by Ella Fields
My first and middle name were a rich, croaked song that sounded as if it hurt to sing.
“Daniel.” Mom came hurrying outside, her hair a bundle of black curls in a bun atop her head. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Dad winked at me, his smile changing into something more mischievous as he turned to my mother.
Her hand nudged my back. “In the car, young lady. Move it.”
I offered Dad a small smile before doing as I was told and sliding in next to Jackson, who was grinning at my dad with clear awe.
I clipped my seat belt on, their conversation entering the window Jackson had cracked open just enough to avoid detection. “You can’t just show up unannounced and expect to spend time with her. We have plans. We’re a family.”
“And god forbid you show up at church with only one of your perfectly coifed children, right?” my daddy said with laughter in his voice.
Mom’s face colored. “Daniel Grayson, you get back in that car right now before I—”
“Before you what, Victoria? Pack your things and leave under the cover of darkness again?”
“Shut up,” Mom said through clenched teeth, tossing a glance at the house behind her.
My eyes were about to pop out of my head, Jackson’s grin slipping away at hearing those words. “What?” he whispered to me.
I didn’t answer.
Dad said a slew of bad words so foul that even I flinched. “Of course.” He laughed, jerking his head toward our two-story white and gray wooden house. “Jesus Christ, Victoria. You mean to tell me that husband of yours might not know what really happened all those years ago?”
“Daniel,” Mom warned.
“Don’t cry,” Jackson said. His voice sounded stretched, strained, as he fidgeted beside me. He sounded like he used to whenever a storm arrived. “Bug eyes?”
Dad began marching to the house, and I withheld the urge to scratch the wetness itching at my cheeks. “I think it’s time we tell him then, don’t you?”
Jackson muttered, “Oh, crap,” as Heath stepped outside in a fresh shirt. Face hard and clean-shaven jaw clenched, he opened the door to find my daddy standing there.
“Daniel, long time, no see,” Heath said, clapping him on the shoulder. Hard. “Where have you been for the past, oh, I dunno, two years?”
I couldn’t see my dad’s face, but I could still hear his voice. “Yeah, funny story about that.”
“Yeah?” Heath asked, stepping closer until he was almost nose to nose with my dad. They were both giant, almost the same height, my mom a flower wilting in the breeze as she stood frozen on the driveway.
“Yeah. You see, I was working, and when I arrived home some months ago, eager to see my kid, I discovered you guys had moved. It took some time, asking around and all that fun shit, but I eventually found out you were here.”
Heath took a step back, his eyes flicking to Mom for a beat.
“You didn’t know about that either, huh?” He laughed. “Seems she’ll do anything to hide her filthy little secrets, won’t she? It’s too bad they’re a little too close to home, which is how—”
Mom marched over then and pushed my dad. “Leave. Now.”
“What am I missing here, Vicki?” Heath said.
Dad ignored her efforts to move him as though she was nothing but a fly. “A hell of a lot, I’d say,” he said.
Jackson had climbed into the front seat and turned over the ignition far enough to click through the songs on the CD playing until he found the right one.
“Enough.” Heath glowered. “We need to go. We’ll call you.”
Crowded House’s “Weather With You” crooned through the car, and my limbs loosened, my cheeks sticky as my eyes dried.
“You’ll call me?” Dad hollered as Heath took Mom by the elbow and led her to the car.
Turning to Jackson, I smiled as best I could in thanks.
He stared at me a long moment, then nodded and faced the grown-ups again.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you, but that’s fine.” Dad grinned a funny way, and my heart pitter-pattered at the sight. “I know where you are now, and guess what? I’ll be back if I don’t hear from you.”
Heath and Mom argued outside the car, their hands gesturing and their lips moving fast as my dad’s truck grumbled down the street.
The drive to church was silent, thanks to Mom turning off the music, and the tension slowly leeched back in.
I wasn’t sure why we bothered since it was already a quarter past nine. I supposed being late was better than not showing up at all in the eyes of God.
Heads turned as we snuck inside, Mom’s cheeks crimson as she ushered us into a pew in the back, then took a seat with Heath in the one in front next to Mr. and Mrs. Turns.
As if we’d not interrupted at all, Father Alfred droned on at the front, his ruddy cheeks wobbling with every exaggerated word he read from the opened Bible in his hands, pacing back and forth upon the red velvet that lined the steps.
I was worried I’d need to confess for paying no attention at all, but the worry over my dad’s visit was far stronger than anything else.
I’d missed him. For so long, I’d missed him and wondered why he hadn’t called in over six months. Even while on tour, he’d call at least every couple of months.
I suppose I now had my answer, but only one. Questions toppled over one another, vying for prime position at the forefront of my mind as that smile, the parting one Dad had given Heath and Mom, refused to leave my retinas.
Tears pushed at the back of my eyes, and I grew dizzy, staring dazedly ahead.
Then, soft and warm, a hand enclosed around mine, and a body shifted closer.
After peering down at them, I lifted my eyes to Jackson, who was staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t willingly taken my hand for the very first time.
Jackson
Twelve years old
As the years rolled forward, Willa’s questions were left to fade into compliance.
