Smooth Moves

by Marie Harte

  Jordan didn’t dare laugh. Wait. A teacher had called him names? Before she could ask Rafi about it, he blundered on.

  “I try, but I’m not smart at some things.”

  “Which is why we got you tutors,” Carl said. “But you wouldn’t go to your sessions.”

  Hmm. Point to the parents on that one.

  “Because only the special needs kids go to that tutor, and everyone knows it! I’m not autistic or on some freakin’ spectrum. I just don’t do well at math.”

  And see, that there. Jordan would have said good at math. Yet Rafi knew when to use well or good. He could draw like he’d been born with a pencil in hand and could talk about everything from video games to politics. Her little brother had a brain. It just didn’t like school.

  Troy had the nerve to speak again. “Perhaps another tutor might help?”

  Maria sighed. “We’ve tried other tutors, but when Rafi refuses to go to school, none of that matters.”

  Rafi stiffened and pulled away from Jordan. “So I guess it’s good that I’m out of your hair, living with the only person here who cares.” He stood up and went back into the house before Jordan could stop him.

  The silence left in his wake seemed to make everyone uncomfortable.

  “I hope you’re happy,” her mother said. “I knew today might be like this, but I’d hoped we could be civil at least.”

  “Mom, this is ridiculous. Everyone is nice and gets along when you ignore what’s really going on.”

  “Which is what, exactly?” Troy asked.

  “One, you are not a part of this family yet, so shut the hell up,” Jordan told him, shocking the entire table.

  Leanne gasped. “Jordan, you apologize for saying that.”

  “Two.” Jordan turned to her parents. “How can you two call yourselves his parents yet be okay with Rafi going to some military school for kids with disciplinary problems? Rafi’s just a kid.”

  “With disciplinary problems,” Carl said drily.

  Troy looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon but remained quiet.

  “We love him, but I’m sorry,” Maria apologized. “I don’t understand that kind of behavior. Neither of you two acted out like that.” She nodded from Jordan to Leanne.

  “Mom, are you deliberately avoiding my entire past?” Jordan asked, agog. “I skipped school, smoked marijuana, and barely got by with average grades in high school.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Bull. You totally did because you caught me once in the house with my room all smoky.” Not Jordan’s brightest moment, but in her defense, she’d thought her parents were gone for the weekend.

  By the shock on his face, she saw that Carl hadn’t known. “Mom didn’t want to rock the boat, so she kept it from you, Dad. I wasn’t a bad kid. I was being a teenager. It’s normal to want to argue, skip school, act out. We can’t all be Leanne who never steps wrong.”

  “I had problems.” Leanne frowned.

  “You had good kid problems, like oh my gosh, I’m getting an A–.” Jordan snorted. “You’re also the golden child who can do no wrong.” Jordan knew she sounded bitter and probably shouldn’t have aired this out in front of everyone at a picnic, but some perverse part of her wanted it on the table. “Rafi needs help. Why not be loving and support him, dealing with a not-so-perfect child? He’s a good kid. He just needs to find his way. And believe it or not, he’s so smart it’s ridiculous. Just because his grades don’t show it doesn’t mean he’s stupid.”

  “What you’re saying is you don’t want him at your home anymore.” Carl shook his head. “Jordan, we told you he was a handful. He’ll get better with supervision away from a too-forgiving family. Rafi needs to deal with the reality of growing up. You call it desertion. We call it tough love.”

  “Tough love works.” Troy challenged her with a thin-lipped smile.

  “I am good with Rafi staying with me.” Jordan rose, annoyed with all of them. “But I don’t believe that a fifteen-year-old has the capacity to know the reality of growing up. He’s allowed to make mistakes, and as the adults in his life, it’s up to us to make sure he’s not making the kind that can screw him up for life. This isn’t about money, either. I’m taking care of him just fine.” Though the kid was straining her budget with his never-ending appetite. At least she’d fed him at their parents’. “But you’d think you guys would want the best for him.”

  “We do, which is why this camp, which is not cheap by the way, is the best place for him.” Carl put a hand on her wrist to stay her from leaving. “Jordan, we love Rafi.”

