Hidden

It was spring. The Girl and the Boy had developed a routing. So had Boo. He'd watch them walk in the morning, at noon, and then in the afternoon. Then he would go to his room.

His Mother had been behaving oddly of late, but Boo paid her little attention. His Brother was focused on her, and mostly ignored Boo. He didn't know much about Boo's new obsession.

One day Boo found two sticks of gum. "Gum." He said the word slowly, softly, and hesitantly. He had no use for such an item... but maybe his children might.

Boo always tried to stay hidden. He didn't like the light, or loud noises, or strange people. So when he snuck out at night to place the gum somewhere, Boo stayed as hidden as he could.

The night hid him. It was very dark, and there was no moon. Boo stalked through his yard, the two strips of gum in his frail, white hands. He reached the old oak tree. Maybe they would notice it if he hid in on the ground...

Or in that knothole. Boo smiled his melancholy, false ghost's smile and gently pushed the gum into the knothole.

The next day, he peeked out his window. Her last walk home, the Girl stopped, as if she had suddenly noticed something. She poked her hand into the knothole, drew out the gum, and examined it. She glanced around, then ran away toward the House.

Boo watched her go, then turned his eyes back to the road the Boy would walk down a little bit later. When the Boy reached the House, he confronted the Girl. His children were puny from far away, but he could tell they were arguing. Boo was sad. He didn't want them to quibble, he wanted them to share.

He would try again.

It took Boo a while, nearly a month, to find something suitable for his children to share. By then, summer was encroaching on spring. Boo at last found some acceptable trinket: two shiny coins he had kept tucked away for years. He vaguely remembered they were of some significance to the boy he used to be, but he couldn't quite recall why.

The coins were in a small, soft velvet box. Boo kept them in there, hiding the box in the knothole instead of the coins by themselves. As a finishing touch, he wrapped the box in the tin foil wrapper of the gum he had hidden earlier. The Girl had not taken that.

The next morning, Boo took his customary place by the window. His children did not find the box of coins until noon. They snatched it out of the knothole, then ran to the House. For some reason, they never stayed long around Boo's home.

He watched them curiously as they peered into their box. They were far away, but from his window, he had a perfect view of their whole street. Boo's mental capacity may not have been fantastic, but his eyesight had only grown sharper in the long years of darkness.

That day, they didn't return past his house. The next day, they didn't pass at all. It took Boo a few days to realize summer had come, and a few more to realize that school was out of session. The arrival of the Other Boy helped.

Boo had mixed feelings about the Other Boy. He was not one of his children, but he was their friend. He didn't dislike him, but he wasn't fond of him either. He resolved not to leave gifts for his children while their friend was with them. He didn't want the Other Boy ruining the presents.

That summer was full of excitement for his children and the Other Boy, as well as for Boo. Much of the children's entertainment involved him, and while Boo never directly participated in their antics, he was there in spirit. The children amused him and entertained him, and helped him forget about his Father. Boo could almost be happy while he watched them.

Autumn came, and school with it. The Other Boy left, and Boo's children resumed their daily treks past his window.

Boo found a ball of twine early in the autumn and hid it in the tree's knothole. He had occasionally thought that his Brother and Mother would be unhappy if they discovered his strange, one-way relationship with his children, but his Mother was often confined to her bed and his Brother rarely left her side. He took no notice of Boo's peculiar habits.

The day after he hid the twine, he had opened the window a tiny crack, in order to let in some fresh air: it was growing very stuffy indoors. Through the crack, a fragment of a conversation drifted into Boo's ears. It was his children!

"...not like a lady sewed 'em, like somethin' I'd try to do. All crooked. It's almost like—" That was a boy's voice. No, it was the Boy's voice.

The Girl spoke next: "—somebody knew you were comin' back for 'em."

"Like somebody was readin' my mind... like somebody could tell what I was gonna do. Can't anybody tell what I'm gonna do lest they know me, can they, Scout?"

"Can't anybody tell what you're gonna do lest they live in the house with you, and even I can't tell sometimes."

Boo knew the Girl was wrong. They were speaking of an event near a week ago, when his children and the Other Boy had snuck into his home's wild yard. The Boy had left his pants, and Boo had known he was coming back. It was why he had stitched them up for the Boy. Boo knew his children well. It only made him sad they didn't know him well at all.

His children's conversation stopped short. Through a crack in the shutters, Boo saw they were inspecting the knothole and the ball of twine. Then the Girl spoke:

"Don't take it, Jem. This somebody's hiding place."

"I don't think so, Scout."

"Yes it is. Somebody like Walter Cunningham comes down here every recess and hides things—and we come along and take 'em away from him. Listen, let's leave it and wait a couple of days. If it ain't gone then, we'll take it, okay?"

