Gannon (Kennedy Ink. Book 8)

by Jenny Wood

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, products, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This one is for everyone who was curious about Gannon and Shade and wanted to see their story continue. I hope I’ve done them proud. x

  `Table of Contents

  Prologue: Gannon

  Shade

  Gannon

  Shade

  Gannon

  Shade

  Gannon

  Shade

  Gannon

  Shade

  Gannon

  Shade

  Gannon

  Epilogue Gannon

  Prologue:

  Gannon

  August 1995

  6 years old

  “Gannon, sweetheart, I need you to help mama. Okay?” Mom asks me from her darkened bedroom, where she’s lying on her bare mattress looking miserable.

  “Okay,” I answer without hesitation. She’s been throwing up for hours and I’m scared because she’s crying. I always cry when I throw up, but, that’s because I’m usually all alone. Mom isn’t alone right now, because I’m here.

  “When you hear a knock at the door, I need you to let him in. He’s mama’s friend and he’s going to help me to feel better. Okay?” I nod again, relieved that someone is going to come and help her. Since dad left, everything seems to just be bad all the time. It is like mom forgot how to do all the things that she used to do, like, make us food and clean the house. “When he gets here, I want you to go outside and play, alright? You can come back when you see him leave. But don’t go far. Stay close.”

  I’m kind of confused because it is getting dark, and before dad left, I wasn’t allowed to play outside after dark. I don’t question her though, it sounds like talking hurts her throat. When I hear a knock at the door, I don’t waste time going to answer it. The man on the other side is big, much bigger than my dad was and he doesn’t look friendly at all.

  “Your mom home?” the man grunts, stretching his neck to look inside our tiny apartment. I nod and point to the small room in the back of the house and stumble as he pushes past me without another word. I hear mom greet him and it’s happier than I’ve heard her sound in days. I close the door behind me when I hear his deep voice answer back. He doesn’t look like any doctor that I’ve ever seen, but, mom said he is going to help her, so I do what she asked.

  There aren’t any neighborhood kids outside right now, but that’s okay with me. The Porters from down the street have two little girls and neither of them are particularly nice to me. Old Lady Lena from across the street is probably asleep already. When I have to spend the night at her house when mom works, she makes me go to bed when it’s still daylight. Her house always smells like old dust and wet clothes, I don’t like it there. She lets me eat cookies though, and I am hungry right now. I would love to have some cookies.

  When I walk to the edge of our yard, I spy some blue sidewalk chalk on the sidewalk in front of the house next door. I don’t know who lives there, as far as I know, no one does. People always go in and out of it, but there’s no furniture or lights on, ever. I’d gone in once just to see, but it was before dad left, so I got in a lot of trouble when he found me.

  “Squatters” he’d called them, are probably in there and we don’t know them. I know better than to talk to strangers, so, I don’t want to run into any. I agree and never even look over there if I can help it. Tonight though, there are lights on and I can hear people yelling. I wonder who the chalk belongs to. Grabbing a piece, I want to take it back to my sidewalk and see if I can draw something. It isn’t so dark that I can’t see, but it will be pretty soon.

  “Hey! That’s my chalk!” someone yells. I turn around and see a boy a little bit taller than me, charging at me full force. I hold out his chalk, ready to give it back the second he gets close enough to take it and my heart feels like it is going to beat right out of my chest.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t stealing it, I just wanted to draw," he stops in front of me but doesn’t take the chalk. “I wasn’t stealing it,” I tell him again, trying to give him the chalk.

  “Where’d you come from?” he asks me. The face he makes says that he doesn’t trust me, but it’s probably because he thinks I’m stealing his chalk.

  “I live right there," I point to my house, thinking that it’s odd that our houses seemed to trade places. Mine is dark and creepy looking, while his no longer looks abandoned.

  “I just moved in right here,” he points to his house. “My mom and dad are fighting.”

  “My dad left, but my mom’s sick and her friend is helping her feel better. She told me to come outside until he left," I explain. “What’s your name?”