  “Have you even looked into this camp? Because I have. It’s for kids with ‘behavioral issues,’ for God’s sake. He’s not a criminal, just a kid with bad grades.” The thought of Rafi going away and being under guard, around people who could seriously hurt him if they wanted because their motto of “spare the rod, spoil the child” was enforced with physical discipline, scared the hell out of her.

  “The camp is for more than that. I know people who’ve sent their kids there,” Carl said. “I did research this. I talked to the headmaster too. It’s a legitimate alternative.”

  That Carl’s actions seemed to come from a loving place hurt her because he was so wrong and couldn’t see it. Her mother, on the other hand, just liked to sweep away problems. Leanne…

  “I have to go. Thanks for the picnic.” She turned and headed through the house to leave.

  Leanne followed her. “Wait, Jordan.”

  Jordan swallowed a sigh and paused by the front door. Then she turned to face Miss Perfect.

  “I never knew you felt that way. That I was the golden child, I mean.”

  Leanne looked like an angel at that moment. So pretty, so sad for her pathetic younger sister. Jordan wanted to punch her in the face and felt smaller than an ant for her pettiness.

  She swallowed. “I’m not sure how you could be so unaware. Growing up, Mom and Dad always favored you. And by Dad, I mean Carl.” Because Jeff Fleming had loved his children equally. A pang of sadness speared her. Jeff would never have farmed Rafi out to someone else.

  “I–I guess I never realized.” Leanne’s big blue eyes teared up. “I’m so sorry you felt that way.” She reached for Jordan’s hand, and Jordan balled said hand into a fist. “I also wish you liked Troy better. He’s a nice person, Jordan. If you gave him a chance, you’d see how wonderful he is.”

  Jordan tugged her hand away. “Seriously? He’s a snob. He and Carl get along because they like to make money and both went to Stanford.” She said Stanford in her snootiest voice. “And I’m sorry for making fun of him, but he has no right to talk about Rafi. He’s not family. But you are. How can you not want to help our brother?”

  “I am helping, by standing by Mom and Dad.” Leanne blinked, and a tear streaked down her cheek. “I love him, I do. But he’s out of control. He needs help we can’t give him. I wish you could see that.”

  The problem was Leanne believed what she said. Out of love for Rafi, she’d let him go off with strangers. “Okay, so you believe that. Have you looked into this camp?”

  “Well, no. Mom and Dad said it was okay so—”

  “So you look into it. Then you tell me our little brother is better off being run to death or whipped—literally—into shape.” Jordan left before she said something she’d regret. Because of course Leanne had to be nice about everything.

  Did the woman not realize how bad things could get when the people you should trust worked against you? Putting a vulnerable fifteen-year-old in a situation where he had no power was asking for trouble.

  But Leanne loved Rafi and genuinely thought she was helping by not helping.

  Gah. Jordan itched to leave. Give her an obnoxious Marine with attitude any day. She texted Rafi for his whereabouts but needn’t have bothered. She found him sitting in her car, waiting to esca
pe.

  She got in beside him.

  He refused to look at her, so still she thought he’d shatter. The poor kid.

  In a bland voice, he asked, “Am I moving out or what? It won’t take me long to pack.”

  “Shut up. I’m in no mood to deal with ‘sullen teenage boy’ after having dealt with ‘angelic never-makes-a-mistake girl.’” She started the car. “Now how about a bad-for-you burger and fries while we talk about how much we don’t like Troy?”

  Rafi’s worry faded, and he shared his own bright-white smile. “You’re on.”

  Chapter 14

  The next day, the teacher droned on while Rafi doodled in his notebook. He loved his sister even more for standing up for him. She held her own, told people what she thought, and had been a freakin’ U.S. Army soldier. And not just a regular soldier but a cop, one who put people in handcuffs and broke up bar fights. Nothing scared his big sister.

  While nowadays everything scared him. What would he do with his life if he couldn’t even get through tenth grade?

