment the mug was out of her hand she scrambled out of bed and hit the light switch on the wall just as the figure cried out. Erica scanned the floor for something, anything else to use as a weapon when the figure spoke.
“What the fuck, Erica?” at the sound of his voice, Erica lost her fear and gained anger.
“What the fuck yourself,” Erica said. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Used to be my room before you came along,” he said, rubbing the spot on his back where the mug had hit him. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”
The boy in front of her was seven years older than Erica and made sure she knew it every chance he got. Her older brother, Jesse. When they were younger, they got along, but in recent years he treated her like an annoyance. Her mother said he’d grow out of it. But at the moment, she just wanted him to go away so she could go back to sleep.
“Serves you right. You scared the hell out of me.”
Jesse’s attitude seemed to disappear. His face fell and he stared at her ducking his head as he talked.
“I’m sorry, sis,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I tried to be quiet.”
“What were you doing?”
“There’s a loose floorboard under your dresser,” Jesse said, sitting at the foot of her bed.
“What?”
Jesse looked around as if some random person might see them though the curtains were drawn and the door to her bedroom was shut.
“I need to hide this,” Jesse said, reaching into his coat and pulled out a small, black revolver.
Erica’s eyes got wide.
“Dad doesn’t want me to have it,” Jesse explained. “I just wanted to hide it in your room because I know he’s going to search mine. Also, your room used to be my room and I knew this spot was here.”
“What’s in it for me?” Erica demanded.
“What do you want?”
“You gotta take me and Simone to the Maroon Five concert in October. Dad said we could go if you’d chaperone.”
“Seriously?” Jesse considered it for all of a second and said, “Fine.”
“And you let me hold that,” Erica said, pointing at the gun.
“It’s not a toy,” Jesse said.
“Duh. I know that,” Erica said. “C’mon, let me see it.”
“Okay, chipmunk,” Jesse said. He popped open the cylinder and dumped the six bullets into his hand. He then handed the gun to Erica.
It was heavier than she thought it’d be. She spun the cylinder, enjoying the sound. Then she snapped it shut. She put her hands around the grip and tried to pull the trigger, but she found it much harder to pull than expected.
“Careful,” Jesse said.
She pointed the gun at nothing and squeezed the trigger thinking it would be really hard to pull, but finding it surprisingly easy. The gun clicked.
“Good job, Annie Oakley. Now hand that back.”
Erica gave the gun back to her brother and watched as he slipped the bullets back into the chambers. Her brother then moved her dresser. He started trying to pry the board up with his hands, but he wasn’t having much luck.
Jesse looked at her. “Help me,” he said. When she didn’t move, he followed up with, “Your hands are smaller.”
Together they got the board up and Jesse placed the gun under the floorboard, carefully put the board back, and then slid the dresser back into place.
Jesse put a finger to his lips then put that finger on Erica’s lips. It felt warm and smelled vaguely of alcohol. Erica wasn’t sure what kind.
“Our secret, chipmunk. Go back to sleep.”
Jesse turned around and walked out of the room. Erica did not go back to sleep.
If she told her parents what Jesse did, she’d probably get in trouble for helping. And as long as the gun was hidden, it was safe. Right? She kept thinking about it. And then she’d rethink what she thought. Had Jesse hidden other things in her room? What if she just told her dad as soon as he’s home from work? Or should she call him right now? But then Jesse would never talk to her again or take her to the concert. Erica had put a pillow over her head hoping to block out the increasing morning light.
The sound of her father coming home in his patrol car half-woke Erica. She couldn’t have claimed to be fully asleep. She hadn’t decided what to do about the gun under her floor, but with Dad home, there was at least one thing she wanted to confirm.
She heard her dad walk in the front door and blurted, “Jesse said he’d take me and Simone to Maroon Five!”
Her father in his blue uniform looked at her, smiled, and said, “Good morning to you too, young lady.”
“Sorry,” Erica said. “Good morning, Dad.”
“Good morning. So what’s this about a concert?”
Erica spent the next few minutes telling her dad about Simone getting three tickets to the concert and how Simone’s mom was going to go with them, but she’s going to be at a conference that weekend. And so she asked Jesse to do it and he said he would. She told him all this while he made he made scrambled eggs for her.
“Jesse as chaperone?” Her father said as he spooned some eggs on a dish and handed it to her.
“Mom said it was okay,” Erica lied. She watched her dad’s face scrunch up.
“No, she didn’t,” he said.
“No. She didn’t,” Erica admitted. “But she would if I asked.”
Erica picked up her fork, took a bite of the eggs, and grabbed a pepper shaker. Her dad sat down across from her at the kitchen table.
“Honey,” he said. “I miss her too. But she’s doing a really important job. And while she does that it’s our job to make sure everything here works out okay without her ever having to worry about it. Do you understand?”
Erica nodded. Erica’s Mom was in Afghanistan ‘keeping America safe from bad guys’. She’d been there since before school let out for summer. It wasn’t the first time she’d been deployed. But for some reason this time it seemed to be lasting forever.
