But my heart is fighting my brain. It's speaking in a different rhythm, using a new beat. I almost kissed that girl, I felt her inside my lungs, in my chest, in the same damn muscle I use to hate her.
She's the enemy. The enemy. Look at him! Look where she put him!
My back stiffens as I sit taller. “You're right, she's the enemy. Don't worry, I agree with you one hundred percent.”
Slamming a finger on the table, he clenches his jaw. “We only have each other, we've always only had each other. Brother to brother, no one else is looking out for us, and no one ever will. I have your back, and you have mine, that's what we do for each other. Blood is thicker than water, you can't forget that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
My eyes show a level of submission and understanding. I know what he's telling me. I know what he means. And he's right, he's always been right. Harlow has always looked out for me, and right now, he needs me to do the same for him—and for us.
Harlow smiles as if he's reading my mind. He sees it, he knows it too. Relaxing his shoulders, he lays his hand down flat. “How's everything else?”
“I'm still playing ball. They haven't kicked me off the team yet.”
“Why the hell do you still even bother with that shit? You're not going to go anywhere with it. No school wants someone like you on their team. They want rich, they want money, they don't want kids with a record.”
Opening my eyes wide, I switch the phone to my other ear. “I know, I don't have any expectations. I just like playing ball, that's it.”
“Good. I don't want you to get your hopes and then get pissed when you get shot down. I'm being realistic with you and you need to see it too.” Harlow smiles, a fatherly smile. “We'll be fine though, we'll come out of this stronger than before. Ramons always do,” he says, pointing his finger at me. “Besides, I've got things planned for us when I get out. Big plans, Max.”
“Like what?” I ask, but I don't get an answer.
“Time!” The guard calls out, and the phone goes dead with a click.
Harlow hangs up the phone, but I keep mine against my ear a little longer. He rises from his seat, and presses his knuckles against the glass, before turning and getting led out by the guard.
He has plans. I don't know what he's talking about, but I know when my brother gets an idea, he runs with it. There's weight and meaning to his cryptic message. His smile was coy, full of hidden meanings.
And I'll be there to help. He deserves my loyalty to the end.
I watch the buildings pass in a blur as I ride the bus home. The sun is trying to break through, peeking out between a cluster of broken clouds.
The bus stops a few blocks from my house, and I walk the rest of the way home. Standing outside, I don't go in right away. I can already hear yelling and screaming. Glass breaks against something inside, which is followed by more yelling.
Taking in a deep breath, I go around the rear of the house to the back door. It's partially open, the yelling is coming out louder and more forceful. There's a second crash, and the sound of more glass breaking.
Poking my head inside the door, I don't see my father, so I step up into the kitchen, and feel glass crunch under my boots. Looking down, there's broken beer bottles speckling the floor like sharp glitter.
“Motherfucker!” His voice rings out from the living room.
Side stepping, I move as quietly as possible through the kitchen, dodging large pools of glass. Reaching the hallway, I avoid the two wood planks that squeak like a dying cat, and gently shut my bedroom door once I'm inside.
It's just easier to avoid that fucking mess of a man all together. If I'm not seen, then as far as my father's concerned, I'm not home.
Invisible is best, especially when he's wasted. Glancing at my clock, I'm actually surprised he's even home.
It's Saturday, and most weekends—actually, all weekends—he's at the bar.
He lost a fucking bet.
He probably bet on some horse race, or football game, and now he's fucking losing.
My father yells again, throwing another beer bottle across the kitchen.
Laying on my bed, I pull my headphones over my ears and turn the volume up on my radio. Music and basketball are the only escapes I have from this fucking place.
And without Harlow, it's just me here to deal with it all by myself.
I can't wait for my brother to get out. I'm ready for this to be over. I can't take much more of it. Something needs to change for me. And for once, it would be nice if it's something good. Bad circles me like a fucking dust cloud.
I'm ready for more.
And if nothing changes, I'm going to end up a drunken asshole like my pathetic father.
No one wants that, not even my felon brother.
6
Prairie
Sounds in the gymnasium echo in every direction as Amy and I walk in. Voices boom, ricocheting off the walls.
There are kids everywhere. They're coming in from the double doors, the back entrance, and the locker rooms on either side of the bleachers. I didn't even know this town had so many kids.
That's because you hid all summer.
Students are filling the bleachers one behind the other, squeezing onto the thin metal benches as the band plays in the center of the court. The music and laughs, hoots and claps all make my ears ring.
Sticking my finger in my ear, I wiggle it in an effort to get it to pop. It does nothing, leaving me with the feeling of water in my ear.
“Wow, you guys really take these things seriously, huh?” I ask Amy, leaning my face in closer so she can hear me.
I'm set back a little off her left shoulder, so she twists her head and yells back to me. “Always. They go f'ing psycho if you ask me. I never understood all the hype, but at least it gets us out of class for a bit.” Smiling, she reaches back and grabs my hand, pulling me in closer. “Don't look, but there's a guy in the back row, sitting on the right side at the end, wearing a green jacket—” I start to turn to look, but she nabs my upper arm and yanks me hard. “What about don't look, don't you understand?” she snaps with a giggle through tight lips.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to be obvious.” I apologize and laugh as she rolls her eyes.
“That's Bentley Gomez; six feet of sexy as hell man. Bentley Gomez, I'd happily throw my cherry at.”
“Oh my God, Amy.” My voice draws out as my eyes pop open wide. “I can't believe you just said that.”
“What? I would.” Shrugging her shoulder, she dips to the right, and starts up the bleacher steps. “My mother always says that honesty is my best quality.”
“Is that right? So go tell him then, keep it honest. Go on, go tell him you have a treat just for him,” I say, giving her a playful nudge.
Amy shakes her head, keeping her eyes forward. “Oh hell no. But that's different. Besides, if I did and he said yes, I can't guarantee I won't drop on my back for him right here and now.”
“That wouldn't get you expelled.” Giggling, I poke her quickly from behind. “I think you're better off—” I lift my foot to take another step, when it hits something hard, and I stumble forward, almost landing on my face.