  He sighed, a bad move because his teacher called on him to explain something about rational expressions, which was supposed to be dividing fractions…he thought. Maybe. Math made no sense to him and never had. He’d always had a problem understanding it. Though he’d never told his parents, other simple things bothered him. Like telling time, which had been impossible before he’d gotten a digital watch and then a phone. Even money used to confuse him, making the right change a strange and painful undertaking, until he’d found ways to trick his brain into understanding it.

  “Mr. Younger,” the old windbag started, and the class tittered. The other losers doing summer school had been staying out of trouble, mostly because he, and to an extent Juan, had become Mr. Simpson’s bitch. The guy had had a hard-on for Rafi since day one, when Rafi had referred to him as Homer, not realizing the teacher had been in the doorway of the classroom and overheard him. It didn’t help that Simpson looked and sounded a lot like the iconic cartoon character.

  Unfortunately, Simpson couldn’t let things go. Every day he made the already-miserable math and science classes worse, poking fun at students—and Rafi in particular—and droning on about how great the summer would be if they hadn’t had to come to class. As if it were Rafi’s fault the guy was stuck in a job he clearly loathed.

  “Mr. Younger,” Simpson repeated. “Frankly, I don’t know why you continue to show up to class. You have to be the stupidest student—and I use that term loosely—I’ve ever had. You understand at the sixth-grade level. You shouldn’t even be in this class, let alone the tenth grade.”

  The silence around them grew unbearable. Simpson had never laid into anybody this badly before. Sure, he’d been mean, but not this level of cruel. Especially because Rafi knew it was true. He blinked back tears of embarrassment and rage. Rafi knew he was stupid. He didn’t need some asshole teacher to tell everyone.

  “I think it would be best if we assigned you a tutor. Maybe one of the seventh graders down the hall in the gifted classroom.” Simpson raised a brow. “How does that sound?”

  “Maybe if you were a better teacher, I’d get it.”

  Simpson didn’t flinch. “Maybe if I had any thought that you might graduate and become a functioning member of society, I might try harder. The truth is, all of you are in here because you messed up during the school year. But at least most of you will get beyond this.” Simpson gave Rafi a scorching look. “But you, Mr. Younger, are not worth my time. You’re dragging everyone down, slowing the curriculum for the others who can do so much more. And let’s face it, if you graduate, and that’s a big if, you’ll no doubt be living with Mommy and Daddy, unable to get a job, lost in video games and prepubescent fantasies of a life where you never work and always get the girl.” Simpson sneered. “Dream on, son. I’ve seen this all before. You’ll be soaking off your parents for the rest of your unworthy life.”

  Everyone stared at Simpson in shock. Even for him the rant was a bit much. The guy had been on Rafi’s ass from the start, but Rafi hadn’t wanted to say anything to Jordan because, one, he’d started it and, two, he didn’t want to be more of a problem for his sister, who’d already gone out on a limb for him.

  “Now why don’t you do all of us a favor and drop the class. Retake tenth grade.” Simpson sighed. “I suppose I should apologize. Slower students often need special help, and that’s something you should be getting. Out of my class, that is.”

  The self-righteous prick. Rafi wanted to punch the asshole for such embarrassment. Everyone watched him, and now everyone knew how stupid he really was. So he fell back on what he knew. “Trouble at home with Marge?”

  The class burst into laughter, dispelling the tension. At least, over them. Simpson looked ready to rage.

  Rafi refused to stop. “I mean, bald is beautiful. But that beer gut can’t be helping things with the missus.”

  Simpson’s eyes widened, and then, in a tone covered with ice, he said, “Get out and don’t come back.”

  “Sure thing, Homer.”

  More titters, though quieter this time.

  “Get out,” Simpson shouted.

  Rafi took his shit and left, knowing he’d screwed up his last chance at avoiding military school. Jordan had the right of it. He’d had his buddy Daniel, video game guru and secret hacker, look into the place. Half the tools who graduated looked like some kind of robot, with short hair, cheesy grins, and the desire to succeed in life. It was like they’d been programmed to conform or something.