Erica finished her eggs in silence. Her dad left the kitchen. He hadn’t said no. But he also hadn’t said yes. She felt like pressing the issue would be a bad idea.
She walked into the living room and turned on the television, but realized her feet were cold. As she approached her room to get her slippers she could partially hear Jesse and her dad talking.
“Maybe I’m just being a good brother,” she heard Jesse say loudly.
Her dad said something she couldn’t hear.
“I know. I told her I’d do it. I’ll do it.”
Erica grabbed her slippers and ran into the living room. Best not to be outside the door when they came out.
A few minutes later, as she lounged on the couch, her dad tapped her on the shoulder.
“You and Simone can go with Jesse.”
Even knowing the news was coming, the confirmation sent her leaping from the couch to hug her dad, thanking him profusely for going along with it. This would be Erica’s first concert. Just a couple more steps. So what if her brother had to come along with her. She called Simone and ran upstairs when she answered.
“Simone, remember that guy who worked at the dome?”
“Mike?”
“I think so. The old guy.”
“He’s twenty-two.”
“You’re fourteen.”
“Ew. No. I know he wants to, but no.”
“He said he could get you any tickets you want, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can he get us three tickets to Maroon Five in October?”
She then went into detail about how her brother owed her and she’d told this story to her dad. This way if Erica’s dad asked, Simone would know what to say.
Erica’s excitement about the concert was such that it wasn’t until the afternoon that she remembered the gun under her floor. It was probably best to keep it a secret.
It’d be better if the gun just disappeared. Then it wouldn’t be a problem at all. So she spent the second half of her day thinking about how to get rid of the gun.
But then why’d he hide it? She couldn’t imagine Jesse had shot anyone. But would he use it in a robbery? Maybe. And she touched it. Shit. Okay. As soon as she should get the gun and at least wipe her fingerprints off of it. That made sense.
Erica pushed and shoved the dresser, getting it to move with a lot more effort than her older brother. Pulling up the board, she instinctively picked up the gun, cursing herself as she did. She just touched it again with her bare hands!
She opened a dresser drawer, grabbed a t-shirt and started wiping down the gun. It was greasy. She hadn’t noticed that last night. And it smelled. She popped out the cylinder like she had before. This time the bullets fell into her hands. She took the shirt and wiped everything down absolutely everything.
It was when she went to put it back that she hesitated. The bullets and the gun sat on her shirt on her floor. She didn’t want this gun to kill anyone. She put the gun back, and then bundled up the bullets in the shirt and put them in her dresser.
This way even if her brother took the gun or her dad found it, it’d be safe. No one would get hurt.
Stepping out of her room, into the hallway she heard movement in her brother’s room. The door was cracked open, so she just walked in.
“Jess-eee,” she said, in an almost sing-song voice, but then she saw it wasn’t him.
Her dad’s bulky frame stepped out of Jesse’s closet.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just me. Haven’t seen Jesse.”
It was clear that her dad was searching Jesse’s room, but Erica felt like asking anyway, “What’re you doing?”
“Trying to keep your brother on the straight and narrow.”
“How’s that going?” Erica said, giving her dad a knowing look.
“He’s a good kid,” he said. “He just needs a little help sometimes.”
He approached Erica, put his hand on her head and mussed her hair.
“We all do,” he said and walked past her out of the room.
It was meant to be comforting, but what Erica heard was confirmation that her dad likely also searched her room too.
But it’s not like Jesse, didn’t give him cause. Erica had never been suspended or kicked out of school. Erica had never been arrested. Erica didn’t hide guns. Only now she kind of was hiding one, right? The gun didn’t worry her. He hadn’t been prying up Jesse’s floorboards.
No, her concern had to do with the six bullets she’d put in her drawer for safekeeping. Six bullets she could not explain without admitting complicity or collusion. Could she even legally have bullets at her age? Maybe she should just confess, but then there’d be no Maroon 5 concert.
As she left her brother’s room she texted him:
Hey Dork. Dad was in your shit.
She walked back to her room. She’d pull the gun out, reload it, re-hide it, and forget about it. Even if it sat there all the way until October. Almost three months away. The whole dang summer. What if the gun got too hot? Was that a thing? What if the bullets got too hot?
She was thinking too much. She didn’t know how not to. She needed someone to talk to. Someone to bounce things off of so that she could figure out what to do.
She texted Simone.
U busy? Come over!
Simone didn’t text back. Erica pulled open her dresser drawer and took a bullet from the bundled up t-shirt. She fiddled with it in her fingers, feeling the cold smooth metal. She shut the drawer and went to her bed where she checked her phone.
By the time Simone came over, Erica had texted twice more, and was lying on her bed with the bullet between her teeth as if she’d caught it. Her bedroom door opened and Simone stood there with her messy blond ponytail and brown eyes so similar to Erica’s that some people thought they were sisters.
