Root by A. Sparrow Read Free Book Online Page B

me. I belonged here in a way that I didn’t belong anywhere
else.
    I made another strand glow, and then another
and yet another until the whole tangle lit up and I was awash in
light of every color. I felt like a human Christmas
ornament.
    I heard voices below me. I twisted around and
squinted through a slot. A man and a woman clambered up the sloped
the passage. The woman wore a long, velvety dress in a paisley
print; the man—a white shirt, dark vest and bowler hat.
    They paused and looked up at me, their faces
bathed in the glow I had created. I was speechless and
self-conscious of my nakedness. They were the last creatures I
expected to see in a place like this.
    “ What’s all this?” said the
man.
    “ Seems to be centered around this
pod,” said the woman. She squinted up at me. “There seems to be a
boy in there. Yoo hoo! Did you make all these glow?”
    “ Um … yeah.”
    “ Impressive,” said the
man.
    “ Suppose we should help
him?”
    Something tingled beneath my skin. It felt
like little bugs were running back and forth. My vision grew
hazy.
    “ Ahem. I wouldn’t bother. He’s
already fading.”
    “ Oh, bless his soul! The kid’s just
a dabbler.”
    “ A talented one at that.”
    ***
    The screen door slammed shut and mom stood
there in the door, bits of dried leaf adorning her hair, grass
stains on her knees.
    Her shoulders slumped when she saw me in the
same spot on the couch. “Oh, whatever are we going to do with you
James? You should have come outside with me. A little fresh air and
sweat would have been good for your soul.”
    I just smiled and wished I was back in Root,
making things glow. And I wanted to meet those people again,
whoever they were. They seemed like such a nice couple.

Chapter 7:
Jobs
     
    Sadly, my visitations petered out and then
ceased. I’m not sure why. I felt no less miserable. Seemed that
Root was sensitive to and repelled by even the smallest traces of
hope, though any upticks in my optimism were imperceptible to me.
Hints of Root still came to me in dreams, to remind me it was
there, waiting.
    Mom was forced to take a job. That put an end
to my home schooling, thank God. I was already eighteen. I could
read and write well enough to teach myself anything, or so I
believed.
    So I went out to Indian River State College
and tested for my GED. I was shocked by how simple the questions
were. I could have passed it when I was twelve.
    Mom found a position in our local satellite
branch of the Ft. Pierce public library. But her pay was poor and
our finances were shaky enough that I needed to find a way to make
some money, too.
    I tried the fast food route first, but nobody
was hiring. With the economy the way it was, the Burger King was
staffed pretty much with all middle-aged folks. One guy flipping
burgers even had a PhD.
    Plan B was to try my hand at freelance yard
work. So I took a Sharpie and made up a bunch of posters with
‘Moody Landscaping’ in big letters and my phone number pre-torn in
strips along the bottom. I plastered them across any surface that
would accept scotch tape or staples within a ten mile radius of the
house. I offered lawn mowing, tree removal, bulb planting—anything
involving dirt and plants. I wondered if Uncle Ed got his start
this way.
    And it worked. I started getting calls, dribs
and drabs at first, but I was a hard and careful worker—and
cheap—so word of mouth spread. Mom even let me take the
‘shrine’—dad’s pickup—to jobs, though she wouldn’t let me drive it
anywhere else. I kept the bed loaded up with every garden tool that
we owned, a gas can and a case of SAE 30 oil.
    I ran into problems right away with one of the
so-called ‘professional’ services because my rates severely
undercut them. Their laborers couldn’t care less, but one of the
managers got his hackles raised when he saw me operating on his
turf. One guy came up to me and told me it was illegal to be
operating without insurance.
    I told him, I