by Brent, Cora
I’m tempted to jump over the counter and strangle him. “You piece of shit.”
He laughs and then something catches his eye. Camden is back. She’s still wearing her Black Mountain Academy plaid skirt so it’s obvious she’s in high school but goddamn if that motherfucker doesn’t look her up and down with disgusting greed. I have to give her credit, though. Rather than shrink under his stare she straightens her back and glares right back, as if she’s silently telling him she knows what’s on his mind and she’s not amused.
Dirtbag finally looks away. He belches and scratches his stomach. Then he flips me off and stalks out the door. I really hope I don’t run into him again later. If I do then I might decide to give in to some violent urges.
My fist clenches and I hit the counter before I remember that Camden is still standing there. She’s looking at me and now there’s pity in her eyes. Wonderful. She must have heard everything.
After I manage to relax my balled up fist I pull the cash out of my wallet and dump it in the register to pay for Dirtbag’s dip.
Camden has crept close enough to lean her elbows on the counter.
“I’m sorry about that, Ben.”
Diane keeps a swivel chair behind the counter when she works and she left it here. I pull it over and sit down.
“What the hell are you sorry for? Are you related to him?”
The pity remains. “I just meant I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Sounds like things aren’t great at home.”
Things haven’t been ‘great at home’ since my dad took a bullet to the head.
Camden uses my silence as an opening. “Do you want to talk about it? I promise I won’t judge.”
No, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to examine my feelings with Camden or anyone else. If I start to do that I might begin punching the counter again. And I might never stop.
“Ben?”
I look at her. “Is it really your birthday today?”
“It’s actually tomorrow.” She makes a face. “Seriously, I can’t believe I’m eighteen. I remember when age eighteen sounded so old.” Her head cocks. “When do you turn eighteen?”
“June.”
That’s true. And it’s not. I did not specify the year. Chronologically my eighteenth birthday happened six months ago. But in the tumultuous time after my father’s death I lost a lot of months of school. My mom thought it was in my best interest to repeat a year and the family friend who secured a new identity for us agreed that it was a good idea to change my birthdate. So on paper I am three hundred and fifty nine days younger than in reality.
She’s waiting for me to say more. I wish she wasn’t so pretty. Camden has a natural kind of beauty that doesn’t require makeup. I’m wary over the fact that she’s in full reporter mode, asking questions and trying to extract answers. But I really don’t want to be a dick to her.
“Camden, I can handle the store tomorrow night if you don’t want to work on your birthday. You probably have better plans than stocking shelves and cooking hot dogs.”
She’s shaking her head before I finish talking. “No, it’s all right.”
“Diane and Dee won’t mind.”
“I should work.”
That kind of stops me for a second. She must really need the money. I think back to the day she showed up here and Dee ended up offering her a job. We’ve got some things in common. There aren’t too many kids at Black Mountain Academy who worry about paying the bills.
“Who’s Adela?” I ask her because I remember Dee mentioning the name.
A smile tilts her lips but she looks sad. “Adela’s my mom. Well, my stepmom. I think of her as my mom. My real mother died when I was a baby but somehow I don’t think she’d mind knowing how much I love Adela.” She tucks a strand of long hair behind her left ear and swallows. “Adela has breast cancer. Her prognosis is good but the treatment takes a lot out of her and she hasn’t been able to work in months.”
This is a moment where people lower their eyes and mutter, “I’m sorry”. That never made any sense to me. Still, I’d be made of bricks if I didn’t feel bad for her. She’s obviously torn up by her stepmom’s illness and she’s already lost one parent. There are few things more terrible than losing a parent and I’m hovering on the edge of admitting that grief is something I understand too well. The weight of four years of silence presses on me and if Camden were a different girl and if we were in a different place I might choose to tell her about my father. Not everything. That would be impossible no matter who she is. But I might decide to be a little bit honest with her if she weren’t Camden Galway. Pretty. Brainy. Curious. Reporter. That could all add up to trouble if I let it.
“That sucks,” I tell her because her story does suck. So does mine.
She nods with a sigh. “Hey, do you know Frankie Encanto?”
The image of a black-haired kid a few grades behind me at Devil Valley High comes to mind. “Yeah, I remember him.”
“He’s Adela’s son, my stepbrother. But he’s my real brother in every way that matters.”
“I didn’t know that. He’s on the wrestling team, right?”
“That’s him. I go to his matches to cheer him on whenever I can.”
Her face is alight with pride when she talks about her brother. Camden obviously loves her family. In spite of their struggles her home is probably a happy one.
She tilts her head. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I have no siblings. Only cousins. Fucking junior sociopaths who grew into dangerous men that I hope to never see again.
“Nope.”
Camden frowns over my one word answer. Too bad. That’s all she’s getting.
She’s about to speak again when the bell above the door jingles. A trio of Devil Valley High girls blow through it with a gust of cold air and a whole lot of high pitched chatter.
“BEN!”
“We miss you, Ben!”
“Ben, I need to hug you.”
