Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret) Read online

  Maria’s tears came pouring down her face, watching Damen and Jose walk off her porch and into the night; she wanted to go with them. Her tears showed that she wanted so badly to go with them, but her mind said “no.” She walked upstairs to her bedroom and looked out of her window, to see if she could spot Jose and Damen from a distance. Maria looked out into the night, past the forests and fields, saying to herself, “I just hope you don’t break that promise...”

  Damen and Jose finally reached Jose’s house. As Damen shook his hand, he said, “Alright, make sure you wake up at 5:00 sharp, tomorrow morning.”

  “I will. I’ll see you at the train station, man.” Jose then walked in his house and left Damen standing in the night, alone.

  “Hey, Jose,” Damen whispered in a loud tone, right before he was ready to close his door. Jose turned around and stared through the night at Damen. The moonlight was the only help in seeing Damen’s silhouette, his figure. They stared at each other, not seeing their eyes, but only their shadows, and suddenly looked around at the scenery. The way the trees shined against the moonlight, and the way the countryside seemed so intriguing, allowed them to realize that they were leaving it behind; that this was the last night they’d see of Ridge Crest. Jose looked at Damen’s silhouette again and wondered what he wanted.

  “Yeah?”

  “You really think we’ll make it out there ... you know, in Hollywood?”

  “I don’t think so, I know so. We’re going to be bigger than any movie star that ever stepped foot in Hollywood,” Jose answered with a proud smile. Before he walked into his house, he turned around and asked, “Oh, Damen, I’m all out of cigarettes, could you bring a carton with you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, but as soon as we get to California, you and Darell get some for yourselves.”

  “Alright, thanks, and goodnight...”

  “Goodnight,” said Damen. A smile grew upon his face before he walked away from Jose’s house: a smile of hope.

  When Damen reached his house, he walked out back, to his yard, and sat down on the grass. Staring at the stars and feeling the warm air blow against his body allowed him to close his eyes and talk to God. He always talked to God, either in the Valley, at night, or in his backyard, at dusk, and that caused him to question his prayers. He wondered if God would hear his prayers in Hollywood the same way he heard them in the Valley, or in Ridge Crest. The thought caused him some sadness. So, Damen asked for a sign—a shooting, bright, bright star in the sky, which would symbolize God being with him at every moment, wherever Damen might roam. But, he couldn’t ask for a normal shooting star, only because shooting stars were very common, so it had to be a grand sign: a sign that only he would see. Yet, no sign came to him that night, so Damen got up from the ground, dusted his pants a bit, and entered his house.

  He right away wrote the letter to his parents. Damen then packed his book bag full of dirty clothes and made sure he packed his money safely at the bottom of it; but still, every so often, he would stare out the window of his bedroom and wait for a sign from God. He put the bag under his bed and tried going to sleep, but a great excitement, mixed with fear, was inside his mind and allowed his eyes to stay opened. He turned to his window again, which was facing the right side of his room, and gazed outside at the stars that twinkled in the sky. Damen then smiled and realized that he was going to be a star, even though God didn’t send a sign through them. He realized, they were all going to be stars of Hollywood, and they were going to shine the brightest, and the longest. He slowly closed his eyes and dreamed about flying over the big Hollywood sign, and saying out loud, “I made it.” That, alone, was a good-enough sign.

  His mother came into the room, just after he went into the dream state, and kissed him on the forehead. She heard him mumbling something in his sleep, and tried to make out what he was saying. After a few minutes, she decided to give up on the search for the words Damen muttered, and slowly walked to his bedroom door. She was halfway out the door when suddenly she heard Damen say in a clear tone, while his eyes were closed, “We are going to make it.”

