“If you don’t quit, you’ll go live with the people across the railroad tracks!”
That is what my mother promptly said to me as I whined in the department store after she wanted me to try on a pair of pants. I didn’t want to be there. It was finally summer after a grueling 7th-grade school year. I just wanted to be at home playing my Xbox like all the other guys get to. But instead, I had to go clothes shopping with my mom.
“You think I’m mean? They’ll do more than take your games away. They take a belt to you,” she said, trying to keep a serious and firm tone with me.
I rolled my eyes, took the pants, and went into the dressing room to try them on.
It’s a tradition in my town for parents to try to scare their kids by sending them to the people who live across the railroad tracks if they’re bad. It’s almost like the Krampus story on Christmas.
Of course, some people live over there. They don’t ever come over to our side of the tracks, and we never go over to their side of the tracks. That has always been the deal.
I tried on the pants. They fit. I figured I could finally get home and play, and then mom dropped the bombshell.
“Now we can go shopping for some new shoes,” she said with a smirk on her face.
I sort of accidentally screamed “No!” loud enough that everyone could hear me. It embarrassed my mother. Her face turned red, and she looked around. I didn’t mean to get that loud.
Right as she turned her angry eyes to me to scold me, I heard a voice behind me saying, “You better not be misbehaving for your mother, son. Otherwise, you might have to go live with the other people.”
The voice belonged to the town police chief, and yes, he was referring to the people on the other side of the tracks.
I turned and looked at him, sighed, and then apologized to my mother. She smiled and greeted the chief, and they talked for about an hour about nothing while I stood there in a silent pout because I couldn’t be at home playing my games.
After four more hours of shopping, we were finally driving on our way home. I had a few hours before bedtime to play my game, and that made me happy, until she spoke up again.
“Since you were bad today, you can go straight to bed when you get home, and no games tomorrow, either.”
I admit it. I lost it. It hit a nerve. I couldn’t handle it anymore.
“I hate you. I wish I weren’t your kid!” I said to her.
She gasped and tried to grab my arm to stop her from talking to her like that. I jerked it away, and in the process of doing that, it bent her finger back, startled her, and she ran off the road. She slammed on the brakes before hitting a mailbox.
We both sat in silence.
She was breathing very hard and rapidly. I knew she was really angry.
“I’m sor...” I started to apologize when she yelled, “Shut up! You’re no child of mine! You belong to the people across the tracks!”
Then she pulled back on the road and started driving. I just kept my mouth shut at that point so she could have time to calm down.
However, she didn’t turn off on our road. She went past it and was driving towards Main Street. She passed it and got to the tracks.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t ever do it again.” I cried as we crossed the tracks into a part of town that I had never even thought about going to because it was such a sacred rule.
“There is no time for apologies. I hate you, too,” she said in a cold whisper.
I was shocked. My mother has never said something like that to me.
Just then, she stopped. A man with a flashlight was in the middle of the road.
I heard him call out, “Do you have something to offer for your trespass?”
She got out. Told me to stay in the car and keep my mouth shut. I obeyed. She then walked over to the man, and they started talking.
After about 5 minutes, she came back to the car, got it, and told me to get out and go with the man.
I refused. I didn’t know this man. I begged her to take me home. I said she could ground me from my games for the rest of the summer.
Then the man came to my door. He opened it up. He grabbed me and dragged me out of the car.
I was kicking, screaming, and trying to hold on to anything. This man was strong, though. I started crying. As he dragged me away, I looked at my mother. She looked at me, smiled, and made what looked like a sigh of relief.
Did she want to get rid of me?
The rest of the night has horrible. I was taken to a shanty of a house in the woods. There were other kids my age, but they seemed slow and unable to comprehend reality. I cried and begged the man to take me back home. He laughed at me.
“You’ll never go back home. You’re one of us now. You can never leave,” he said, smiling in a sinister way, as if he were out collecting souls of naughty children.
I cried myself to sleep that night in a small bedroom with 6 other kids.
The next morning, I woke up before everyone else. I crept out of the bedroom and found my way out of the house.
I ran as fast as I could.
I got to the tracks, ran across them, and made it back to my house. The man never knew.
I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I beat on the door, screaming and crying.
Then my mother opened it. She looked confused.
She bent down to my level, grabbed my hands ever so gently, and had a worrisome look on her face.
“Are you lost, son?” she said.
“Mommy, it’s me. I’m your son. I’m sorry, I was bad.” I cried as I dropped down to my knees, pleading to her.
She brought me inside. She made me a bowl of cereal and said she was going to make a phone call. I honestly thought everything was good at this point.
I ate the cereal and, when I was done, decided to go up to my room.
When I got there, my room was gone. I mean, there was a room there, but none of my stuff was in it. Old furniture and other items were being stored. Nothing of mine was in the room or anywhere else throughout the house.
I walked back down to the kitchen after a while, and the police chief was there standing with my mom.
“There you are!” he said, smiling and gently putting his hand around my hand. He continued. “Your dad was worried. You shouldn’t run away from home.”
I tried to beg him, beg her, and even cried. She still didn’t know me. The chief looked as confused as she was. He forced me out and into his car.
He drove back to town, crossed the tracks, and stopped shortly after.
The man was there waiting for me. He was smiling as if to say I had lost.
He came to the door, opened it, and as he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car, the chief looked at me and said:
“I told you not to misbehave. You did and now look where you are.”