The Other Boy

by M. G. Hennessey

  THREE

  “If we lose, I’m totally blaming you,” Josh said as we walked out of class on Friday.

  “Relax. You’re playing the Cougars. You’ll win.”

  “They beat us last year.”

  “Yeah, but last year you didn’t have Austin.” Austin was our best hitter, even though he was the smallest kid on the team. “He’ll get, like, five home runs.”

  Josh frowned. “It’d still be better if you were playing.”

  “Course it would, ’cause I’m awesome,” I said.

  “Idiot,” he snorted.

  “Loser.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to address each other with respect, gentlemen,” Señor Cordero said disapprovingly as we walked past him.

  “Sí, señor,” Josh replied gravely. Turning back to me, he said, “I respect you, Mr. Woods.”

  “I respect you, too, Mr. Choi.”

  Señor Cordero rolled his eyes, and we cracked up.

  Josh nudged me as we approached the main gate. “You got time to play Call of Duty?”

  I shook my head. “We’re going straight to the airport.”

  “All right, then. See you.”

  “See you. And hey—don’t lose.”

  Josh jabbed his fist at the sky, the code we’d come up with a long time ago that meant everything from you’re a jerk to catch you later. “Team Shosh!”

  “Team Shosh!” I answered.

  There was a tug on my sleeve, and I turned to find Madeline smiling up at me. “Bye, Shane. Have fun in San Francisco!”

  “Um, yeah, sure. Bye.”

  I watched as she crossed the street, bobbing slightly in her high-tops. A car honked; Mom was pulling our Volvo up to the curb. I hurried over and climbed in.

  “How was school?” she asked, sounding distracted.

  “Fine.”

  “Yeah?” Checking her mirrors, she carefully eased into traffic. “Is that all I get?”

  I shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  Mom glanced over and gave me a small grin. “Remember when you used to tell me all about your day? I swear, you’d already be talking when you got in the car, and you wouldn’t stop until you told me every single thing that happened. Including bathroom breaks.”

  “That was a long time ago, Mom,” I said, embarrassed.

  She reached out and squeezed my knee. “Well, I hate that you’re growing up so fast.”

  “I wish it was faster,” I grumbled. Maria was herding a bunch of kids across the street in front of us; Nico was with them, easily a head taller than everyone else.

  Maria waved us forward, and Mom’s forehead creased as she glanced at the clock. “Only two hours to our flight. Hopefully there won’t be any traffic.”

  I settled back into my seat and closed my eyes. I could’ve sworn there was still a trace of strawberry bubble gum in the air.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “What?” I asked, opening my eyes.

  “The way you’re smiling.” Mom eyed me. “You looked like you were thinking about something nice.”

  I pointed to the GPS on the dashboard. “You better stay off the highway, it’s already blocked up.”

  FOUR

  “Coming!” Dad’s voice boomed from behind the door. “Just hang on!”

  Whenever we showed up, Dad always acted all stressed and surprised. As if he hadn’t been expecting us, even though Mom had sent him two texts on our way from the airport.

  “Would it have been too much trouble for him to pick us up?” she grumbled.

  I threw her a look. “It was rush hour, Mom.”

  “You’re right. Sorry.” She tried to smile at me, but the corners of her mouth were tight, the way they always got around Dad. They weren’t as bad as some of my friends’ divorced parents; they never yelled at each other, at least not around me. But they always acted like strangers trapped in an elevator, awkward and eager to get out of there.

  The door flew open and Dad filled the door frame. He was big, nearly six-four, with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a barrel chest. His arms were twice the size of mine; I always wondered if that happened overnight. Maybe one day I’d wake up and my hands would be able to grip a basketball as if it were an apple. He gave Mom a curt nod. “Rebecca.”

  “Adam,” she said equally stiffly.

  I fidgeted with the handle of my suitcase. Dad turned his focus on me. He always tried to hide it, but there was unmistakable disappointment in his eyes as he took me in. “Hey, kiddo. Wow, that’s quite a haircut. You join the army without telling me?”

