by Amy Brown
“See you at school next week,” she calls after me.
I wave, but don’t say anything. She’s not exactly someone I want to get to know. I get in my truck and drive away, noticing in the rearview mirror that she watches me until I’m out of sight.
The next delivery is on the other side of town at the Sunshine Valley Trailer Park. The name seems like false advertising as I drive through the rickety gates. There’s a faded wooden fence that circles the property, but large sections of it are falling down. An older guy with a long white beard rides past me, he looks way too big for the little bike he’s riding. His knees practically bump his chin as he peddles. He gives my truck a surly glance, ignoring my polite wave.
There’s no grass, just gravel and dirt surrounds the trailer homes. There are trees, which is a blessing. Big oaks reach toward the evening sky with their gnarled branches, and I squint at the addresses attached to the trailer homes. It’s not easy to see the numbers, but eventually I find the address I’m looking for. I park in front of a single wide white trailer, with blue trim. It looks neater than most of the trailers, and there are wind chimes dangling near the steps that lead to the door.
I grab the two large pizzas, and make my way to the front door of the trailer. A security light flicks on as I near the steps, and I shield my eyes and make my way up the stairs. I ring the doorbell, and peer through little window on the door. I can’t see much because there are ruffled pink curtains.
I hear voices inside, then the door opens abruptly, and a blonde girl with wild curly hair stands there. She’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, and even without any makeup, she’s probably one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. I’m actually kind of surprised at the way my pulse spikes when our eyes meet. I’ve dated plenty of girls, so not sure why she’s having such an effect on me. Behind her, a young boy of about ten watches me warily. He too has blond curly hair, although his is short.
“Pizza delivery,” I say cheerfully. They’re staring at me as if they think I’m here to rob the silver. Did they forget they called in a pizza? I’m here for a reason, it’s not like I visited their creepy little trailer park for the view. “The pizzas come to $34.99.”
The girl blinks at me. “Oh, I believe they’ve been paid for already.”
I frown. “Really? Luigi didn’t say anything about that.”
Her jaw tenses. “I’m pretty sure.”
Sometimes people do pay for the pizzas ahead of time with a credit card over the phone, but Luigi always tells me that’s the case. “Let me make a phone call.”
Narrowing her eyes, the girl says, “You think I’m lying?”
I laugh because at first I assume she’s kidding. But she isn’t. I realize that after I laugh because of her deep scowl. “I can’t just hand over food without double checking it’s been paid for.”
She crosses her arms, which pulls her T-shirt tight across her breasts. My eyes are drawn to the curve of her ample bosom, even though it wasn’t my intention to ogle her. She notices my glance, and her cheeks flush pink. “Hurry up and make your phone call,” she snaps.
I wrinkle my brow at her tone. “Excuse me?”
Through gritted teeth, she says, “Make. Your. Call.”
Wow. She’s pretty, but she’s a bitch.
Holding on to my temper, I balance the pizzas in one arm, and pull out my cell. I manage to dial the number to Luigi’s Pizza and Pasta, and the boy leans in to say something to the girl.
When she responds, she sounds frustrated. “I didn’t want Fred to buy the stupid pizzas in the first place,” she hisses. “Now because he fucked up, I have to pay? How am I supposed to do that? I knew he was too good to be true.”
“It’s probably just a mix-up. Don’t be upset,” the boy says softly.
Her expression softens when she looks at the younger boy. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad because mom is dating another loser.”
“Mistakes happen, Charity.” The boy shifts uneasily. “No one’s perfect. It doesn’t make him a loser.”
Her wary gaze flicks to me. “I guess we’ll see.”
Luigi picks up the phone, and I turn my back on the girl and the boy. “The delivery at the Sunshine Valley Trailer Park. Was that prepaid?”
“Let me look.” The sound of Luigi shuffling papers comes across the line. “Yes. It was prepaid. The tip too. I’m sorry, we were so busy when you got here, I forgot to tell you.”
Stuffing down my irritation, I say, “It’s okay. No biggie.” I’d like to snap at Luigi because now I feel like an idiot. Not that I did anything wrong, but the girl was right after all. I say goodbye to Luigi, and hang up. Swallowing my pride, I turn to face the girl and her brother. “You were right. Looks like the order was already paid for.”
“Really?” She blinks at me, looking almost surprised.
Why does she look so astonished when she’s the one who told me it was paid for in the first place? “Yep. Even the tip was paid.”
She masks her earlier surprise, lifting her chin. “See, I told you.”
I grimace. “I had to make sure. It wasn’t personal.”
“Right.”
I laugh gruffly. “You think it was… personal? I don’t even know you.”
She lifts one shoulder. “You probably took one look at this crappy trailer park, and immediately assumed anyone who lives here is a low life.”
Since I had kind of made that assumption, there isn’t much I can say to defend myself. I hand the pizzas over. “Have a good evening,” I say stiffly.
She takes them, giving a curt nod. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing.” My face feels stiff as I force a smile. I make my way down the stairs. Right before I climb in my car, I shoot a glance back toward the door. The girl is standing there, watching me with that same guarded expression. I’d expected her to have gone inside already, but there she is, staring after me. I give a courteous wave, and expect she’ll probably do the same. Instead, she turns away, and shuts the door with the forceful bump.
