Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “Daddy?” Mason made sure to keep his voice as quiet as possible. The shadows shouldn’t hear.

  “Yeah, Mason?”

  He paused for a moment. He’d almost asked. But if he did, Dad might get mad and leave him alone in the bedroom. “Did you have a good meeting tonight?” He pushed down what he was really wondering.

  “I didn’t have a….” His daddy paused, then sighed. He smiled, his cheeks flushing pink even in the dim light. Daddy hardly ever smiled. “I did. It was a good meeting.”

  Mason just nodded. He was glad the meeting had been good, but tears stung his eyes. He shut them tight, scrunching them up so no tears would fall. He was going to be big like Daddy. He wasn’t going to cry.

  “Hey, Mason.” His daddy’s voice was soothing, which only made him have to squeeze his eyes tighter. “Buddy, look at me.”

  Mason shook his head, trying to bury deeper into his daddy’s chest. He could hear his hair scrape against the fabric of his dad’s blue shirt.

  The arms wrapped even tighter. “What’s wrong, buddy? Why are you sad?”

  Hot tears dropped onto his cheeks, and then he was sobbing, crying so hard that within seconds he was hiccupping.

  His daddy pulled him closer, one big hand returning to his head and securing him safely against his chest.

  Daddy didn’t speak again until Mason’s hiccups had stopped and his tears slowed. Leaning back, his dad wedged his hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a white handkerchief. “Here, buddy. Blow your nose.”

  Mason blew. And blew and blew. Then he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his flannel Nemo pajamas.

  His daddy chuckled, then with a finger gently guiding Mason’s chin, tilted his head so he had to look up into his daddy’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Mason?”

  Mason felt his lower lip tremble. He wasn’t going to ask. He was afraid what his dad would say. He wasn’t going to ask. And then he did.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  Tears instantly filled his daddy’s blue eyes. “Oh, Mase, no, of course not. Why would you think that?”

  Mason stared at the tear that made its way down his dad’s cheek and got lost in his red stubble. The sight made him quit crying. He looked back up to meet his dad’s face. He’d never seen Daddy cry before.

  Though there were no more tears, Mason’s voice trembled guiltily. “You’ve been really sad lately. Kinda grumpy. I’m sorry if I’ve been bad.”

  And there it was. Another tear down his dad’s face.

  And then he was smashed back against his dad’s chest, wrapped in a bear hug so tight it almost hurt.

  “No, Mason. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at you, Avery, or Caleb.”

  “Aunt Wendy?”

  It sounded like Daddy laughed, but it was a strange, cracked sound. “No, Mason. I’m not mad at Wendy either.”

  Daddy loosened his hold and leaned back so Mason could see his face again.

  “I promise, buddy. I’m not mad at you, and you haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve just been worried about some grown-up stuff. I haven’t been sure what I’m supposed to do. It’s made me… grumpy, I guess.”

  “Are you better?”

  His daddy smiled, and though no more tears fell, his eyes sparkled wetly in the light of the glass unicorn. “Yes. I’m better. Got it figured out. Things are gonna be good. I can feel it.”

  Mason just stared at his dad. Making sure. “You’re okay?”

  Another smile. “Yeah, buddy. I’m okay.”

  “And you’re not mad at me?”

  “No, my sweet boy. I’m not mad at you at all. I love you.”

  Mason smiled up at his dad, satisfied. “Okay. Good.”

  Daddy lowered his head, giving a quick kiss to Mason’s forehead. “Now, you’ve got to get some sleep. You have school tomorrow, and you should have been asleep hours ago.”

  “Okay.” Mason allowed his dad to help him get back under the covers. Another kiss and Daddy walked over to the bedroom door before looking back. “Are you going to be okay tonight? You want me to leave the door open?”

  Mason glanced at the shadows that formed next to the doorway, so close they nearly touched his dad.

  The slithery shapes had evaporated, and in their place Mason could see a silhouette. Long hair seemed to blow, as if in a soft breeze.

  Mason looked back at his daddy. “You can shut it. I’ll be okay.”

