Ryan
I was on my way to the bar when I saw the dude at the bar slip something into her drink. I practically shoved everyone out of my way so I could get to her before she chugged it. Instead of making sure the jerk got arrested, she protested. It was obvious when I waved security over that she was hiding something.
Then she kissed me.
I’ve kissed my share of girls before, but those full, sweet lips woke something in me that I thought was dead a long time ago. Maybe it’s this place and the crazy concert. This entire night has been surreal.
I glance across the sea of people and see Pablo waving me over. When I manage to get closer to him, I realize my mistake. Pablo is talking to the blue-striped-haired girl and her friends.
I settle next to them but immediately feel all eyes on me.
“Who are you?” her friend asks as if I’m intruding on their private discussion
“It’s cool,” Pablo tells her. “He’s my friend. Ry, this is Soona and her friend Dalila.” He points to a girl a few feet away. “And that’s Demi.”
The girl with the blue-streaked hair, Dalila, won’t even look at me when Atticus starts singing “Lost but Not Forgotten.” It’s like I’ve suddenly turned invisible.
You may be gone, you’re far away.
God’s angel, don’t let me go astray!
Memories of you will never leave,
This heart is yours every day I grieve.
“Dalila, are you okay?” her friend Soona asks her.
Dalila shrugs. “This song reminds me of Lucas.” She swipes at her eyes. “I need to get out of here,” she says.
Pushing past us, Dalila heads for the exit.
“Dalila, wait!” Soona calls out, but Dalila doesn’t turn back. After flashing an apologetic glance at Pablo, Soona rushes after her friend.
“I forgot to ask Soona for her number,” he tells me.
The last thing I want to do is be accused of stalking the chick. “I’m not following those girls.”
“Come on, man.” Pablo puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re my wingman. You’re my crew. You’re my—”
“Fine. Just get her number and we’re out.”
He raises a brow. “What’s the problem, Hess? You don’t want to talk to her friend Dalila? She’s cute.”
“Not my type,” I blurt out.
“What is your type?”
I glance at the girl with the spider tat on her face. “That.”
He laughs. “Arachnid Girl? I don’t think so.”
Outside, we see all three girls standing by the streetlamp talking to each other. Soona smiles wide when she eyes Pablo. I’m standing here with my hands in my pockets trying to act cool. The attempt doesn’t go smoothly, especially when Mikayla Harris walks by with her group of friends and sneers at me.
When I look up, Dalila’s eyes meet mine. I immediately look away and tap Pablo on the shoulder. “Let’s go, man,” I tell him. “Now.” I’m not about to have Mikayla call me out in front of everyone.
After Soona and Pablo exchange numbers, Dalila whisks her friends away from the venue. But just because the girl is out of my sight doesn’t mean I stop replaying that kiss in my mind. On the ride home Pablo won’t stop talking about Soona and how amazing she is.
“I’m glad you made me go to Shadows of Death tonight.”
“Shadows of Darkness,” I correct him.
“Whatever. I might have met the girl of my dreams,” he says. “Soona was great, wasn’t she?”
“Sure, man. Whatever you say.”
“Maybe you can date one of her friends.” His eyes light up. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“No. Get out of the car.”
“You liked that girl with the blue-streaked hair,” he says. “I saw the way you were lookin’ at her. I haven’t seen you look at any girl like that.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you had too much to drink tonight.”
“I didn’t have anything to drink, man.” With an amused laugh, Pablo steps out of my car and I head home. This entire night was like a Shadows of Darkness song—chaos and a total mess.
In the morning, Paul confronts me the second I step foot downstairs. “Where are you going?” he asks. He’s wearing his uniform, but I don’t know if he’s even working today. The guy would sleep in it if he could.
“He thinks he’s Muhammad Ali,” pimply Allen calls out in a nasally voice as he sits on his ass in the family room. The kid hardly moves off the couch and his diet mainly consists of sugar and processed foods.
“Yeah,” PJ chimes in.
I don’t even respond, because I don’t need to get into it with them. Especially in front of Paul. “Where’s my mom?”
“Out,” Paul says. “Come into the kitchen, Ryan. I need to talk to you.” I hear the thud of his shoes on the hardwood floor as he walks into the kitchen.
I follow him into the kitchen and lean against the counter.
“Sit down,” he orders. I can tell this little meeting isn’t going to be fun. “I got you a summer job,” Paul says. “At the Johnsons’ farm. You’ll be working in the fields and cleaning up after their cattle.”
“I’m not working at the Johnsons’ farm,” I tell him.
“Yeah, you are. I already confirmed it,” Paul says as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Five days a week, five in the morning till two in the afternoon.”
Is he kidding me? Paul got Allen an internship at his uncle’s law firm and PJ is going to be working at the police station with him. He gets me a job shoveling shit all summer. “Somehow you think you can just boss me around and I’ll be okay with it,” I tell him. “I’m not.”
“I’m the boss of this entire town, you ungrateful bastard.”
Time to drop the bomb. “I’m going to Mexico to train.”
“For what? Bein’ a loser? No,” Paul drawls in his exaggerated Texas accent. “This is my house, and as long as you’re livin’ in it you do what I say.”
“I won’t be living in it this summer,” I tell him.
“Ryan, stop pretending like boxing is going to get you somewhere. It’s time to face reality.”
Boxing is the only thing I got, but telling him that won’t do any good. “I need to do it, to see where it’ll take me.”
Paul sneers. “It’ll take you to the trailer park where you came from. Do you know where your father is, Ryan?” He braces both hands on the table and leans toward me. “He’s in jail, Ryan. For life. You want to know what he’s in for?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Well, I’m gonna tell you. He killed someone, shot him in a bar fight.”
I really didn’t need to know that.
“You’re just like him,” he spits out. “Your grades are shit and you won’t get into college. You’re gonna get some girl pregnant and leave her stranded like your dad did to your mother. Or you’ll get married but get your head bashed in from boxing, leaving your wife and kids to take care of your ass.”
His words bring back memories of one of my mom’s boyfriends who used me as his personal punching bag when I was little.
My hands ball into fists and my entire body goes numb. Luckily the front door creaks open and I hear my mom’s voice. She’s home.
I leave Paul standing in the kitchen and meet her at the door. “Mom,” I say. “I can’t do this anymore. Did you know Paul set up a job for me to shovel crap this summer?”
She’s clutching a brown bag with alcohol in it. “I have a pounding headache, Ryan.” She groans. “Give me an hour, then we’ll talk.”
“You don’t have a headache, Mom. You’ve got a hangover.”
She tries to shoo me away with her hand. I’m used to it, so it doesn’t affect me anymore. I remember when I was ten and came to her bed to tell her my stomach hurt and I felt sick. She told me I’d feel better if I went to school. I did, only to puke in the middle of Ms. Strasser’s classroom. That just made me more of an outcast.
“I’m going to live in Mexico this summer and train at a gym there,” I blurt out.
“Whatever,” she says. “Do what you want.”
She walks into the kitchen, signaling our conversation is over. I rush to my room and quickly shove a bunch of clothes into a duffel along with every last dime I’ve saved over the years.
This is my last hope in trying to prove that I’m not a loser like my father.
Failure is not an option.