  I could feel Mom bristling, so I eased past her and wrapped my arms around him. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi.” He kissed the top of my head and gave me a big squeeze, so hard it felt like my ribs were getting crushed. “I missed you.”

  “Missed you, too, Dad.”

  Mom cleared her throat. “So his appointment is at noon tomorrow. I’ll pick him up at eleven thirty.”

  “I can take him,” Dad said, looking over my head at her.

  Mom made a noise. “We’ve been through this. If he misses the appointment, they can’t get us in for months.”

  “I said I’ll get us there on time.” Dad’s voice had an edge to it. “I don’t know why you always act like—”

  “It’s fine, Mom,” I interrupted, throwing her a pleading look. “I’ll remind him.”

  Mom looked like she wanted to argue, but seeing my face, she just sighed. “All right. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

  “Sure. Bye, Mom.” I gave her a quick hug and stepped back. I’d learned a long time ago that the faster I could get them through this part, the better.

  “Bye, Rebecca,” Dad said without looking at her.

  As he closed the door, Mom called out, “If you need anything, call me!”

  “Yup!” I shouted back.

  Dad shut the door, then looked at me appraisingly. “You’re bigger.”

  “I guess.” I wanted to tell him that I’d grown two inches since Christmas, but that seemed like something a little kid would say.

  “So.” He clapped his hands together. “Pizza for dinner?”

  “Sure.”

  “Not that soy cheese nonsense your mom gets, either,” he said, leading the way into the apartment. “I’ll order from Goat Hill.”

  I wanted to defend Mom, but he was right; vegan pizza was kind of gross. “Great.”

  “All right, then.” Dad’s voice sounded a little fake, like he didn’t know how to talk to me. The first night was always awkward. Tomorrow would be better.

  I left my bag in the hall while he went to order the pizza. Dad lived in a really nice apartment on the top floor of the building. I noticed it was tidier than usual, which was kind of weird.

  I wandered into the next room, then stopped dead.

  “Hey!” I said. “You got rid of the gym?” The treadmill, punching bag, and free weights were all gone. In their place was a long dining room table with matching chairs. He’d even hung art on the walls.

  “Yup.” Dad came and stood next to me, still holding the phone. “Thought it was time to have a real place to eat. You like it?”

  “Sure,” I said, although it had been kind of cool to have a gym in the apartment. Josh was super jealous when I told him about it. A dining room was boring in comparison.

  “I got some new video games, too. Check them out. Hello?” He held the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that. Half vegetarian, half pepperoni and sausage. Extra meat on that side.” He threw me a wink.

  I sorted through the stack of Xbox games in front of the TV while I puzzled over the order; Dad hated vegetarian pizza. Maybe he was on a health kick. I pulled out a box with a cloaked warrior on the cover and exclaimed, “The new Assassin’s Creed? No way!”

  “I thought you’d like that,” he said, sounding pleased.

  “I thought it wasn’t coming out for another month!”

  “A buddy snuck me an early copy.” Dad grinned. “Want to
play?”

  “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

  “I should have sent you one, too,” he said guiltily. “You can take it, if you want.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t have an Xbox,” I explained.

  “Do you want one? I know you already had your birthday, but—”

  I shook my head vigorously; I did all of my gaming at Josh’s house. I could just imagine Mom’s reaction to something as violent as Assassin’s Creed. “I’m good. Let’s play.”

  By the time the pizza arrived, we were almost back to normal. Dad had two specialized gaming chairs that were totally awesome, with speakers that blasted the sound right into your ears. I could tell he’d already been playing a lot, because he knew all sorts of tricks. He was definitely letting me win, but I didn’t mind. I figured it made him feel better about not buying me an Xbox.

  The doorbell rang again right after the pizza guy left, while I was getting plates and napkins. Dad suddenly looked nervous; he nearly spilled the milk he was pouring.

