Take a Chance

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Making himself take a deep breath, he knocked on the designated door. “Hey, Kayla? It’s me.” Feeling foolish, he added his name. “Sam.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah. Your mom said I could come on down.”

  “She did?” He heard a shuffling in her room. Drawers opening, the closet door sliding shut.

  Her sister Brianna poked her head down the hall. “Hi, Sam,” she said with a smile.

  “Hey.”

  “Want me to go in there for you?”

  “Nah. I’ve got it.” At least he hoped so.

  “Brianna, you come back into the kitchen,” Ms. Everett called.

  Rolling her eyes, Brianna turned and walked away. When she was out of earshot, Sam leaned toward the door. “Open up, Kayla. I don’t care what your room looks like.”

  After another couple of seconds, she opened her door. She was dressed in a pair of boys’ basketball shorts and a ribbed aqua tank top. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail on the top of her head and he didn’t think she had a lick of makeup on.

  Or, if she’d had on any, it might have already washed off. Her face looked blotchy and her eyes looked red. She’d been crying. “I can’t believe you’re here already,” she said, her voice thick. “When did you hear?”

  “I didn’t hear anything. I came over to see you because my dad pissed me off.”

  “Oh. What happened?”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t anything important. But when I got here your mother said something’s been going on with Garrett.” He stepped forward, deciding that he better not give her a choice about whether to let him in or about what they should talk about. If he did, it was pretty obvious that she would try to change the topic.

  Looking ruffled, she stepped back.

  If she hadn’t been so upset, he would’ve teased her about her room. It looked like Kayla had a definite thing for Disney. She didn’t have dolls or anything, but she had about seven or eight framed movie prints on her walls.

  She had some kind of girly princess bed, too. It was white on white. All flounces and fluff.

  All the girliness should have made him uncomfortable, but in a weird way it kind of made him like her even more. It was so unapologetically feminine. So different than what he’d become used to, living with his father and brother.

  But it brought back a sweet memory of his mother, with her pink fuzzy slippers and her special bottle of perfume. She would’ve loved this room. Loved it like crazy.

  Kayla was staring at him, a faint pink sheen lighting up her cheeks. “I bet you think it looks like a five-year-old girl sleeps here, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  “Really?”

  He didn’t want to bring up his mother. At the moment he didn’t think he could come up with the right words, make whatever he was trying to say sound like the way he meant it. He really did need help with his vocabulary. Instead, he grabbed her hands. Pulled her toward him.

  Kayla edged closer easily, a curious expression lighting her face.

  She was so pretty. He leaned down. Kissed her cheek, then kissed her again, this time lingering on the corner of her lips. “Maybe I think that my very own girlie-girl sleeps here. I like it.”

  Her lips curved into a full-fledged smile. “I like it, too. I kind of have a thing for Disney World.”

  Unable to help himself, he played with the ends of her blond hair. Liking how soft it was, how the ends had a curl to them. “Maybe princesses, too, huh?” he teased.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Though he was half afraid her mother was going to come in and kick him out, he led her to the edge of her bed and sat down beside her. “What happened?”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Garrett didn’t delete all the pictures of me that he had. Some boys in the wrestling team told me he was showing them to a couple of guys in the locker room. They said he was laughing.”

  “Laughing?” He was going to kill him.

  She pulled her hand from his clasp. “You know what’s stupid? I don’t know what made me more upset. The fact that he lied and didn’t get rid of the photos, or that he thinks there’s something wrong with me and he’s laughing about it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Maybe there is and you don’t see it. My boobs—”

  “Are fine.” He was pretty sure he was blushing too. But what else could he say?

  She bit her lip. “Or maybe it was my bra or something. It’s nothing special. I think I got it at Walmart.”

  “Guys don’t care about stuff like that, Kay.”

  “Oh.”

  Crap. Now she was back to thinking something was wrong with her again. Anger rushed through him. He could feel his blood pressure rise as he thought of what a prick Garrett Condon was.

  He had to deal with him. Take care of him so he would never even think about Kayla again. But first he had to help her.

  “Kayla, look. I don’t know what the right words are. I’ve been with some girls before but never had a girlfriend. Not until you.”

  She sniffed. “Is that what we are? Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I had thought we were. I asked you to be mine. Remember?”

  “I guess I just needed to hear it again.” She groaned. “I bet I sound as childish as this room looks.”

  “If you didn’t think I was serious about us that was my fault.” Taking her hands again, he said, “I really like you, Kayla. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you. I like you being mine … if that’s what you still want, too.”

  She smiled. “I still want.”

  He leaned close and kissed her lips lightly. “Now, listen to me. I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but back in West Virginia, back at my old high school, I played football. I was smart. My brother’s name was plastered all over the old trophies and shit in the lobby. What I’m trying to say is that I was popular.”

  “And you dated.”