  Part Two

  Winter

  Chapter Eighteen

  FIVE DAYS had passed since Ashley Mei-Lien had given Caleb his first kiss. Granted, she’d warned him about two minutes before the actual act itself. She’d said she wasn’t going to bring in the New Year without being kissed.

  Maybe it didn’t really count since they’d been surrounded by the rest of the youth group. Could you really get your first kiss between the countdown to midnight and an extra long prayer to usher in the New Year?

  He’d choked. Everyone had yelled, “Happy New Year!” Ashley leaned into him, her eyes closed and lips pursed. Caleb had started to kiss her, tried to match her expression, but he couldn’t bring himself to shut his eyes, and then she was right there—so close, so beautiful.

  What if he did it wrong?

  What if his breath smelled like the seven-layer dip he’d been scarfing a few minutes before?

  What if she laughed?

  Ashley’s right eye cracked open, and then her lips were on his, warm and wet.

  The kiss had lasted a grand total of two seconds, maybe less. Caleb had replayed it over and over and over again so those two seconds felt like the world’s longest make-out session.

  She’d waved good-bye to him when her grandmother came to pick her up from the party less than half an hour later. That was the last Caleb had seen of her.

  His heart felt like it was going to explode. He could literally feel it smashing into his ribcage. He tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t remember how to inhale properly.

  Pushing his shoulders back, he shoved the front door open and walked into the school. He made it about three feet before they slumped once more, and his gaze found the yellowed linoleum floor.

  He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. He wouldn’t see her before physical science, which was fourth hour. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t make it through the first day back after Christmas break without hyperventilating.

  Not only was he being ridiculous, but he was also being a baby. He was a freshman, for crying out loud. Technically, since the year was now officially half over, he could start thinking of himself as a sophomore. He shouldn’t be freaking out about his first kiss. And that was the problem—he was nearly a sophomore and had just had his first kiss. There’d been a couple of kids who had been having sex since they’d been in the sixth grade—granted, not many, but by now he was fairly certain most of his class was. Of course, nearly all the kids in the youth group had taken a purity pledge and swore to Jesus that they’d remain virgins until their wedding night. Caleb was willing to bet most of them had been lying. He knew for a fact Jenny Smith was lying. On Halloween, Jacob Wiseman had shown him a picture on his phone of Jenny flashing her breasts. Maybe that didn’t mean Jenny had already had sex, but it made sense that if she’d let Jacob have a picture like that, she’d probably do a lot more than lift up her shirt. And here he was, scrawny redheaded Caleb Bennett, tweaking out over his first kiss. Lame.

  But Ashley Mei-Lien—how was he supposed to stay cool about that? She was gorgeous and smart and funny. She was sweet to the twins. She wasn’t in FFA, but she’d told him she liked to ride horses. She was perfect. Perfect! And she’d chosen to kiss him.

  Four hours. He had four hours until physical science.

  Was he supposed to mention the kiss?

  Maybe he should ignore her until she approached him.

  There was the Valentine’s dance coming up….

  WHEN THIRD hour rolled around and it was time for PE, the day had already tak
en decades to get through. Caleb didn’t remember one clear moment of literacy his first hour, just the incessant droning of Mr. Bird. At least he sat in the back of the room, and Mr. Bird never called on him, which was just the way Caleb liked it. However, second hour had been Ag, hands down his favorite class of the day, with his favorite teacher, Ms. Hungerford. She was the same age his mom would have been and had even taught with her a few years before she died. Ms. Hungerford was one of the few adults who had known his mom, outside of his family, who didn’t treat him like some poor little orphan.

  Over Christmas break, Caleb had decided he might take Dr. Ryan up on his offer and shadow him at the veterinary clinic. He was going to ask Ms. Hungerford if he could write a paper about it for extra credit or something, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind once he was in class. Ms. Hungerford even held Caleb back after the other kids left the room to make sure he was doing okay. She’d said he seemed a little off. For one terrible moment, Caleb almost told her about Ashley. He almost asked her advice about what he should do. Thank God he hadn’t done that. She probably wouldn’t have squealed like Wendy if Caleb had asked her, but still. You did not ask your teacher for girl advice.

