FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Hugh’s truck is parked across the street. I spot it from a mile away, but only because I am desperately searching for it. Dean is by my side and we’re making our way out of school and across our campus. Today hasn’t been so bad, and having Dean’s dad pick us up makes it better. I may have got kicked out of science, but I took part during gym class and survived it, so I consider it an alright day. I just hope it stays that way.
“Why does he have to get out of the truck?!” Dean moans from beside me as Hugh pushes open his door and steps out. Of course, he is smiling, pleased to see us, and when he raises his hand in the air, Dean groans. “Oh, crap. Kill me before anyone sees.”
I don’t know why Dean hates it so much. My dad would never get out of the car to greet me. He barely even smiles when I climb in. That’s why I find Hugh so cool. I give him a thumbs up back, and Dean fires me a sideways glance of betrayal, but I don’t care. He doesn’t realize how lucky he is.
“Hey, boys!” Hugh says as we approach. There’s a smudge of grease on his chin, and I figure he must have just got off work. He has his own garage, and he wants Dean to work with him when he’s older. Dad wants me to work for him too one day. That’s why he pushes me so hard, but I don’t even know if it’s what I want.
“Dad, please stop embarrassing me,” Dean says, and throws open the passenger door of the truck and climbs inside. I follow suit, pulling myself up into the backseat and clicking on my seatbelt.
“Embarrassing you?!” Hugh repeats in mock disbelief as he joins us inside. He widens his eyes at Dean, and then leans over to ruffle his hair. “Never.”
“Stop!” Dean pushes his hand away and then sulks against the window. I know he’s embarrassed only because I’m here, but I wish he knew how jealous I was. Last week, Dad grabbed my hair and dragged me across the kitchen. So, if your dad waving to you and ruffling your hair is embarrassing, then I would happily be embarrassed every single day.
“Oh, lighten up, Deano,” Hugh says with a laugh. He starts up the engine and it growls to life, and as he pulls on his seatbelt, he glances over his shoulder at me. “Hey, Tyler. How about you come back to our place and throw a football around for a couple hours? How does that sound?” He smiles at me, and it’s not the fake kind of smile that Dad gives me.
“Really?” I ask. Playing ball with Dean does sound good, but in the back of my mind I know I have homework that needs to be done. Although, none of it is due tomorrow . . .
“Absolutely,” Hugh says, and he begins to drive. “I’ll let your parents know.”
We head back to the Carters’ house and during the entire ride, all I can do is pray that Dad will be working late today. I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m going over there. I have all night to do my homework, so he should be fine with it.
* * *
We stop for a break only when Dean’s mom brings us some juice, and we lie on the lawn, out of breath and staring up at the sky. I glance sideways at Dean. “What if we were brothers?” I ask.
He looks back at me, furrowing his eyebrows. Then he smiles. “I thought we already were.”
“Okay. Can I ask you something then?” I sit up and cross my legs, anxiously pulling at the grass. I’ve been trying to find the opportunity to talk to him about this for a while, and now I finally have the chance. We are alone. We’re friends. Brothers, even. I can talk to him about this.
Dean sits up too, angling his body to face me. “What?”
“Does your dad ever get mad at you?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, almost matter-of-factly, and then rolls his eyes. “I spilled his coffee all over his shirt on Sunday right before church. He was sooooo annoyed.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. I glance away. He doesn’t get it. “Like, really mad.”
I’m just trying to figure out whether it’s normal or not. I don’t think it is. I don’t think your dad is supposed to get that mad. I don’t think he’s supposed to be that strict. Maybe it’s just the way my dad is. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, something that makes him so angry, something that makes him flip. Everyone else makes him happy, so why don’t I?
Before Dean can answer, we are distracted by the sound of a car approaching, and when I glance over my shoulder, my chest tightens when I realize it’s him.
Dad’s Mercedes pulls smoothly to a stop by the sidewalk, and my heart is pounding as I stare, frozen with fear. The engine dies and the door swings opens. Dad steps out, his tie loosened after his day at work, and he rests one hand on the top of the car door, the other on his hip. I can see the Rolex that Mom got him last Christmas shining in the sun.
“Tyler,” Dad says, and the firm hardness to his voice immediately tells me that he isn’t happy. The coldness in his green eyes as they meet mine only reinforces this. “You’re supposed to be at home. Studying. You know that.”
I scramble to my feet and my voice catches in my throat as I try to blurt, “We’re just playing . . . playing football. Hugh said I could come over.”
As if on cue, Hugh steps outside onto the porch with a beaming grin. He must have been keeping his eye on Dean and me from the window. He holds up his hand, giving Dad a small two-finger wave of acknowledgment. “Hey, Peter!”
“You were supposed to take Tyler straight home,” Dad states. He isn’t smiling back. No, his mouth is a bold line and his gaze is sharp.
The grin on Hugh’s face slowly fades while his eyebrows furrow with confusion. He scratches at his head. “Ella said it was fine so long as I had him home before six?”
“No,” Dad says, shaking his head. They are calling across the lawn to one another, and although Dad and Hugh are good friends, Dad isn’t hiding the fact that he’s pissed off at him. “He should have been at home studying, not messing around playing football.” Dad’s attention shifts to me again and he gives me a strict nod. “Tyler, grab your stuff.”
“Oh, c’mon, Peter!” Hugh says with a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. “They’re just kids. It’s only seventh grade, not college. I’ll make sure he’s home by six, alright?”
Dad fixes Hugh with a threatening glare, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks back at me again and in a harsher tone he says, “Tyler. I said grab your stuff.”
“You’re going home?” Dean asks, looking up at me from the grass.
“Sorry,” I say with a shrug, my voice quiet. Dad is angry, so I don’t have a choice. I already know exactly what I’m in for when we get home. It would be a stupid move on my part to attempt to argue over staying here, so I run across the yard to the porch where my bag is. I sling it over my shoulder as Hugh watches me.
“Sorry, buddy,” he says with a small smile, and then pats my head. I think he knows Dad can be pretty strict, but I wish he knew how bad it really was. I wish he would say something so that I won’t have to. I don’t want to be the one to get my dad in trouble.
Please don’t let me go, I’m thinking. I want to stay here with you.
I can’t say it out loud. I just stare up at him instead, praying that he can read my expression, that he can see how terrified I am to get into Dad’s car, that he can help me. But of course he doesn’t notice. Why would he?
With no option left, I force myself to walk toward the car, but my legs feel stiff, like my body is trying to override my decision, telling me not to go. I fight against it and keep on pushing. I can’t look at Dad as I approach, even though I can feel his intense eyes watching me the entire time, and I stare down at my sneakers as I climb into the passenger seat and pull on my seatbelt.
I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone with Dad. I don’t want to get hurt again.
Dad joins me in the car, slamming his door shut behind him. He turns on the engine, his dark eyes set on the road ahead, then he casts me a quick sideways glance. It’s the exact same warning look he always gives me right before he makes another one of his mistakes. Already, I can hear his apology in my head.