  Chapter Three

  Damen was awakened from his dream state at 4:00 a.m. on the dot by the sound of a drumbeat, due to the raindrops falling onto his windowsill. He jumped out of his bed and walked slowly down the hall, to the bathroom. He didn’t want to wake up anyone; after all, he knew his father would be up very soon, so he had to make his escape fast, short, and very simple. Brushing his teeth, combing his hair, and rushing over to his backpack, every so often, to pack little things that he didn’t want to leave behind—this made him exhausted. But, through the exhaustion, he knew he had to be fast, or else his father would stop him, would throw a wrench in his plan, and make it impossible for him to attempt leaving this town again. Damen looked out at the night, through his window to his bedroom, and stared at the stars, at how they were beginning to fade, due to the sun’s birth. That caused him to create fear in his mind; it was almost time for his father to awake. He picked up his pack and tiptoed over to his parents’ room, walking very, very slowly so the floor wouldn’t creak and wake everyone up. Damen stood there motionless as the thought of his father waking up and asking, Where do you think you’re going? You’re not going anywhere, appeared in his mind.

  He saw his parents through the light of the electric fly-catcher that hung outside. Sounds of zaps were heard by the deaths of small, disgusting insects that took a wrong detour, and suddenly Damen saw his mother beginning to move. Since the window was open, and knowing that the sound from the fly catcher could be heard like a loud echo, Damen knew they would wake up because of it. He walked, very slowly, and attempted to close the window, and keep the flies’ deaths away from the ears of his parents. He reached over to the window and slowly began to push it down, when out of nowhere he heard a voice say, “Thank you, sweetie, they were bothering me too.”

  Damen was afraid to turn around and see whom the voice was, feeling the darkened room shadowing over him; but he had to see what thing made that noise. So he turned around, and saw his mother smiling at him, with her eyes closed. “You’re welcome, Mom,” he whispered. He walked back toward the door, and turned around to see his parents, his loved ones. Feeling a sense of sadness, for leaving so quickly, he whispered, “I love you, Mom, and I love you too, Dad.” He wanted so badly to run over to the bed and say goodbye out loud, but he knew he couldn’t. Damen knew if he did, then he could never leave, never escape; he felt, inside his soul, that once his father was awakened, he would never be able to survive the escape.

  He walked across the hall, to his brother’s room, and stood motionless by the doorway also. He said his goodbyes in a low tone and began walking away from the door; that’s when he made a creaking noise in the floor, by his steel-toed boot’s pressing against it. Damen stopped for an instant. The noise was loud and very drawnout. The darkened hallway gave Damen a sense of fear, terror; he knew he’d made a loud noise, and if anyone woke up, he wouldn’t know, only because his vision, his sight, was obscured by the dark. Yet, he still turned around to see if he’d woken up anyone, especially Greg.

  Damen saw Greg still in the bed and felt a pure feeling of relief. So he left the doorway and walked down the hallway. Suddenly, he heard a voice ask, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  He stopped in his tracks and turned around in slow motion; the darkness was the only one who saw his fear. His fears of the voice coming from his father ran through his mind as fast as the rain hit the roof of his house. Damen closed his eyes when he faced the direction that the question came from; he didn’t want to show his fear-filled eyes to the creature, the monster that was going to stop him from going. Before he opened his eyes, he replied, “I’m going to Sugar Valley.” Damen’s new tactic, of lying, was the only other option. Maybe he could escape still, without confronting the truth about his leaving.

  “At this time in the morning?” the voice asked. Damen opened his eyes, very slowly, and saw Greg.

  �
�Oh ... it’s just you,” said Damen in a relieved tone. A smile came on Greg’s face, but he didn’t know that Damen was leaving for good. He just was happy that he’d scared the living hell out of him.

  Greg always scared Damen, and always treated him like an outcast to the family. The only thing that he was good for was telling Damen to follow his dreams, and he didn’t even know what dreams they were.

  “Where are you really going?”

  Damen looked across the hallway at his parent’s room, and slowly, quietly asked, “You promise you won’t tell Mom or Dad?”

  Greg followed Damen’s eyes to his parents’ room, and thought that he was acting very strange at this time in the morning. So, he said in a sarcastic fashion, “I promise.” They both started to walk down the stairs, while Greg still awaited a reply.

  Damen reached the downstairs and walked into the kitchen when he said, “Well ... I’m going to try to make my ambition come true.”

