Mackenzie Lane
Copyright © 2020 by Mackenzie Lane.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: February 2020
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
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BLURRED LINES
My life isn’t exactly easy. My dad has anger issues, and my mom drinks too much. When I’m at home, I spend most of my time locked in my room, trying to avoid the toxic environment.
* * *
I have two things that help me escape. My art, and Colt— our college basketball teams best shooting guard and my best friend with the emotional depth of a tree. He cares for nothing but basketball, his dad…and me.
* * *
We’ve been best friends for years. If he’s not climbing through my bedroom window at night, I’m climbing through his. It’s a habit that started the day his mom died, and we haven’t spent a night apart since.
* * *
But we’re just friends. Nothing more.
* * *
Our dating relationships are equally disastrous. Colt’s tendency to say inappropriate things, and my inability to trust makes dating other people hard and exhausting.
* * *
The truth is there’s only one person I trust, one person I’m comfortable with. And that’s Colt. No one else. He’s been my first everything.
* * *
My first friend. My first hug. My first date. My first kiss.
* * *
But then the lines blur and we become more than friends. Will I find my happily ever after…or will I lose my best friend?
First Sleepover
Emerson – 5 years old
* * *
He’s quiet.
He’s still.
His laughter replaced by grief.
It’s in his shoulders. The way they hunch over. It’s in his walk. The slow movements, like he’d rather be anywhere but in his yard with all those people. It’s in his hands. The way he rubs his chest, easing the pain of loss.
I sit at my window, like I do most days, enjoying the rare moment of quiet before all hell breaks loose downstairs. The envy I once felt as I stared into the yard next door, now replaced with something I can’t figure out. A sadness. Something’s missing. Something’s so very wrong. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to.
Heavy gray clouds hang in the air, blocking the sun and giving the day an eerie feeling. The wind whips up, rustling the giant oak tree between our two houses. The threat of rain looms overhead. The crowd in the yard next door clears, rushing inside before the storm.
It’s quiet.
Not a soul in sight.
Except for him.
Colton James still sits on the back porch, not caring about the storm brewing, not caring that he has a house full of family and friends. He just sits, rocking back and forth slowly until he lifts his gaze to meet mine.
I smile and wave, wanting desperately to go and see him, but I can’t. I’m not allowed to leave the house, and certainly not allowed to wander next door. My stomach grumbles, and I shush it. I’ll forage for food in the cupboards after everyone is out or asleep, not now when I risk being caught.
Colt doesn’t wave back. He just stares at me as thunder rumbles overhead and lightning cracks through the darkness. Mr. James stands at the backdoor and, though I can’t hear his words, I know he’s telling Colt to get inside out of the storm. They argue. Colt gets up and runs away.
Mr. James rubs his hand over his face. The grief weighing heavy on him too. He used to have such a bright, happy smile and now it’s gone, replaced by tiredness, and dark, sad eyes. He doesn’t chase after his son, doesn’t call him back. He just watches as Colt climbs the tree between our houses, onto my roof.
I lift the window, breathing in the moisture in the air; the scent of the rain coming is refreshing and calming. I’m ready to ask him what he thinks he’s doing. It’s about to storm and everyone knows trees are bad places to hide in storms, and sitting on the roof is just as dangerous, when he lifts one leg over my windowsill, ducks his head under the frame and slides into my room.
Mr. James shoves his hands in his pockets, and with a frown on his face he nods once at me and stalks back inside his house.
I shut my window gently, so my parents don’t hear, and lean against it. Colt’s sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed with his arms wrapped around his knees.
“Hi,” I say.
He lifts his head and our eyes lock. His dark hair is messy and hangs over his eyes; he makes no move to push the strands away. “Hi.”
He doesn’t say anything else. I want to cross the dusty floor and wrap him in a hug, tell him I’m sorry and if I could trade places with him, I would.
But I don’t.
I sit on the floor beside him and wrap my arms around my knees. We sit in silence for the longest time, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Colt missing his mom. Me wishing mine had died instead.
He doesn’t cry.
He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t move.
It scares me when he’s this silent, this still. His mom used to joke about him being a can of worms, but he’s the complete opposite. My stomach rumbles again. I can’t remember the last time I ate. Maybe last night or yesterday morning. I’ve lost track of time.
Colt pushes up and comes to a stand. Without a word to me, he unlocks my door and walks out. A gasp escapes my lips as I scramble to my feet, tripping over one teddy bear, the scraggly worn thing with one eye hanging by a thread. I found it at the bus stop near school one day and sneaked it into my backpack. It’s the only toy I have.
I follow him into the hall, but he’s gone. Nowhere to be seen. If my parents catch him, I’ll be in so much trouble. They’ll kick him out and they can’t do that. It’s not fair. He doesn’t want to be at home surrounded by all the sadness. The thought almost makes me laugh. I bet his house is a whole lot happier than mine even though they’re in mourning.
I pace my room and wait for him to return. He’s been gone so long, I’m sure my dad caught him.
A door slams downstairs and I flinch, trying to calm the racing beat of my heart. They caught him. There’s no other option. They caught him and…and…
I don’t know. Kicked him out? Dragged him out by the hair?
I rush to my window in the hopes I can see him in his yard, or mine, and sink to the floor when he’s not there. I gasp in a shuddering breath and rock back and forth.
Everything’s fine. He’s fine. He’s home. Safe. Surrounded by people who love him. He’s okay.