  While PE had never been his favorite class, it actually sounded good. Coach Benn had told them they were going to start with a mile run around the track. In the snow. Any other day, that would have been the ultimate definition of torture, but at the moment, Caleb thought it might be just what he needed: sweat, get the heart rate up, breathe some cold air. After class was over, he could shower and be fresh for when he saw Ashley. Who knew? Maybe running would clear his head enough that he could figure out whether he should ask her to the Valentine’s dance or if she’d think that was lame.

  As it turned out, he hadn’t needed to stress about it at all. Fourth hour wasn’t going to be an issue.

  CALEB CHANGED into his running shorts and T-shirt. He tossed his EHS Bulldog sweatshirt on the locker-room bench, then sat down to tie his tennis shoes.

  “You trying to see up my shorts, Ginger?” A deep voice echoed from the other side of the locker room.

  Caleb tensed instantly, causing his fingers to fumble with his shoelaces. He didn’t look up. He’d know Dustin Jackson’s voice anywhere. Ever since the asshole had been held back in fourth grade, he’d done nothing but torture all the other boys. Things had gotten worse at the beginning of their freshman year when Dustin had turned sixteen. He’d already thought he was better than everyone else, but now he truly thought he was hot shit.

  Back in fourth grade, Caleb had done his best to try to be friendly with Dustin. The older kid had seemed so sad, like a dog that bit people because it had been beat on when it was a pup. Dustin seemed to love to pick on him the most. Caleb assumed it was because of his red hair—at least most of the taunting revolved around that. He had never mentioned it to his folks. He hadn’t wanted to bother them. His mom was starting to get sick and his dad was completely stressed out. It wasn’t as if he had time to tell them anyway. As soon as Caleb got home, he had to help his dad with the twins, the animals, and taking care of mom. Some nights, after the twins were asleep, Caleb would do homework. Sometimes he wouldn’t. His teachers had started to call home about his dropping grades, which had only stressed his mom and dad out more. The last thing they had needed was to worry about some jerk teasing him about the color of his hair. What if hearing more bad things made his mom sicker? He could handle Dustin Jackson on his own.

  And for the next four and a half years, that was exactly what Caleb did. Actually, after a while, it barely took any effort. Even if he was more of an ass to Caleb than most, Dustin was mean to everybody. Teachers too. Caleb didn’t take it personally. Even when Dustin started making fun of him for his mother dying, he bit his lip and just kept walking. By sixth grade, Caleb even quit crying about it in the boys’ bathroom.

  There was a lot worse in this world than Dustin Jackson and those like him.

  So he got his hair made fun of, was called a fag or a retard, got shoved into a wall every once in a while—big deal.

  Let the big dumbass do his thing, spew his insults for a moment. If you didn’t respond, he’d move on to the next moron who couldn’t figure out how to keep his mouth shut.

  Caleb managed to get his right shoe tied, but when he switched over to his left foot, Dustin shoved his shoulder. Hard. Hard enough that thanks to Caleb’s bent position, he fell off the bench and landed smack on his ass.

  He looked up from his place on the tile into Dustin’s pimpled face.

  Dustin lifted his leg.

  Caleb flinched, expecting to be kicked.

  With a sneer, Dustin brought his foot down on the bench, positioning his leg so his crotch was right above Caleb’s face. “Go ahead, fag. If you’re gonna try that hard to see up my shorts, go ahead and take a look.”

  The locker room was instantly silent, the air thick with tension. No one laughed or joined in. They all liked Caleb, and they all had been on the receiving end of Dustin’s attention.

  Caleb forced himself to keep from rolling his eyes. He waited a moment to see if Dustin had more coming. When it seemed he didn’t, Caleb scooted backward the foot or so to the locker and pushed himself off the ground.

  Though not as filled out, Dustin was nearly as tall as Caleb’s dad, and as he took a step toward the locker, he was like a tower looming over Caleb’s thin five-foot-five build. “Did you like what you saw?”

