Hot Box

David was bored. Worse than that he was bored and it was so hot he didn’t want to move. His best friend, Brad, lived 3 streets over and it seemed too far, so instead he laid on the wooden wrap-around porch with his head hanging off the edge looking at the world upside down. The air was thick and clinging to his skin. He tried to stay as still as possible, but it wasn’t helping. He watched as sweat dripped down his forehead and dropped to the dirt below, then would count until another drop fell in the same spot. One, two, three, four, five, drip.  

His mother had kicked him out of the house due to the fact that he was, in her words, “annoying the ever living piss out of her.” She was a school bus driver and in the summers she taught summer school, but it was canceled because the air conditioning in the school broke. David thought that one of the reasons she even taught summer school was for the air conditioning. Some days, she would even take him along and let him hang out in the back of the classroom. Most of the time he would sit quietly, not daring to speak or cause trouble, because then he’d be sent outside to wait on the playground, but all of the equipment was too hot to play on. Some days though he couldn’t help it and she would point to the playground and out he would go and all the high school kids would laugh at him. Then she’d scold them, which he thought was pretty great. 

Their house was a big farmhouse with a covered wrap around porch, paint chipping and peeling on the wooden siding and the blue shutters. There was a white picket fence surrounding the property that was falling down in almost as many places as it was standing up, and the front gate had long since just become a lawn decoration. Inside the floorboards were warped and the appliances were mismatched, the stove actually belonging to David’s great-grandmother. If she had seen the disrepair that the next two generations had let it fall into, she probably haunt the place. There had been no maintenance in years, much less improvements. When David was ten, he had asked his mother once why they didn’t have air conditioning and she just said, “ask your father.” 

David’s father had died when he was 4 years old of some sort of cancer, pancreachic or something, and so her response confused him. He thought about it for weeks afterwards and finally one day made the trek to the cemetery, 3 miles each way and sat at the gravestone and asked his father why they didn’t have air conditioning, but he didn’t answer, not that David thought that he would, he wasn’t slow, he was extremely average from his school test results. 

There was a creaking coming from the house that projected thoughts of his mother rocking back and forth in her wooden rocking chair. He had seen pictures of her cradling him and his older sister in that chair when they were babies. Back then she was thin, cheeks rosy, and had a twinkle in her eye that he had not ever seen in real life, at least not that he could remember. Nowadays her large body spilled over the seat, under the arm rests from her legs and ass, and over them from resting her arms atop them. She rocked back and forth, rhythmically watching the TV, a large tube television that only barely worked and tinted the picture green. It was mid day and so that meant she was watching the news, that is, if she wasn’t sleeping, which in today’s heat was likely. He heard the meteorologist say “this is the hottest day on record,” and under his breath he said, “no fucking shit.” His mother would smack his face for using that kind of language, but he knew she couldn’t hear him, and he was too hot to care. 

As he watched another drop of sweat fall to the ground the screen door swung open on it’s shaky hinges and the door hit hard against the house with a bang. It startled David and he sat up, his wet hair falling over his eyes. His sister, Abagail strode past him and jumped down the four steps only touching two of them. “See you later loser,” she said and made her way down the walkway and out the gate. 

David screamed after her, “where are you going?” 

“None of your business,” she shouted back and flipped him the finger without looking back. 

David sat for a moment, his shirt sticking to his body, breathing shallow in the moist heat of the day, sun beating down on him as his legs dangled over the side of the porch, and then he jumped down and made his way out the gate, seeing the shape of his sister turn down Sycamore Street. He broke into a little jog to try to catch up and when he got to the cross street he saw her walk through the gate at the end of sycamore that led to the Bradford’s farm. He wasn’t allowed to go in there. Neither was she he thought, and he started walking, but his curiosity peaked he found himself jogging once again. 

When he got to the gate he paused and looked around expecting somebody to yell at him as soon as he crossed the threshold, but there was nobody around and the street was almost completely silent except for a few grasshoppers and other bugs. He guessed that the heat didn’t bother them as much as the birds, because he didn’t hear any of them. He took a tentative step through the gate and then a more confident one. He couldn’t see any sign of Abagail. He followed the dirt path through the field of grass that was yellow and brown in the late August heat, but still saw no sign of her, like she’d just disappeared. 