Daniel, though, at least stayed true to his word. He settled into a neighboring town nestled along the outskirts of the cove, but he was deployed again six months later.
But for those six months, Willa smiled brighter than the summer sun each time she returned home from spending time with him. So it was to be expected that glow would dim once he’d gone, and that it would be left up to me to spark it back into existence.
Only, I wasn’t exactly equipped for the task.
Cursing under my breath at forgetting my lunch bag, I jerked to a stop when I saw Dash by the stairs, scrunching Alan Myer’s shirt in his fist.
“I don’t think so. How’s about this? You swap me your Bulbasaur for my Charmander, and I’ll let you keep your chicken sandwich?”
Alan sniffed, his lips quivering. “But B-B-B-Bulbasaur—”
“B-B-B-But I don’t give a crap. I want it. Hand it over or I’ll keep the Charmander too.”
I grabbed the back of Dash’s shirt, tearing him away from Alan.
“What the hell?” Dash sputtered, shoving my hand off him.
Alan scampered off into the playground.
“Bulbasaur sucks, and you looked desperate.”
Dash considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “People underestimate him is all.”
I smirked. “Sure. So did you find out whether you made the soccer team?”
His eyes clouded, his chin jerking up. “Nah, but I’m probably too good.”
He was good, but not good enough that they’d ignore the numerous reports about his behavior and his temper.
We took a seat atop the table beneath the maple tree, and within minutes, Peggy and Willa were walking over, lunches in hand. Willa’s smile widened when our eyes met, and I forced mine to the red wood of the table.
“Freckles, have you got a Bulbasaur yet?”
“I don’t collect Pokémon cards,” Peggy said. “I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
Dash ripped into his cheesy
bread, grumbling as Peggy opened her lunch beside him.
“You forgot your lunch, Jack.” Willa handed my black lunch box over.
I frowned, snatching it and depositing it on the table next to me.
Laughing, she took a seat on the bench where my feet were shifting and began plucking food out.
She’d taken a liking to preparing food, especially our lunches, since school started back. I loved her packed lunches. They were even better than the ones Mom made, but watching her set all the food out on the table next to my thigh was making me feel flustered and weird.
She unwrapped items one by one. “Egg and lettuce, light on the mayo. Cucumber slices with cheese, and my peanut butter cookies.”
I could feel my cheeks grow warm. “You can’t bring things with nuts to school, Bug eyes.”
Willa, embarrassed, stood and attempted to rewrap the cookies.
Dash stole them. “Better get rid of them quickly then.”
I laughed, if anything, to hide the mortification that was reddening my face and tensing my limbs as Dash shoved the three cookies into his mouth.
I laughed even though I wanted them.
And I laughed even though I saw Willa backing up a step, her lip pinched between her teeth.
“God, Willa.” A sinking weight pressed into my stomach, and I snapped, “You’re not my mom. Get lost already and quit making lunches for me.”
Willa’s shoulders curled in.
I didn’t care. She knew better than to make a fuss over me in public, and usually, she would ensure I’d have my lunch before I left the house. My best guess was she wanted to see if things would be, or could be, different at school now. If they could be like they were at home.
If we could show people we were friends.
She raced off toward the girls’ bathrooms, and Peggy left her lunch behind to chase after her.
“She always play mommy for you?”
I scoffed. “No, she just likes to make stuff.”
Dash pondered that, licking his fingers. “Well, I wouldn’t look so sad about it. Those cookies were awesome.”
My gaze fell to the rest of my lunch, and I picked up half of my perfectly sliced sandwich, but I couldn’t taste anything as I stared at the bench seat below where Willa had sat.
She didn’t look at me during class, or on the bus ride home, and when we walked inside, she locked herself in her room.
I didn’t care. Let her have her stupid tantrum, I thought. She needed to learn not to mess with me when she knew I didn’t want her to.
I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and switched the TV on to sneak in some time on the Xbox before Mom and Dad finished work.
Later that night, as Willa stabbed at her peas and corn across from me at the dinner table and hardly answered Mom’s questions about her day at school, I began to grow tired of it.
I followed her upstairs, took a shower, then knocked on her door, ready to berate her for acting like a brat when I’d done nothing wrong.
When Willa cried, she did it in a way that would never give her away unless you were staring right at her face. You’d never hear it, never guess at it until you saw water overflowing from those huge eyes and trickling down her rosy cheeks.
I closed the door behind me, swallowing every scathing word I’d been about to hurl at her, and choked on them as they swelled in my throat. “Bug…”
“Go away, you toad.”
I wouldn’t, and she couldn’t make me.
I took a seat beside her on the bed, eyeing the tissues stuffed inside her clenched fist. “Don’t cry.”
“You can’t just tell someone not to cry,” she rasped, sniffing. “Just like you can’t tell someone not to care about you in front of your friends. You’re not the boss of everything.”
Her words slapped me twice across the face, and I closed my eyes for a moment to keep from sinking to the floor.
Reaching out, I tucked some of her hair behind her ear, revealing a beautiful puffy hazel eye. “I’m sorry.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but I saw the tears push their way out anyway, and I lost it.
