Brighter Than the Sun (7 page)

He offers me half. I shake my head. I don’t have any money for lunch, but I’m not hungry anyway. At least that’s what I tell myself. He tears off half anyway and holds it out. I drop my gaze and take it.

Amador is like any other kid there and yet as different from them as Dutch is from me. There is a calmness about him. A stillness beneath choppy water. Being around him is soothing.

We eat in absolute silence; then he takes my schedule out of my hoodie pocket and opens it up. Nods his head. Passes it back. “We have two classes together.”

I nod back. “Cool.”

We lie on the grass and watch the clouds roll by the rest of the period. He is very popular. Everyone who walks by says hi. He waves. Shakes hands. Bumps fists. Whatever the situation calls for.

The bell rings. We get up and brush ourselves off before heading to our next class.

He doesn’t introduce me to anyone as we walk inside the building and through the halls, even though everyone is curious. They glance at me, then eye him. Mostly the girls. He ignores them. Changes the subject. Insults them in some humorous way.

There are only two classes after lunch because we have the B lunch period. The late one. We are in history, and I want to tell the teacher that he is pronouncing King Christian X wrong, but I don’t. Again, I’ve been spared having to speak in class because I’m new. I decide to savor that.

When the last bell rings, Amador and I clutch hands and lean our shoulders into a half hug before heading in opposite directions.

“Hey,” he calls to me.

I turn back.

“Do you remember my name?”

I smile for the first time all day. “Amador.”

He laughs. “Amador Sanchez, Mr. Reyes Alexander Farrow. How’s your sister?”

“She’s good. See you tomorrow?”

“Not if I see you first,” he teases.

I watch him leave, astounded. I’ve never had a friend. Not a real one. I check my watch and realize I’m late.

When I pick up Kim, she is a mass of jiggling nerves. She’s scared, but school is what she needs. She needs to socialize. To make friends. To be a kid.

She doesn’t want to go back the next day. I can’t wait. The school counselor is waiting for my school records to be transferred. I figure I can hold her off on that for a few weeks. Shit gets lost in the mail all the time, so I hear.

In the meantime, she is going to test me. I’ve never had a test. Not a real one. But I learn to love them. Except when Mr. Stone, my science teacher, decides to give me an assessment to test where I am in the curriculum. I ace it. I ace every test. Probably why I love them so much. But he accuses me of cheating. Marches me to the principal’s office. Says no way could I have aced that test; some of the concepts aren’t introduced until college graduate courses. He wants me expelled.

I can hear them talking through the wall. The principal tells him the counselor also tested me, and my scores were off the charts. I sit smugly, not realizing what that might mean for me.

I find out two months later when men from the government show up to do some tests of their own. I fake the flu. It’s not hard. My temperature naturally runs a little hot most of the time. I sprint all the way to Kim’s school, check her out, and hurry home.

So, my stint in high school lasts only three months, but I convince Kim she can keep going. Then we move again, and it’s too far for Kim and me to walk. She’s scared to death of buses. I want to ask her why, but I figure she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

There is a middle school not far from our new apartment. We get her registered, and I walk her there every day. It’s the same at first: She is scared. Doesn’t want to go. Doesn’t want to start all over. But after a while she is fine and looks forward to school. It becomes an escape for her. One she desperately needs.

Amador and I keep in touch. He skips school and visits about twice a week. We go to the skate park or the mall or hustle cash for lunch. When he’s not around, I will go find a quiet place and enter Dutch’s world. One day, she is sitting by herself outside, reading. A soft breeze is pushing strands of her hair into her eyes. They get stuck in her lip gloss. What’s left of it. She keeps pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

She tucks the hair behind an ear only to have it work loose about five seconds later, but she is so engrossed in her book, she hardly notices.

At first, I’m mesmerized by her. By her hair and her fingers and her legs. And by the fact that she reads without moving her lips. She is wearing a plaid skirt, a button-down, and Mary Janes. Classic Catholic schoolgirl apparel. I stay out of her line of sight but get close enough to see what she is reading. Whatever it is has her dripping wet. Her abdomen tightens. Floods with heat that rivals the fires of hell. Throbs with longing. And I have a hard time concentrating on anything other than the fact that her knees are parted and her breaths are coming in quick, short bursts.

