A Crooked Mile (Rust Book 1)

by Samantha Arthurs

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the wheat,” Alec told her, his eyes tracing the horizon line all the way across, like he was desperately trying to find something worth making note of. There wasn’t anything though, just packed earth and the sun lingering low in the sky. “It’s just so empty here without it, it’s not even nice to look at when it’s gone. Rust might be the most depressing place on earth, but it’s never been more depressing than it is right now.”

  A slight wind kicked up, stirring the dust up in swirls that made Ramona cough. That seemed to snap Alec back into the present, drew him in from wherever he had gone when they’d left school. Reaching over he gently took the handlebars of her bicycle and began to push it for her, starting down the incline with her trailing behind. Going downhill was a lot quicker than going up, and soon their feet hit the gravel of the road and they were moving on toward her house. When they reached it she was prepared to move on, to finish the last mile to his house, but Alec surprised her.

  Instead of continuing he veered off down the Sanders’ driveway, admiring a tall oak tree that sat near the left corner of the house. Its leaves were slowly turning from green to yellow, a few of them even a vibrant shade of red. He propped her bike up against the porch and turned to face her, smiling as he gestured to the tree that she had looked at every single day for more or less her entire life.

  “This would be a great spot to film! I mean if we can get in the shots before the leaves all fall off. We can bring out a chair or something, it would be great,” Alec told her, clearly excited about his vision.

  Ramona looked at him and then at the tree, not quite seeing whatever he saw but willing to at least play along. “I mean, sure, I guess it would look pretty. Though working around my family is a monumental task that I don’t think you quite comprehend. Having six brothers and sisters is like living in a daycare, only your shift never ends.”

  Alec didn’t know what that felt like, because it had only ever been him and Bryson. When they had been younger his father had joked that they were the heir and the spare, like in British royalty, but looking back now he realized that it wasn’t a very funny joke at all. “I’m sure we can figure it out, and if all else fails then we bribe them with candy,” he contended, sitting down on the edge of the sagging porch.

  “You’re in luck today. My mother’s taken them all to the health clinic to get their flu shots. It can take a while, especially since she takes them to get a treat afterward if they behave. So, at least for today, you are safe,” Ramona smirked, sitting beside him with her legs swinging. Out back in the fenced in area of the yard she heard the chickens clucking, and she knew they’d need feeding soon. Life didn’t stop even when she wanted it too, and there would always be work that needed doing. “What’s it like, having just one sibling? Must be pretty peaceful around your place.”

  Alec snorted at that, a hateful sort of sound that made Ramona blanch a little bit. If he noticed he didn’t comment on it, leaning back against the porch post behind him as he shook his head. “Having one sibling doesn’t really make things peaceful, believe me. Bryson and I get along, we always have. We get each other, and I think it works because we’re such different people. We were never fighting over things as kids, because we had our own hobbies. Neither of us ever went through a jealous phase, and we like to spend time together. He isn’t the problem though, you know? He’s the one peaceful thing I do have at home, which probably sounds weird but it’s true.”

  Ramona frowned a little bit, turning sideways and bring up one leg so she could wrap her arms around it, resting her chin on her knee. “What makes it not peaceful then? I mean if you and Bryson get along, then what’s the problem?”

  “Honestly? My father is the problem, for all of us. He’s pretty overbearing, and the worst part is that he knows it. He just thinks he has to be in charge of everything, all the time. It’s like living with a dictator sometimes, things are so regimented. He calls the shots and you’re just expected to go along with it,” Alec told her, the words just rushing out. He’d never really admitted that out loud to anyone before, not even to Cameron. Nobody had a perfect life, but he had never felt entirely comfortable with opening up about his own imperfections before. It was easy though, talking to Ramona about it. Perhaps because she came from a place where things weren’t expected to be perfect and that had given her such a different perspective on life. Whatever it is, it was good to let things out and not feel fearful of the consequences.

  “Is he why you needed a mental health day?” Ramona asked then, sitting up a bit straighter. She thought back to Alec’s bruised face, the way he had played it off, and her heart sank. She didn’t dare ask that question though, knowing it would cross a line. It was a bold accusation to make anyway, accusing someone’s father of that sort of abuse, and it wasn’t the type of thing you could take back once it was said.

  Alec hesitated for a moment, like he had to really think about that, before finally shaking his head no. “The mental health day was about me, nothing more and nothing less. He isn’t even in town right now, so he couldn’t be the problem anyway. Just sometimes I need a break from life, just have to give myself time to recharge a bit. I think it happens to the best of us now and then.”

  Ramona could understand that, she had her off days too, though her parents would never let her miss school just because she needed a break. That was just another difference in their families though, and in the way they had been raised. Sometimes being able to stay in bed and catch up on sleep would be nice, or not having to worry about the pressures of school for a day, but her mom and dad called the shots and that meant getting up and getting on with things, unless you had a fever or you were throwing up. Those were the only exceptions to the rule.

