Sinister - 10. Chapter 10

Noah groaned. “Move over, Sam. Let me do it.”

Sam yielded the computer chair to Noah. “If you’d just give me a minute I could get it. I’m not as fast as you with this stuff.”

“Understatement of the year. We look for Craigslist, then find Blythe or some place close by. Here it is. See? And over in this column is Jobs -- a whole list by category. So which one do you want to look at?”

“Let me go through them myself. I want to take my time.”

“OK. You do know the back button, right?”

“Yes.”

“If you get lost, do a search. Or keep hitting the back button. Or use History.” Seeing Sam’s blank look, he said impatiently, “Click on this word here, History. You’ll get a list of where you’ve been.”

“OK. I’ll figure it out.”

“All right. I’m going to the dining hall to see if lunch has started.”

“I don’t know how someone so small can eat so much.”

“I have a fast metabolism.” Noah left Sam at the computer in the church’s upstairs lounge.

Sam clicked on art/media/design and saw a few jobs available, all of which required knowledge of Photoshop or other software. He tried food/bev/hosp, wondering why food and beverage were thrown together with hospitals, and saw quite a few server-wanted ads, but they all mentioned “18+”. And how would he find a job that required only a few hours a day? Child labor laws in Califoregon were very restrictive for a 14-year-old in school.

Clicking on retail, he searched for “lumber.” What if he could find his father a job in Califoregon? There was a lumber department in a big store that had an opening, but the ad specified “computer literate, strong knowledge of Word and Excel.” That eliminated Mr. Swift.

Eventually he gave up and decided to go for a walk in the University neighborhood. The many stores and restaurants were geared to the student population. Now that the doctor at the clinic was letting him use an unobtrusive brace on his injured wrist, he didn't feel so self-conscious in public. In the window of a small restaurant he saw a sign: “BUSSER WANTED 10-15 Hours/Wk.” They want someone to drive their bus? No, of course not, bussing tables. I can do that. Sam walked in and asked for an application.

************

Mrs. Swift accepted the collect call. “Sam?”

“Yes, Ma, it’s me.”

“Joe! Lydia! Judy! It’s Sam! How are you, Sammy?”

“I’m fine, Ma. I think I found a part-time job.”

“Really? Doing what?”

“Bussing tables at a restaurant. The pay is too low to interest a University student. It’s only a few hours a week.”

“Well, as long as it doesn’t distract you from your school work. Are you making friends?”

“Yes, a few. When they find out that I don’t have a smartphone, they treat me like some exotic exhibit in a zoo, but they are friendly.”

“That you don’t have a what? Oh, here’s your Pa.” She turned the phone over to Mr. Swift.

“Sam, you OK? Anything you need?”

“I’m doing fine, Pa. Mr. Norton here at the church might have found a family for me to stay with. They’re in the congregation and their son is ambidextrous.”

“Well, don’t lose your head hanging out with all those Hollywood types.” Mr. Swift’s grasp of Califoregon geography was tenuous.

“Pa, do you ever use the computer at work?”

“Oh, I’ve looked at it once or twice. I don’t really understand it.”

“Do you think you could learn?”

“Me? Why?”

“I was just wondering if you could get a job in Califoregon. But for any job here you have to know how to use a computer.”

“At my age? I don’t see how.”

Sam heard Lydia’s voice in the background. “Tell him! Tell him!”

“What’s Lydia so excited about, Pa?”

“Oh, we’ve all had some excitement. Some sort of investigation. I’ll let her tell you. Here, Lydia.”

“Sam! The FBI’s been here!”

Sam heard his parents cautioning Lydia not to exaggerate. “Are you sure it was the FBI, Lydia?”

“I don’t know, but a whole bunch of agents in dark suits driving black cars raided Reverend Farrow’s house. They brought out boxes and boxes of stuff, and computers -- did you know he had computers and Internet and all that stuff that he kept saying was so evil? -- and cages, we don’t know what was in them, they were covered with blankets. And nobody’s seen him. I think he’s been arrested.”

Sam heard his father say, “Lydia, don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Well, it’s mail fraud at least. That’s what Mr. Tubman says. Judy wants to say hi.” Lydia turned the phone over to their little sister.

“Hi, Sam. Where are you?”

“I’m not far away, Judy. I’m in Califoregon.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I’m not, Judy. It’s not a vacation. I’m staying here.”

“Why?”

Sam heard his mother say, “Judy, we’ve explained it to you. Sam is safer there.”

“Can we visit you there?”

“Maybe someday, Judy. Let me talk to Ma again.”

“OK.”

Mrs. Swift regained the phone. “Sammy?”

“Ma, have you talked to Mrs. Meadows?”

“I did. She agreed it was a good idea to get some more advanced care for Glen. She’s really pushing to get him transferred to the hospital at UC Blythe. Reverend Cooper tried to talk her out of it, but she’s so mad at him and Farrow that she won’t back down. She’s over at Valley Medical every day arguing with the hospital administrator.”

“Good. She’ll make it happen.”

“How are Noah and Ruth and Naomi?”

“Noah’s taken to computers like he was born with one. Ruth and Naomi are watching way too many old TV shows and now they’re looking at Facebook all the time. Well, it seems like a lot of time to me, even though it’s a lot less than most of the kids at school.”

“Are you happy? Are there a lot of... lefties there?”

“Believe it or not, Ma, that’s the least of the culture shock.”

“Oh. OK. Well, it is Califoregon.”

“Ma, it’s not a den of vice or anything. It’s just different. Louder and faster. I’m still looking for some place to go to slow down and be quiet for a while. I should get off the phone now, Ma.”

“Well, we miss you, Sammy. We love you. Call again soon and tell us everything that’s happening.”

Sam heard Lydia’s voice in the background: “See if you can find Reverend Farrow’s mugshot!”

Mr. Swift called toward the phone, “I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Pa, Ma. I’ll call again.”

************

At school, Sam told Miranda and Elliot about his conversation with his family.

“Sounds like Reverend Farrow is getting his comeuppance. I bet we could find his arrest records online.” Miranda sparkled with glee.

Elliot agreed. “I bet we could. What’s his full name again?”

“Ramsay Farrow.” Sam shook his head. “They worry that I’m surrounded by lefties. And my father seems to think Blythe is right next to Hollywood.”

Miranda grabbed Sam’s arm. “You’ve never seen a big lefty neighborhood, have you? Never visited the southpaw ghetto?”

“No.”

Miranda and Elliot looked at each other and yelled simultaneously, “Road trip!”

************

Sam arrived early for his shift at Duggan’s. Sheri, the manager, seemed flustered. “Sam! I’m glad you’re here. Lisa called in sick. Listen, how’s your handwriting?”

“It’s OK, I guess.”

“Could you write up the signboard for the sidewalk? Here’s a list of the specials. Chalk is in the drawer under the cash register. Just make it look nice. You know, the way Lisa does.”

Sam thought he could probably make something at least as nice as Lisa’s hearts and flowers and smiley faces. He concentrated on making the sign clear and readable before adding a few wintry touches of the snowy Sierras that seemed appropriate for the menu.

Sheri examined the result. “That’s good. Actually, that’s really good. That’s great. Thanks.” She looked a bit startled. Sam put the sign out and prepared for his normal duties.

An hour later, one of the neighboring merchants approached Sheri. “Hey, who did your sidewalk sign today? Was that Lisa?”

“No, Lisa’s out sick. It was the new kid, Sam.”

“Cool. I’ve been thinking about having someone paint the store windows, you know, something seasonal.”