My dad takes a swig of whatever is in the bag and hands it to his skinny girlfriend. She drinks then gets on his bike as he starts it up. It’s super loud and I can hear it rumble in my room. As he guns it out of the yard and down the street, I smile.
“Perfect.” He should be gone all night. If Dolly’s upset, I’ll bring her back here. I know she’s not at her house. I know it. She’s at the gym, and I need to go.
Grabbing my backpack, I dump all my school stuff out on the floor. Except I reach down for the bubble gum machine and the gold certificate and throw on my jacket for Dolly since she gets cold and I don’t. My dad says it’s the Irish in us—we’re hot-blooded. Swinging open the door, I jump back as a rat runs across the floor.
I swear when I get older, I’ll never live like this. Never.
Entering our small kitchen, which is covered with dirty dishes and cockroaches, I swing my backpack onto the counter and watch them scatter. I reach for a banana. I’d bring more, but we only have one and some white Wonder bread. It’s likely stale, but who cares? I’m bringing Skippy peanut butter too and a knife and some paper towels. I look around for some water, but all I can find scattered around are crusted-over food and tons of plates. I can’t even tell what’s on them. It also looks like my dad and his friends decided to use the windowpane as an ashtray; there are so many cigarettes butts on it.
“I hate this place.” I jump on a cockroach. Swinging my backpack over a shoulder, I start to run, not even looking back to see if the door shut.
Nobody would be stupid enough to go inside. My dad is the Road Captain for the Disciples, so he gets respect and no one bothers us.
I don’t respect him though, and he hates me since I look like my mom instead of him.
I guess. At least that’s what he’s always complaining about: My hair is not red enough. It’s a much darker shade of red than his. I have blue eyes like my mom. He has brown, and on and on.
One of our neighbors, Sunny, is sitting outside. He’s an old-timer who used to be in with the founders. He’s been sick for a while. I’m surprised he’s able to come out. His white, shriveled legs are turning red from the sun. I cough so that I don’t completely start laughing. He’s in his underwear.
“Where you going, boy?” he rasps. He has some creepy tube attached to his nostrils. He still smokes though.
“Nowhere.” I pull out my bike. It’s the one thing I wanted for Christmas and was shocked when I got it.
“Fuse know you going out?”
“My dad’s busy. You need anything?” I look into his yellow eyes. He looks so small sitting in the lawn chair next to God knows what in his yard—it looks like dirt and years of dog poop.
“Nah, you take care of yourself, Edge. You and that Dolly girl, I see great things for you two.”
My eyes narrow as I hold up my hands to get a better look at him. “Huh? I don’t understand.”
He lays his long, thin face back, a strand of his silver hair sticking to his forehead. “You will.” He slowly raises his head as if it pains him. “One day, when I’m long gone, you might remember this… me. You don’t need a lot, but you need her. Don’t be an ass and do what I did.” His eyes are leaking tears, which always makes me squirm and look around for my dad or any Disciples. Crying is for babies.
If any of them see it, they could beat the crap out of me.
It’s happened before, once when I fell off my skateboard and broke my wrist. Bulldozer smacked me so hard I scraped my face on the sidewalk. I stopped crying though, even when they took me to the hospital to get it fixed.
I hop on my bike and grasp the rubber handlebars. They’re warm. I’m almost seven so I don’t ever cry anymore. I don’t need to. Real men don’t. So, poor Sunny needs to stop weeping.
“Sunny, I’ve got to go.” Geez, I hope he stops crying. A punch from someone would definitely kill him.
“You do right, boy. You’re like your momma. A sadder soul I never did meet. You remember that. You ain’t your dad. You don’t ever be your dad.”
I nod. “I’m not my dad or my mom. Just me.” That must make him happy because he smiles. Most all his teeth are gone and the rest are yellow.
“Go inside. I think the sun is burning you.” I take off, pedaling as fast as I can.
“The sun can’t hurt Sunny. The sun makes me…” I don’t hear any more of his crazy ramblings as I’m pedaling as fast as I can to get down our street. Stopping at the crosswalk, I push the button. So many cars whiz by, and at last, I take a breath. I did it. I’m away from everyone, on my way to find the one person who gets me.
The green walk signal alerts me that it’s time to cross. I pedal hard, moving faster. The park is not far. A couple of turns and I’m riding my bike behind the smelly black garbage bin. Then I hop on top of it, open the window, and drop myself inside the gym.
Only to hear a small shriek in the corner and feel the blow of a backpack in my face.
“Ow, Dolly? It’s me.” I hold up a hand while throwing the backpack on the gym floor.
“Edge?” She runs over to me.
“That hurt.” Dolly’s my girl, so I forgive her, but what the heck?
Jason and Chuckie make fun of me because I’d rather spend time with her than them. It’s not all the time, but most of the time, I would.
We’ve been together our whole lives. See, our moms used to work together in a club, and they were best friends. She’s so small and pretty and she smells like candy or something good.
Her dark brown hair is down. She’s in a dress and she’s been crying. But she stands with her lunchbox still in her hands like she’s ready to throw it at my head.
“Dolly?” She blinks at me with her big brown eyes and drops her lunchbox with a loud thud.
“That was not my fault. You’re supposed to be in school. You scared me.” She glares.
“You missed your award, so I brought it to you.” I shrug and come close to her. Jerking off my backpack, I’m super excited to give this to her. I love seeing her smile rather than cry.
I look around at the muggy gym. Small particles swim in front of my eyes where the sun shines through the windows.
“Here.” I hold out the cheap bubble gum machine to her.
She looks up at me, then the bubble gum machine. “But how?” She wipes at her eyes almost angrily.
I clear my voice and sit down. She looks at me, flops down next to me, and crosses her legs. “I told the principal I was supposed to pick up your award.”
Her small shoulders slump making her look tiny. Like Dolly is small to begin with, but when she curls into a ball, she’s super little.
“Was I the only one not there? Did all the other kids have their families?”
I don’t say anything. She already knows the answer. Geez, why rehash it?
I reach into my backpack for my supply.
“You hungry?” I pull out the stale Wonder bread, then the jar of Skippy along with the paper towels. All I hear is a small huff. “I’m starving. I had to barf in the classroom to get out early.”
“You threw up at school?” Her big doe eyes blink up at me as I slather on a huge amount of peanut butter.
“Had to.” I stuff the stale bread into my mouth. At first, I taste the mold, but then the sweet peanut butter kicks in and I hand a slice to Dolly.