A Crooked Mile (Rust Book 1)

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A Crooked Mile (Rust Book 1) Page 3

by Samantha Arthurs


  “Hey, sugar,” Ellen Davis drawled, lowering her book and flashing him a smile. “How’s my boy today?”

  Ellen had about fifty pet names for both of her sons, ranging from sugar to cutie pie, and Alec hated every single one of them. He didn’t comment though, just gave her a weary smile in return as he opened up the fridge to forage for a snack.

  “He’s alright,” he told her, finding a block of cheddar cheese and a Gatorade. He got a knife and sliced off some cheese to go on some crackers, glancing at his mom as he worked. “Got assigned a partner in English and ended up with this weird girl. Spent the entire rest of the day fielding off my friends who think it’s the greatest joke in the history of high school. Guess the force just wasn’t with me today.”

  Putting a marker in her book so she didn’t lose her page, Ellen turned sideways on her chair to better face her son. Alec had taken a seat at the island, nibbling on the edge of a cracker as he thought about his day. In all honesty it hadn’t been so bad, just more or less irritating. The teasing wasn’t the worst part, but the idea that it would just get more intense over the course of twelve weeks wasn’t exactly pleasing. He knew his friends and they wouldn’t relent, even over something as stupid as a mandatory class project.

  “What makes her so weird?” Ellen asked him then, shocking him out of his daydream. That was a very good question. What did make her so damn weird? He’d spent half an hour sitting with her in class, and she’d come off as pretty ordinary. She lived on a farm just like most of them did, and her family grew wheat which was par for the course. Her family wasn’t rich, but most folks in Rust didn’t have a whole lot to their name. So what made Ramona Sanders so different?

  “I don’t know,” Alec finally conceded, shrugging his shoulders which was a habit his mother hated and which he did just to be subtly annoying. “I don’t really know her, but that’s just what everyone says. She dresses kind of strange, she’s always wearing these big sweaters and shirts and stuff, and she has big glasses that kind of take over her whole face. She doesn’t really fit in, or at least she doesn’t make an effort to. I don’t even know if she has any friends, I’ve never seen her with anybody before. Just a loner sort, you know.”

  Ellen listened quietly, taking in what her son had to say. She didn’t judge him, she wasn’t the sort, but he could tell she was disappointed in him when she did speak up. It was just the tone of her voice, soft and a little bit sad. “You should know better than most not to judge people that way,” she told him, her mouth fixed into a slight frown. “I’m not chastising you, but you’ve been through a lot and you know how they treated you in Colorado after what happened. We brought you home so you could get a fresh start, and it worked out for you. Better than any of us could have hoped, really, and I’m so glad for that. You shouldn’t be down on this girl though just because your friends think she’s weird. You don’t have to dress nice or have a lot of money, or even have a winning personality, to still be a person worth treating decently. Everyone deserves that, Alec.”

  Rising from her chair, Ellen crossed the kitchen and placed a kiss on Alec’s head. He didn’t shrug away or make a face, for once accepting her affection without dispute. He knew that his mother was right, and that he had to give Ramona a fair chance. They didn’t have to be best friends, or even acquaintances, but he could be nice to her during the duration of their time stuck working together.

  “Finish up and start your homework. Daddy will be home for dinner, and we all need to eat together tonight. So no sandwiches at your desk while you work,” she told him, trying to give him an encouraging smile. The mention of his father just sunk Alec’s mood further, however, and he went silent. He’d do as he was told, because it was her doing the asking, but he’d be damned if he’d like it one bit.

  Chapter Four: Family Dynamics

  Leo Tolstoy had gotten it right with his opening line of Anna Karenina. Happy families were generally all alike, happiness is happiness, but unhappy families were all unique. There were just so many ways to be unhappy, and so many things to be unhappy about. Unhappiness didn’t necessarily mean that the family unit didn’t work, or that their displeasure was turned toward one another, but it was all moot. Once you were caught in a web of abject unhappiness, you were sort of stuck there trying to get yourself free again. Only the more you struggle, the more tangled you become, and the more unhappiness you feel.

  The Sanders family wasn’t classically unhappy. In fact, they had always been pretty chipper people with a good outlook in life. It was only over the past few years that things had started to sour, and times had gotten even harder. Wheat was a fickle thing, and if the growing season didn’t go just right then the crop didn’t turn out. No crop meant there wasn’t any profit, and no profit meant that times got tighter and tighter. It used to be that Ramona didn’t even feel the crush of it, she had been blissfully ignorant, but it was hard to ignore it lately. They were always struggling, and even though they had the animals to fall back on, it wasn’t quite enough. Her father didn’t work another job like a lot of men in Rust did, and had made farming his sole priority in life. That maybe hadn’t been the best idea.

  Tonight they were all gathered around the dinner table, in the narrow room that served as the dining room. It was barely big enough to fit all of them and their farmers table, but using benches instead of chairs saved space and somehow they all squeezed in. They were passing plates back and forth and talking about their days, trying to keep the atmosphere upbeat. Their father’s mood and cloudy expression had not gone unnoticed but nobody brought it up, at least not until halfway through the meal when he brought it up himself.

