Nicholas Belardes is a dual-ethnic Chicano writer. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in the YA-themed edition of The Latinx Archive: Speculative Fiction for Dreamers (Ohio State University Press), Southwestern American Literature (Texas State University), Carve Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Barrelhouse, and others.
He illustrated map drawings for the New York Times best-selling novel West of Here, and is the author of the first twitterature in novel form, Small Places, which has been studied as part of digimodernism in literature by scholars who seek to discover the fusion of art with digital technologies, in specific, electronic fiction as a new literary current.
Sometimes a ghostwriter of contemporary fiction and YA, he currently lives in San Luis Obispo, California with his wife Jane. The 12 Rules of Survival is his first MG novel. You can find him at nicholasbelardes.com or on Twitter @nickbelardes
Artist: Timothy Banks timothybanks.com or on Twitter @teabanks
Another Night In The Dark
I’ve crawled into the closet again. A sliver of light peeks through.
I don’t want to eat dinner. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Not that either of my sisters will talk to me. Trying to greet them earlier my words came out all mumbly.
“Mrrphl,” I’d said.
Both stared.
Mom asked me if I was hungry.
“Mrrphl,” I said again trying to say, “No.”
She and my sisters looked at me funny. Even though Mom and I are getting closer now, I felt so distant right then. I’m not sure but everyone might have shaken their heads at me. I used to be able to tell what Dad was thinking, or my friends, sometimes other people. I really can’t tell what my sisters think of me. I just sort of walked away from Mom. That’s why I’m in here.
Snapers is here too. He wags his tail and sits next to me. Bella too. Without explanation they’re somehow friends now. Bella the pug and Snapers the bordoodle. Best friends. It’s true. Both sit here, watching me. They’re not sad or mad. Just curious. There’s just enough light to see Snapers lick Bella across the head. She seems happy about that.
As both snuggle closer I start thinking about the Seventh Rule of Survival: Make Sure You Can See in the Dark.
. . .
I remember darkness at the fire just before we sealed ourselves in that Hobbit hole in the Big Bear cabin. The lights weren’t working as we waited for David. He was going to put a little more water on the house, he said. Dad closed the door and put wet towels all around it. We quietly sat in the dark. I could hear dripping. We soaked everything. Then Dad flicked on a flashlight. He just wanted to check the door. Then he turned it off, said we needed to conserve batteries. “When’s David coming?” I asked. “Soon,” Dad said. “He’s watering down the house some more.” So we waited in the dark. Dad was close to me. I could almost see him.
. . .
The dogs feel close.
I still can’t believe they’re friends. I guess Mom and I are becoming friends now too.
Then the dogs whimper and yap as the closet door opens.
“There you are,” Grandma Benita says. “Is there room?” She motions for the dogs to get out of the way. They do, squeezing onto the other side of me.
Grandma Benita comes inside and sits down. Her wig is black this time and twirled into a swirling bun. “This is a nice place.” She flicks on a flashlight. “Here, I brought you something.”
I shine the light on Bella and Snapers.
“I see they’ve become friends,” she says. “I knew they would. Dogs generally like each other if you give them some time to realize one’s lonely without the other.”
She doesn’t ask me if I want to come eat though I can smell food.
Words slip from my mouth even though I didn’t think I wanted to talk. “My sisters hate me.”
Grandma Benita puts an arm around me, squeezing Bella out from between us. Both dogs huddle against each other. “There, that’s more comfortable,” Grandma says. “It’s tough to fit this old body into a closet but look what you can do when you put your mind to it.” She thinks for a minute as I shine the light towards my feet. Finally, she says, “Your sisters are afraid.”
“Afraid?” This thought smacks me in the head like a rock. I hadn’t thought they could be scared too. But of what? Snapers? Can’t be him. He loves everyone.
“Oh yes,” Grandma Benita continues. “They’re very afraid. Not of you, or just for you . . . for everyone. For their Mom, themselves, your dad, for Bella, even Snapers. Maybe even for me. They’re very caring. They don’t want to lose what they love though I think they’re realizing what they’re gaining. They don’t want to lose that right away either.”
Grandma Benita wiggles to get comfortable as the dogs curl into balls. “Cameron, not everyone runs toward danger. When people are afraid they do strange things. Some stop talking. Others run away. Some stand very still. Some confront danger nose to nose like a boxer swinging without fear. Some become friends while the danger is taking place. Look at Bella and Snapers.”
Both dogs curl against one another. Bella is already snoring.
“They’re best friends,” Grandma Benita says. “I can’t explain how it happened, but they are . . . So, maybe give your sisters a little more time. Give yourself a little more time too.”
I shine the light on the dogs again. I wonder what they’re thinking just like I wonder what my sisters are thinking. They must be afraid that I hate them.
Grandma Benita groans and creaks, pointing to the flashlight. “And you? Now you have light. You don’t have to sit here in complete darkness at all.”
“I won’t,” I whisper. Then she hands me something else and gets up. Something wrapped in foil. “I can’t sit here long,” she admits. “Anyway, some tortillas for you. Can’t let you and the dogs starve.”