Path of Thieves

by Sunniva Dee

  I look up legitimacy and illegitimacy separately, to see if I have misunderstood something. When I haven’t and my stomach tightens, I look up conceived and legally. Their definitions don’t change the meaning of the sentence.

  Finally, I look up the word bastardy in three dictionaries. It’s related to bastard in a big way, and—

  I’m a bastard?

  A lump grows in my throat.

  It’s up to me if I want to call Mom, but she’s the adult and I’m the kid, Dad says. If she wanted to be in touch with me, to find out how I am, it would be easy for her to get a hold of me.

  Bastard.

  I read the definition again.

  “Legitimacy is a child born to parents who are married...” Mom and Dad were married when I was conceived. But then the sentence ends with “to each other.” That’s the part that makes me queasy. I read on, because later it says something better: “and of a child conceived before the parents get divorced.”

  They weren’t divorced when I was conceived. Does that make me legitimate?

  I scrunch my eyes shut. Then I force myself to re-read the first part of the definition. “Illegitimacy (or bastardy) is the status of a child born outside marriage.”

  No, no. I wasn’t born outside of their marriage. They were still married. It was just that my father conceived me with someone else and then my mother took me in. That’s not illegitimate, is it? That’s not bastardy? Do mothers love bastards? Do they?

  Do they?

  I make it to the restroom but reach the toilet too late. Last night’s pizza sprays the floor in unhealthy fragments of goop-colored stench.

  Mom isn’t my mother.

  Dad is right: I’m not hers. I’m someone else’s son, some lady’s, and she just gave me away. That’s how little I meant to her. Of course Mom doesn’t want to see me.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Dad chose me over Paislee.

  Am I legitimate to him?

  “Oh my, you’re sick.” Mary’s voice is low but concerned behind me. She hasn’t been with us for long. She still cares more about me than Mom.

  “Let me clean that up. Was it the pizza?”

  “I don’t know.” What I say sounds like a sob, so I add, “Hurts.” She can’t think that I’m sad, because what if she started digging and put her arms around me?

  “I’m going to talk to your father,” she mumbles while she cleans my face and pulls my shirt off to drop it in the washer. “I don’t think he should take you to work, especially not when you’re sick.”

  My face is gross and overflowing. She grabs a towel, wets a corner of it, and dries my eyes like a pro. Then she moves on to my cheeks, my mouth, and finally my nose.

  “Look at you,” she whispers, eyes on her work. “This isn’t just about the pizza, is it? It’s not right how your father treats you, and I’m going to talk to him as soon as he wakes up.”

  “No, he’ll get mad.”

  “Shh. You think I’m afraid? Don’t worry, little man. I’m not.”

  Little man. It sounds better than bastard and illegitimate, much better than just man, because little man, I can be.

  Later, I decide that I hurled over nothing. People here only know that Dad is divorced and took me with him when he left his marriage. I’m normal. Tons of the kids in school come from shattered families. I’m just one of them, and they’ll never know I’m a bastard.

  One thing just changed though. I used to dream that she was looking for me. I don’t think I will do that anymore.

  Mary keeps her word. Over the next two days, she dunks my father in her opinions. Words like child abuse, coercion, manipulation, child services, wrong-so-wrong, ricochet through the prefab. They’re fast and hard and speed between the walls. I’m glad I’m not their target because they must leave black bruises.

  The third day, Mary moves out.

  The fourth day, Child Services visits us. Our house is immaculate. They come while Dad and I eat chicken and peas and mashed potatoes with a glass of milk each on the side.

  Dad wants me to show them my homework and my last grades. They say it’s not necessary. I show them anyway, because Dad’s stare is persistent. They’re impressed. Though I know I should be worried about their visit, I enjoy their attention, so I tell them I’m going to college on a football scholarship when I grow up and that I’ll become a lawyer.

  They laugh, happy like my father. They shake my hand before his when they leave.

  And then we’re all alone.

  “I gave her up for you, son,” my father says about Mary.

  “Okay.” I rub my face, not feeling as good as I did when Child Services was here.