  “I did.” Still not sure if he was saying the right thing or not, he plunged ahead, figuring it was better to sound like a conceited jerk than say nothing, because that hadn’t been working for him. “I’ve seen a couple of girls without their shirts on, okay?”

  Even though her eyes widened and she was staring at him like she was shocked, he barreled on. “They were pretty. Heck, all girls are pretty. But you … well, even if we never go that far, I can tell you for sure that you’re beautiful. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Do you hear what I’m trying to say?”

  Her lips parted slightly. After a couple of seconds, she nodded. Right then and there he knew he’d done the right thing. It was better to say something instead of keeping it to himself.

  “Why do you think he was laughing, then?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, Kayla. No guy I want to know is going to do crap like that. Even if you sent me a picture of yourself half naked, I would never let someone else see it. That would be between us.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not into that, anyway.”

  “What should I do?”

  “About Garrett?”

  She nodded. “My mom is so mad.”

  “I’m mad, too. But listen, I talked to your mom and she wasn’t mad. She was worried about you. That’s why she let me come into your room, Kayla. She was that worried about you.”

  “I’m glad she did.” She drew in a deep breath, attempted to smile, but then it collapsed into tears. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

  “You didn’t do anything. That guy is just a jerk. I promise what he did is going to last with him a lot longer than it will ever touch you. He’s always going to be known as the loser who was reduced to gazing at pictures on his cell phone.”

  She trie
d to nod, but her bottom lip trembled again. He felt so bad for her. “Oh, Kayla. Come here.”

  She leaned into him, threw her arms around his neck, and started crying. He held her close, rubbed her back, and just let her cry. He had a feeling that’s what she needed as much as anything.

  And while she did that, he realized that he wasn’t thinking about his dad anymore, all of his own insecurities about college or high school, or even about Bridgeport, Ohio. All he was thinking was that he was glad he was there for Kayla. Glad he’d found her, and glad that he hadn’t messed things up between them by him saying the wrong thing.

  After another ten minutes or so, she pulled back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you cried.”

  She attempted to smile. “Boys aren’t supposed to like girls tearing up.”

  “I don’t like your tears, Kay, but I’m glad you weren’t in here crying by yourself.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  He knew what he was going to do. But she didn’t need to worry about that. “You know what? It’d be kind of a shame to waste a moment like this. Maybe you could kiss me a little.”

  She laughed. “You still want to do that, even though I just cried all over you?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He slid his hands down her sides, liking the way he could feel her ribs, the indention of her waist. The flare of her hips. Resting them on the middle of her lower back, he pulled her closer and brushed his lips against hers. Again and again, until he wasn’t thinking about anything besides how good she tasted and she wasn’t doing anything but gripping his arms like she was afraid he was going to let her go.

  Then, all too soon, he stood up. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

  She climbed to her feet, adjusting her clothes as she did so. “Hey, we never even talked about you. Why did you come over? What did your dad do?”

  “Nothing that matters. I’m better. Now, listen, you might want to splash some cold water or something on your face.”

  “Why?”

  “You look like we’ve been making out in here.”

  Her eyes lit up. “That’s ’cause we have.”

  “Yeah, but if your mom finds out, she’s going to be mad at me and we’ll never get to be alone again.”

  Looking amused, she nodded, “I’ll do that.”

  “Okay. Later.” He turned and walked out her door and went directly down the hall, going quick enough so that even if her mother was around she wouldn’t be able to stop him and talk about Kayla.

  Once he got to his truck, he scanned his friends and called up Graham. “I need to know where Condon lives.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s been sharing Kay’s picture again. I don’t think the principal’s suspension did much good.”

  “You going to try to do something better?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  “Where are you? I’ll come with.”

  “No need.”

  “Yeah there is. Someone’s got to have your back.”

  Five minutes later, Sam was in a parking lot in the middle of town waiting for Graham. While he was waiting, he called Coleman and told him about both Kayla and what his dad had said.

  As he’d hoped, Cole knew exactly how to respond. “Your dad’s just jealous, Sam.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  “Of you getting out. Of your brain. Of your future. But mainly of Kurt.”

  “Kurt? You think so?”

  “Oh, yeah. Kurt wasn’t afraid to do the right thing. Your dad was. That’s why he was so ticked.”

  Sam knew he was going to have to think about that, but it could be true. “Maybe so.”

  “You going to go pound on that kid?”

  “Yeah. I don’t have a choice.”

  “Hell no, you don’t. You might be living in the burbs now, but you’re still from Spartan. We take care of our own. Can you imagine what all the guys would say if they found out you just sat there while some asshole was creeping on your girl?”

  He didn’t have to imagine what they’d say. He knew, and he would have deserved it, too. He was just about to answer when Graham pulled up beside him in his brand-new Explorer. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks, Coleman.”

  “No problem. Call me later.”

  “Yeah. Will do.”

