“We are okay,” Jules agreed very diplomatically. “We know how to get to Miss Hatly’s class, and we got all our things.”
“I guess.” He shrugged, making it obvious he was anxious to get to work. “Your grandpa has been working a long night shift. I know he’s beat.”
Wyatt opened the door, desperate to get out of the police jeep and put some distance between him and Jules. If they sat him next to her for another school year, he’d lose his mind. Why’d everyone think he wanted to spend every waking moment with
his sister?
Jules pinched him when he tried to jump out. “The belt, dummy.”
“Dang it.” Wyatt struggled to get the belt undone. When he did, it snapped back, hitting Jules in the hip. “Sorry.”
Jules huffed. “No, you ain’t.”
Wyatt jumped free of his father’s reach and announced, “You’re right, I ain’t.”
“Wyatt!”
He took off, pretending not to hear the reprimand. His father had to go straight to work, and after a long shift, he’d be so darn tired he’d forget he was mad by dinner. Wyatt was free for the rest of the day. Grandpa Charlie wasn’t nearly so inclined toward Jules’s charms, and he was the one who picked them up after school.
Wyatt was finally back in school, instead of stuck spending his spare time hanging around the sheriff’s office with only Jules for company—life was good.
He made a beeline toward the bused kids, taking a moment to run a hand through his hair. He approached the benches, throwing out his chest like his father did at the station. He wasn’t real sure why, but he was pretty sure it was supposed to make people respect you.
This was a new year. He was in third grade. It was time to be bold.
He grinned at Tabitha. “Hey.”
She didn’t seem to notice him, and Wyatt got the distinct impression it was Clay Powers’s cough under his breath that sounded distinctly like
piglet
that had her glancing up from her book. When she did, her brown eyes grew wide in shock.
“Yes?”
Wyatt was fighting down the urge to punch Clay, so his voice was tense as he tilted his head to the bench. “Y’all don’t mind if I sit there, do ya?”
“Oh.” Tabitha looked at the bench between her and Clay, where her worn-out backpack rested. “’Suppose not.”
Clay brushed away his bangs that were so long they covered his eyes, and then gave her a look of horror. “No way.”
Wyatt arched a challenging eyebrow at Clay. “It speaks. Next it’ll get a haircut. Your hair’s as long as my sister’s, Powers.”
“Fuck you, piglet,” Clay said in slow, concise words. “Seat’s taken.”
Wyatt took a threatening step toward him.
“Here,” Tabitha said quickly as she grabbed her bag and threw it on the ground and then scooted up next to Clay, making room at the end of the bench. “Room right there.”
It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. He sat next to Tabitha, flashing her a smile. “So what’d you do for summer?”
Tabitha looked over at him uncertainly. “Nothing.”
“That’s cool.” Wyatt nodded, doing his level best to pretend Clay Powers didn’t exist, and he wasn’t seeing Tabitha practically crawling on top of him to keep her distance. “Well, I got my purple belt last month. The folks at the rec center say they ain’t never seen a guy as young as me get it. I reckon I’ll have my black belt before sixth grade.” He glanced back at her, looking for recognition on something he considered a big accomplishment. Tabitha just stared at him blankly, making Wyatt feel like he was speaking Japanese. “In karate,” he clarified. “Like Bruce Lee. I’ll be as good as him.”
“Oh.” Tabitha gave him a half smile of encouragement. “Great.”
Wyatt grinned, thinking he was doing an excellent job of impressing her. He was just about to tell her about peewee football season starting up when a shadow was cast over his good morning.
“You forgot your bag.” Jules made a point to drop his bag, causing his lunch box to make a reverberating clash when it hit the ground. “And it ain’t like you’re the only one to move up. I got my purple belt this summer too.”
“Yeah, after I got it,” Wyatt reminded her. “
I was first
.”
Jules huffed, looking unimpressed. “By an hour. Big deal.”
“Jules!” A group of girls squealed from other end of the bench. They jumped up, waving for her because everyone seemed to want to be Jules’s friend. “Come sit with us.”
“Hey, y’all.” Jules waved back, smiling enthusiastically as she left Wyatt without a backward glance.
Wyatt scratched at the back of his neck as Jules walked off. “I’m pretty sure our sensei goes easy on her ’cause she’s a girl.”