The path led around the back of the Bradford’s farm and every step he took he was waiting for someone to tell him to get lost and as his anxiety grew his imagination took hold and he could almost hear police dogs and the sound of police whistles from behind him. He didn’t even know if police used whistles any more but in his mind they sure did. 

As he rounded the farmhouse, he saw his sister’s bright red hair in the distance for an instance before it disappeared into a set of trees which he knew as Blackberry Woods. He wasn’t allowed to go in there either, because his mother was convinced he would get lost or get eaten by a wild animal. “What the hell do you want to do in them woods anyway?” she had said, and though there was a question mark in her inflection he knew it wasn’t a question he was supposed to answer. He picked up his pace, excitement growing in his chest, today was going to be an adventure, he thought. 

Upon entering the woods the temperature dropped ten degrees almost instantly. The air was still thick and it was not cool by any measure, but cooler was better. He looked around eyes wide thinking of how great a place this would be to play hide-and-seek or build a fort or better yet, a tree house, high above so the people on the ground couldn’t see you. He followed the path being careful not to step on any sticks and give himself away. He was sure if Abagail saw him she would tell him to get lost, or even worse tell his mother. That would get him more than a slap across the face. Much more. 

After a few minutes he started to get nervous that he wouldn’t find her at all and that somehow, even though he’d only followed the path, that he’d get lost. His throat dried up and he wished he had brought some water. After a few minutes more he stopped dead in his tracks hearing something up ahead. He stood still for a moment until the noise came again. It was laughter, a boy’s laughter. Then from behind him he heard somebody coming down the path so he dove off the path behind a tree and pressed tightly against it, holding his breath and throwing a hand over his mouth as to emphasize to himself not to make any noise. Two people walked by and ask they passed he turned to look, a boy and a girl, who he recognized as the Crane twins. They would sometimes come to the house to pick up Abigail, but never stay, in fact she never let any of her friends through the door. When he was younger he didn’t understand that, but now he felt like he did. 

He waited a few minutes before peeling himself from the tree and then wiping down the back of his legs and arms, then following the path towards the voices. The forest opened up to a small clearing and he could see the shapes of people moving through the tree cover. Off to his left he found a large rock positioned between two large trees that was a perfect vantage point. He expect to catch them drinking or smoking or even kissing, but they weren’t doing any of that. There were 7 people in total and they were all standing around a large vertical metal box. It was the size of a large chest freezer but upended on it’s side. It had a door, and on the door was a small window that was covered with another piece of metal. He had no idea what it was for or why it was in the middle of the forest or why the teenagers were standing around it. 

He leaned in closer trying to hear what they were saying, but could only make out mumbles and laughter and one of the boys that he didn’t know was counting, “...sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine.” Suddenly the door burst open and a boy stepped out, gasping for breath and dripping with sweat. 

“Sixty-nine,” the boy who was counting shouted out, “not even close to the record.” 

The boy who had burst from the metal box threw his arm around Abigail's shoulder, and said loudly enough for David to hear, “I wasn’t going for the record, was just predicting what we’d get up to later tonight.” The group burst into laughter, except Abagail who pushed him off, but then broke into a smile as her face turned red. David didn’t understand what was so funny, but sure wished he did. 

“Your turn Abby,” the counting boy said. Abby? She hated that name, but even though he couldn’t hear what she responded he knew she didn’t correct him. She stepped into the box and the counting boy closed the door behind her. He watched as they counted past sixty-nine and all the way to one-hundred-ninety-two before Abigail burst through the door looking like she had just dove into a swimming pool fully dressed. 

“And we have a new champion!” counting boy said, “and on the hottest day of the year.” Everyone cheered and she had the biggest smile on her face he thought he’d ever seen. Counting boy handed her a bottle of water and she took a huge drink, then she leaned against a tree and fell to the ground. Sixty-nine boy came over and squatted by her and they talked for a bit as one of the Crane twins went into the box. 