  “Kids, we’re going to have to cut some corners,” he announced, putting his fork down and resting his hands on the edge of the table. Ramona wasn’t sure what corners might be left to cut, but she didn’t dare interrupt. “We’re not going to be able to visit gran and pop-pop this year for Thanksgiving; we just can’t afford to go all the way to Wyoming. Plus I need to try and look for some work to hold us over until the spring, so I need to be here just in case I do find something. I know you’re disappointed, but the wildfires and lack of rain did a number on the crop this year. The money just isn’t there. Christmas will be pretty small this year too, but you’re all old enough to understand. Mom and me want to give you guys everything you want, but sometimes that just isn’t possible.”

  Ramona looked around the table at the faces of her younger siblings, and all of them looked near tears. She knew it broke her parent’s hearts to have to do things like this, and she didn’t want them to feel bad. This was just what happened when you lived in a place like Rust and tried to eke out a living. Nothing was guaranteed, and your livelihood depended on a lot of factors over which you had no control. So she put a smile on her face and spoke up for herself and the other kids.

  “Don’t worry, dad! There’s always next year, and anyway we can make a good dinner right here at home. Maybe for Christmas we can try something new and we can make presents for each other. It’s something to do once the snow flies, and I think that would be pretty nice. I mean you can only get so many store bought sweaters before you’re ready for something new,” she declared, eyes scanning the group again. The idea of making gifts seemed to perk up at least half of the younger kids, and she was thankful for that. Anything that would provide a good distraction was more than welcome in her book.

  Her father’s shoulders lowered with relief, and he gave her a little wink of thanks. They knew they could always count on her to lead the charge, because that’s just the kind of person she was. Good, reliable, dependable Ramona. She never kicked a fuss or got upset when things went wrong, because someone had to hold things together. So maybe they were unhappy, maybe things were in a bad place for now, but it had to look up eventually. That was just the way life worked, right? You got down and out, but you didn’t turn on one another. You leaned on each other for support, because that was the only surefire way to make sure you stayed st
anding.

  A mile down the road things were unhappy in an entirely different, and much more volatile, way. The Davis family didn’t have to worry about money, because they didn’t rely on wheat to make or break them. No, they had to worry about a lot of other things, some of which were not nearly as important as what the Sanders family had to fret about. Instead of trying to find ways to make ends meet, to make money stretch where there was no money at all, men like Alec II worried about molding his eldest son into a model of perfection.

  They were gathered in their own dining room, around a large oval table that was meant to seat eight but that only held the four of them. An ornate vase of flowers sat in the middle of the table, their take out meal situated on serving dishes around it. Alec didn’t personally understand why they had to put take out fried chicken and mashed potatoes into nice dishes, but he didn’t want to spark that particular argument. He knew it made his mother feel better to imagine herself as being more domestic than she actually was, so he was alright with just letting it go instead of turning it into a fight. The place was still just as chilly as the arctic though; the only sound that of cutlery against China plates. Every now and then someone would ask someone else to pass the salt, but by and large they were more content to eat in silence than to have to speak to one another. He and Bryson had mulled over their school days again, though his brother was even less chatty today than he was. He’d gotten a poor grade on a quiz, and they were now trying to avoid the topic so they didn’t set off good ole dad.

  Their father had started out dinner by boasting about his most recently won legal battle, and their mother had cooed over him in the most disgusting way. Neither of them had said anything beyond a stale “congratulations”, and that had been that. After that the silence had been palpable but welcome, better than the idle chatter that none of them really wanted to make. They might have made it the entire length of dinner, might have gotten through the diner made apple pie with ice cream and escaped upstairs without incident, but Alec II couldn’t stand to see that happen. It was like there was a switch inside of him that turned on every time things were going smoothly; like he just had to wreck their peace and quiet by opening his mouth.

  “Tryouts are coming up soon,” he announced, as though Alec wasn’t aware. Being the captain of the team, to his father, was just something else for him to screw up. So naturally that meant he had to take control of the situation and be constantly vigil about every little thing. “I think that Bryson should go out for the team! You’re a freshman now, Bry! It’s time to stop being lazy and to think more about your future! You’ll never get anywhere without putting in some effort and it’s about damn time you tried. No more sitting around on that computer for hours after school. I want to see you take some initiative. I’m sure Alec can help you out; I mean he’s the captain! What else is he good for if he can’t give his kid brother a boost?”

  Alec felt his blood already starting to boil, for two very different reasons. First, he didn’t like it when his father picked on Bryson. The two brothers were very different people, and that was part of the reason why they got along so well. Alec was the athletic one, that one who spent his time bouncing between sports or hitting the gym. Bryson was the one who was better on his own, working on his programs and building websites in computer lingo that Alec couldn’t even begin to comprehend. They both did well in school, but they excelled in different subjects. Where Bryson was math and science oriented, Alec did better in history and English. They helped each other with their homework, they played video games together, and they just generally shared a close bond that was necessary for brothers who wanted to get along. Then here was their father trying to upset the balance by not only pushing Bryson out of his comfort zone, but by also assuming that Alec got a say in who made the team.