Wyatt turned back when he didn’t get a response, finding that Tabitha was reading again and Clay was casting him long, angry glares, making it obvious he was very unwelcome. Wyatt grabbed his backpack to cover the silence. His lunch box had opened when Jules dropped it, and he made quiet work of putting everything back in. He liked lunch. It was his favorite part of the school day.
He glanced up when he sensed Tabitha looking at him. He followed her line of sight, seeing that she was eyeing the cookies in his hand. Thinking quick, he offered them to her. “You want ’em?”
“Really?” Tabitha’s eyes widened. She turned to Clay, and the two of them had a strange sort of silent exchange, because his eyes were wide too. Then she turned back to Wyatt. “Ain’t ya gonna miss ’em?”
Wyatt shrugged. “Naw.”
“But I ain’t got anything to trade, and—”
Wyatt frowned when Clay cut her off by kicking her foot. He was just about to say something when Tabitha snatched the small stack of cookies wrapped in cellophane out of his hand.
“Thank you.” She held them close to her chest, sort of reminding Wyatt of the way Jules used to hold her baby dolls when she was younger.
Weird.
“Wyatt!”
He turned to see Greg and Doug Hart walk up with identical smiles of excitement and matching new haircuts. The only way someone could tell them apart was Greg always wore blue, whereas Doug had to own at least thirty green shirts. Wyatt thought their mother did that on purpose, but he didn’t ask or make fun like the other kids. He was hypersensitive to twin things and felt sort of fortunate there was another set in their grade, even if they were always in the other class. Wyatt supposed one set of twins per classroom was enough.
“Hey.” He jumped up off the bench and stepped between the brothers, bumping his shoulders into both of them out of habit since they were on the same football team. “Did y’all start busing?”
“Naw, our mom’s working here this year.” Greg sounded miserable. “So we got to come in early now.”
“Teacher’s aid,” Doug added, looking equally unhappy.
Wyatt grimaced.
“She said she’d talk to your dad ’bout giving you rides to practice.” Greg shrugged. “She’s gonna talk to Tommy’s mom too.”
Wyatt gave them a wide smile. Mrs. Hart was one of the better carpoolers. She had this great idea that kids needed to eat before sports. She always brought them snacks or took them out for burgers before practice.
“Cool.”
“Now we don’t got to worry over your grandpa arresting us for making too much noise.”
Wyatt shoved Greg playfully, thrilled when he fell, but then Doug hit Wyatt from behind, making him lose his balance. Wyatt’s knee cracked hard against the cement, but he ignored the stab of pain and glanced back at Tabitha to see if she’d seen him fall. She was back to reading her book, but she still cradled the cookies, as if afraid to put them down.
“Y’all settle down over there,” Mrs. Govely called from her spot by the door as they waited for the door to open. “Don’t think I don’t see you three. Wyatt Conner, you know better! What would your granddad think?”
Wyatt and Greg got to their feet and headed back to the benches with Doug. There weren’t enough seats for the three of them, so Wyatt stood against the wall with the Hart twins. He made sure to retaliate and shove Doug the second Mrs. Govely turned her head, and he couldn’t care less that Tabitha missed him do it. He didn’t need the attention right then, not when he’d learned something very important this morning about the girl he’d been fascinated with since kindergarten.
Tabitha McMillen liked cookies…a lot.
Chapter Four
Tabitha waited for three hours after her first day of third grade, making sure her brother was gone before she slipped quietly into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, but her shoulders slumped when she found it nearly empty. Brett had eaten the last of the pizza from the weekend when their uncle Ned had gotten paid and was feeling charitable.
The pizza was a long shot, and Tabitha hadn’t had much hope Brett saved her a piece. She didn’t waste time being disappointed. She grabbed a carton of milk and opened it, sniffing it hesitantly. She jerked back from the scent and took it to the sink that was stacked with dishes. She found a small spot in the corner to dump it out, then put the carton on top of the garbage can that was full.
She went back on her search. There was a block of cheese. The edges were hard and cracked, but if she cut those pieces off, it should be good. There wasn’t anything green on it. That was it for the fridge, so she went to the cabinet next, searching for something and coming up with some boxed pasta mixes. One she needed meat for; the other she needed milk and butter.