Yep. She’s pretty, but she sure is a bitch.
Chapter Three
Charity
The pizza is good. Really good. The crust is golden and chewy, and Fred even sprang for extra cheese. I feel bad that I doubted him, but, of course, I don’t even know him. He could still be a loser for all I know.
My mind wanders to the delivery guy. He was very attractive. His eyes were the prettiest light green color, and his Texas drawl hadn’t annoyed me as much as usual. He’d even been perfectly polite, even though I’d been rude. I feel guilty that I snapped at him. I’d been embarrassed because I’d assumed Fred hadn’t paid for the pizzas, and I didn’t have the money to pay. I’d rather have eaten my shoe than admit how broke we are to the delivery guy. Being embarrassed always makes me mean. Some people handle humiliation with grace, I’m not one of them. Mom always says I have too much pride.
Luke groans from the couch. “I ate way too much.” He rubs his belly and groans again.
“Me too.” I’d eaten four large pieces. I’m thin and nobody ever expects me to eat the way I do. But I can pack food away like nobody’s business. Sometimes I think that I should enter a food eating contest, just to make some money for our family. I’d probably win hands down.
“How come you were so mean to the delivery guy?” Luke asks, as if he’d read my mind. He watches me with his curious gaze. He’s a gentle soul. Not jaded yet, like me.
I shrug. “The pizzas were paid for. I was right, and he was wrong.”
“You still didn’t need to be rude. He was just doing his job.”
I agree with him, but don’t feel like admitting it. “He’ll live. I doubt I had any effect on him at all.” The guy had looked very confident. Rich. He’d been wearing a pair of cowboy boots that probably cost more than every piece of clothing in my closet. Not that that was a high bar to meet. “He looked like every other rich snob around here.”
“So that put your back up?”
“I g
uess.” I sigh. “I didn’t like that he assumed I was lying.”
“Maybe people try to scam him a lot.”
“It’s more likely he judged us because of where we live.”
“It is pretty gross in this trailer park.” He winces. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. I should just be thankful we have a home.”
I laugh. “Home? I don’t know if this hovel qualifies as a home.” I glance around at the dingy décor of the trailer. The couch is orange and olive green, the coffee table scratched. The trailer came furnished, but it looks like they got the furniture out of the dump.
“So far the neighbors have been nice.”
I shrug. “Let’s see how the kids at school are. You can learn a lot about a community by how the kids are raised.”
“Maybe things will be different here.” He sounds hopeful. I like that he still has hope.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound very convinced.”
I shrug because I’m still not sure what to make of Blue Horn, Texas. Mom moved us here without discussing it with us. She got laid off from her waitressing job, and she’d heard somewhere that the cost of living was better in Texas than Los Angeles. Next thing I knew, we were moving to Texas. I want to trust her decisions, but her track record isn’t great.
Just take her sudden infatuation with this Fred guy. She’s so taken with Fred, I worry she won’t see any red flags. She falls in love so easily. But to me, the odds of Mom meeting the love of her life in this dusty little town, seem very slim. Also, Mom says Fred has money. Why would he want to settle down with a woman who has nothing to offer, but two kids from another man?
“You don’t like Fred, do you?” he asks.
“I don’t even know him.” I wrinkle my brow. “He’s probably using Mom, just like all the other guys.”
“Mom is nice. Why wouldn’t he like her?”
“She said he has a bunch of money. Rich people stick with their own. My guess is Mom is being naive like always.”
“Sometimes I think Mom shouldn’t have named you Charity. She should have named you Acantha.”
“Acantha?” I scowl.
He nods. “It’s Greek. It means thorn or prickle.”
My face warms. “Very funny.” My little brother is only ten, but he’s extremely bright. I don’t know any Greek words, but he actually taught himself to speak Latin. I can barely speak English properly.
“You have to admit, you’re very prickly at times.”
“And you’re very judgmental.”
He frowns. “I am not.”
I laugh. “Yes, you are. You think you’re smarter than everybody else.”
A line forms between his light brows. “I am smarter than everybody else.”
I shake my head. “Not everybody.” Just ninety-nine percent of people.
“Being smarter than people isn’t always a good thing. My classmates certainly resent me.” He stands and takes his paper plate into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s drinking a pink lemonade Snapple. He sits on the couch, looking morose.
“Maybe this school will be different.” I try to sound encouraging. He’s had a hard time of it. He’s not wrong that a lot of his classmates don’t like him because he’s so smart. He aces every test, and I guess that pisses people off. “Maybe this time you’ll make friends.”
“That would be nice.”
The power suddenly goes off, and I give a yelp. Luke gives a startled sound, and I can see his outline against the blinds as he stands. I fumble in the drawer of the side table next to the chair I’m sitting in. My fingers find the cool metal of the flashlight. I flick it on, and stand. Peering out the window, I notice that everyone else’s lights are still on. My stomach sinks. Wishing for a statewide blackout might seem strange, but my fear is Mom simply hasn’t paid the electric bill. Again.