  “Oh, really? Well, if Dad wakes up, he’s gonna stop your ass from making anything come true,” Greg laughed. “Come on, seriously, where you going at this time in the morning?” Greg then opened up the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk; the light from the fridge reflected off of Damen’s face, and Greg turned around to stare at him, waiting for a reply still. Suddenly, Greg saw seriousness in Damen’s eyes, a type of seriousness that only could be shown through a person’s heart, but instead, it was showing its presence through his eyes now.

  “I am serious, that’s where I’m going. I’m going to California,” Damen replied.

  Greg felt that this moment was getting too corny, too soap-opera-like, and tried to add some sarcasm to the conversation, to strike down the seriousness, and mellow out the words. “What, are you going to try to become a movie star or something?” Greg asked in a joking manner, pouring himself some milk in a small glass at the same moment. He didn’t want Damen to say “yes,” but Greg’s joking came to a halt, ended, and stopped for good when Damen opened his mouth; and his words were nothing but words of importance.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to try to do.” Greg looked at him in shock.

  Greg didn’t want his little brother to go, to end their relationship and travel away from Ridge Crest for good. Yet, in a small way, he did, he felt that Damen was serious enough, and he saw that Damen really wanted this. For all that, Greg still didn’t want him to go, so his best tactic, the best thing he could do at a time like this, was ask the one question that would be the last question. “You can’t be serious, Damen ... you serious?”

  “Yeah ... I’m very serious, and I have to go now.”

  Greg dropped his glass of milk on the floor; the shock caused the glass to fall from Greg’s grasp, and allowed him to just stare at Damen and totally forget about the mess he’d just created.

  “Damen ... are you coming back home ever?” Greg asked in a loud way while stepping over the broken glass to get closer to him. “I mean, wow, I mean, hello, Damen, this is kind of a moment thing.” Greg concentrated his eyes on him, watching his eyes, and how they already gave away the answer, they’d already replied to his question, but Greg wanted to hear him say it. “So, are ya?”

  “Listen ... Greg, I don’t know what I’m gonna to do. Just please, please, don’t tell Mom or Dad. Promise me you won’t.” Damen then placed a letter on the table, next to a fruit basket filled with bananas, and waited for Greg to promise.

  Greg didn’t know what to do. His little brother was leaving and he couldn’t stop him anymore. Yet, even though Greg couldn’t stop him, he knew who could, and that person was about to wake up once the rooster crowed. “Well, I don’t know; I never lied to them before,” answered Greg.

  He picked up the letter and saw what was written on the envelope. “To Mom and Dad, you’re planning on leaving them a letter like this?” Greg was shocked. Greg was appalled and a little angered at Damen’s plan of action, his way of saying goodbye. In Greg’s mind, the envelope really read, To Mom and Dad, thanks for nothin’.

  “Idiot, there’s a letter inside of the envelope,” said Damen in a smart aleck manner. He walked over to the door slowly and opened it ever so gently. The door made a creaking noise every time it opened an inch.

  “Wait a second ... I want to talk to you before you go,” said Greg. He began cleaning up the spilled milk fast, knowing that Damen was going to leave soon. Greg wanted to catch up, to talk to his little brother, but it was too late, he was leaving, and Greg had missed the chance to act the way an older brother should every day.

  Damen got the door fully opened, and turned around to face his brother. He said in a fast way, “Listen, I don’t have time to talk.” He felt the urge to only leave this place behind, and not talk and waste time. But suddenly Damen opened his eyes a bit more and saw the pain in Greg’s eyes, and felt that he should say something to ease his sadness. “Listen, I got to go, Greg, but once I get on my feet, I’ll call you.”

  He walked halfway out the door before he heard a low-toned voice say, “Good morning, Damen.” He stopped for a moment and turned around slowly. That’s when the voice asked, “Wait a second, what are you doing up now? You still have another hour till we begin working on the crops. After all, today’s your mother’s birthday, and we did sleep in a bit.”

  “Good morning, Dad,” said Damen, his voice shaking a bit.

