The March Men

It began on the day that Jimmy Rogers said that he saw a goblin in his room.

"There’s no such thing as goblins, you retard." His older brother Tommy was always very direct when it came to accusing Jimmy of fanciful things. "I told you to shut up about that. You’re always lying." Tommy gave Jimmy a swift push to the forehead and the kid was down, sobbing on the asphalt. Jimmy looked up, tears falling from his eyes, but Tommy and the rest of the kids were already walking away. Laughter, and somebody was punched in the arm. Their thoughts had quickly turned elsewhere. Bobby was the last to go, looking back at Jimmy one more time. The sobs where quiet now, coming in short, hiccupped bursts. Jimmy looked away, back towards the grey playground and Bobby turned and followed his friends, one eye on the swollen sky, and wondered if it was going to rain.

Bobby Jacobs shambled down the street he had always known to the familiar front door of his house as the wind blew a few scattered leaves across the wet lawn. Paw prints had disturbed Mom’s flowerbed again, planted just below the front window in a planter box he’d given her for Christmas. The Reynolds’ dogs had gotten out again, he knew that, and Mom wouldn’t be happy. He opened the door to the warmth inside, shutting the coming chill behind him as evening begun to set outside.

"Bobby, it’s six o’clock," his mother began. "You were supposed to be home an hour ago."

"Sorry, Mom," Bobby replied in his absent way, not really used to hearing himself anymore. "I was doing homework with Tommy." The fibs were becoming easier and easier as the weather improved and the winter slowly receded. Freedom was far off, freedom from school and anything like homework. Summer was months away, and that was an eternity. But the buzz in the air was beginning, the world electric.

"I’ve told you that I don’t like that boy." His mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen somewhere, hollowed and distant like the crackly voice on the CB radio Danny had shown him and his friends down in Danny’s garage last year. Danny said that his father didn’t like him touching his things, so they didn’t get to listen for very long. "Are you listening to me, Bobby? I don’t like him."

"Tommy’s all right, Ma." Bobby threw his jacket onto a chair and was already trudging up the stairs when he heard his Mom’s inevitable instructions.

"Go and get ready for dinner. Your father’ll be home soon. It’s almost dark."

There were soft sounds of the front door creaking as it closed, and Bobby was halfway down the stairs before he knew his father was there. Jack Jacobs was the quietest man in the universe. He was brushing off his dark hat and hanging his long coat on the rack near the door when his words came to his son’s ears.

"Hey there, kid."

Bobby looked up, momentarily startled. His father looked down on him with a tired smile, eyes glinting in the darkness. Bobby watched him as his Dad tussled his hair like a visiting uncle. He could never understand why he did that. Jack Jacobs’ face crinkled slightly at the corners of his eyes as he smiled down at his son and inhaled the warm smells of his home.