  “She reported us, you know.” My father is sad. I hate that he’s sad, and I hate that Mary had to go because of me.

  “They could have taken you from me. I love you. If I can help it, I’ll never let them take you.”

  “Cugs!” Bear bellows. “You zoned out again, or what’s the goal here, a thousand?”

  “Three more,” I huff, finally noticing the burn in my biceps.

  “Get him, baby,” Bear tells Liza, who bounces over.

  “Crap, no!”

  She doesn’t listen. Neither does she sit sideways on me like she did her boyfriend. No, she straddles my back like I’m a horse and even emits loud clucking noises.

  “Enough,” I grunt out.

  “Yeah? Gimme one reason.”

  “I’m done.” I sink to my stomach.

  Lucia Borgias is holding court on the swings. She bites her lip, smiling as she watches us.

  “When did they arrive?” I make a discrete head-jut toward the girls.

  “Man, you’re in your own world,” Bear says. “They’ve been here since we started on the pushups.”

  I get up. Shake my arms. “Hey, Lucia.”

  Her friends automatically launch into what sounds like bird-chattering. Lucia laughs. “Hey, Cugs. Whatcha doin’?”

  “I’m at Marco’s waiting for my sundae,” I joke, because it’s so clear what we’re up to. Lucia draws her eyebrows together in confusion. “No, I’m kidding. We’re training for the game tomorrow.”

  “That’s really cool.”

  “You gonna be there?”

  “We’re always there.” Her smile is painted. Lucia’s friends start to giggle again. And squirm. Why do they squirm?

  “Well, gotta get goin’,” I say, because this is awkward.

  “But you just came out,” Bear exclaims.

  “Time’s money.” I pull another random comment, causing Liza to grin. On my way past, I shoot a glance at Lucia. She has this thing where her eyebrows tick while she thinks. At least she’s putting in the effort.

  “Sissy!” Freddie yells to Simon, who looks unperturbed as he gets into his gear in our locker room. “Seriously. A cup? I wouldn’t be caught dead with a cup.” He flips Simon’s bag off the bench.

  “People will just think he’s sporting a semi,” I say.

  “Football is an exciting sport,” Liza chimes in.

  “Get your girl out of here.” Simon glares at Bear, who complies by silently pointing her out the door. Liza grins and retreats too slowly. Then she returns to give him a deep goodbye kiss before she resumes her sluggish exit.

  “More jokes?” Simon does a slow swirl, hands lifted to take us all on. “Or are we done? I’m wearing a cup because of Monster Bash. He’s had it out for me before, and he ain’t bashing my privates. I plan to have children one day.”

  The locker room goes still with the lameness of his comment. Just—

  “Laame.” Freddie speaks for all of us.

  I’ve got jitters. Lights flood the field as we jog on.

  I’m excited about destroying the Rattlers in front of our entire school. The bleachers are over two-thirds full. Nadine
texted me from the parking lot, so I know she’s one of the spectators up there too.

  I asked her to find a seat in one of the first rows. I scan them. All I see is Lucia Borgias and her posse flanked by guys from the swim team. They seem to have a lot to talk about.

  Lucia flutters a handful of fingers at me. I lift my chin in greeting, and she smiles that wide, blinding smile that used to leave me obsessed.

  I’m a wide receiver. I need my concentration tonight if I’m to catch that ball and carry it over the goal line. Simon’s next to me, nodding, and then the whistle blows.

  Kick-off.

  My mind’s in the game. Monster Bash goes down with a concussion in the first quarter. At halftime, during Coach’s speech, Freddie whispers to Simon, “Hey. Cup serves no purpose now. Time to shed it, coward.”

  “Shut up, jerk-off.”

  “Listen up!” Coach slams his hand together, stare piercing us one by one. “We need to make some adjustments, open up the running game and get their guys off Cugs. Thomas: delay hand-offs to Simon, find the holes, and move the ball.”

  “Got it!”

  Tonight, I feel like I can do anything, and as I step out on the turf again, I say to Bear, “If I get a touchdown, we’re celebrating.”