  Oh man. Now he was good and fucked, thanks to his stupid brain and Simpson.

  He wiped his cheeks as he hurried down the stairs and bumped into Juan.

  “Whoa, man. You okay?” Juan was a decent guy, sharing his hatred of summer school and a love of the same video games Rafi played. The guy also had friends and seemed to want to bond with a “Brazilian brother.” Though Rafi didn’t speak Portuguese and had no tie to his roots, he was proud of his Latino blood.

  “I’m good. Just sick of Simpson’s crap. You missed quite a show.”

  Juan leaned in with a half chest bump. “I feel you. Simpson’s a dick.” He paused when someone texted him then whistled. “Shit. Don just told me what he said. That guy is such an asshole. Don’t let it sweat you, man.” He put an arm around Rafi’s shoulders, and the pair walked out of the school.

  “You cutting all day?”

  Juan had to retake more than a few classes, while Rafi just had math and science, both of which Simpson taught.

  “I’m done with school.”

  “Me too.”

  Juan smiled. “Awesome. You want to hang?”

  “Sure.” Not like Rafi had much of anything else to do. What the heck would he tell Jordan? “I’m so fucked.”

  “Nah. You got friends. I’ll hook you up, if you want.”

  “Yeah? With what?”

  “Getting kicked out of school is gonna be a problem for you, right?”

  He sighed and nodded.

  “So you’re needing funds. I got some friends who can help with that.”

  Rafi didn’t know. Juan had a reputation as a go-to guy for illegal stuff, and his family had serious money, so he usually kept out of trouble. Apparently they hadn’t been able to buy him good grades, hence summer school. He’d even been rumored to hang out with a gang. Jordan didn’t know about any of that, but she’d never liked him. She’d blamed Juan’s influence for the bathroom cherry-bomb stunt. Which, actually, had been Juan’s idea.

  “I will need money.” Jordan had been spending more than she could afford for him. He’d overheard her talking on the phone and seen some of her bills, though she’d told him she was okay.

  “Perfect. Come on, Rafael. Let’s enjoy our summer and get rich while we’re at it.”

  Rafi smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Then
let’s go.”

  * * *

  Cash spent the next few days feeling his way with Jordan. Since Reid had threatened to fire him if he even thought about going in to work, Cash sat at home and actually did a lot of resting and sleeping, which helped his head.

  She’d kept her distance Wednesday and Thursday night, telling him she needed family time. He had no problem with the distance. Or so he told her. He’d actually missed her like crazy. His only bright spots had been more time with Reid, who’d spent the past two nights with him while Naomi traveled for some business thing, and a phone call from Gavin and Mac. Apparently he hadn’t worn out his welcome at the gym.

  “Good job kicking ass,” Mac, the gym’s owner, had told him over the phone. “Those jerks aren’t welcome back. Ever. You see them, you save their pounding for me.” Since Mac had also done time in the Corps and looked like a linebacker for a pro team, Cash had no problem leaving any ass-beatings to him. The praise had been nice but uncomfortable, made worse because Elliot kept talking about a Cash Appreciation Night at his bakery.

  Cash would have refused, except Gavin had called to mention that this get-together would be a good thing for the community. The knowledge that locals protected their own. Cash liked the idea, even if he didn’t like being the center of it, and grudgingly agreed to attend if Elliot promised to change the name of the event. Which he supposedly had… Now all Cash had to do was milk his recuperation time and hope Elliot had forgotten all about it the next time they crossed paths.

  He sat in bed, propped against the headboard, staring at his toes. He wore shorts and a ratty sweatshirt while he waited for Jordan to join him. She’d stepped into the bathroom to get into something more comfortable. He’d surprised her with plans to go bowling…which she had rejected due to his supposed concussion. Cash felt just fine, but when she’d suggested a date indoors, just the two of them, he’d been all for it. Except she insisted they relax and offered a Friday night pajama party. Despite the fact he wasn’t a teenage girl, he’d agreed. Sadly, since Jordan didn’t sleep naked, he’d offered her something of his to wear. And now Friday Night in Pajamas was a go.