"Okay, you might be right," the Boy conceded. Then their words drifted away as they moved down the street.

Boo wished he could tell them they were wrong. He was giving them the things, the trinkets belonged to them. But he couldn't speak to them: he had no voice. And he couldn't write to them: he had long forgotten how. Besides, how could he bring himself to contact them? He was frail and ghostly, and deserved the neighborhood's nickname for him. He couldn't. He would remain hidden.

"Arthur? What are you doing?"

The voice came from behind him. Boo turned around to see his Brother.

Boo only blinked sorrowfully at the older man. His Brother knew he wouldn't respond.

"Are you...were you watchin' those children?" his Brother asked.

Boo answered with a vague shrug of his shoulders.

"You'd best not be," his Brother said firmly. "It'll do you no good. Stay away from that window, now, Arthur."

His Brother left the house. Boo watched him go from the window, disobeying his orders.

A few days later, Boo's children made up their minds and pocketed the twine. Boo was glad: he had found some old, unused soap and had decided to carve his children's likenesses into it as his next gift. He made sure his Brother was not watching whenever he worked on the soap dolls. He wouldn't approve.

He squinted out the window every day, making a conscious effort to compare his dolls to the actual living humans. At last, nearly a month after he began, Boo finished his dolls. He snuck out the next night to place them in the knothole. When he returned, his Brother was waiting for him.

"I saw you, Arthur," the man accused him. "Were you giving those children something to find in that knothole?"

Imperceptibly, Boo nodded.

"Don't do it again, please, Arthur," his Brother pleaded. He wheedled and enticed Boo a little more, then left him alone. Boo's opinion was unchanged. He was sure in time he could erode his Brother's stubbornness. The other man couldn't stifle his affection for his children, and Boo would persist in his goodwill.

Boo did decide to accelerate his gift-giving, however, especially after his children were fascinated to find the dolls.

While digging around in his Brother's room two weeks later, Boo found a pack of untouched gum. Elated, he casually pocketed it, hoping his Brother wouldn't notice.

Sneaking out at night became an ordeal instead of an adventure. Boo was constantly looking over his shoulder, making sure his Brother wasn't outside and waiting to catch Boo and take back the pack of gum. However, he made it back to his home without a hitch, the gum safely deposited in the knothole.

His children thoroughly enjoyed the gum. The next week, Boo found an old and shiny medal. He thought his children would like it, and tucked it in the knothole the next evening.

His children were delighted, and ran off to show their father. Boo also observed this man pass by his window every day, as well as many others, but he faded into Boo's memory without much mark. Boo did harbor some affection for the man who was raising his children, though.

Boo spent the next three days looking for something really good to give his children. He finally ran across an old watch and chain beneath his Father's old chair. Delighted, he could hardly wait for the cover of night to run out and hide the watch, and was uncareful to make sure his Brother wasn't watching as he came and went.

He was very pleased—happy, even—as he watched them excite over their new trinket. Boo couldn't find joy by himself, so he soaked up the excess happiness of his children. He was glad to see them glad.

He wondered if the children would ever leave him anything in the knothole in return.

That evening, his Brother confronted him once more.

"Arthur, I know you've been leavin' those Finch children presents for a long time, even after I told'ya not to," he began. "So..." He hesitated, looking a little guilty. "I decided to take matters into my own hands."

Boo froze in horror, and looked up at his Brother beseechingly. His unsaid question was answered.

"I plugged up that knothole with cement. You won't bother those Finch children any more."

If Boo could make himself speak and shout, he would have argued with his Brother until he gave in, but if Boo could make himself speak and shout, he would be a normal member of society and could befriend the children in the usual way. Instead he gave his Brother an angry glare, and said nothing, but ignored everything he said for the next week.

The next day, Boo's heart broke as he watched his children's dismay at learning the knothole was plugged up. He watched a note fall from the Boy's hand as he ran off to school, the Girl right behind him. Curious, Boo risked being seen in daylight and quickly ran out to grab the paper.

Dear sir, the note read in large, messy handwriting,

We appreciate the (here the word was scratched out, almost illegible) everything you have put in the tree for us.

Yours very truly,

There was a line that looked erased: Boo squinted and made out the still faintly visible signature of "Jeremy Atticus Finch". Below this were the names,

Jem Finch and

Jean Louise Finch (Scout)

Boo felt very sad and happy at the same time. He was touched his children had thought to write to him in return (though didn't seem to realize who exactly their benefactor was) but sorry they would never know he had received their letter.

Boo couldn't give his children any more gifts, but he could still watch them from behind his window. His interaction with his children would be limited, but at least he could watch them. Hidden as he was, he was there, and he would always be there for them, whenever his children needed him.