  “Damn straight.” He jogs so close a shoulder pad bumps into mine. “Wait. How? This sounds special.”

  “You name it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” I rub my hands together, considering the choices. We’re both gentleman’s-club virgins, and Bear’s obsessed with them. At least he was until he started dating Liza. Then there’s the option of getting drunk.

  “I want you to get a mohawk, a real one, and dye it a ton of colors.”

  “What? That’s not celebrating. I’d do that if I lost a bet.”

  “Naw, it’s party material. You said ‘anything.’”

  “Dude.”

  “I know! Well, fine, don’t. I’ll just let everyone know you’re a wuss, no biggie.”

  The audience cheers as we run out on the field. I shake my head, grinning. Bear’s my man. “You’re doing it if I am.”

  “Can’t. Liza would bitch at me forever.”

  “No, it’s both of us or neither. All or nothing, bro.” I slow down enough for the guy behind me to shove my shoulder.

  Bear backs off into position, his mouth tilting up in a half smile. “All right, fine. Let’s nail this game and get to shaving!”

  I tighten my fist and raise it in response. Then I skim the front seats for Nadine.

  There she is, gnawing on a nail, eyes wide on me. She probably won’t see it, but I still mouth a “Hi.”

  Nadine removes the finger from her mouth and lifts her hand just enough for a sideways wave.

  We loiter, celebrating. Friends and parents rush over to hug us, and—I was the one who scored the winning touchdown. Coach doesn’t hand out praise easily. Now he mutters, “Good job, Cugs” and slaps my shoulder.

  It was good, I have to admit: I snagged the ball out of the air at the twenty and ran it in.

  “Congrats, Cugs.” Lucia tips up on her toes and gives me a hug. She kisses my cheek before she backs off too, peering at me from beneath black lashes. “That touchdown was amazing.”

  “Thanks. Luck, ya now.”

  “Bull,” Bear rumbles. “That was epic, man. Ready for a barber’s appointment?”

  “Have you discussed it with Liza yet?” I watch him cringe.

  “What?” Liza narrows her eyes and lets them swipe between us. “What’s happening at the barber’s? Omigod, you guys aren’t doing something crazy, are you?”

  I leave Bear to fend for himself. It’s going to get nasty. My man calls out for me now, but I just flash him the V-sign and walk off.

  I’m more concerned about Nadine. She didn’t step down with the others. Still on the bleachers, she’s slowly climbing the stairs in the direction of the exit.

  “Nadine!” I press my way out of a cluster of friends. “Wait up.”

  One step after the other, she ascends, moving away. Worst case, I’ll call her, but I’d lose ten minutes at least on running to the locker room for my phone. She could be halfway to her fairy godmother by the time I get a hold of her, and I want her here to celebrate with us.

  “Hey, Cugs! Great job, man. That last pass from Thomas, I’d have thought—”

  “Thanks! Hey, talk later, ’kay? Gotta catch someone,” I say to the brother of a classmate. He was a senior last year. If I were him, I wouldn’t even be in Newbark anymore. A few more spectators high-five me as I take the stairs two at a time and cut Nadine off at the top.

  “Wher’ya think you’re going?” I tip my head up at her. For effect, I fold my arms and squint a little, going for that suspicious mobster look. She smiles and matches my stance, back arched to seem taller. She’s freaking cute.

  “Just trying to get out. People go all stir-crazy, and I didn’t want to get trampled to death, ya know.”

  I let my stare trail over the empty seats. “Yeah, I was scared for your life too, to be honest. I hope you’re at least wearing a cup.” Inwardly, I flinch, because talk about private joke.

  “A cup? As in for the guys?” She covers her mouth over a snicker.

  Nadine has really brown eyes. There’s this shiny brown mascara or whatever on her eyelids too and long, thick lashes. She’s so different to when I wake her up in the dead of night. Pajamas or not, she’s still Nadine though.

  “You’re silly,” she tells me, and then I grab her arm, pull her to my side, and say, “Time to celebrate the win.”