  “We’re not actually accomplishing any work,” she pointed out then, reaching for her pack. She pulled out her notebook and her battered copy of Wuthering Heights, flipping through it slowly. It was loaded down with color coded post it notes, marking points of interest and emphasis. “Want to make a list of segments and split them up? We can each write a few and then critique each other. We probably have another hour before my family is home.”

  So that was what they did. They dropped the topic of Alec’s father and his need for a break from life, both of which were heavy topics best left behind. Instead they focused on their work, laughing and making lists until they heard the sound of a vehicle coming in the distance. Alec packed up his things and said goodbye, heading out to the road with his messenger bag over his shoulder. The evening sun, which had crept even lower in the sky, shone off his dark hair so it looked almost blue, glinting like a beacon until he was too far away for her to really see him anymore.

  Ramona was still staring as the van pulled into the driveway, the side door sliding open. Her siblings poured out all talking over one another, rushing to show her their band aids and the candy they had gotten for their efforts. She gave them all a welcoming smiled and listened quietly, eyes darting now and then to the road, toward the direction that Alec had been traveling in. He was far out of sight now, gone around the bend in the road where it curved on toward his home. She wished that she could call him back, but she couldn’t. She had things to do, a family who needed her, and sometimes other things in life just had to wait.

  Chapter Twelve: Falling

  Alec paused to catch his breath, brushing his dark hair back off of his sweaty forehead. It was the end of September, October just a day or two away, and the Rust High School basketball team was holding tryouts for new members of the squad. The gym was bustling with activity, some guys doing drills at one end of the court, while the other end was used for a scrimmage between two teams of five. They would rotate everyone in and out so they could get to see them do a bit of everything, which would give a good gauge of skill and ability.

  He had arrived early that Saturday morning to help the coach set everything up and go over the plan for the day. Twenty guys were slated to show up, and of those twenty
they would be picking six to replace those who had graduated the year before or had been removed from the team. Most guys who made the cut as freshman came back year after year, which meant that they rarely ever started the season with an almost brand new roster. That was, ultimately, a very good thing. It meant you spent most of your high school career playing with the same guys, which built a closer bond and created better teamwork. It had certainly helped Rust in years gone by, having made it to the playoffs six out of the past ten years. That was a big accomplishment, at least in Alec’s opinion, and while he sometimes felt overwhelmed he was also proud to be part of something that was genuinely good.

  His problem today, however, was Bryson. His father had made good on his word to more or less force his younger son into trying out, and so he had arrived at the gym an hour after big brother and thirty minutes before everyone else. Alec II had wanted him to get there early, to get a feel for the gymnasium and the situation as though that would be beneficial. It didn’t matter if they were shooting hoops in Boston Garden with Larry Bird, nothing would make this day a good one for Bryson, who had looked miserable from the moment he had stepped inside.

  Alec had tried his best to help without going overboard, but it just wasn’t working. Bryson had the coordination of a wet mop, and the ambition to match. He could shoot a decent free throw, and running sprints didn’t wind him too badly, but it was easy to see that he just did not want to be there. He moved around the designated half court to give the illusion of participation, but in reality he was just trying to stay out of the way. Anytime the ball touched his hands he passed it quickly, and the one shot he did throw up was a wild three pointer from way behind the line that didn’t even come near the basket. Alec thought that might have been on purpose, but it was honestly hard to be sure.

  The only saving grace was that their father couldn’t be in attendance that morning, because coach liked closed practices. Parents tended to just create a scene, calling out instructions to their kids or just generally creating an unpleasant atmosphere for the athletes. It wasn’t a good idea to have that kind of tension in the air, at least not when you were working with a lot of younger guys or guys who had never played on a team before. If Alec II had been preset then things would have been a whole lot worse, which was more or less a certainty. Alec was wiping his face off with a towel, preparing to head back out to work on some more pointers, when the coach blew his whistle. Everyone headed in for a water break, eager to sit down and have a breather.

  Bryson looked relieved as they headed off the court, Alec falling in with him as they went to the cooler. They both drank silently for a long moment, hydration more important than conversation. Once their paper cups were in the trash though both boys dropped down onto the bench, wanting a moment to catch their breath and relax as much as possible.

  “It gets better,” Alec told him softly, mouth set in a frown. “I mean that sounds impossible right now, but it really does. You just need to work on the fundamental aspects of the game, that’s all. We can practice at home if you want, work on your shots. It’s all in the wrists, man.”

  Bryson sighed softly, the pep talk clearly doing very little to improve the situation for him. “I hate this, Alec. I’m only here because dad made me come. I’m just not athletic, I’m not good at this the way that you are. He thinks that playing sports is the only way I could be good at anything, and it isn’t true. I’ll never be good at this, ever.”

  Alec felt bad for his brother, but there wasn’t much he could do. Their father wanted Bryson to play, so Bryson would play. Unless he didn’t make the cut, at which point they would both be in trouble. Especially Alec, who supposedly had enough pull to somehow get Bryson selected for the team no matter what. They’d had that argument for a second time the night before, and nothing had changed. His father still insisted that the coach would listen to his opinion and Alec insisting that the captain was sort of like a figurehead and didn’t really get to do anything important.