  “Shade Michael Mayson. What’s yours?”

  “Gannon Lee Tucker.”

  “Gannon? That’s a weird name," he says, though he’s smiling when he says it. He doesn’t seem suspicious of me anymore and I’m relieved.

  “Shade is weird too. Like a tree," he shrugs at me but giggles.

  “You wanna use my chalk and draw?”

  “Yeah, come on, I have a light closer to my walk," Shade agrees, grabbing some of the forgotten chalk and follows me the few feet closer to what would be considered my walk. The streetlights didn’t work all the time, but there’s one closer to my house than his. Still, it is getting hard to see. Just as we sit down, criss-cross-applesauce, someone opens his front door, letting the light spill out as they holler.

  “Shade! Get your ass in here, boy! It’s dark!” the words are harsh, but the tone isn’t.

  “Coming!” Shade yells back. It isn't the first time today that I’ve felt disappointed, though I don’t know that’s what it is. It feels like my stomach pitches and there is pain there that doesn’t have anything to do with being hungry, though I am that, too.

  “We can draw tomorrow. I’ll come outside after breakfast. You can keep that one," I don’t get to say anything before he is up and running into his house next door. I don’t see what his dad looks like, but I don’t hear the yelling anymore. I want to know more about my new neighbor and wonder everything about him. How old he is, where he’d come from, how long he is going to be here? It would be nice to have a friend in the neighborhood because mama said I am going to start school in the fall, and I don’t want to tell her that I’m scared about it. Maybe we could ride the bus together or maybe we’ll have the same teacher.

  I hold on to that chalk, no longer feeling like drawing on my own, so, I go and sit on my steps until the man from earlier comes stumbling out of my house and leaves. I want to ask if my mama is feeling better, but he doesn’t even pause when he has to step around me to bound down off the steps.

  The house is still dark when I go back inside, and I turn on the small lamp beside the couch in the front room. I can hear mama humming to herself from her bedroom and make my way down the small hallway to make sure she isn’t going to puke anymore.

  “Mama?” I call softly, “You feel better?” she doesn’t answer me, and she doesn’t stop humming. I peek my head around the door and wish I didn’t. She doesn’t have any clothes on, and she’s lying on her bed in the dark with a shot hanging out of her arm. It is a needle just hanging there, but she doesn’t seem like it hurts because she’s humming, not crying. I would’ve been crying if it was me. I always cry when I have to get shots.

  “Mama?” I try not to be scared because at least she isn’t crying and throwing up. I tiptoe into the room and grab the blanket from the floor, carefully covering her exposed body. “You okay, mama?”

  “Gannon,
baby, mama’s fine," her words don’t sound right, she sounds almost asleep.

  “Okay,” I whisper, unsure of what to do. I don’t want to leave the needle in her arm, but I also don’t want to touch it. “Can I make some cereal? I promise not to spill.”

  “Hmmm,” she hums, so I take that as an okay. I close her door on my way out. I don’t like seeing her like that, even though she seems to be better, kind of. I wish my dad was here, or that I knew where he was so I could call him. Maybe if he knew that mama wasn’t feeling good, he’d come back to check on us or something. Maybe he’d come back and try to make mama do happy things again.

  Scooting a chair over to the fridge so I could reach the box of cereal, the only kind we had up there was what I call adult cereal. There are no marshmallows or colorful flakes, and it has raisins in it. Yuck.

  Still, I’m hungry, not having eaten anything since toast and jelly this morning, so I’m not going to be picky. Grabbing a dirty bowl from the sink, I rinse it the best I can. I can’t find a spoon, so I rinse off a fork and am disappointed to find we’re out of milk. Using a little bit of water from the tap is going to have to be good enough, so, I splash enough in to try and make up for no milk, and sit on the couch alone to eat it.