  He got out then and hopped in Graham’s SUV. “Hey.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  It only took ten minutes for Graham to get to Condon’s house. Only five minutes for Graham to text Garrett and convince him to come out and talk to him.

  And only two for Sam to hit Garrett three times. Hard enough for his chin to split open. Hard enough for him to be crying like a baby. Hard enough for him to take the kid’s phone, hand it to Graham, who then promptly backed up his new Explorer right over it.

  CHAPTER 32

  FROM LES LARKE’S

  TIPS FOR BEGINNING POKER PLAYERS:

  Have a purpose for playing. In other words, what do you really want to win?

  “Are you going to ground me?” Sam asked after he told Kurt about going over to Garrett’s and hitting him.

  Sam was standing stiffly in front of him. Kurt had just sat down at the table. They were in the small area that he supposed housewives or interior designers called a breakfast nook.

  And because Sam had conveniently waited until morning to tell him everything, Kurt was in old gym shorts, an older T-shirt, and was barefoot. His coffee was still half-drunk on the table. An open bottle of orange juice stood next to it, along with a bunch of bacon that he’d cooked in their mother’s old cast-iron skillet. He’d just eaten two strips and had picked up a third when the kid had begun his confession.

  Now even the thought of food sounded bad.

  Kurt stood up, turned away, and walked to the window. He didn’t know what he was staring at, all he knew was that he needed a minute so he wouldn’t wring his brother’s neck.

  Or give him a high five.

  That was the state he was in. He had no earthly idea how to discipline a teenage boy. Worse, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.

  For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel resentful. He should’ve been worrying about work, his buddies, and Emily. His mother should’ve lived and his father should’ve agreed with the counselors and him about school and college. Shoot, even if Dad hadn’t wanted to move here, couldn’t he have even started Face­Timing them a couple of times a week? Even picked up the phone?

  Then Sam would be having to face their father and Kurt could simply be the older brother.

  Then, just as suddenly, all those negative thoughts dissipated. It was what it was. And as things went … sure, this wasn’t easy.

  But he and Sam had certainly weathered worse watching their mother waste away from cancer. They would get through this, too.

  Now he could practically feel Sam staring holes into his back, waiting for Kurt to respond in some appropriate way.

  “Kurt?” he asked hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”

  At last he turned around. Sam was still standing in front of him. Looking almost like a man. He hadn’t filled out yet, but practically overnight he’d reached Kurt’s height.

  His brown hair was in need of a trim. His T-shirt was a little too tight. His arms had become thick from all those years of football. Now the muscles came from all the work he’d been doing with the lawn service.

  But there in the blue eyes that were so like his own, something shined in their depths that looked like trust. And, perhaps, something that he was pretty sure the kid hadn’t actually felt in a real long time. Innocence.

  The kid still thought Kurt had all the answers. He was gazing hard at his big brother, sure he would know what to do. Help him.

  And that
pretty much gutted him. Sam was waiting for him to help.

  “I know you’re sorry,” Kurt said at last. “But, just to make sure I know what you’re talking about, what are you sorry for?”

  “Hitting Garrett.”

  “Okay. That’s a start. So, if you really feel bad about it, what do you think would have been a better way of dealing with him?”

  Sam looked dumbfounded, which, on a smart kid like him, was kind of a new look. “I don’t know.”

  “Really?” Kurt sat back down and gestured for Sam to do the same. “All right then. Let’s do some thinking.” He kicked out his legs. “Do you think you could have talked to him? Had a little heart-to-heart? Told him that he shouldn’t be looking at pictures of your girl?”

  Sam sat down but he didn’t look happy about it. “No.”

  “No? How come?”

  “Come on, Kurt. You know why. He and I already argued about it, so he knew how I felt. And his parents probably talked to him. Shoot, I know Principal Hendrix did. Kayla told me that her mother even called his mom! It didn’t help.”

  Kurt took another sip of coffee, pleased that the temperature hadn’t turned lukewarm yet. “So, talking didn’t help. I guess suspension didn’t either.”

  “None of that helped, Kurt. When I went over there, Kayla was crying. Like, a lot.” Sam glared at him like it was his fault.

  Though he was trying real hard, Kurt’s insides clenched. He’d always hated tears. Their mother wasn’t a crier, but when she did, something inside of him always went into panic mode.

  “Do you think beating the crap out of him helped?”

  “I didn’t beat the crap out of him. I just hit him.”

  “Three times.”

  Sam shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  Kurt bit his lip so he wouldn’t smile at that. “Did Kayla tell you to go beat on him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you tell her you were going to go do it?”

  “Of course not. She would’ve said not to, ’cause she wouldn’t have wanted me to get into trouble.”

  Still feeling his way through the conversation, Kurt got up and got himself another cup of coffee. “You already told me how Graham got involved. You already told me that you called Coleman.”