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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The rest of the day was a wash.
 
People were on edge.
 
The mood was off.
 
Most were talking.
 
I was the conversation.

Jake had been thrown out of school for the rest of the week.
 
Worse, because he threatened me in front of Mr. Garland, the police were now involved.
 
They came by and had a little chat with Jake and Principal Roberts, which didn’t go well because Jake’s parents got involved—and Jake’s father is a member of the school board, which complicates things.
 

Then there’s Ginny, who is Jake’s on-and-off girlfriend.
 
Together, they’re a force and have so many friends, it’s daunting.
 
Now, I was so officially entrenched on their shit list, it didn’t take a genius to know that Mr. Garland was right.
 
Maybe this was all going to blow up in my face.

Of course, what no one knew is what I wore around my neck.
 
If Jake and Ginny organized against me out of spite, which I felt they would, was the amulet enough to protect me against a group of people?
 
I didn’t know and it worried me.

At lunch, I sat with Alex and Jennifer, but there wasn’t much conversation.
 
Alex mentioned that he was joining the football team.
 
Jennifer said something about seeing a movie on Friday night with a few of her girlfriends.
 
As for me?
 
I’d be stuck in my room as I always was because I had nowhere else to go.
 
I thought about telling them that today was my birthday, but what was the point?
 
Just to seek attention?
 
Not my style.

When the bell rang, Jennifer suggested we meet at noon on Saturday at Starbucks, Alex and I agreed, and we went our separate ways.

Outside, in the hall, I felt more alone than I had in awhile.
 
Glances were shot my way, but nothing more than that, which was a shift from how it usually went down.
 
Usually, I was knocked up against a locker.
 
Somebody would spit on me.
 
Or I’d be punched.

Now, I was considered a threat.
 

Two days back in school and I had laid waste to a few of the most popular bullies going.
 
Few knew what to do with it.
 
If I was willing to take on people like Hastings, Tyler and Gibson, surely I’d take on others.
 
Maybe even them.
 
But as I passed them, what I saw on their faces wasn’t what I was expecting.
 
It wasn’t fear reflected back at me.
 
It wasn’t hatred or even dismissal.
 
Instead, it was more focused and intense.

What I saw was rage.

*
  
*
  
*

Later, at home, I walked around the trailer to make sure that nobody had written anything else on it while I was gone--and it was fine.
 
The trailer was untouched, which was a relief.

I went into the house prepared for the usual bullshit and was surprised to find my mother at the stove.
 
I looked around the place and saw that she had cleaned.
 
It wasn’t perfect--the air still smelled of cigarette smoke and the trash was overflowing in the corner by the refrigerator, but the floor had been mopped and some of the clutter was gone.
 

On the kitchen table, I saw the reason for the cooking and the cleaning—there was a chocolate cake on a cake stand and a couple of balloons tied to a wrapped present.

She turned to me when I walked in and for the first time since I could remember, it was obvious that she wasn’t drunk.
 
There was a glass of wine next to her on the kitchen counter, but she wasn’t drunk.
 
“Happy birthday,” she said.
 

She actually remembered.
 
“Thanks.”

“I’m making your favorite.”

I didn’t have a favorite.
 
What did she consider my favorite?

I looked over at the stove and saw a large pot of tomato sauce with meatballs.
 
And I have to admit, while my mother was no cook, it did smell good.
 
Maybe it’ll turn out to be my favorite.

She put down the spoon she was holding and came around to give me a hug.
 
“You’re growing up,” she said.
 
“When did you get these muscles?”

“I’ve been working out in my room.”

She took a step back.
 
“So, that’s what you’ve been doing in there.”

“I’m tired of being skinny.”

“Then let’s get some food into you.”

“Where’s Dad?”

She went to the pot and stirred.
 
“He’s out.”

“Is he coming for dinner?”

“You know how he can be, honey.
 
He gets out there with his friends and then he just forgets.
 
I told him we were having a special dinner.
 
I think he’ll remember.”

He wasn’t coming.
 
I knew it but I didn’t say anything.
 
And to tell the truth, I wasn’t disappointed.
 
He’d just spoil it, anyway.

