“Where did you get the game from?” he asks.
I stare at him, confused for a moment. “What?”
“The video game. Where did you get it? Because I sure as hell don’t have that kind of money.” He probably thinks I stole it.
“Retha,” I lie quickly. “Her boyfriend got her a new one, so she gave me hers. I thought Evan would like it.” I use Retha’s name because I know my father doesn’t have the balls to tell her to take it back. And he doesn’t know she’s in Cleveland with Travis; just in case he feels a bit brave.
My dad looks over at the system again, and then gets up to shut off the TV. “We don’t take charity,” he says.
What he doesn’t realize is I’ve been taking charity every time I let Travis buy me lunch, every time Retha and her mom bring us food. No—he doesn’t ask for charity. He gets to keep his pride, leaving me to sacrifice mine instead.
“It was a gift,” I say, although I feel ashamed for taking it.
“Same difference,” he says. He goes into the kitchen and turns off the light, leaving me alone in the living room with just the soft glow of the television.
***
After my father goes to bed, I call Retha, relieved when she answers.
“How is he?” I ask immediately.
“The nurse says better,” she answers, sounding exhausted. “He’s awake and talking. He asked where we were.”
I press my lips together, crying softly.
“He’s going to make it,” she says. “He’s going to make it this time.”
And our relief is tempered with the honesty of her statement.This time.
“How long before you can see him?” I ask.
“They’re not saying, but I think by the end of the week, if he keeps recovering. Although it’ll probably be like those supervised jail visits.”
“Bake him a file cake,” I say, making her laugh.
“You know I’m a shitty cook,” she responds. “Now how’s my little guy doing?” she asks. “Is he behaving?”
I want to tell her about what my father did tonight, how he yelled at Evan. But that would be selfish. Retha has huge problems of her own. I won’t dump mine on her too. Not this time.
“He’s been real good,” I say. “In fact . . .” I force my voice light. “He met Cameron today.”
“Whoa,” Retha says. “I think you need to start from the beginning. Please tell me you’re finally getting some.”
I laugh, feeling better for real, and tell her about my afternoon, exaggerating where I think it’ll entertain her most. When I’m done, I glance out the window and see the sun is about to rise.
“I should go,” I say. “School’s really going to suck. Wish you could share the misery with me.”
“Oh, girl,” she says. “If there’s one bright side, this is it. Now go crash out for a bit. I’ll give Travis your love.”
I thank her, and after we hang up, I go back to my room. Talking to her has given me some footing again—settled me.
I miss her, but all I can do from here is try to make my life better before she and Travis come home.
My alarm goes off an hour later. I find some change in the bottom of the canvas bag Cameron gave us with the video games, and it’s enough to take the bus to school. But by Friday afternoon, I’m out of money. Cameron has court-mandated therapy so he’s not at school, making class nearly unbearable. And I have no ride home. Not to mention I kind of want to see him.
I begin walking home, thinking about Travis. I’m a few blocks away when I hear someone whistling a song behind me. I ignore it at first, but as it gets louder, I realize they’re whistling for me.
I turn around.
