“You never know.”
But I did. “Thanks, Mom,” I said to make her happy. The ball of anxiety had loosened a little after confessing all of that, and who knew, maybe tomorrow I’d be in a better headspace to deal with school and Cal.
Later, when Mom called us to dinner, I trudged to the table, my feet sluggish as if wading through sand. Dad would be pissed, but he’d hear me out. He always had. Still, I dreaded the weight of his disappointment at getting in trouble.
“It’s really like Jack said, Dad,” Ty added after I’d explained what led to my detention over our bowls of chicken Alfredo. “We might have been involved initially, but it’s taken off now. The whole school has picked a side. It’s kind of crazy, like, Hatfields and McCoys or some shit.”
“Ty, watch your language at the dinner table,” Mom said.
“Sorry, Mom.”
Dad sat back and wiped his mouth with a napkin before reaching for his water and taking a long drink. “I don’t understand why the school singled you and this other kid out.”
I wasn’t sure how to explain that either. “Well, we kind of got into it in the hallway.”
“Got into it?” Dad asked.
“It was nothing more than any other day. It only takes one look, and we’re ready to shout it out. He got pushy, and”—I rolled my eyes—“I might have dramatically fallen into the lockers, which caused it to escalate.”
Ty snickered beside me.
“It’s not like you to hate anyone,” Dad said.
I glanced at Mom, who nodded with a smile, so I said, “I don’t actually hate him at all.”
Dad was quiet for a moment, then raised his brows and said, “Oh. You like this boy?”
“Man. He’s eighteen, like me.”
Dad grinned but quickly neutralized it. “My mistake. You think he’s doing all the same things because he likes you too?”
I hadn’t, but I did now. I shrugged, not really wanting to answer without thinking long and hard about it myself. It’d be a dream scenario if Cal had been pissed at me just to hide these same feelings. That would be some stupid romantic bullshit, but I supposed it could happen.
Ha, no. I shook my head. “No way. It can’t be that. He’s got a girlfriend.” That fucking girlfriend wasn’t enough to flatten my crush, but she sure as shit was enough to turn my insides green. Every time she touched him, every time she pulled his attention, I wanted to shove her out of the way and replace her fingers with mine, make his pretty eyes soften toward me.
I clawed through my hair and shook my head one more time as if it’d finally shake loose this ever-persistent longing. “No,” I barked, startling everyone, but it still wasn’t enough to kill the nagging hope squirming in my gut.
Carahadhitchedaride with a friend, and when I got home from detention, she said Momma wanted me to call her. Of course, that had been Cara’s scheming way of getting me to talk to her.
Momma hadn’t wanted shit. She never did anymore.
“Your daddy already called and bitched about getting interrupted at work. I really don’t want to hear about it anymore,” she said by way of a greeting when she answered.
It hadn’t always been like this. I’d swear somewhere I could dig up memories of laughing with her or hugs with Daddy. When the divorce came, it was as if they wanted everyone around them to be just as miserable, just as hateful. So if they wanted to spread around a big “fuck you,” then I reckoned I would too.
At least, that was how it seemed to come out more often than not.
“Oh, hello, Momma. It sure has been a minute since our last obligatory phone call. I can’t for the life of me think why.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Calvin. I’m barely in from work, haven’t even had a chance to take my shoes off yet, and here youcall me to what?” Expecting her to tell me, I waited, but she only asked again, “What, Cal? What do you want?”
I didn’t have an answer. Talking to Momma had become a chore I dreaded sometimes more than Daddy. At least Daddy had kept Cara and me because he could afford us. Momma just fucking left. She hadn’t even cried. She’d been too busy arguing with Daddy the whole way out to her car before speeding off with her clothes.
I wasn’t Daddy, though. I wasn’t the marriage she neglected or the person she’d cheated on. I was the kid, the one she left. What was my fault in all this shit? But I only said, “Nothin’. Just figured I should tell you about school today, but I guess Daddy handled it.”
Momma sighed, and a heavy thwap sounded in the background, as if she’d sat down too hard on something. “They called while I was at work. I couldn’t drop everything, Cal. Do you understand? I’m new at this place. I don’t want them to think I’m gonna handle personal business while on the clock.”
The call had been for a good reason, but I didn’t want to remind her I was in trouble.