“Is that a bullet?” Simone said resulting in an immediate shushing from Erica. Simone entered the room and shut the door behind her. Erica sat up.
“Um-yeah,” Erica said.
“Gimme.” Simone snatched it from Erica’s fingers. She squinted at it. “It’s from a nine millimeter.”
Simone sat next to Erica on the bed.
“I was going to tell you all about the guy my mom’s seeing who I think I had as a sub last year, but you’ve got props. You go first. Where’d ya get the bullet?”
“Jesse,” Erica said. “He hid a gun in my room.”
It felt good to say it out loud to someone, as if telling Simone made it okay that she didn’t tell her father. She breathed out and smiled like hiding weapons in her room was a common thing that every girl deals with.
“Oh shit,” Simone said. “Jesse’s gun is here?”
Erica hopped up from the bed. She couldn’t tell her about it and not show her. She approached her dresser and then motioned for Simone to help her push the dresser aside. Prying up the floorboard was easy this time around. She pulled out the revolver. It still felt heavier than she thought it should.
“I took the bullets out,” Erica said to herself as much as Simone.
Simone reached for it. Erica handed it over. Simone aimed it around the room, at the window, at a mirror, then up with the barrel by her face like the poster of an action movie. That’s when Jesse came in.
“Fucking Christ!” Jesse yelled seeing the two girls with his gun. “Erica, I told you it wasn’t a fucking toy.” Jesse’s attention then fell on Simone.
“Hand it over, ‘Mona.”
Simone gave him a sassy-I-refuse-to-take-this-seriously smile.
“What if I don’t want to?”
Jesse crossed the room in less than a second. He’d knocked Simone to the floor and taken the gun from her.
“Stupid bitches. This isn’t a fucking game!”
The next few moments happened very quickly and were forever in slow motion snapshot in Erica’s memories. Simone’s cries. Jesse yelling. Her father suddenly in the doorway. Jesse has the gun. Her father’s hand on his holstered sidearm. She forever wants to tell her father or her brother or either of the two men with guns that one of them isn’t loaded and that whatever happens next doesn’t fucking need to happen.
“I’m being fucking responsible!” Jesse yelled. “You always jump to conclusions about me.”
But he says it gesturing with the gun.
“Drop the piece, son.”
Her father never called them guns. What a weird thing to think in the moment, but there it was. She wanted to say something but found she couldn’t.
“How about this? You take yours out of your holster and drop it.”
“I can’t do that. Just put it down.”
“Because you can’t trust me. You think I’m going to what? Shoot you?”
Jesse pointed the gun directly at his father.
“Or I’m going to shoot Erica?”
Erica’s attention became laser focused on Jesse pointing the revolver at her. Unloaded. She knew it was unloaded. Instead of a bang, the gun made a click sound. Somehow that click seemed louder than the arguing had been. Everything stopped like someone had hit the pause button.
Jesse’s mouth hung open. He dropped the gun.
“Chipmunk,” Jesse said to her, ignoring anyone else in the room. “I would never-”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence before her father grabbed him.
“Don’t. Touch. That.” Her father said to the two girls, gesturing to the gun on the floor as he hauled his son out of the room.
Simone was okay, but went home shortly after that. The arguing between her father and Jesse hadn’t reached the vocal levels where she heard words from her room. Her father had taken the gun and she’d given him the bullets from her dresser. She still had the one bullet she’d been playing with earlier.
In a world where she didn’t take the bullets out of the gun was this the one that might have gone through her? The thought made parts deep inside her go cold. Had it really been that close a thing?
Erica smiled at the interruption of a small knock at her bedroom door. Any interruption would do. Jesse’s face was even more hangdog than normal, but none of the fake cool he tried to show everyone.
“I’m so sorry,” Jesse said. He held out his arms. She hugged her brother as he said, “My finger slipped.”
“Moron,” she said.
“I think you mean Maroon as in the Maroon Five concert I’m taking you to.”
Erica stepped back from his embrace. “You were doing that already. What else do we get?”
Nearly six weeks pass before Erica has a chance to see Simone again. Erica’s sitting on a bench down at Owen Beach when Simone plops down next to her without a word. She reaches into a small red leather purse and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
“Smoke?”
“I think that’s illegal here,” Erica said.
“Smoke?”
Erica takes a cigarette. Simone pulls one out for herself.
“If we don’t light them,” Simone said. “We’ve committed no crime.”
“So…,” Erica said.
“So…,”
Erica inhaled deeply, pretended to hold smoke, then let it out.
“Jesse’s buying us Maroon Five shirts.”
“Just shirts?” Simone says, taking a fake puff.
“Yeah. But he’s also gotta buy one for himself and wear it at the concert.”
The two girls laughed. Simone held up her cigarette.
“These things will kill you.”
“Nah,” Erica said. “They’re just like mice.”
“Mice?”
“Safe. Unless you put it in your mouth and light it on fire.”
END
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