  “Maybe he forgot something?” I suggested. “Did you remember to tip him?”

  “Um, actually . . . I have a friend coming over.” Taking in my expression, he said hurriedly, “I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. But I think you’ll really like her.”

  Her, I thought with irritation as he practically ran down the hall toward the front door. Dad had introduced me to a couple of girls over the past few years, but I never saw any of them more than once. I sighed.

  Don’t get me wrong, I actually don’t mind that my parents date. They divorced when I was really young, so I don’t even remember them together. And when they’re with other people, my parents always seem happier. I actually really hope they’ll both get married again someday.

  But after not seeing Dad for months, I’d expected to have him all to myself this weekend. So I was in a pretty bad mood as I shuffled down the hall to meet his “friend.”

  I could hear her laughing at something Dad had said, as if he was the most hilarious guy in the world. When I turned the corner, she came into view: tall and blond like Mom, but much younger. She was way too dressed up for pizza night, too, in a skirt and heels.

  “Shane, this is Summer,” Dad said. I could tell by his voice that he was worried about me saying the wrong thing.

  I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” It was limp in mine, like she didn’t know how to shake properly.

  “Hi!” Summer exclaimed. “It is so nice to meet you, too, Shane! I just love that picture of you in your dad’s room!”

  I threw him an accusing look: he’d promised to take that down the last time I was here. “It’s my favorite,” he said apologetically. “Besides, no one can see it in there.”

  No one but her, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

  “Is that pizza I smell?” Summer said, wrinkling up her nose like she was acting in a play. “I love pizza! And hey, I brought ice cream!”

  I’d pretty much lost my appetite, so I picked at the pizza while they talked over me at the dinner table. Every time they asked me a question, I answered either yes or no. I could tell that Dad was getting annoyed, but I didn’t really care.

  It only got worse during dessert. Summer was scooping ice cream into bowls at the table. I was watching her hands, mainly so I wouldn’t have to look at her face anymore. And that’s when I noticed it. “Wow. That’s a big ring.”

  Summer’s eyes went to the giant diamond on her hand, then flicked over to my dad. They stared at each other for a minute, having one of those silent grown-up conversations. Then he leaned across the table and said, “Shane, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  I already knew. Like I said, I don’t have a problem with my parents dating, or even getting married to other people. It just hadn’t felt very real until now.

  “You’re engaged,” I said dully.

  Another beat, then Dad took Summer’s hand and said, “Yes, we are.”

  “And we want you to be in the wedding!” Summer said, trying way too hard to sound enthusiastic. “It’s going to be next June.”

  “June?” I said, thinking, I don’t even know her last name.

  “We’re thinking Napa,” Summer continued. “Not too big, but I definitely have room for one more bridesmaid!”

  And there it was.

  It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach; suddenly it was hard to breathe. I stared at Dad, who was swallowing hard like something was caught in his throat.

  “Oh,” Summer said, putting a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I just meant . . . of course, you don’t even have to wear a dress if you don’t want to. . . .”

  I pushed my chair back so hard it fell over, then ran to my room. Slammed the door and fell back against it, breathing hard. Tears were stinging my eyes, and my nose was running.

  A knock at the door. Dad said, “Shane? Listen, honey. Summer didn’t mean anything by it, she just didn’t understand some of our . . . rules. I told her you were a tomboy.”

  “I’m not a tomboy, I’m a boy!” I screamed, so loud it felt like the walls should shake and windows should shatter. My bedroom door didn’t lock, so I stumbled into the bathroom and bolted the door. For a minute I just stood there, panting hard. My whole body was trembling. It was the worst thing my dad had ever done to me. I’d never felt so betrayed.

  I sank to the floor, put my head on my arms, and cried.

  FIVE

  When I was three years old, me and my friend Matt got into the glitter glue and basically covered ourselves with it, so my mom threw us into the tub to wash off. While she was getting towels, I noticed something. Pointing between Matt’s legs, I asked, “What’s that?”