Grabbing her, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight and inhaling the jasmine scent of her shampoo. “I really am sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t ignore me anymore.” Her voice was soft and cracking. “Why do you need to do that?”
I didn’t have an answer. Nothing that was good enough. Nothing could really explain why I was embarrassed to have my sister care about me, to show it so openly, and that didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t even make sense of it myself.
“None of the other guys hang out with their sisters,” I tried to explain, sitting back. But that wasn’t exactly true. I knew some who did.
Beneath sooty lashes, she glowered at me, angry eyes searching mine. “But I’m not just your sister. I’m your best friend.”
I smiled, feeling that weight begin to dissipate. “Yeah, I guess I just need to remember that.”
“You care too much about what other people think, Jackson James Thorn.” She pushed away. “So until you don’t, there’s no point in apologizing, because nothing’s going to change.”
I scowled, about to bite, but then paused.
She was right.
“I want to hang out with you.” I always wanted to hang out with her; that was the problem. “But I need to hang out with my other friends too. Meet me in the middle here, Bug. Come on.”
After a moment, she wiped her face, then got up to toss the tissues in the purple trash can under her white desk. “You’re right.” She nodded. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’ll…” She blew out a breath, then offered a cautious smile. “I’ll back off.”
I nodded even though I wasn’t sure I wanted her to do that, and then I left her room.
Two days later, things were back to normal.
Well, as normal as things could be given that Willa was hesitant to even look at me at school.
It irked and ate at me, a sickness I couldn’t recover from because I’d gone and infected myself.
“If you look any more glum, your face will be mistaken for a bum,” Dash said, causing Cad and Raven to double over with laughter.
“Who even says bum?” I shot back.
Dash licked his teeth, sorting through his card collection with a keen eye. “I do, when it calls for it. Obviously glum doesn’t rhyme with ass.”
“Mr. Thane, what did you just say?” Mrs. Marelle neared the table, purple glasses lining her frosted blue eyes.
“I said glum rhymes with bum.” Dash peered up at her then, offering a smile. “And rhyming is fun.”
She eyed him with a perked brow for a moment, then shook her head. “Such words are unbecoming, Mr. Thane. Your vocabulary is vaster than that.”
Dash waited until she’d strolled off before mimicking her, which caused more snorts and laughter to erupt from the idiots beside us.
Sighing, I finished my apple from the lunch I’d prepared myself, wishing it was sliced.
Trying to find Willa on the playground, I squinted toward the swings, where I’d last seen her making daisy chains with Peggy to thread into their ponytails.
Except Peggy was walking over here, and Willa was no longer on the swing.
Before I knew I was moving, I was halfway across the schoolyard, searching the groups of kids and clusters of trees.
Behind the far side of the school building, in an area that was out of bounds during recess and lunch, I found her plastered to the wall.
“Just one, yeah? It’ll be fun. I’ve heard it’s loads of fun,” Danny said, smiling his huge metal-filled smile. “And I’ve wanted to with you since I was in the fourth grade.”
“The fourth grade?” Willa said, her brows scrunched, and her hands flattened to the brick building behind her. “That’s creepy, and I said I don’t want to.”
Danny huffed, and I relaxed, slowing to a stop when he took a step back. “Fine.”
Then he swooped in, and Willa turned her head, her eyes shut tight, just in time to avoid his lips smacking into hers.
Instead, they hit her cheek, and she winced as the impact knocked her head against the brick.
I charged, pulling him to the ground and swinging my fist into his face.
“Yeah! Fight, fight, fight,” the kids shouted.
“Jackson,” Willa screamed. “He’s bleeding.”
It was her scream that made me pause, for I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard her do that in our entire lives.
When a spider appeared while she was on the toilet. When she’d tumbled off her bike on the driveway and sprained her wrist. When I’d jumped out from behind a tombstone in the cemetery and scared her so much she’d fallen back onto her butt. And when I’d flung a grasshopper at her face.
And now, after some shithead tried to kiss her.
I stumbled back as the teacher rounded the corner, then I was being hauled to the principal’s office where I waited for Mom to arrive.
“I can’t believe it. Suspended?” She threw her hands up at home, pacing the kitchen. “What on earth has gotten into you, Jackson?”
I licked my lips, unsure what to say.
“Well?” she pushed. “An answer would be nice, unless you’d like me to call your father home too.”
Staring down at the streaks of blood on my hands from Danny’s busted nose, I frowned at them, my heart still racing with adrenaline. “He was pressuring her to do something she didn’t want to.” There. That should’ve done it.
It didn’t. “Pressuring her to do what?”
I pleaded with my eyes and voice. “Don’t make me say it. She’ll get upset.”
Mom’s lips pursed, and then her face paled, as did mine. “Oh, god. No.”
I shook my head, knowing what she was thinking, even though I probably shouldn’t have. But we’d watched our first porno at Dash’s place last summer, and so I knew enough. “Not that.”
Her shoulders slackened, and she sucked in a cleansing breath, then paused. “Wait, how did you…” At the sheepish look I offered, she groaned, slapping her hand on the countertop. “You’re only twelve, Jackson.”