  It is times like these that I wish we had a dog. I used to wish for a brother or a sister, but now that dad’s gone, I’m kind of glad there isn’t anyone else here for mom to have to take care of. I have a feeling I’m more than she can handle, even I do try to be as easy as I can be for her. I kind of worry that she might leave too, like dad did. I’m still not sure why he left. It makes mom sad when I ask about it, so I try not to bring him up.

  We don’t have a cable connection to our tv, and the old VCR only works sometimes. Most of the time it eats our tapes. Still, I find an old copy of Popeye that was my dad’s and pop it in. It isn’t like he’d be mad if it got ruined, he’d probably never know. I scoot back onto the couch and wrap myself in the musky smelling blanket and watch it until I get sleepy.

  I hope that morning will hurry up, so I can be outside to draw with Shade after breakfast. Falling asleep on our lumpy couch, my stomach still growling from hunger. I still fall asleep with a smile on my face and it is because of a kid named Shade Lee Mayson.

  ------------------------------------------

  June 2000

  11 years old.

  “Gannon, I need you to go outside for a bit, mama has a friend coming over," I roll my eyes, but close my book and go to find my shoes. I’d long since figured out what her “friend coming over” meant. Someone is coming over to have their way with her and they’ll leave her enough ‘medicine’ to get her through the week. She’s been working at the no-tell-motel for the last year, and as long as she has her medicine to keep her going, she makes it to work on time and brings home weekly paychecks. We’d gone through a rough patch after my dad had left, but Old Lady Lena from across the street had found out and got mom into a program. I didn’t find her with needles in her arms anymore after that. We’d had a scare when I was eight that got Old Lady Lena involved in our lives. Other than my best friend Shade, she’s the only one who seemed to care about what happened to me and mama.

  “Hurry up, now, he’ll be here soon and I don’t want him to see you," It should’ve hurt my feelings that she’d said that, but I’d learned long ago that I didn’t want the attention of the “friends” that she brought home. It was better if they didn’t know she had a kid, then maybe they’d come back and keep her in supply of whatever it is that she takes that makes her a halfway functioning human being. I’m only turning twelve soon, so what do I know?

  Sliding my books under the couch, I put my shoes on and head out the back door. The yelling I hear has me quickening my pace to the neighbor's yard in a hurry.

  “I said, give it to me!” Brock, Shade’s older brother, snarls into Shade’s face.

  “I don’t have anything!” I watch Shade cower away from him, though not being able to get very far. Brock is sixteen and much bigger than both of us, and though he isn’t home a whole lot, he always makes our lives miserable when he is.

  “Hey, let go of him!” I yell, louder than necessary. I’m only several feet away at that point.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Tucker, unless you want to be next," Brock doesn’t even look at me, he still has a handful of Shade’s shirt. I can see blood on the front.

  “What did you do to him?” I get closer, wanting so badly to grab my best friend and pull him into me. I have this overwhelming need to protect him, I always did. When his parents are fighting, when his brother is being a dick, or when kids at school are picking on the smaller than everyone else kid. Shade is a beanpole, skinny and short, with glasses and jet black, overly long hair. He gets teased a lot, and I can’t understand why. To me, he’s beautiful. Too beautiful maybe, for a boy.

  “Go back home, Gannon, I’ll be over in a minute," Shade tries to warn me away.

  “Fuck no you won't! Not until you give me the money! I need it!” Brock yells in Shade’s face, jerking him around by the collar. Shade’s nose is bleeding pretty bad, and his eyes are wide and scared. Seeing him that way has me panicked.

  “Let him go! Now!” I scream, using my entire body to shove the bigger kid off of my friend. I try, at least. Even though I’m bigger than Shade, Brock is still double my size. He looks surprised that I’d even dare do something like put my hands on him. I can’t help it though, I have to do something. Shade is my best friend. More than that, even… Shade is everything.

  “Did you just push me, faggot? You trying to stand up for your boyfriend? This little punk right here?” Brock lets go of Shade and Shade stumbles back before he falls to the ground.