I finally make out the title—
Sweet, Savage Love
—and make a mental note to get my hands on that book.

If I could, I’d materialize right then and there and see to her needs. Make her writhe. Make her explode. Since she’s terrified of me, I decide against it and leave her to her own devices.

I have to see to my own needs when I get back before picking up Kim from school.

This is a golden time for us. Earl doesn’t bother me so often. He goes through spells, and as long as I can survive them, as long as I’m breathing at the end, I endure for Kim’s sake. Every once in a while, his dark side rears its ugly-ass head, and I get more than I bargained for. He is more violent now. The drinking and drugs are slowly eating away what few brain cells he had, and his moods turn on a dime. There are a few days that I look so bad, I can’t even walk Kim to school or meet up with Amador. But not many.

One day after school, Kim is shaking. Amador is with us, but he doesn’t notice the state she’s in. He gives her a hug and jogs off to catch a bus back to the war zone. When he’s gone, I ask Kim what happened.

“I had to go to the office today.”

I’m instantly alarmed. The blue under her eyes is darker. The white of her skin paler. I put my hands on her shoulders and force her to face me. “What happened?”

“Nothing. They just called me to the office.”

“Why?”

She lifts a shoulder. “It was the counselor. She was nice, but she asked a lot of questions.”

Dread creeps up my spine. It feels like when ice is so cold, it burns. “What did she want to know exactly?”

“She—” Tears flood between her lashes. “She asked me if I felt safe at home. If I get enough to eat. Stuff like that.”

I turn away from her and curse under my breath.

“I told her I was fine. Everything was okay.”

If they take her away, I won’t be able to protect her anymore. Some foster homes and children’s homes are no better than what we already have. At least with Earl, I can keep an eye on her. And he doesn’t touch her. His tastes don’t lean in that direction.

Before I came along, he was all about boys. He would go through a boy every two years, and then he’d sell the kid to one of his friends. But he kept me. He never tired of me, even when I got older than his usual demographic. Even when I got much older.

So I know that as long as we are with Earl, she’ll be safe from that type of attention. If the authorities suspect anything, they could investigate. They could take her away from Earl. From me. They could put her in a much worse situation.

I grab her arm and we hurry away from the school. I can’t help but look over my shoulder.

“That’s not all,” she says as I drag her behind me. She is out of breath, and I slow down a little.

“What do you mean?”

“She asked about you, too. And then the principal came in and they asked— They asked if you’re safe.”

I stop and stare at her. “Me?”

She nods.

“What the fuck?”

She lowers her head.

“Kim. What? Did you say something?”

“No!” She rushes to assure me, and I know better than to even ask. “I swear. They just— I think a teacher saw you last week.”

I bite down. She missed three days of school because of last week. Earl got fired from his part-time job as a janitor at a warehouse, and he took it out on me. I waited three days before taking Kim to school. She refused to leave me, and I couldn’t risk being seen as torn up as I was. I thought I’d waited long enough. I thought the bruises had faded enough. Apparently not.

We hurry home. We knew what was coming anyway. Earl lost his piece-of-shit job. He couldn’t pay the rent. He would either rob someone, kill someone, or we would sneak out in the middle of the night.

Two days later, we do just that. We sneak out in the middle of the night. Sometimes it takes the landlord days to figure out we’ve gone. Vacating during the wee hours buys us time.

Earl knocks a hole in the wall and dumps all the pictures. I can breathe again when he does. These are bad. The worst we’ve had in a while. He’s going to kill me someday. I just have to hold on long enough to get Kim to a safe place. If she’s old enough, she can file for emancipation. But she has to be at least sixteen in New Mexico.

I don’t get to tell Amador that we’re gone, but I have his home phone number. I use a phone at the hotel we are staying at for the night and leave a message. I tell him that our science project has been moved. He knows what that means: I will get back in touch with him when I can. He knows not to ask why. He’s cool that way.

By the time Kim is a freshman in high school, she has grown into a beautiful young woman. She loves art and French and history. Dutch is also a freshman. She loves guys with body art, French guys, and hot guys from her history books. So they have a lot in common.

