Rotten Eggs

So far, Huck and his brother, Dewey, are trying to survive against the abuse from their father. Huck is falling in love with a colored woman, Miss Lynn. But when his father gets wind of this, Huck knows his beloved Lynn is now in danger.

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We hurry out to muck the stalls. Even though it's early, the air is heavy and damp. We are both dripping with sweat as we head to the coop to gather the eggs. It's a surprisingly good haul. Twelve good eggs and two rotten ones. I toss one of the rotten ones up in the air then catch it in my hand. I watch Dewey as he pushes the wheelbarrow loaded with hay to the horses. I wait, and as he bends down to grab an armful of hay, I toss the rotten egg right at his backside.

"That's what hell smells like," I announce after he yelps.

He reaches around and pulls his hand back with the putrid yolk on his fingers. "Why'd you do that?"

"It's just a little rotten egg. It ain't that bad. Just wipe it off."

"It ain't on you, Huck."

I extend the remaining bad egg out to him. "Here. Throw this at me, and we'll call it even."

"I don't want to. I just don't want to smell like this all day."

I shrug, refusing to feel bad about this. "Go change. Let Momma wash your drawers."

He scowls. "I ain't got nothing to change into," he snaps.

"Well, go put my other pants on."

"I don't wanna." He's near to crying, the way he does when he gets all flustered and frustrated.

I grumble to myself as I walk over to him. I wince, cause he smells something awful. "After we're done chorin', we can go down to the creek, take a bar of soap and we can wash up and clean your pants. Deal?"

He nods, but I can see his lip trembling.

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The air ain't moving and each step we take is like pushing a heavy curtain as we walk towards the creek. We're both bone tired, and Dewey is still stewing over what I done, I'm guessing. His face is set in a sour look.

"You're scaring me, Dew," I say, once we're far enough away from the house. I ain't worried about him getting even with me. No sir, I'm scared he's gonna try to stand up to Daddy.

"You ain't the one who needs to be scared."

"I ain't scared of you. I'm scared you're gonna try to do something stupid and Daddy is gonna finish you off."

Dewey puffs his chest out. He's changed a lot in the past year. He used to be all smiles. Now, he stews over things. He wants to fight someone. Some men are like that. I believe Dewey could hold his own in a fair fight. He's tall and thin, but has the kind of muscles that come from hard work. I seen him wrestle a cow to the ground, lift two bales of hay like they were a loaf of bread. I know he can rough someone up, in a fair fight. That being said, my daddy ain't never fought fair. He's mean and sneaky to the core of his soul.

"You ain't got worry about me, Huck. No you ain't. I'm gonna finish his sorry ass off. If he comes for me, he damn well better kill me this time."

"Stop it!" I yell. "Just stop talking about it."

Dewey stops walking and turns to face me. His hair is plastered to his forehead. "You don't think about killing him?"

"No."

"You're a damn liar, Huck."

"Shut up. Lets just get washed up."

He roughly grabs my arm to keep me from walking away. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want him gone."

"Let go."

"You know he was the one trying to break into Miss Lynn's, don't ya?"

I look up sharply.

"Busted her winda's for spite."

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"I got ears, Huck. Heard him telling Momma the other night. Said if she told on him, he'd tell everyone about her secret."

I watch him suspiciously. "What secret?"

Dewey shrugs, smiling faintly. "She just begged him not to."

I don't ask him anymore. He looks past me towards the creek. "Come on, little brother," he says, then starts whistling as he starts down the bank to the water.

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There are two kinds of people who get into the water. I just jump right in, hiccupping and gasping as my body tries to regulate itself to the cold. Dewey is the opposite. He rests on the shore, sticking his legs in first and sliding in slowly and deliberately. When he makes his way over to where I'm bobbing in the icy water, I grin at him. "This feels like heaven," I say, teeth chattering.

Dewey takes the bar of soap and lathers up his hair, then his face and continues washing various body parts until he's satisfied. He hands it over to me.

I watch as he dips below the surface and the soapy suds pan out around him. I wait until he comes back up. "Why you think Daddy hates Miss Lynn?"

"Cause she's colored. He says she's uppity."

"Shoot. She's the nicest person I ever met."

Dewey frowns. "You can't go falling in love with her."

"I ain't. But tell me why not. And it can't just be cause she's colored neither."

"She's too old fer ya'."

"You know how old she is?"

Dewey shakes his head. "No."

"So, she might not be too old."

Dewey scrunches his face up. "Damn, Huck, she got two kids, two colored kids. They got a daddy somewhere. What you think he'd do if'n he come back to town and found you, some lilly white boy, all cozied up to her?"

"I'd stand up to him."

Dewey smirks. "The hell you say."

I look down, embarrassed at the feelings I have as they come tumbling out of my mouth. "It just feels right when I'm near her. I can't explain it. I never felt like this before."

Dewey puts his palm on my shoulder. "You need to put Miss Lynn out of your head and your heart."

"That ain't as easy as you think," I mutter.

"It's as easy as it is to stop thinking about what I want to do," he says, then snaps his fingers. Without another word, he swims towards the shore.