The Swift Boys & Me

by Kody Keplinger

  “We’re gonna play kickball at the playground,” Peter yelled. “You wanna come?”

  “Sure.” Canaan stood up and hopped down the steps. “Come on, Nola.”

  I was about to stand up when Andy groaned. “Not her. She ain’t no good. And she’s slow. She can stay here.”

  I bit my lip and tried not to cry. I cried too easy, and it wasn’t like this was anything new. Andy and Peter had always been mean boys. The kind who pushed the littler kids around and knocked over swing sets at night. I sat back down and wrapped my arms around my knees.

  “I ain’t going if Nola can’t come,” Canaan said, sitting right back down beside me.

  “Why?” Peter asked. “She your girlfriend?” He and Andy started singing as they rode away. “Canaan and Nola, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

  “You don’t gotta stay,” I told Canaan. “If you wanna go, you can.”

  But he shook his head. “I don’t go nowhere you can’t go. Besides, it wouldn’t have been fun without you there. I’d rather stay here.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “Am not. I mean it. You’re way more fun than they are. That’s why you’re my best friend. And why I ain’t going with them if you’re not invited.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks, Canaan.”

  He shrugged, like it was nothing at all. Then he grabbed my hand and stood up, pulling me along with him. “Now come on. Let’s go see if Mrs. Santos will let us play with her dog.”

  “All right.”

  We took off running down the street, and even though I couldn’t keep up with him, he didn’t mind slowing down, just as long as we could stick together.

  I had no idea anything was wrong at the Swifts’ until the next day when I knocked on the door and Brian answered.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m about to ride my bike up to Rocky’s for a milkshake. Do y’all want to come? I figure we can go around looking for jobs after.”

  “Not today, Nola,” he said. His voice sounded pained, and it wasn’t until then that I noticed how bad he looked. He had big, dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped forward. Like his bones just couldn’t take the weight.

  Inside the house, I could hear somebody crying.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Just come back another day —”

  “No.” Then Canaan was there, standing in the doorway next to his brother. He didn’t look great, either, but not as bad as Brian. His light brown hair hadn’t been combed, but that was normal. His eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept well. “I’ll go with you, Nola.”

  “Canaan,” Brian said. “Don’t you think you should stay here today?”

  He didn’t answer as he pushed past Brian and went to get his bike, which was always leaning against the side of the duplex.

  Brian didn’t move. He chewed on his lip and adjusted his glasses. “Canaan,” he said. “You ought to stay here. Mama needs us. And Kevin —”

  “They’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Canaan snapped, rolling his bike over to me. “He’s coming back, Brian. If he wasn’t, he’d have said good-bye.”

  “But —”

  “Just shut up, all right?” Canaan yelled. “Shut up and go inside if you’re so worried about them!”

  I cringed. I’d never heard Canaan yell at Brian like that. It was the kinda yelling he usually saved for Andy and Peter. Not his own brothers.

  “Come on, Nola,” Canaan said, kicking off the ground and starting to pedal down the street.

  I glanced back at Brian. “I … I guess I’ll see you later.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just turned around and walked inside, slamming the door behind him.

  I hoped he wasn’t mad at me. I hadn’t meant to start a fight. Something was obviously wrong, though, by the way Brian talked about Kevin and their mama. I wanted to know what was going on, but I was afraid to ask. I’d never seen Brian or Canaan like this.

  I took off after Canaan, catching up with him on the corner. We turned left toward Rocky’s, the local burger and fries restaurant. The hamburgers were usually burnt and the fries were soggy, but they made great milkshakes, and the weatherman said it was already ninety-five degrees out. It felt hotter.

  We leaned our bikes up next to the restaurant’s front door. It didn’t look like there were too many people inside — there never were. Most people used the drive-through, but I liked to sit down inside. Plus, they always had the radio on my favorite country station, Outlaw 104, which was real nice.

  “Hello, hello!” Edna Forman, the manager, called when we walked inside. “Two of my favorite kids in town. Where are your brothers, Canaan? They didn’t want to see me today?”