  There’s a small forest at the outskirts of town. The ride there is quiet thanks to Nadine’s Prius. I conveniently omitted the fact that I drove to the game in the wreck, which is between breakdowns at the moment. This makes it marginally more impressive. It still doesn’t make it presentable.

  Shiny dashboard. Gleaming cup holders. The Prius seats are a smooth black and silver. Even if it’s not leather, the fabric reeks brand-new.

  “Not everyone arrives in style.” I sound unused to luxury. Hell, I am, and I’m not ashamed of that. Either way, Nadine must know. People don’t exactly break into other people’s houses for fun.

  “Do you mean that we’re arriving in style?” Nadine asks.

  The dark encapsulates us now that we’re off the highway and on the dirt road. I study her expression in the light from the dashboard. She makes me wonder what style means in her world. Rolls Royces?

  “Yep, we are. There’ll be a Mercedes there, Freddie’s conked-out old station wagon, but that’s about it.”

  “Do you have a car?” She bounces us off a bump in the road.

  “Nope, no car.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have a wreck.”

  She snickers, and I don’t think. I just reach for her hand on the wheel and pull it into my lap. “It’s a killer wreck though, with mostly functioning airbags and at least one intact cup holder. Girls dig cup holders,” I explain. “And the one I’m talking about is huge.”

  She tips her head back, laughing silently. “What do they put in that cup holder?”

  “Who, the girls?”

  “The girls.”

  “They put nothing in it. The girls don’t get to ride in my awesomeness.”

  “Ah so that’s why we’re in the Prius.” She sends me a quick glance before returning to the road.

  “Exactly. It’s got nothing to do with being worried the wreck will take its last breath on the way here.”

  “Aww, where did you leave it?”

  “By the football field.”

  “Shh.” I watch as she leans in against the dashboard, lips forming words I can’t hear.

  “What’s happening right now?”

  She pulls her hand back from my lap and puts her index finger over her mouth as we continue ou
r journey into the woods.

  “I’ve been really quiet,” I inform her seconds later. “Time to reward me. What’s going on?”

  “You made the Prius sad. I told her you were just kidding, that you hadn’t actually left your car to die alone next to a school.”

  Bonfires.

  Two of them.

  Insanely old pickup trucks pulled up close, girls laughing and dancing to booming music. I inspect our hangout and find Bear and Liza making out in the pond, green goop creating a line around their torsos where they emerge.

  “Hey, Cugs! You fucking hero!” someone yells.

  “Dude!” I call back, making a fist in the air. A beer is thrust into my hand. I turn to Nadine, ask what she wants.

  “Does anyone have wine?”

  “Sure. Some of the girls drink chardonnay, so we’ll find you something. Liza!” I get Liza’s attention in the water. By her half-lidded focus, Bear has either wound her up, or she’s lit already.

  “Yah!” she shouts back. “Whatcha want, douche?”

  Okay. Drunk.

  I send Nadine a look. “I wanted to introduce you to my friends, but now I feel like waiting with that. Like, indefinitely. They’re a tad under the weather.”

  “Unless that’s over the weather?”

  I high-five her for being clever. “Liza,” I shout again. “Did you bring any of that stuff you get from your mom?”

  “As in homemade wine? Yeah, but don’t tell anyone else!” Liza’s scream echoes off the small cliff on the south side of the pond. “It’s in Bear’s car, behind the passenger seat! Bear, looky who came. Cugs is actually gonna party with us! Wooh!”

  “Wine, huh?” Freddie says from Simon’s pickup bed. He has one of Lucia’s friends in his lap.

  “Too bad about the lull in the music.” I wink to Nadine. “Let’s save the goods from the vultures.”

  “Because you think Liza needs more wine?”

  “Heck yes, Liza’s still upright. Bear’ll be carrying her to the car by the end of the night.”

  We hightail it for Bear’s car. Nadine dives in and finds a rinsed-out old gallon of milk that’s two-thirds full of wine. She’s winded. Probably not much of a work-out girl. Me, I think girls are most attractive when they’re natural, not hard everywhere and too skinny. Nadine doesn’t seem to be either.