David didn’t move a muscle, he thought this was better than TV. He had a group of friends at school, but over the summer it was only Brad, and they never did cool stuff like this. He wasn’t even sure what it was other than being in that box. He imagined that it was full of bugs or spiders or maybe snakes, or maybe like a picture he’d seen in a medieval book, maybe it had spikes all over it’s walls, and though that captivated his imagination he was more interested in the teenagers and how they talked to each other, even though he could only hear random words, and messed around with each other. They all just seemed so cool. He wanted desperately to come out from the trees and for them to invite him over to hang out and mess around. He wanted his own turn in the box and he wanted to beat the record and have them cheer for him too and then invite him next time. But he knew that wouldn’t happen, especially with Abigail there. 

It wasn’t long after the second Crane twin went in the box and lasted less than sixty seconds that there was some chatter amongst the group that David couldn’t hear and they dispersed through the woods in the opposite direction of the path that brought Abigail, David, and the twins in. David didn’t know how long he watched, but he stayed there a few minutes longer making sure the teenagers would not come back. When he finally moved his legs were cramped from being crouched so long, he stumbled out into the clearing and stretched his legs as he moved towards the metal box.  

As he got closer more details came into view, like the corners had quarter-sized rivets running along their edges. The door was of a slightly different shade than the three walls, and the whole box was taller than he originally thought it was and he thought that it was possible he and Brad could fit inside if he climbed on Brad’s shoulders. 

He stepped up to the box and reached out and touched it tentatively like it was going to bite him. He quickly drew his hand back, the metal burning his skin, and he shook it. “Shit,” he said under his breath. “That’s fucking hot.” He still had no clue what this box was or why it was here. It looked like something from war time with all the rivets, but why would it be in the middle of Blackberry Woods? He slid his fingertips inside the small opening of the door and pushed it open quickly revealing the inside.

And nothing was there. 

It was just a big empty metal box. There wasn’t even a place to sit, and to David’s dismay, no spikes. 

He stepped inside and spun around in place. It was hot, even with the door open. He looked up and around and thought how cool it was, even though he didn’t know what it was for and how great this box would be as a hiding spot for hide and seek. As he began to step out the door gingerly swung back towards him and he noticed on the inside of the door were scratch marks covering it from top to bottom. Some were times and others were people’s initials and there was a little drawing of a demon face all with scratch marks, two horns, slanted lines for eyes and a smiling face. He smiled at it. So cool, he thought. 

Then he noticed the small handle on the door that looked like it came from a kitchen cabinet. It was white with a small flower etched on the outside. He touched it and it was cool, so he gripped it and pushed the door open and stepped back out into the clearing. Much like walking into the woods from field, the temperature dropped and he felt so much cooler. 

David took a few steps back and turned looking at the box again. It was like he had found treasure. Something out of place in his own backyard. A mystery. He shook his head his hands on his hips. 

A thought sparked in his mind. There was no reason he couldn’t try to time himself in the box. The thought grew. Why not? He knew it wouldn’t count, not without someone officially counting, but he would know. Maybe he could even break the record, he thought, and the memory of the group cheering for Abigail turned the thought into a decision. 

He stepped back into the box and grabbed the white cabinet knob pulling the door behind him, holding it for a moment at arms length, and took a deep breath like he was about to go under water, then pulled the door closed quickly so as to not lose his nerve. It only took him a moment to realize that he hadn’t considered how dark it would be with the door shut. He tried to be brave. He closed his eyes thinking that would help, but it only made the sinking feeling worse. He opened his eyes but it was no different. Pitch black. It was then he started to panic. He reached out for the small knob and pushed to open the door, but nothing happened. He pushed harder and then began flapping his hands against the hot metal, but it did not budge. Panic turned to pure fear and he pushed against the door for as long as he could with all the night his small arms could muster, his hands burning on the metal, but it did not move. 

The heat was intense closing in on him, but it was the darkness that made him feel like he was being crushed. Tears poured from his eyes, all at once like a faucet being turned on high. A whimper escaped his throat and he whispered help before he started screaming and beating on the door. 

His screams faded as the heat took him over and as he drifted from consciousness all he could think of was his great grandmother’s stove and how he wished he had air conditioning.