I have a job at a chop shop with Amador and take a couple of night classes on the side. But I still walk Kim to school every day. Well, most days. There are the occasional bad ones, but those are dwindling to almost nonexistent. Earl is losing his grip on me, and he knows it.

Unfortunately, Kim has figured out she is the reason I stay. The guilt eats at her. Especially on days like today.

I’m missing work and Kim is missing school. I tell her to go, but she refuses. She brings wet washcloths and has to help me into the bathtub. I’m embarrassed. I tell her I’m fine. It’s no worse than usual. She pretends to believe me, then tries to keep her sobs inside, but every once in a while her breath hitches and a tear slips from between her lashes. Her fingers shake as she slides the cloth over my back. I try not to wince. Wincing only makes her feel worse.

When I’m finished, she puts salve on the rope burns. I don’t let her know that my wrist is broken. It’ll heal in a few days anyway. She puts duct tape on the worst lacerations. That seems to help the most, and my lids are suddenly filled with lead.

I try not to slip. I try to stay there for Kim—but then I slip away anyway and seek out the light. Seek out Dutch. She’s at school and I wonder if I see her in school now because of Kim.

Their two schools are both different and the same. The walls at Dutch’s school seem brighter. The kids dressed better. I never imagined her as rich, but she has never had to wear dirty clothes. I’m glad. I wouldn’t want that for her. I would make her rich if I could, but for some reason, I can’t control this daydream.

I find her in the bathroom at her school. She is putting gloss on her lips, running the tube inside the puffy edges, and then smoothing it with her middle finger. She’s wearing a button-down, a short skirt, and boots. She’s sexy as fuck, and I wonder when I started thinking of her as sexy. It seems wrong somehow.

I realize she’s seen me. She stops her ministrations and looks at me in the mirror. I am, of course, blanketed by my robes. My hood is up, so she can’t see my face, but she stares anyway.

The bell rings and the other girls leave, but she stays glued to the spot. She still doesn’t know who she is. What she is. She only knows she helps the departed. She helps them with their problems. Then she helps them cross to the other side. She has no idea she’s the reaper. Destined to do her job for hundreds of years after she passes. It’s what they do. Reapers.

I decide to enlighten her.

I plant my feet on the ground, let my cloak settle around me, and walk toward her. She is frozen. She doesn’t know what to think of me. This girl who is afraid of nothing is scared to death of a coward hiding behind a layer of smoke.

I lean into her. She smells like strawberries and coffee and a soft perfume that barely brushes the air. She is completely motionless. Watching. Waiting.

My mouth grazes the tender tip of her ear, and I whisper, “You are the grim reaper. You will live forever. You will ferry souls to the other side for hundreds of years. And you are magnificent.”

She doesn’t acknowledge anything I’ve said. She just stares.

I realize someone else has entered the restroom. A woman. She is talking to Dutch. Snapping to get her attention. Threatening her with a pink slip, whatever the fuck that is.

I start to draw my sword, but Dutch snaps out of it. She shakes her head. Pleads.

“Miss Davidson,” the woman says. She gets in her face and Dutch slowly turns away from me and toward her. But her gaze is fixed on me. She is worried I’ll sever the woman’s spine. She should be. She’s a bitch.

Fine. I resheath my sword. She’s no fun.

“Go to the office immediately,” the woman says.

Dutch nods and looks over her shoulder at me as the woman leads her out.

I’m still not sure why she’s so scared of me. It’s my dream. But in it, she’s always in trouble. Like she’s made that way. If she’s not almost getting herself killed trying to help a departed, she’s almost getting herself killed by one of her classmates.

Even though our meeting is brief, her light does its job once again. It heals me. At least I think it does. Why else would I heal so fast? Even if it doesn’t, it keeps me sane. It keeps me from ripping the world to shreds.

14

After I confront Dutch in the restroom, I go back to my world. The days are thick and sticky. Not with heat. It’s cold out. With tension. Something has happened. Something has set Earl on edge. He wants more from me, and if I don’t give it, Kim pays the price. No amount of pain is too much to save her. She’s going to get out of here. She’s going to be someone. Even though she’s not in school at the moment, I find textbooks and make sure she reads them and does all the exercises. She may not go to Harvard, but she is going to college if it kills me.