“No. Just in the park.” I huffed it up the stairs, easily keeping ahead of him. But he was behind me, and there was no changing that. His mood was dangerous. There was a way he tilted his head when he needed something. A drink. A hit of something. He had that tilt tonight. My stomach churned with the treat I’d had with Pixie.
“In the park? Getting into shit late at night?”
I opened our door—it wasn’t locked—and headed for my room. Sometimes, if I closed the door, he forgot to give me the business. I knew I had too much of an edge when I responded, “Just splashing in the hydrant.”
He caught me and put his wide hand on my bedroom door, preventing it from closing. I wished I could close my window. I didn’t want Pixie hearing the evil that would come out of his mouth next.
“Oh, you’re a real city boy now? Can’t make time for Pops? What happened to playing catch in the park?” Dad’s forearm flexed, the veins popping out.
I heard the answer in my head, “You’re never here. You never care anymore unless it’s drinking,” but that’s where it stayed.
“I was here for you tonight, waiting to spend some time with my boy.” He attempted to smile, and it seemed more like he was waiting for an x-ray at the dentist.
My next step was risky. Either it would shut him up or make him angrier. I went over to my dresser and opened it. In a set of tube socks I had a twenty dollar bill that I’d saved when Dad had been overly generous with my allowance—not that I was getting that anymore either, it seemed. Good parenting tricks fell by the wayside when he was like this.
“Here. It’s all I got. Go get your whiskey.” I was dead in the center of my room, and my father advanced. I had taken the wrong bet as I held out the money.
Chapter 12
Pixie Rae
I WAS WAITING for Gaze. I’d cranked open my window to check on the bird. He was gone, so I felt like it was a good sign for him.
I heard the sharpness in Gaze’s father’s words. I couldn’t even make out what the man had said, but the poison in the intentions poured out of the window like smoke.
Gaze was holding out money, I could see him now. Then I heard him taunt his father with the word whiskey.
“Oh no.” My mom had wine on occasion, but it really wasn’t in the budget for her. I knew from the neighborhood those that couldn’t stop drinking had to be dealt with differently. Some needed distance. Some were overly friendly. And some—some looked just like Gaze’s dad and you stayed far away from them.
The smack happened so fast, I didn’t see it coming. Gaze fell out of view and the cash he had been holding fluttered in the air like a single piece of confetti.
I leaned out of the window. If the plank was still there, I would’ve gone across it. Anger filled me.
“Hey!” My word felt as sharp as the hit had looked. “Keep your hands to yourself!”
Gaze’s father turned his head and stared at me. His face was bright red and the veins were raised on his neck. He looked terrifying.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
I was about to retort when I saw Gaze’s two hands on the windowsill on his side, pulling himself up. I waited until I could see his face before saying anything else. He had a trickle of blood coming from the side of his lip. His scary father went out of focus as I locked eyes with Gaze.
He mouthed, “No. Please…”
I clenched my teeth together and swallowed, my nails biting into my palms. It was tricky business, being this close to people and how they lived. You learned more about your neighbors than you ever should. Privacy was more of a state of mind. That’s what Gaze was asking for. Privacy. I stepped backward. There were options when shit like this happened. Mom had called CPS on our upstairs neighbor because we could hear her beat her little kids. It was a fiasco, and ultimately after her kids were taken away for a little while, they were brought back. Then our neighbors hated us.
But it was different for Gaze. He was older. His blood was still red, though, and his pain was obvious. His father was so much bigger than him. Gaze stood up the rest of the way and closed his window, never letting his stare leave my face.
He was pleading with me without saying a word. He’d helped Fat Asshole today, and now he wanted a favor from me.
I waited a few beats before walking forward and closing my window. Gaze mouthed, “Thank you.”
It didn’t give me relief. I snuck into my mother’s room and cracked the window there. Gaze and his father were fighting, but I could only hear muffled words now. I sat under the window and prayed for Gaze. I felt helpless. Useless. I had to wipe tears from my eyes. I hated to watch anything suffer. Hearing the turmoil in Gaze’s room was torture.
This was what I hated about being a kid without my mom around. I wanted an adult to make a decision on what was the right thing to do right now. Instead, I had to trust that Gaze knew what he was supposed to be doing. That somehow, getting into this fight with his father was the best possible outcome. Fight was actually too generous a word. What was happening in the building across from mine was a one-way communication. Gaze’s father seemed like a different person. How anyone could have that much rage was crazy to me. It tapered off as quickly as it started. I snuck back to my room and opened my window. I didn’t see Gaze again until morning, when the bruises on his face represented everything we weren’t talking about.
Chapter 13
Gaze
THERE WAS NO hiding my face today. Which would be pointless because Pixie had seen enough to know where the marks came from. I felt shame deep in my chest for what she had witnessed. But I left my window open, like I promised her I would. She was afraid of the dark, but I had the monster with me on this side.
I wished we had the plank to toss the ball on. It was a tension breaker and something we could do together. I tried the ball without it, but Pixie threw it a bit wildly. We decided to go get the ball together and get our day started.
I was avoiding her eyes when we got to the alley. I didn’t want to see her feeling sorry for me. I found the ball and snatched it up. It was near our broken plank.
I had an idea right then that would give us a mission and a way to get past this thing that was between us now.
“You know the construction site like two blocks over? On the crappy side?” It was the part of the city we avoided in our daily forays.
“No. Not really. We don’t go there.” She pursed her lips.
“I saw a car ramp thing over there. Metal. Strong. It might be a better choice than the plank was. There’s only one, so it’s not good for anything. And that site has been like that for a while, I think. All the hill piles have weeds growing out of them and the bulldozer has a tree growing in its cab.” I pointed in the direction of the site I was thinking of pillaging.
“That’s stealing, though. I mean, if it was good stuff, it’d be gone by now. How’d you see it?” She started walking in the direction I’d pointed despite her reasoning.
“I made a wrong turn a while back. But it came to me this morning that a single metal car ramp might be perfect. If it’s long enough.”
“And we don’t get arrested,” she helpfully mentioned.
“They rarely arrest kids. Maybe a warning to our parents.” Shit. I’d brought up parents.