They do not acknowledge Camden at all and I see her take a step back. Bridget Spinelli, head cheerleader and mean girl extraordinaire, who isn’t afraid to enhance her attitude with her fists, practically shoves Camden out of the way before hopping up on the counter. Her boyfriend is Dez Taylor, the biggest offensive lineman on the football team. But I’m not worried about what’ll happen if he hears about how Bridget lets her varsity jacket slip from her bare shoulders, cups her hand across the back of my neck and gives me a long taste of her tongue. That’s the thing about Dez; he likes his girl to get it on with other guys. I don’t push her away but in truth she does nothing for me and she tastes like cheap alcohol and nicotine.
Her friends, Abbey and Maya, also Devil Valley cheerleaders, crowd around the counter as well.
“Ben, when are you coming back to school?”
“No fair that Black Mountain took the hottest guy.”
Bridget hops off the counter and pats her own tits. “Bet those private school bitches don’t keep you this entertained.”
I add nothing to the conversation but they don’t seem to mind. The three of them are content to listen to the cackle of their own voices before wandering the aisles and making a mess. I keep an eye on them because if they think I’ll stand by while they rip off the Cushings they’ve got another thing coming.
Meanwhile, Camden has retreated out of sight and aside from a brief sneer from Bridget I saw no interaction between her and the Devil Valley girls. I know Camden went to school around here until she transferred to Black Mountain after middle school. Devil Valley isn’t a big town so Camden must know them and vice versa. Whatever. Girls are weird. They carry around lifelong grudges over a sour look or a stupid piece of gossip.
Abbey pouts when I tell her she can’t have a pair of sunglasses for free and Bridget is displeased when I won’t let her take any beer. Ultimately they purchase a handful of bubble gum lollipops and a jar of Vaseline. It’s an interesting combination and I can only guess what their plans are.
<
br /> Bridget files her nails while Maya pays for the items. When I hand the bag over, Bridget pointedly licks her upper lip.
“We’ll all be at The Lot later. I’m sure we can find something for you to do if you come by and visit.”
She exits with a blast of freezing air and her two minions blow kisses my way before following her out the door. The Lot is just an empty space of land behind the old leather factory outside town. It’s a frequent party spot and if you stick around long enough you’re bound to see something X-rated plus at least one fight. I don’t see any appeal in hanging out there in this freezing weather and hooking up with a girl I’d have no interest in talking to in the daylight. On the other hand, going home later and possibly dealing with Dirtbag sounds even less exciting.
“I see your harem left.”
“What?” I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Camden’s return.
She’s grimacing as she straightens the display of sunglasses that was ransacked by the cheerleaders. “Your friends.”
“They’re not my friends. I hardly know them.”
“Right. That’s why your tongue was halfway down Bridget ’s throat.”
She won’t look at me and her tone is sharp. There’s a flush in her cheeks and her forehead is creased. A thought occurs to me and I smile.
“You’re jealous.”
She glares. “Get real.”
“Well, it sounds like you want an introduction to my tongue. That can be arranged.”
She doesn’t stomp off or toss back an insult. She scrutinizes me for a long moment and taps her finger against her lips. “I don’t understand you, Beltran.”
“I’m not trying real hard to be understood by you, Galway.”
She’s still thinking. “There’s just something off about you. I mean, you have all the obnoxious lines down and your attitude is the pits but somehow it seems like an act.”
I don’t like the comment. She’s getting too close to something real.
Camden continues her thought process aloud. “I’ve heard all the stories about you. You cultivate this image of a brainless jock yet you wouldn’t be going to Black Mountain if you didn’t have ambition. And we share enough classes for me to see that you’re smarter than you want people to think you are. You say you moved here from Chicago but Devil Valley is kind of a hole in the wall destination and you don’t seem to have any local connections. It’s just you and your mom. Who are you, Ben? What are you about?”
She’s wearing her reporter personality right now and it’s obvious she’s spent some time thinking about these questions. I have no intention of answering them so I turn the tables on her.
“Why don’t you have any friends, Camden?”
She blinks. “I have friends.”
“Are they invisible?”
The question makes her flinch. Obviously a nerve has been hit. “Trina’s my friend. Along with everyone else who works on the Bulletin.”
“But you grew up in Devil Valley. You live here. Yet you seem to have no friends within a twenty mile radius.”
“So sue me for failing to be a social butterfly. I take my schoolwork seriously. I take the school newspaper seriously. And I take care of my family. Unlike you, I don’t go out partying every weekend, getting drunk or high and then trying to remember how many people I messed around with.”
Camden ends her little speech by accidentally knocking over a display of chocolate Santas. It’s kind of a funny moment, especially when she curses and drops to the floor to start cleaning up, but I don’t laugh.
I know what she’s talking about and for the first time the wild rumors about me become a real pain in the ass.
With ease I hop over the counter and get on the floor at her side.
“I can clean it up,” she grumbles.
“I know.” I set the wire rack upright and begin carefully stacking the foil wrapped candies. “I’m helping anyway.”
A few moments of silence pass as we try to return the display of Christmas candy to its rightful glory. Then Camden sits back on her knees and sighs.
“Bridget Spinelli was my best friend when we were little. She lives two houses down from me and we’ve known each other since we were in diapers.”
