My father’s brows rose high enough that I worried they would disappear into his hair. “Oh, a boy,” he said, nodding and smiling at my mother, who took her seat and started filling her plate.
Every Sunday, we had a big, elaborate family dinner. I knew Ruin wasn’t eating much as scrawny as he had become over the summer. So, I figured he could come have some of our food. It wasn’t as if we didn’t have enough to share.
“And who is this boy? Do I know him? Does he go to church with us?” my mother chimed in.
I shook my head again. “He used to, but his daddy took him out of church. Said something about how they didn’t have time for horseplay or foolin’ around in no church. He said they had work to do, even on Sundays.”
My parents shared a look, both of their faces confused or concerned. I really couldn’t tell which.
“Virtue, answer your mother’s question. Do we know this boy? What’s his name?” My father’s voice had turned stern, no longer liquid honey with affection like it had been moments before.
“Ruin. His name is Ruin Lautner, and he’s my friend. So, can he come to dinner one Sunday?” I asked again.
My mother sucked in a breath and looked at the floor the way she did before my father had one of his upsets. He had a temper, but he never took it out on us. He raised his voice, but he always explained why he did the things he did or why he said the things he said. He always had a reason for everything he did in life, including lecturing when lecturing was needed.
My father set his toast on the plate in front of him that was ladened with good food my mother had made. He picked up his napkin and pinched it between his fingers, rubbing the buttery grease off them, and cleared his throat. Before he spoke, he squared his shoulders and leveled his face with mine. I knew a lecture was to come, especially the moment he steepled his fingers together.
“Virtue, the Lautners are not the type we want to be messin’ with.”
“But, Daddy—” I started, and he cut me off.
“Virtue!”
I jumped in my seat, nearly losing the hidden rolls I had tucked away in my lap. My eyes went wide as I clung to my father’s next words.
“I said—” he eased the edge in his voice before continuing “—the Lautners are not the sort we want to fool with. They are bad blood. A bunch of dogs. Heathens, even.” My mother flinched beside him but continued to look at something in front of her.
I was confused. My father always preached how “We should welcome troubled souls into our hearts and hearths.” Or something like that. How was this any different? I excused myself from the dinner table, too upset and not sure what to think of my father’s sudden temper when talking about the Lautners. I had an especially hard time swallowing the part where he compared them to dogs. He was always going on about me treating others the way I expected to be treated, with kindness, a fair heart, and an open mind. But he couldn’t do the same for Ruin?
The next day, I brought the rolls and a chunk of butter I had swiped to school in a baggie for Ruin. I had hidden them in my backpack and snuck back downstairs when my parents were asleep to pack them up. When I handed the food to him, he ate them down faster than I could blink.
“Wow, you must be hungry,” I said.
He nodded, licking butter from his fingertips. “Thanks, Avalee. I don’t really get a lot of time to eat. I’m always busy helping out my daddy with work stuff.”
I sit up and rub my temples.
My memories play over and over like a black-and-white film. Parts of the visions are fuzzy, but that particular one is always so clear. I had found out later just how little Ruin ate when he’d told me he didn’t get a lot of time to eat. He had been modest, really—considering what he ate barely constituted one full meal each day. I shook my head. I knew his father was bad, but I couldn’t remember any brothers back then. And since my father had been completely against us fraternizing, it had created a wedge that pushed us further and further apart—at least until the dance where I last saw Ruin.
Now, I see him every day, and I cannot visualize that scrawny, half-starved boy I would sneak scraps of food to anymore. Not with the tall, filled-out, and handsome man he has become. Those storm-cloud gray eyes are starting to make a lot more sense. My phone buzzes from the coffee table in my living room, and I pick it up, sliding my finger across the screen to unlock it. Two messages are waiting for me. One from my father. The other from Ruin.
My heart jumps into my throat, and I click on Ruin’s message bubble first.
Hey, Avalee. I’m sorry we didn’t get to have that lunch yesterday. What are you doing tonight? Want to cash in that rain check and have dinner with me?
I chew on my bottom lip and start to type a reply, then erase it and start again. This process is repeated several times until I finally settle on:Sure, pick me up at 7?Little dots roll in and out as Ruin types his reply. If I sit and watch, my nerves might implode, so I close out of the messenger and open my father’s text bubble.
Hey, sugar. I haven’t heard from you since yesterday. Is everything okay? Your mother is watching some teenage vampire show, and I was just sitting here thinking back to your first trip with us to Lake Canoe. Do you remember that? Anyway, I love you. - Love, Pa.
I roll my eyes that the man still signs text messages with his name and tell him I do remember, I’m fine, and to tell Mom hello for me. That should at least suffice for today’s check-in. Ruin’s reply comes through as soon as I hit send to my dad. And it’s official, we’re going to dinner tonight.
Six
Ruin
I check myself twice in the mirror, making sure I don’t have anything on my face and my hair is somewhat tamed. Satisfied, I splash my face with water and dry it off quickly with a hand towel.
Avalee has agreed to dinner, and I’m freaking out about every last thing…