  “That’s my peanut,” he said proudly. “It’s where the pee comes out.”

  This was pretty confusing for me, because it didn’t look like a peanut; I was allergic, so my parents made sure I knew. “Can you eat it?”

  Matt shook his head firmly. “It’s a different kind of peanut, just for boys.”

  “But I don’t have one, and I’m a boy,” I pointed out.

  “No you’re not.” He laughed. “You’re a girl. That’s why you have a pagina.”

  I frowned at him. “I’m not a girl.”

  “Are too.”

  “Am not!”

  Matt splashed me, and I splashed him back, and he got soap in his eyes and started crying, so our moms came to get us. Which was probably for the best, because sometimes when Matt got mad he’d bite me, and I really hated that.

  Later, when Mom was tucking me in for a nap, I’d asked, “Mommy, why don’t I have a peanut like Matt?”

  She bent over and kissed me on the forehead. “Because that’s a boy thing.”

  “But I’m a boy.”

  She looked at me seriously. “Do you think it’s better to be a boy?”

  “No,” I said, suddenly confused.

  “It’s okay to be a girl, too. You can still do any job you want, and marry whoever you want.”

  “I know. But I’m a boy.”

  “Okay. I love you, sweetheart,” she said, giving me a hug.

  That’s when I discovered there’s a difference between boys and girls, and that people thought I was the wrong thing.

  After that, my parents were fine with me not wearing skirts and dresses, and actually seemed kind of proud of the fact that I preferred to play with trucks and trains.

  “She’s a tomboy,” they’d explain if anyone asked.

  But apparently my dad was still telling people that; important people, like the girl he was going to marry. And that was definitely not okay.

  After fifteen minutes, I got up and washed the tears off my face, avoiding the mirror. I used to cover it with soap, but he complained about the mess, so now I just kept my eyes down. I knew what I’d see there; at Dad’s house, I always looked more like a girl.

  I went back into my room and flopped down on the bed, chucking aside all the stupid stuffed animals that Dad insisted on buying me,
like that would change anything. I could hear voices through the door and wondered if Summer was going to spend the night. I really didn’t want to sit across from her at breakfast pretending everything was okay.

  So I picked up the phone and called Mom.

  Dad wasn’t happy when Mom showed up a half hour later. They got into one of their whisper fights in the front hall, while Summer basically hid out in Dad’s bedroom. I wondered if Mom even knew she was here; she definitely didn’t know Dad was getting married, or she would’ve told me. I wondered if he was explaining that to her, too.

  I held my suitcase handle as I waited in the living room, trying not to overhear even though it was hard because they were getting louder. Summer appeared in the door to my dad’s bedroom. She looked like she’d been crying, too.

  She forced a smile and waved for me to join her. I walked over as slowly as possible, hoping one of my parents would show up to rescue me before I got there.

  “Hey,” Summer said. Maybe she wasn’t as young as I’d thought; she looked a lot older now, at least. “I kind of screwed up, huh?”

  I shrugged, not trusting my voice.

  “I just wanted to say I’m really, really sorry. Your dad—” She looked down the hall in his direction, even though he was still out of sight. “Well, he didn’t explain everything to me.”

  “He didn’t tell you his kid’s a freak?” The words came out before I could stop them. I felt tears coming again and bit my lip hard to hold them back.

  “Oh, Shane, you’re not a freak.” Summer bent low, like she wanted to hug me but wasn’t sure if it would be okay. “You know, I have a niece who was born a boy.”

  I squinted at her suspiciously; that seemed way too convenient. “No, you don’t.”

  “Well, more like a second cousin,” she amended. “But we’re really close. I never would’ve said that if I’d known.”

  I stared at the floor. It didn’t really matter what she thought. She and Dad would get married, and they’d probably have a couple of kids—normal kids—and I’d end up seeing even less of him. “I hate my dad,” I said in a low voice.