“You two don’t seem all that close now.”
“An understatement. She had a fit when she found out I was going to Black Mountain. Called me a stuck up cunt and smacked me across the face in the middle of the cafeteria. I’m surprised you never heard about it. Anyway, we haven’t talked since then.”
I get to my feet. “I don’t think you’re missing much.”
She’s still on the floor and I’m about to reach out to help her up when she abruptly stands. In her left hand is a decapitated chocolate Santa. She holds it up with a grim little smile.
“Check it out. There’s been a casualty.”
There’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek and she’s never looked cuter. There are all kinds of feelings colliding in my chest right now and I wish there weren’t. I can’t tell her the whole truth. But I can tell her at least a little bit of the truth so that maybe she won’t think the worst of me. I’m about to admit that a lot of the raunchy rumors connected to my name are wildly exaggerated when she sets the headless Santa on the counter and looks me in the eye.
“Ben, I’d like to write an article about you.”
I must have heard her wrong. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You have a good story. This mystery guy from the big city moves to Devil Valley and then is offered a chance to play baseball at elite Black Mountain Academy. But I think there’s more to it than that and I know people would be interested to read about you.”
Camden doesn’t even seem to notice the way I’ve grown stiff with anger.
“Is that why you wanted a job here? So you could fucking spy on me?”
She’s startled. “What? No, that’s not it at all. And I’m not spying on you for god’s sake. I want to interview you and I’ve been meaning to ask you and-“
“Forget it, Camden. You hear me? Fucking forget it.”
Her mouth opens and then closes with no sound coming out. For once Camden Galway has nothing to say. Her feelings are hurt. She thinks I’m an asshole. That bothers me but it can’t be helped.
I hop over the counter once more and refuse to look at her. “You can clean up the rest of your mess yourself.”
Camden
I am not expecting a big deal to be made of my birthday this year but I wake up to the smell of bacon frying and find my family all awake and waiting for me in the small kitchen. My dad, bleary eyed from his exhaustive work schedule and wearing Adela’s pink apron in front of the stove, greets me with the widest of smiles and a strong hug. Adela reaches out from her chair and I bend down to be wrapped in her gentle arms. Even Frankie manages an awkward hug and presents me with a plate of misshapen pancakes.
I feel very loved as I open my gifts between bites of breakfast. I receive a set of pretty clothbound journals, new clothes and a gift card to my favorite online bookstore. For a little while I just enjoy being in the company of my family. I can put away worries about the future and about money and about stupid Ben Beltran, who has been occupying a lot more space in my head than he has any right to occupy.
My dad takes a seat beside his wife and drowns his pancakes in syrup. “I can’t believe my baby girl is eighteen. We’ll go out to dinner at Imogen’s Grill. Unless you’d rather go somewhere nicer up in Black Mountain, Cam.”
“Imogen’s is great. But I already agreed to work at Dee’s tonight. I’m supposed to be there at three.”
“Oh.” My dad frowns. His hair has greyed considerably in the last six months. We haven’t been out to eat as a family in ages. I wish I’d taken Ben up on his offer to take the night off but after our argument last night I’d rather drive nails into my thumb than ask him for anything now.
“Forget it, Camden. You hear me? Fucking forget it.”
My fingers clench around the
fork as I remember the outrage in his voice. A normal person would have just said, ‘No thanks’ if declining an interview but Ben Beltran goes ballistic and sulks and glares as if he’s been unforgivably insulted. If I had any doubt that he was hiding something then last night’s tantrum blew those doubts away.
“We could go to lunch instead,” Adela suggests with her hand on my father’s arm. “Would you like that, Camden?”
“I would love to go to lunch.”
Frankie pipes up with his mouth full. “Can’t go. I promised Aiden and Henry we’d hang out this afternoon.”
His mother responds with a pointed look. Frankie wilts and swallows his food.
“You know what? The guys will be fine without me. My sister doesn’t turn eighteen every day.”
Adela is having a good day today. She’s not as tired as she often is and she eats the breakfast prepared by my father without being coaxed. After breakfast I retreat to my room to try on my new clothes and I know the soft knock on the door is her.
“Oh, you look so pretty,” she says, her eyes shining when she sees me in the navy blue vintage style dress. Months earlier I’d shown her a picture of it on my phone and then forgotten about it but somehow she’d discovered a similar pattern and found the energy to sew it herself.
I twirl so the skirt fans out. “The length is perfect. Store bought dresses aren’t designed for tall girls.”
Adela sits down on my bed. Her hands automatically drift to her head to ensure that the soft wrap circling her bare scalp is in place. It’s something she does automatically and self-consciously.
“You start Christmas break next week, don’t you?”
“Yup. Tuesday is the last day of school until after the holidays.”
She shoots me a sly look. “You haven’t mentioned any boys lately.”
I snort and sit down beside her on the bed. “There aren’t any worth mentioning.”
Despite the words coming out of my mouth my brain insists on thinking of Ben Beltran and I don’t want to think about Ben in that way. I don’t like Ben. Ben is impossible. Ben is unworthy of a crush.