  Canaan shrugged. “Guess not.”

  “Well,” Edna huffed. “I guess we’ll have to make them regret that, won’t we?” She grinned, showing off a few of her missing teeth, and tapped the counter. “Y’all get up here and tell me what I can get for you.”

  “Peanut-butter milkshake, please,” I told her.

  “Chocolate,” Canaan said.

  I started to reach in my pocket and pull out the money Mama had left me for lunch, but Edna waved her hand. “Don’t even worry about it,” she said. “This one’s on the house.”

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “Yesterday was the last day of school, right? And y’all both passed? I think that deserves a free milkshake.” She looked at Canaan and winked. “That’ll teach your brothers to not come see me.”

  “Thanks, Edna,” I said.

  Canaan and me found seats at a sticky table. He still wasn’t saying much, and I felt kinda silly, just sitting there, not talking, with nothing to do. So I hummed along with an old Garth Brooks song that was on the radio. It was one Mama always loved. After about a minute, Canaan sighed, real loud.

  “I know you wanna ask,” he said.

  “Ask what?”

  “Don’t be dumb, Nola,” he said. “You heard me and Brian. I know you wanna know what’s going on.”

  “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want,” I said, but of course I was dying to know. I was sure he’d tell me, though, no matter what I said. Canaan always told me everything. Just like I told him everything.

  All three of the Swift boys were my best friends, but Canaan was my best-best friend. We were the same age — our birthdays were only three weeks apart — and since my last name was Sutton, which also started with an S, we always sat together in class and had lockers right next to each other. You couldn’t pull Canaan and me apart if you wanted to.

  He chewed on his bottom lip — all three of the boys did that when they were nervous. After a minute he said, “Mama got into a fight with Dad last night. Kevin and I were playing video games in my room, and we could hear them yelling at each other.”

  That wasn’t all too surprising, really. Mr. and Mrs. Swift argued a lot. I could hear them yelling at each other through the wall that separated their side of the duplex from mine. It happened a few times a month. Mama always turned up the radio or turned on the faucet to hide the sound. She said it was rude to eavesdrop, even if we really weren’t trying to. I didn’t mind. It was better than hearing them yell, which made me upset even if I wasn’t in the house with them.

  I’d had the cartoons on loud last night. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t heard them.

  “What were they fighting about?” I asked.

  Canaan shrugged. “I don’t know. I never ask.”

  I nodded. Sometimes, Mama and her boyfriend, Richard, would get into arguments. They didn’t yell like Mr. and Mrs. Swift, at least not very often, but even when they did, I didn’t ever want to know what they were fighting over. I was always too scared it was my fault, even when I hadn’t done anything wrong. I worried about stuff like that a lot, though. Not just with my parents, but with everyone. Mama said I had enough worry in me for the whole town. She said it’s all Grandma Lucy’s fault because she used to babysit me when I was li
ttle, and she was always yelling. She yelled at everyone and everything. Even me. I don’t really remember all too well — I was only about three or four — but I sure hated yelling or getting in trouble or having anybody mad at me. It always made me feel sick to my stomach.

  “I turned the TV volume up real high, though,” Canaan went on. “Because Kevin always gets upset when they holler at each other, so I turned it up so he couldn’t hear. Then I heard the doors slamming. When I walked out of my room a little while later, Mama was already in bed, and Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway.”

  I was about to tell him that I’d seen Mr. Swift leave last night and had even waved, but before I could, Edna was standing there with our milkshakes. Her pale, pale skin and silvery hair made her look a little like a ghost hovering next to our table.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing me my peanut-butter shake. “And for you, Canaan. You kids enjoy, all right? Let me know if you need anything.”

  “We will,” I said. “Thank you again, Edna.”

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  Canaan sipped from his chocolate shake for a minute. He didn’t start talking again until Edna was back across the room.

  “Mama has been crying all day,” he told me, his voice lower than before. I had to lean on the table, craning my neck toward him, to hear. “She keeps saying he’s left us. Like, forever.”