  “Oh, good morning, Greg. What are you two doing up so early?” his father asked, seeing Greg cleaning up the broken glass from the floor. He noticed Damen standing on the front porch with the fading moonlight shining on his backpack, and asked, “Where are you going, son?”

  “Um, I’m just coming home from Jose’s house. I slept over there last night.” He walked back inside the door, to the kitchen, and threw his backpack over the letter that was laying on the table. It was over, his plan was ruined, and the anger built up in Damen’s mind. He was angry at his father for waking up, and he was angry at Greg, for allowing him to stay there, and have his father see him and catch him. But, he still had a chance; his father didn’t know, yet, about his true plan, and that gave a little hope to Damen’s tired mind.

  “Don’t you think you’re a little too old for sleepovers?” his father questioned. He went over to the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk from it, and Damen just stared at Greg, hoping that he would do something, would save the day, and completely redeem himself as an older brother. “See, now you’re going to be tired for work. I told you, if you want to be a good farmer, you have to get to bed early,” his father stated, pouring the milk into a glass.

  The anger was too unbearable to keep in anymore, any longer, so Damen whispered in a low, low tone, “That’s just it, I don’t want to be a farmer.” Greg heard his words perfectly, but his father just heard a bunch of whispers.

  His father turned for a moment, stared at Damen, and asked, “What was that?”

  “I said, ‘I know, Dad, I’m sorry’. We just stayed up late, catching fish in the Valley,” he answered. His father turned back around, faced the refrigerator, and began drinking the milk.

  “And what are you doing up at this time?” his father asked Greg. Damen hoped in his mind that Greg wouldn’t squeal on him. So he closed his eyes, and in a sort of way, prayed for a miracle, prayed that Greg’s words would be on his side, instead of against him.

  Greg looked at his father and turned to Damen for an instant. He looked at Damen’s eyelids, how they were sealed shut; he knew what he had to do. “I was just getting a glass of milk.” Damen opened his eyes and looked at Greg with fear in them. “Damen scared me when he came in the door, so I dropped the glass on the ground,” Greg added, winking at Damen.

  “Oh ... well clean up the mess and get to bed. As for you, Damen, I want you to get to bed right away, at least you’ll have an hour to get some shut-eye. Today I’m going to show you how to use your tractor.” He put down the half-drunk milk glass, and began to walk back up the stairs to his bedroom.

  “Great, a
lright, Paps,” said Damen with generic enthusiasm. He watched his father reach the second floor, and then looked at Greg. He spoke softly. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Damen grabbed his book bag and ran outside ever so quickly. “Hey ... I promise I won’t tell them a thing, Damen,” he added before Damen slammed the door shut, causing his father’s milk glass to tip over and spill all over the table, including the letter.

  Damen stepped off his porch and walked into the darkness that was fading ever so quickly; dying with the break of sunrise. He turned around to have one last look at what he’s leaving behind. Looking at the new tractor his father bought for him, the tractor his father said would make him a farmer, and staring at the white, farmhouse he grew up in, Damen gave a moment of silence. That’s when he ran. He ran for his destiny, a destiny that would be his alone.

  When he arrived at the train station, he saw Jose and Darell with sad looks on their faces. Instead of going over to them, to find out what was the cause of their dreadful expressions, he ran toward a dirt road first that was behind the station. Damen saw the road, lined up with cornfields on both sides, seeing pebbles on the ground that were older than him, and then looked up at a sign that read Welcome To Ridge Crest, Population 500. He gave a rapid smile, reaching into his bag, and pulling out a roll of white tape and a black marker; he looked around and about to see if any strangers were lurking. Suddenly, his vision told him the coast was clear, so he took the white tape, peeled three strips from its roll, and covered the number “500,” making it invisible to the naked eye. Damen Schultz then took his black marker and wrote on the white tape, next to “population,” the numbers 497, and laughed out loud in a crazy manner; his madness could be heard for miles. “Well, Ridge Crest, so long,” he laughed, turning around and away from the sign, and walked rapidly toward the train station. Following his speedy rhythm up to his friends, he questioned, “Okay, guys, are you ready?”