“It’s okay,” I say calmly.
Luke stumbles his way over to me, and he takes my hand. “She forgot to pay the electric bill, didn’t she?”
“It could just be a breaker blew.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “Could be.”
We’re both aware the rent is late, and the phone was already shut off last week. Things aren’t looking good for us here in Texas.
New start, my ass.
“Are things ever going to get better?” He sounds forlorn.
I sigh. “Yes. Of course. We’re just going through a rough patch.”
“Seems like we’ve been going through a rough patch my whole life.”
I know how he feels. I don’t remember ever feeling secure. I’ve never believed mom had things under control. I feel guilty even thinking that because she really does work hard. But it’s difficult for her to get jobs where she makes enough money to support two kids and herself. She never went to college, and she has no real skills. She’s hardworking, but she can only find minimum-wage jobs. She’s also prideful in that she doesn’t want to take government assistance. I think that’s foolish. I especially think that’s foolish as I sit here in the dark, with my little brother trembling next to me. I’m thankful at least our bellies are full from the pizzas that Fred bought for us. Maybe Fred will pay her electric bill too before he gets tired of her.
“Perhaps I could get a job,” he says softly.
I grimace. “No. That’s not the answer. Besides, I don’t know anywhere that’s hiring ten-year-olds.”
“I could get a fake ID.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I can make one.”
“Luke. Mom will figure something out. Or I’ll figure something out. Mom doesn’t want me to work because of school, but we can’t just have our power going off all the time. I think I’m gonna get a job whether she likes it or not.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, then he leans his head on my arm. “I’m sorry I said you were prickly.”
I smile, and pat his back. “It’s okay. I am pretty prickly these days.”
“You’ve been going through this with Mom longer. I don’t blame you for being bitter.”
I wince. “Do I seem bitter?” I hate the idea of that. Am I turning into one of those unlikeable people who never sees good in the world? Was that why I’d been so unpleasant to the pizza guy? Bitter people took out their frustrations on everyone around them, whether they were to blame or not. God, I don’t want to be that way.
“You’re frustrated. I understand.”
I’ve hit a new low when my younger brother has to comfort me for being a bitch. I jump when there’s a knock on the door. I shuffle to the door, with Luke still clutching my hand.
“Who is it?” I demand, trying to sound brave.
Please don’t be management coming to evict us.
“It’s Kent Meyer.”
Who?
“From next door. I’m your neighbor.” The voice says.
“It’s sunbathing guy,” whispers Luke.
I open the door, and find our neighbor on the steps. He’s wearing shorts and a coat, which seems like a strange combination. “Hi,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry to butt in, but I saw your lights go out, and I wanted to be sure you two were okay.”
I frown. How did he know we hadn’t just gone to bed? “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”
He glances around and lowers his voice. “I saw the electric company shut-off notice on your door yesterday.”
“What?” My face feels hot. The electric company put a notice on our door? Had Mom hidden that from us? Did she think she was protecting us or something by keeping that from us? Sometimes I want to scream at her to stop living in denial. She’d blithely gone out to dinner with her new boyfriend, knowing our electricity could be turned off at any moment?
What is wrong with her?
Anger rolls through me, but I swallow it down, trying not to show Kent how upset I am. “Thank you for checking on us.”
“Would you guys like to come over to my place, and maybe wait for your mom?” He sounds hesitan
t.
I don’t know how to respond because I’m not sure if he’s just being nice, or if he’s an opportunist. Predators watch their victims sometimes to figure out when to pounce. He sounds sincerely concerned. But Jeffery Dahmer tricked people by seeming harmless too. Does Kent want to hurt us or help us? I hate that I have to try and make that decision for Luke and me, while my mom is out having the time of her life.
Kent takes a step back. “I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a pedophile or something now.” He takes two more steps down the stairs. “Sorry. I truly just thought you guys might be freaked out because your Mom isn’t home.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Thank you for caring.”
“Sure.” He laughs awkwardly.
“I… I didn’t know about the notice.” I sigh.
“Yeah, your mom tore it off the door, and stuffed it in her purse.” He grimaces. “I had a feeling you guys might be… literally… in the dark about it.”
I think he’s legitimately a nice guy, but I’m not risking it by going to his place. “We’ll probably just go to bed. I’m sure Mom will figure it out. Thank you for offering us your home.”
“Of course.” He turns and heads back toward his trailer.
I watch him disappear into his home, feeling conflicted. I’m mad at Mom for putting us in this position. She needs to wake the fuck up. We can’t go on like this. I can’t go on like this. I’m not running away and leaving Luke alone with her, but things have to change. However, I don’t know how to go about this because the last thing I want is for Child Services to get involved. If I go to anyone and say how we’re living, they might place Luke and me in foster homes, and God knows what could happen to us.
“You don’t trust Kent?” Luke asks quietly.
I close the door, and I hug him tight. “I don’t trust anybody but you, kid.”
He sighs. “Same.”
My eyes sting and fear eats at my gut. The stress of moving here, and having everything still just as shitty as ever, is getting to me. I have to start a new school in two days. Two fucking days. I’ll be lucky if I even have a place to live at this rate.