  “Oh,” I said because I wasn’t sure what you’re supposed to say when someone tells you something like that.

  “And now Kevin is hiding in our closet and he won’t come out, and Brian is acting like he’s the boss or something. It’s so stupid. He’s coming back.”

  “He is?”

  Canaan glared at me. “Of course he is. He wouldn’t just leave without saying good-bye to us. He’ll probably come back tonight even. Dads don’t just leave like that.”

  I’d have to take his word for it. I never knew my daddy. He died in a coal mining accident before I was even a year old. Mama never told me the details. I don’t think she liked talking about it. She just said he was a good man and a good daddy and that I was lucky to have had him for those seven months I can’t even remember.

  Canaan knew more about having a daddy than I did, so if he said they didn’t just leave forever without saying good-bye, I believed him. It did seem like a weird thing to do. Even though I’d lived next door my whole life, I didn’t know Mr. Swift real well because he worked a lot and wasn’t home that much. When I did talk to him, he seemed nice enough, even if he never said much — at least not when I was around. He had Canaan’s gap-toothed smile and Brian’s pug nose and the same green eyes all the boys shared. He reminded me a lot of the boys, actually. And none of them would do something like that, so he wouldn’t, either.

  Canaan had to be right. Mrs. Swift and Kevin and Brian were just overreacting.

  “He will,” I said. “He will come back.”

  “I know,” Canaan said. “I wish they’d quit acting stupid about it.”

  We finished our milkshakes and said good-bye to Edna, then we rode our bikes back to the subdivision. “You still wanna look for jobs?” I asked. Canaan nodded, so we started riding around the block, stopping in to ask some of our neighbors if they needed any work done and letting them know our fees. We got a few good leads, and Mr. Fisk even told us to come back next Wednesday to wash his car. It was a good start.

  On our way back to the duplex, we stopped at Felicia Hooper’s house. She was outside playing with the new yellow Labrador puppy her parents had bought her for fifth-grade graduation.

  “He’s cute, right?” Felicia said as the puppy jumped up and down at our feet, scratching at our bare legs. “His name is Jabberwocky, but we just call him JW for short.”

  “Hey, JW,” I said, leaning down to scratch behind the puppy’s floppy yellow ears. “You’re a sweetie, aren’t you?”

  “He doesn’t do tricks yet,” Felicia said, rubbing a smudge of dirt off her dark brown cheek. “But we’re going to teach him lots of them when he’s a little bigger.”

  “Ain’t he adorable, Canaan?” I asked.

  Canaan shrugged. I was surprised by how quiet he was being. He’d begged his parents for a dog for years. He loved them. I figured he’d be trying to hog JW for himself. A puppy was even better than Teddy Ryan’s trampoline.

  “If you ever need someone to walk him, let us know,” I told Felicia. “We’re not too expensive.”

  “I think Mama expects me to walk him myself,” Felicia said. “But I’ll let you know.”

  “Felicia!” Mrs. Hooper poked her head out the kitchen window. “Honey, come inside and help me set the table.”

  “Do I have to?” Felicia asked.

  “Yes you do, missy.”

  “Fine.” She bent down and scooped up JW. “Y’all can come by and play with him whenever you want.” She smiled, showing off her multicolored braces. “We’re getting a grill, too, so Mama says we can have friends over for burgers this summer.”

  “That’d be nice,” I said. “We’ll definitely come by. See you later, Felicia.”

  Canaan and me pushed our bikes across the street, toward the duplex. It was almost dinnertime, and both Mama’s and Richard’s cars were in our driveway. Mr. Swift’s Saturn still wasn’t in theirs, though. We put our bikes on the side of the house. I could tell Canaan was dragging his feet as we headed to our front doors.

  “You don’t wanna go home yet, do you?”

  Canaan folded his arms over his chest and kicked at the grass. “I just don’t wanna listen to them say mean things about Dad,” he said. “Mama and Brian are both going to complain about him because they don’t think he’s coming back. And they’re wrong. And I don’t feel like hearing it.”