“That gift is from both of us.
 
Why don’t you open it before we eat?”

“Dad knew it was my birthday?”

“Of course, he did.
 
He asked me to tell you happy birthday if he didn’t see you.”
 
She pointed at the gift.
 
“He’s the one who picked that out.”

My father took the time to pick something out for me?
 
I looked at my mother and felt as though I was in some sort of alternate universe and the suckerpunch line was coming.
 
Maybe it was inside the box.
 
I opened it and, with a surprise I couldn’t mask, I found a PlayStation 3.
 

My mother was beaming at me.
 

“Mom, we can’t afford this.
 
We don’t have the money for this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”
 

“Did Dad get a job?”

“
I
got a job.
 
At the bank.
 
All those phone calls finally worked out.
 
I called again this morning and talked to Sandy, my old boss.
 
With all the foreclosures and refis, things are picking up there again and she asked if I’d like my old position back.”

“That’s terrific.”

“I start next week.
 
Full time with full benefits, just like before.”

She looked happy.
 
I walked over and gave her a hug.
 
“I’m proud of you,” I said.
 

“I know it’s been hard,” she said.
 
“I also know you’re not in your room all the time just so you can work out.
 
You’re in there so you don’t have to deal with us.”

“Mom--”

“Your Dad is looking for work,” she said, pulling away.
 
“When I got the news this morning about the job, we had a talk.
 
We need to get on track again.
 
We’re going to do our best.
 
It won’t be perfect, but we’re going to try.”

Behind her, a pot of water started to boil.
 
She put a box of spaghetti in it and gave it a whirl with her spoon.
 
As I watched her, I remembered how it used to be before they each lost their jobs.
 
How it was before each started to drink.
 
It had been like this.
 
Not perfect, just as she said, but at least I didn’t’ loathe coming home and dart straight for my room.

She was preparing two plates for us when the door opened and my father stepped inside.
 
In a flash, I could tell he’d been drinking.
 
He shut the door too hard behind him and nodded at me.
 
“Like your gift?”

“It’s amazing.”

“Came with a game, didn’t it?”

“‘Killzone 3’.”

“Well, let’s hope you kill the little bastards,” he said.
 

My mother came around the table and asked us to take our seats.
 
I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us sat down together for a meal.
 
It was foreign to me.
 
Weird.

“You’re bulking up,” Dad said.
 

“Not as fast as I’d like.
 
It’s hard for me to put on muscle.”

“You should try out for football this year.
 
They could use someone like you.
 
You’re fast.
 
You should give it a shot.”

If only he knew why I hadn’t before.
 
But with Alex trying out for the team, at least I’d have an ally if I went for it.
 
And if I played well, maybe people would see me in a different light and back off.
 

“I can try,” I said.

He shrugged.

My mother put a plate filled with spaghetti and meatballs down in front of me, then she offered one to my father.
 
She got her own, turned to the counter behind her and picked up a basket of French bread.
 
When she finished, she asked us what we wanted to drink.

“Water for me,” I said.

“Beer,” my father said.

The spaghetti was good.
 
So was the bread.
 
I raised my water glass and gave a toast to my mother for getting her old job back.
 
Then my mother raised her glass and toasted me on my eighteenth birthday.
 
I couldn’t leave my father out, so I raised my glass and made another toast.
 
This one was a risk, but I went for it anyway.
 
“If you’re up for it, here’s to kicking your ass on ‘Killzone 3’.”

He actually laughed and at that moment, I realized just how hard not having jobs had been on each of them.
 
The atmosphere hadn’t changed completely in the wake of my mother getting a job, but it was better.
 
The tension wasn’t as thick.
 
When my father found a job, maybe he’d lay off the booze.

“You’re going to kick my ass?” he said, finishing his beer and nodding at my mother to get him another.
 
“I wouldn’t count on it.
 
I’ve got moves you don’t know about, boy.”

“Game on,” I said.

“Game on,” he agreed.

*
  
*
  
*

It was one of the best nights the three of us had together in over a year. I was good at the game, but my father was really good, which surprised me and made the challenge tougher than I expected as we tried to blow each other away while aliens attacked.