“This sucks.”
After we were well out of earshot, Gaze offered, “Yeah. He’s a douche banana. I’m sorry you have to deal with him. I’m sorry so much has changed for you.”
He got it. How it was for me. That doing without my mom had been worth getting the time I did with her. And now I was never getting that back.
We had our summer bucket list. We stayed out of our apartments. The hydrant was a no-go because of the fire department still saying no more to Tocks. But we had hot dogs and ice cream and we peered at the river. We started a new game called trash bingo and we created a card on my phone of what we were looking for. Water bottles floating, milk jugs, plastic bags. This river was pretty polluted. When it was time to play basketball, the boys were one short, so I subbed in instead of reading a book on my phone. They were sweet to me, and I wasn’t horrible, but they refrained from body blocking me and trash talking me like they did each other usually.
It had been a good last day. I got a text from Mom that I had to head back. It was pretty useless because I was already on my way. As Gaze and I passed Tapps, we heard his father’s loud voice. He was slurring. I snuck a quick look at Gaze.
“You going to be okay tonight?” I didn’t want him to get hurt any more than he already was.
“I’ll be fine.” His tense jaw made me think that wasn’t the truth.
“My window will be open. If you need it.” I wasn’t sure what I could do other than be a witness. I mean, I could tell my mom, but...she was distracted and I wasn’t sure what she could do.
“Okay. Thanks. Tomorrow we’re seventh graders.” He held out his fist and I tapped it.
Tomorrow somehow still seemed far away. I packed up my book bag from last year with a notebook and pencils, laid out my outfit of jean shorts and a t-shirt, and avoided Bic as much as possible. He seemed to sense that and would run into me in the hallway and always come knocking on the bathroom door when I was just settling in.
Even though Mom was home, I was still locking my bedroom door at night.
I checked on Gaze’s window, but it was dark. I guessed he already went to bed. I walked back to my bed and lay down.
Chapter 17
GAZE
I WAS SITTING in my closet in the pitch dark. Dad was home and sounded worse than ever. I wasn’t sure what had set him off. Why tonight would be the one that he indulged far more than he should. Maybe he was jealous that the other three kids from the neighborhood had used his favorite punching bag: me.
But he was fixing for violence. And I was the best opponent he had because I didn’t fight back. I didn’t outmaneuver him. Being a kid sucked.
“Gaze! Get out here! You better not be out this late on a school night.”
Like he even cared about that at all. I heard something crash to the floor.
“That’s the lamp. And if you don’t show your face, I’m going to start tossing things you really like.”
I did a mental inventory of the things that I had in the living room that I was willing to sacrifice. The lamps were fine. But my secondhand handheld game device was a favorite. And I knew when the Pokemon game wasn’t saved properly to the cloud, there was no way to get your progress back. And I had some shiny silver monsters on there.
I was playing a game with myself, like he wouldn’t find me. He would. The more he waited, the bigger his fury got. I inched out of my hiding spot and made my way to the hallway, hand still on my doorframe, like I had choices still.
When he spotted me, his eyes were so angry it was like they were vibrating. His neck veins pulsed like he was being electrocuted.
“Havin’ fun playing hide-and-seek, son?”
Maybe something at Tapps had happened that had started him off. I’d never know anything but how it ended when either my father’s rage or his buzz had worn thin. It was taking longer and longer for that to happen.
And tonight, he slipped off his belt. “When I call, you come. That’s the rules. And if telling you won’t work…” I knew the answer to that sentence. “Beating it into you will.”
He’d never done the belt before. It was always hands. There was no empathy in his face—just a focus on the leather and the buckle that glistened. He stepped on the broken glass of the lamp to move toward me.
The belt and the glass were in my immediate future. My primal brain reacted before I could make a plan. I was scared. I didn’t want to know what the belt he now snapped felt like on my skin. I sprinted back to my room and shut the door. It had a flimsy bedroom lock, but I turned it anyway. He was behind the door like a villain, chuckling when he got to the knob and tried to twist it. I had one impulse, escape. And my brain flipped back to when I saved Fat Asshole. It had been a disaster, but it was the only option I saw now. Dad was scrambling for the key that was above my doorfame in the hallway.
I put my hands on the windowsill and pulled my legs through one at a time. I tested the strength of the metal ramp. It would work. I huffed across the ramp, not looking down. I was standing in Pixie’s room, lights on full. I heard my father’s howl of rage when he got into my room. I slapped Pixie’s light off and peeked across the way as he ripped open my closet door.
My name echoed in the alley below and was whispered from Pixie’s bed at the same time.
I put my finger to my lips, but kept watching Dad. He went to the window. The only obvious place I could’ve gone.
I watched his rage detonate in his eyes. He wasn’t getting the release he wanted—hitting me.
I stepped a bit closer. The space between us made me bold. He couldn’t hit me from where he was. He acted as if he was briefly considering trying the ramp but then looked up and shook his head. That motion took him off balance.
I heard the bed behind me creak as Pixie got up. Next, she was winding her fingers in mine. I took a peek at her face.
She was so much older in her eyes than anyone else I knew. Even our parents. She tipped her chin up and glared at my father. In that moment I knew that she’d do anything for me. I glanced back, watching my father read the situation. Her presence in our altercation was tipping the balance of power. He took a deep, heaving breath before plastering a fake grin on his face. He gave us a partial finger wave, like this was the drop-off at school and it was totally normal for a seventh grade boy to teeter across a ramp five stories up. And not having just whipped me into a panic at the sight of him taking off his belt.
When he dipped out of our line of vision, Pixie pulled on my hand and led me to her bed. She didn’t let go as I sat.
Quietly, she murmured, “Are you hurt again? Do you need ice?”
I shook my head once and peered at her floor. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. To know this happened to me, but Pixie made it feel okay that she knew.
“Okay. My door’s locked. You can stay here tonight. Then we’ll face tomorrow together.” She let go of my hand and dug around in her closet for an extra blanket. She handed me a teddy bear that was just about pillow size. She got under her sheets and covers, and then I lay next to her on top of her bedspread. Then I spread my blanket over me.
I faced her and she faced me, and in the space between us in bed, she held out her hand. I took it in mine. Like the ramp, but closer. And connected at the heart. I went to sleep soon after instead of worrying about the ramifications. The safety was a sedative.