  Any thoughts or worries over Ashley fled Caleb’s mind. Dustin’s taunting had a different feel, a tone Caleb hadn’t ever heard directed at him. He’d heard the boy use it with other kids when they stood up to him or had the nerve to call him a name. Now Caleb’s heart was beating frantically for an entirely different reason, one that had nothing to do with Ashley Mei-Lien.

  Dustin took another step, bringing Caleb within arm’s length. “I asked if you liked what you saw.”

  How was he supposed to answer that? Unintentionally he met Dustin’s green stare. He glanced away quickly.

  Dustin shoved Caleb in the chest. The reverberating clang of Caleb’s back smashing into the metal lockers startled him more than the actual pain of it.

  “Answer me when I’m talking to you, Ginger.”

  Caleb glanced over Dustin’s shoulder, past the cluster of boys gathered around the locker room’s perimeter. No sign of Coach Benn. He wasn’t sure why he even checked. Coach always took at least five minutes to go to the bathroom and refresh his coffee while the boys got changed.

  Maybe reading Caleb’s mind, Dustin laughed. “What do you think Coach would say if he found out you were looking up my shorts, fag?”

  Just look at the floor. Look at the floor.

  “I asked if you liked what you saw, queer bait. Don’t make me ask it again.”

  Most of the time, Dustin tormented him about his hair color or at least jumped around between insults. He seemed to have picked a theme.

  Just keep looking at the ground.

  The left side of his white shoestring was stuck underneath the tongue of his shoe.

  A second shove, harder, sent another echo through the room and a sharp stab of pain down Caleb’s spine.

  He looked Dustin in the face, forcing himself to not look away. An unusual, angry heat began to build. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Dustin jutted his head toward him, raising his hand to cup his ear in a mocking fashion. “Sorry, what was that, little faggy?”

  Goddammit. Caleb couldn’t help it; he lifted his chin in defiance. “I said I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t looking up your stupid shorts.”

  Caleb wasn’t sure if he actually heard a couple of the other boys gasp or if the room just got even more still.

  Even Dustin’s eyes grew wide. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, I didn’t look up your stupid shorts.” Caleb could feel his ears burn. He knew they were bright purple against his red hair. For some reason, the knowledge made him even angrier. He stepped away from the locker.


  Dustin didn’t budge, of course. However, an excited glint crept into his eyes.

  Caleb mentally cursed himself. He should have kept his mouth shut. He knew better.

  Just keep your goddamn mouth shut. You were supposed to keep your mouth shut.

  Dustin’s next words were almost a whisper, but the room was so still it didn’t matter. “So, then, you’re not like your father?”

  All the building fire within Caleb instantly turned to ice and melted down his body. “What?” His voice cracked.

  The grin that spread over Dustin’s face was one of unadulterated joy. There wasn’t an ounce of his typical expression in it. He looked like Caleb had just handed him a late Christmas present.

  “They’re saying nowadays that gay shit is genetic. That it runs in families.” Dustin raised his hand and shoved his fat finger in Caleb’s face. “So, if your dad’s a fag, you must be one too.”

  Oddly, it flashed through Caleb’s mind that it surprised him Dustin could say the word genetic, let alone know what it meant. Another synapse fired and the thought was gone. A string of synapses flashed, and puzzle pieces that had started to gather around the edges of his mind over the past month came into view. For a split second, the locker room was a whiteout as flash after flash and puzzle piece after puzzle piece locked into place.

  Slack-jawed, Caleb stared up into Dustin’s face.

  Dustin’s grin faltered, then returned with a smirk. “With your mouth open like that, you might as well get down on your knees. Your dad’s taught you how to suck cock, right?”

  Another blinding flash of light exploded behind Caleb’s eyes, and chaos enveloped him.

  THANKFULLY, IT was Wendy who showed up to get Caleb. He wasn’t sure he could look at his dad.

  There was no doubt he’d come out the loser—he’d gained a cut on his cheek, blood gushing from his nose, and a large chip out of one of his front teeth. Still, the waste-of-space Dustin was gonna have one helluva shiner.