  “Well, you can have dinner with us,” I said. “Mama’s making quesadillas.”

  “Okay,” Canaan said. “That sounds good.”

  I didn’t even bother asking Mama if it was okay. Half the time, she just assumed one of the boys was eating with us. So when Canaan and me walked inside, she barely even noticed. “Hey, kids,” she said from the kitchen.

  “Where’s Richard?” I asked.

  “Right here!”

  I shrieked as Richard came up behind me and started tickling my sides. I howled and wiggled, trying to get away. After half a minute, he let me go, laughing.

  “I’ll get you back for that,” I said, turning to face him. I had to crane my neck to look at him. Richard was about the tallest man I’d ever seen. He had to duck a little to go through doorways in our house, even.

  “I’d like to see you try, kiddo.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Richard stuck his out at me, too, then turned to Canaan. “C. Swift! How you been?”

  Canaan shrugged. He’d been doing an awful lot of shrugging today.

  “Glad to be out of school?”

  He nodded, but he still didn’t say nothing.

  Richard looked at me. A what’s up with him? kinda look, but I just turned away, pretending I didn’t see. Canaan didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about his daddy, so I wouldn’t talk about it, neither.

  “There’s enough for everyone, right, Mama?”

  “Sure is,” she said, pulling some plates from the cabinets. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach them. Unlike Richard, she was kinda short. She said the women in our family never got taller than five two, and I was almost there.

  “Good.” I turned to Canaan. “Should you let your mama know you’re eating over here tonight?”

  “She can probably guess where I’m at,” Canaan said.

  “That’s true,” Mama interjected. “But it’s still nice to let her know. Nola Baby, why don’t you give her a call.

  “Okay,” I said, shooting a glance at Canaan. He just shrugged again. It was really starting to get annoying.

  After two rings, Brian answered. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Brian. It’s Nola. Mama wanted me to tell y’all that Canaan’s eating over here tonight.�
��

  There was a long pause, and for a minute I thought maybe we’d gotten disconnected. Then Brian said, “Can you put him on the phone?”

  I looked over my shoulder at Canaan. I mouthed, Brian wants to talk to you. But he shook his head.

  I cleared my throat. “Um, he’s busy,” I said. “And we’re about to eat, so I better go.”

  “Nola.” Brian’s voice was soft, steady, the way it always was. But he sounded sad, too. Sad, but like he was trying not to let it show. “I don’t know what Canaan told you, but things aren’t real good over here. He needs to be here with us. You understand, right?”

  “I …” I glanced back again, but Canaan just kept shaking his head. “I gotta go. Canaan will be home later, okay? Bye, Brian.”

  I hung up before he could say anything else, but I felt real bad about it. If Brian wasn’t mad at me before, he probably was now. It made my stomach hurt to think about. But Canaan was right. Brian was just being stupid about the whole thing. Mr. Swift would probably be home before we even finished eating dinner. He shouldn’t be trying to make Canaan feel bad over something so dumb.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Mama said, carrying over the plates, piled high with extra-cheesy quesadillas.

  We all sat down at our tiny table to eat. After we said grace, Richard and Mama did most of the talking, and I piped up every once in a while, but Canaan didn’t hardly say a word. Mama asked him once or twice if he was feeling okay, and he said yes and shrugged, again, but that was all. He did eat everything on his plate, though. I think that made her feel better.

  After the plates were cleared, I walked Canaan outside. He started chewing on his lip again, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess it’s time, huh?”

  “To go home?”

  “Yeah.” He groaned. “I wish Dad would hurry up and get home already. The longer he takes, the worse it’s gonna get. Kevin’s probably still locked in the closet.”

  I imagined tiny little Kevin in the boys’ dark closet, curled up into a ball on the floor. The thought made me want to cry. I swallowed. “Your daddy will be home soon.”

  “Yeah, I know. Anyway, thanks for dinner. Tell your mama it was really good.”