  “Dad,” Bryson spoke up, before Alec could start his own tirade against the idea. “I appreciate that you want me to be more outgoing and everything, but I’m happy with what I’m doing. We’re going to start a computer club at school, so I won’t just be sitting at home working on my own. It will be an actual extracurricular, and it will be something I can use when I apply to colleges. I was thinking about maybe joining the mathletes too, I think that would be more my speed. I’m not coordinated enough to play basketball, I trip over my own feet. These are things I’m better at, and I think you’ll see that I can be really good at something too.”

  Alec could see the fire in their father’s eyes before he even opened his mouth, and he braced for the impact by letting his own fork drop to his plate with a clatter. Their mother just sat meekly across from them, staring down at her almost untouched piece of fried chicken, wringing her napkin in her hands. The one thing that Alec hated about his mother, the only thing he hated about her, was how she just sat by and let it happen. She never spoke up for them, never tried to intervene. She was content to let her husband run the show; however he chose to run it.

  “You will do exactly as I say,” their father hissed, sounding like a dangerous venomous snake who was about to strike. “I will not have insolence in my house, do you understand me? Until the day you turn eighteen and move out from under my roof, I own you. If I say you’re going to play basketball, then you are going to play basketball. Do you understand me? You will go to those tryouts, and Alec will make sure you earn a spot on that team. I want to see you in that uniform, out on that court, and if you argue with me about it again? I’ll make you regret it.”

  The threat flew all over Alec, and he was on his feet so fast his chair teetered and nearly toppled over. He was breathing hard, planting his hands on the table and leaning over so he was between his father and Bryson.

  “You can’t just force someone to do something they hate,” he snapped, fingers curling into the lace tablecloth. “That’s not right, and it’s not fair. In fact, it’s total bullshit. You think you can just force him to want to play? You can’t force someone to do something like that. You’re also completely delusional if you think I have any pull in who makes the cut and who doesn’t. There’s this person called a coach who gets to make the decisions, and that person isn’t me. Get your head out of your ass!”

  Alec had never gotten into his father’s face before, not like this, but he’d had enough. He was tired of being made into something he wasn’t, and he would be damned if he let the man do the same to Bryson. He was about to go on, he had a million more things to say, when the hand struck him hard and fast across the left side of his face. It stung badly, reminding him of the time he’d gotten head butted in the face by an opposing teams player, only that had been a more direct pain and this was more of a white hot, searing sort of feeling. He heard his mother gasp in shock and he felt Bryson reach out to put a hand on his back, not sure what else he could do.

  For a moment the world was still and silent again, and he was only partially listening when his father spoke up again. This time his words were cool and calculated and directed at his oldest son.

  “I told you,” Alec II said flatly. “Insolence will not be tolerated in my home. Bryson, sign up for tryouts. Not another word about it from either of you. I think I’ve made myself clear. Maybe it’s time I was home from the office more often than not, because you two are getting out of control. There is one person in charge around here, one person who makes the decisions, and that person is me. I hope that’s understood.”

  A mile down the road, things were unhappy but peaceful. Alec wasn’t sure if he’d ever know exactly what that might feel like.

  Chapter Five: A Study in Brontë

  “Alright, class! I take it that most of you have chosen your novel, or you have at least narrowed down your options! Today I want you to get together with your partner and start to talk about what sort of project you want to do. After today you’ll be expected to get together on your own since we’ll be using class time for reading and discussions. So go ahead and move around, but I want you settled in five minutes. No wasting time!”

  It was 8:20 in
the morning, and English class was back in session at Rust High School. Everyone had migrated to their usual seats, and none of them were exactly pleased with having to almost immediately shuffle around again. They were all too tired to kick up much of a fuss though, and the room was mostly quiet as everyone gathered their things and went in search of their respective partners.

  Ramona felt absolutely exhausted, having been up half the night trying to put together a plan to help her parents. If she could find a part time job then she would be able to contribute at least a little bit to help with the bills and the groceries every month, even if it wasn’t very much. Once she’d figured out the monetary logistics of it, she’d then attempted to make a list of places to apply for jobs. There weren’t many options in Rust, but she did plan to stop by the diner after school to see if they needed another waitress for the weekends or maybe even a fry cook, she felt pretty confident that she could do that. She helped her mother cook dinner at home most nights for the Sanders brood, so surely it wouldn’t be all that different.

  She was so distracted that she dropped into the seat beside of Alec without taking much notice of him, shuffling her English notebook to the top of her book stack as she tried to imagine herself in the little pocketed apron that waitresses wore, taking orders and pouring Cokes into glasses. It was an image that she wasn’t exactly pleased with, but the idea of bringing home a paycheck was more than a little appealing. She had moved on to picturing herself instead flipping burgers and yelling “orders up!” when Alec interrupted her train of thought.

 

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