She studied them intently, her young mind working to decide what she could use to make it better. She went back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of ketchup; then she worked on quickly putting everything into her book bag.
She glanced at her mom as she walked to the front door. She was sitting on the couch, drinking something straight out of the bottle with one hand, and holding a cigarette in the other as she watched a late-afternoon game show.
“I’m leaving, Mama.”
“Don’t be out all night. Ain’t school starting next week?”
Tabitha paused with her hand on the doorknob. She opened her mouth, wondering if she should mention it had already started, but then she decided against it. When her mom’s words were that slurred, it was a sure bet she wasn’t going to remember anything Tabitha told her anyway.
She just slipped out the door with a final good-bye and then glanced down the driveway nervously. She was hoping Brett’s bike was gone, but instead he worked on it in the corner of the yard, trying to fix a rusted chain that had slipped off the track.
Brett lifted his head from his work on the bike and narrowed his eyes at her. “Whatcha hiding in the bag, runt?”
“Nothing,” Tabitha said a little too quickly. “I’m going to Clay’s.”
She was hoping that’d deter him. Clay might be two years younger than him, but he was a
big
eight-year-old. Even the sixth graders were sort of nervous around him, like they knew something about Clay Powers that Tabitha didn’t.
“Why do ya hang round that trash? Makes us look bad.”
Tabitha shrugged as she walked down the steps, willing herself invisible to her older brother as she did it.
“Not so fast.”
Tabitha heard the warning in his voice, and she took off running on instinct. She was halfway down the yard before he tackled her. It knocked all the air out of her lungs, and a wild panic seized her when she realized she couldn’t breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes, and a silent scream lodged in her chest while she fought for air.
Brett pulled her backpack off her shoulders and undid the zipper while Tabitha flailed under him. “What the fuck are ya gonna do with Hamburger Helper, runt? You know ya got to cook it, right?”
Tabitha answered him by letting out a scream she couldn’t keep in when she finally got enough air to make sound. Tears were streaming down her face. She felt like she was dying. Brett knocked her down all the time, but this scared her.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Stop it!” He shoved her face into the dirt. “You keep wailing like that, and that stupid Mrs. Harris at the trailer park will call the sheriff again.”
Tabitha struggled to keep her crying silent. She fell limp under him as little choked sobs burst out of her. She wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping it in.
“Fine.” He threw the bag on the ground. “Go eat your crunchy pasta. Brat.”
Tabitha could breathe a little easier once Brett got off, but even after he left, she lay on the ground trying to relearn the smooth, easy rhythm of breathing. It came back faster than she anticipated, and she stopped crying. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her backpack, and didn’t even bother brushing off the dirt on her face and clothes.
She ran down the driveway without looking back. She could have cut through the back to get to the trailer park faster, but that would mean she’d have to walk past Brett. No way was that happening, so she walked along the road, watching for cars and working on cleaning herself up.
Both her knees were bleeding, and when she wiped at her forehead to get the dirt off her face, she found it sticky with blood too. The tears made everything so much worse. She needed a shower, but she didn’t want to go back for one. Maybe she’d just sleep at Clay’s and go home in the morning to get ready before the bus came.
Tabitha hefted her bag up on her shoulder once she got to the trailer park. Everything in her was tense and waiting to be attacked. What if Brett followed her? What if Vaughn was hanging around? As bad as her brother was, his best friend was twenty times worse.
The coast was clear, and Tabitha breathed a huge sigh of relief as she bounced up the steps to Clay’s trailer and knocked on the metal door. She was so happy to have avoided Vaughn or any more trouble, she temporarily forgot her injuries, but Clay noticed the second he opened the door.
“What the heck happened to you?” His dark eyes were wide in concern. “Brett?”
“Yup,” Tabitha confirmed as she walked past Clay. “Hi, Mrs. Powers.”
“Ya know she can’t hear you.”
Tabitha let her gaze dart to the couch, where Clay’s mother was sprawled out and sleeping. She tried not to look at all the needles and pill bottles on the table. She could hear the bitterness in Clay’s voice, and she turned around to see his glare of contempt at his mother.
“I hate food stamp days,” he grumbled. “First thing she does is sell ’em and buy all this shit.”