  Reluctantly the pair of them finally peeled themselves off the bench, heading to the drills end of the court. Alec helped Bryson with his lunges and in how to breathe his way through his sprints better, and they were both drained by the time that practice was over. The coach wanted to think things through before he announced the final cut, so they all headed home with the weight of not knowing hanging overhead.

  They left the gym after showering in the locker rooms and changing into clean clothes. The weather outside had already begun to shift from fall to winter, the temperatures steadily dropping and a dusting of snow already coating the caps of the mountains. With October fast approaching it wouldn’t be long at all until they had snow on the ground right in Rust, a thought which made Alec shiver. He still longed for the more temperate climate of Georgia, where it got cold but not like it did in Montana. Feet of snow, temperatures well below zero, impassable roads; none of it was appealing, especially not being stuck in the house with nowhere to go.

  Their mother was supposed to meet them in the parking lot, with the plan to go to lunch at the diner. When they stepped outside, however, they were greeted instead by their father’s Range Rover, parked sideways across three spots. Alec’s heart seized up a bit but he refused to show it, putting up a good front for Bryson as they approached the vehicle. He climbed into the front and let his brother take the preferred backseat, out of range of their father and his outbursts.

  “How’d it go?” He asked them the second they were inside the SUV. He didn’t wait for them to buckle up, throwing the vehicle into gear and peeling out with a slight squeal of the tires. “Did you make the cut, Bryson? Varsity just like big brother?”

  “Actually, coach isn’t announcing until tomorrow at the earliest,” Alec cut in, buckling his seat belt as they were flung around a curve. “He wants to take his time and really go over all of the possibilities. Twenty guys showed, but there are only six positions open. Bryson did well, but there was a lot of talent out there.”

  He was subtly trying to tell their father to back off, that it was possible that Bryson might not make it. The elder Davis wouldn’t hear of it, however, snorting as he slapped his meaty hands against the steering wheel.

  “He’ll make it! Davis men aren’t losers, we always win! Coach would have to be blind not to pick a son of mine for the team! I mean look at you, Alec! When we first started you in basketball as a kid you weren’t anything, we had to work on it. We molded you, and look at you now,” he boasted, clearly proud of himself for all of the things that Alec had managed to accomplish.

  Neither of them asked why their mother hadn’t shown up, nor did they request to get something to eat at the diner. They could forage at home, whenever they finally managed to escape their father and his ranting. Alec tuned himself out of the conversation, staring out the window as they bounced along down Route Four. He perked up a bit as they passed Ramona’s house, wishing he could hop out and see what she was up to.

  They had met up a few more times to work on their project, writing out the different sections of their video and working up dialogue. It was a lot of fun, and Alec found that he liked the time he spent with Ramona. It was the only time he felt stress free, which was funny considering they were working on a big part of their grade in English class. It was better than basketball tryouts though, and definitely better than being at home. It was even better than the time he spent with his friends, including Cameron who still wanted to rag on him over something so absolutely petty. It had become a strange point of contention for them; something that Alec wasn’t sure how to even remotely begin fixing.

  Ramona was in the kitchen when the Sanders boys passed her house, helping her mother do some baking. The whole house smelled sweet and delicious, and her mouth practically watered as she took a fresh loaf of sour dough bread out of the oven. One of their new corner cutting techniques was to make their own bread at home instead of buying it from the store, which ultimately did save a bit of money. Not to mention it was just fun and it made t
he place smell like the bakery.

  She was sliding another loaf into the oven while the first one cooled, going back to the cookie mix she’d been working on. Cookies were a nice treat to put in school lunches, which were cheaper when packed than when bought at school. She was trying out a new recipe that involved pumpkin and cinnamon, figuring fall flavors would be acceptable since they were practically knocking on October’s door. She was stirring in more spices when her mother stepped back in after checking on the other kids, giving her a smile.

  “They haven’t killed each other yet. I think that’s a good sign,” her mother told her with a laugh, leaning over to peer into the bowl. “That smells amazing Mona! I think the kids will really like them.”

  Ramona liked it when her mother complimented her, especially when it came to something besides school work. “Thanks! I think they’ll turn out,” she decided, giving the dough another good stir before she got out the baking sheet, greasing it well so the cookies wouldn’t stick.

  Her mother gave her a curious little look then, starting on a fresh batch of bread dough for wheat bread. She gave her daughter a secretive smile and then lowered her voice “No Alec today, then?”

  The question came so out of left field that Ramona choked on her own spit, having to swallow thickly so she didn’t continue to strangle. Her eyes were wide as she started to roll out balls of cookie dough, placing them carefully on the sheet. “Why would you ask it like that? That’s so weird!”

  It was true that she had been spending a lot of time after school with Alec, but they were always working on their project. They had met up at his house several more times, and once or twice at the library. They did spend a lot of time talking, that she couldn’t deny, but they also spent a lot of time working or reading their favorite passages from the book to one another so they could talk about them and form their opinions. It was honestly becoming a highlight of her week, which was either really great or really sad. She was still on the fence about which one it was.