  “Come on, Brock, just leave us alone. I have thirteen bucks, you can have it," Shade tries to reason with him, but his attention is solely focused on me now. I don’t even care, I’m just glad he’d let Shade go.

  “Answer me, Gannon! You want to take a beating for your boyfriend?” My panicked eyes keep darting back to Shade, not because I’m scared of Brock, but, what he’ll say about his brother calling him my boyfriend. Does he know that I like him like that? That I’ve been dreaming of all the things that normal boys do with normal girls, except I picture it with him? Does he know I’m one of “them”? He’ll never be my friend if he knows I like him like that. He’d hate me for sure.

  Because I am paying attention to Shade and the fear and shame in his beautiful green eyes, I miss the fist coming at my face. I feel one after another in rapid succession, and I can feel the moment my lip splits and my nose bust open. I can feel the kicks to my back when I’ve fallen to the ground and the chunk of my hair that is pulled out in the back. Thankfully, though not soon enough, Shade and Brock’s dad comes out and sees what he is doing and drags the bigger kid off of me.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass in the house right now, before I whoop your ass in front of everyone! Have you lost your fucking mind?!” Mr. Mayson is screaming at Brock, shoving him into the house as they go. I hear him holler for Mrs. Mayson to come out, but I only have eyes for Shade.

  “Are you okay?” he’s crying as he falls to his knees in front of me. He grabs my hand and helps me sit up. “Why would you do that? He could’ve killed you!”

  “Gannon? Are you okay, honey?” Mrs. Mayson asks, her soft voice so different than the harshness of Shade’s just now. I nod, though I am only okay because Shade is right here, and he’s okay. “What on earth happened?”

  “Brock was trying to take the money I’d gotten from the Patricks, for walking Gladiator and Hulk this week. He got mad when I didn’t give it and hit me! Gannon came out and saw him, and when he tried to stop it, he attacked Gannon too.”

  “Oh, boys, come on in the house and let's get you cleaned up. I’ll make brownies and you two can hang out in Shade’s room until Brock is dealt with," she sounds upset, but all I care about is getting Shade cleaned up and okay. I want him to stop crying, though it
feels nice that he’s worried about me.

  He helps me stand and holds onto my arm the whole way into the house. After cleaning up and later eating my weight in cookies, Mrs. Mayson says that I can sleep over if I want. Brock had left in a rage several hours ago and Mr. Mayson is out looking for him. We know him well enough to know that if he wants to stay gone, he will. He’s what my mom calls a “problem child”, though only because she hears all the ruckus from their house when he gets loud. He’s constantly getting in trouble and fighting with his parents, so it is no secret, really.

  “Can I ask you a question about something?” I ask Shade when I’m lying on the bottom bunk of his bunk bed a couple of hours later.

  “Course,” I can tell he is almost asleep. Maybe it’s the darkness of the room that gives me the courage I needed to ask, but my mind has been racing since earlier and I want to ask my best friend the question I’ve had on my mind for months. If I can’t trust him, who can I trust? I know he’ll tell me the truth, even if he doesn’t want to. That’s the type of friend he is. I take a deep breath and go for it.

  “Do you think what Brock called me, is true?”

  “What?” Shade asks, his head popping over the side of the bed, looking down at me. I feel my face heat and am thankful that it’s dark in here. I want to take the question back, but I don’t.

  “A faggot,” I whisper. “Do you think I could be one?” I ask curiously, knowing that in all likelihood, I am one.

  “I don’t know. I thought you liked Hilary Sheffield?” he finally asks, after taking a second to think it through. When he pulls himself back over to his own side, I can’t see him anymore.

  “She’s nice, but I don’t think about her like… in a girlfriend way,” I whisper, hoping nobody else overhears my confession.

  “Do you like anyone in a girlfriend way?” Shade asks, and for a second I think about saying, yeah, you…. But I don’t. There isn’t a girly thing about Shade Mayson, though I wish there was. It would make all these feelings so much easier if I was crushing on my best friend and they were a girl.