Free The Devil's Demeanor by Jerry Hart Page A

play in his backyard. Of course, he
had to take Ethan with him. When they reached the end of the yard, passing all
the neighbors’ backyards in the process, Don climbed the jungle gym set up
there. Monica Harris was on her back porch, playing with something Don couldn’t
see because a big trampoline was in the way. She looked up.
    “I hate
caterpillars,” she said. She wore a light-blue shirt with yellow shorts. She
had pink ties in her hair.
    “Then why are
you playing with one?” Don asked, noticing the caterpillar crawling beside the
arm she used to prop herself up.
    “Because
there’s nothing else to do.”
    Monica was a
year younger than Don, and though they’d never spoken in class before, she
seemed really nice now. He opened her gate and walked into her backyard. He and
Ethan sat down on the wooden porch, next to Monica. Ethan had busied himself
with a little hand shovel, though he was looking at the caterpillar.
    “So, little
man,” she said to Ethan, “you talkin’ yet?”
    “Yes,” he said
simply, as he had started talking a while ago. The problem was he never said
much. Sometimes he would if a lot of adults were around, but if it were just
kids, or just Don, he slipped into his old ways.
    And his old
ways consisted of him staring , which he was still doing with the
caterpillar. It made Don uncomfortable.
    “Do you like
kindergarten?” Monica asked.
    “No,” Ethan
replied. He looked up at her, and the look he gave her reminded Don of those
adults give to people they don’t like.
    The look was
too mature for a three-year-old.
    “Why not?”
Monica was intent on keeping the conversation going.
    “Because,
nosey, it’s childish and tedious.”
    Monica’s eyes
grew wide just as Don’s jaw dropped. He didn’t know what tedious meant,
so therefore, Ethan shouldn’t have either. Also, the young Scott child had
spoken much too surely and fluidly for someone his age.
    Don looked at
Monica, and she looked back, but neither said a word.
    “I think this
caterpillar is pregnant,” Ethan added, focusing on the bug again. He crawled
toward it and, with shovel in hand, began cutting it in half.
    “Ethan, stop!”
Don yelled, but his brother did not stop. He smiled as he dug the blade into
the caterpillar. Dark green blood oozed thickly onto the porch.
    “I’m cutting
the baby out,” the child said, again in that sure voice.
    Don wondered if
the spirit of a grown man, or something, lurked within his brother.
    “No baby,”
Ethan said as he dropped the shovel. “My mistake.”
    The caterpillar
squirmed for a few seconds, then stopped. Don quickly buried it in the grass by
the porch, then grabbed his brother’s hand and dragged him back to their own
yard.
    “I’m telling on
you!” Don yelled as they walked across the large yard to the house. Don was so
angry, he didn’t notice the German Shepard.
    When he did
notice the dog, it was too late.
    It came
barreling across the large yard and knocked Ethan down, tearing at his shirt.
Ethan screamed. Don stood in shock at the spectacle, not knowing what to do. As
he watched the dog tear into his brother’s clothes, shaking him around, a
gruesome thought came to him: Maybe he should let it kill Ethan. That would end
the constant worry about what his brother was or would turn into when he grew
up.
    Ethan was evil.
He killed a caterpillar just for the fun of it and almost killed Don himself
when he pushed the mattress out of the way at Uncle Roland’s house. If he was
that bad now , what would he be like in the future?
    Don didn’t know
how long he stood there in indecision—it felt like minutes but was probably
only seconds—but when he came out of his thoughts, he heard his mother
screaming, “Ethan!” She then shot past Don and kicked the dog in the head.
    It flew a few
feet away, but Mom wasn’t finished. She ran to the dog and started stomping on
its head, over and over. Don saw its eyes pop out of his sockets as its skull
caved in. Blood and