The Wrong Side of Kai

by Estelle Maskame

  “Those action figures are yours?” I question, watching the way he takes great care of positioning all the figures on the shelf, like there’s a certain order to it.

  “Don’t laugh,” Kai says, glancing defensively over his shoulder at me. “They’re from my childhood, and I don’t have the heart to toss them. It’s not like I actually play with them.”

  “And is all this stuff souvenirs from your childhood too?” I scour the floor again, and the desk space, and the window seat. There’s stacks of old CDs, video games, a couple TVs, and college textbooks.

  “Not exactly,” Kai says, scratching his temple as he walks back over. He kicks a few CDs out of the way. “I hang out in thrift stores and go to yard sales a lot, and I flip shit on eBay for easy cash. Helps my parents out on the money front. I’m not a hoarder, I swear.”

  Oh. There’s a lot of stuff here. Definitely a few hundred dollars’ worth of stuff that needs sold, and I think how it’s super cute that Kai does this to help out his parents. He must care about them a lot. They’re an actual family that looks out for each other. I miss how that feels.

  “Speaking of your parents . . .” I say, nervously shoving my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. “Should I really be in your room right now? I don’t want them to think . . .”

  “That we’re up here grabbing a knife to slash some tires with?” Kai stares intensely at me, his mouth twitching into a smirk. I stare right back at him, just as intensely, before he turns and heads to his closet. He searches through his clothes for a few moments, until finally he retrieves something. He comes back over to me and holds out his hand, presenting a small Stanley knife. “Ready to mess with Harrison Boyd?”

  So, we’re really doing this. We’re really about to declare war on Harrison. I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes meet Kai’s. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  6

  It’s kind of thrilling, you know. Whirling down the middle of the road with the wind in my hair, kicking up leaves as we track our way across Westerville’s quiet streets. There’s a nip to the air that bites at my nose and ears. I’m riding the hell out of Kai’s bike, like a kid at Christmas, whizzing too fast around corners and standing up in the pedals because I’m suddenly convinced it makes me look cool. And if the cops saw us now, two teenagers in hoodies and leather jackets racing across town on bikes, I’m sure they’d have some questions. Honestly, I was so glad to abandon the Green McRusty back at Kai’s place.

  “I hope your parents don’t report it for suspicious inactivity and have it towed,” I said as we pedaled away from his house.

  “No guarantees,” he replied, with a wink over his shoulder as he flew past me at speed.

  But it’s me who’s in the lead now. I’m guiding the way to Harrison’s house, but the closer we get to his neighborhood, the more my head begins to spin. I’m shaking, but with nerves and not the cold. I like to think I really don’t have any fucks to give these days, that I’m someone who does whatever she wants. It’s an attitude that makes life easier. Living by my own rules. Not caring. But yet, as I cycle toward Harrison’s house, I find myself wondering if maybe it’s wrong to slash his tires. Plus, it’s a crime. Would it be a step too far? He loves his truck. But his family has money, and I know he’ll have a fresh set of tires fitted within twenty-four hours. It’ll be more of an inconvenience than anything else. And I think Harrison deserves to be inconvenienced, after all. He put my body on display to the world. He caused this anger, so he can’t blame me for being irrational.

  “You keeping up?” I call back to Kai.

  “Yep. Got a nice view worth keeping up with,” I hear him yell back, his tone easy.

  Instantly, I slam my butt back down onto the saddle and fire him a glare over my shoulder. I nearly run into a streetlight. “Please wait until tomorrow at least before making remarks like that. That video is still raw.” If today had been any other day, his comment would have made me wonder just how much Kai likes what he sees. But I’m too numb, too protective of my body to entertain his comedic remarks this soon.

  “Sorry, Nessie,” Kai says. He rolls up alongside me and when I glance over, he’s mock-pouting like a little kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s clear he’s teasing me and wants me to forgive him, but I remain seated.

  “It’s just around this corner,” I say, feeling those nerves coursing through me again. I’ve never done anything like this. Never been much of a wild child, so this is all new to me, and I can’t tell if I hate the way it’s making me feel or if I’m enjoying the rush.

  A car passes us, angrily honking its horn because we’re biking down the middle of the street, but Kai just flips them the finger. I don’t think he gives too many fucks either. Maybe that’s why we’re going to make a good team, because neither of us cares too much about the consequences of our actions. We might be a good team, but we’re probably a bad combination.

  “Ah, how the rich kids live,” Kai remarks as we turn onto Harrison’s street. We gradually slow down, silently rolling past the rows of American-dream homes. The white picket fences. Actual driveways with more than one car parked in them. No loose trash accumulating in the gutters, no broken streetlights. Perfect homes inhabited by perfect families. “Maybe we should egg his house.”

  “I bet a street like this has some sort of neighborhood watch in place,” I say. “Keep your head down.”

  “Okay, partner.” Kai pulls his hood up over his head. “Let’s do this.”

  I brake sharply outside Harrison’s house. His lawn is so huge, his house is actually set a hundred yards back from the sidewalk. I’ve been here a couple times. Never inside the house itself, though. Always the basement. Harrison didn’t want his parents to know he had a girl over. Not a girl like me, anyway. They would have lost their shit if they’d ever caught us, apparently.

  “I guess they’re home,” Kai comments, nodding at the driveway full of cars. Harrison’s truck is among them. “Gotta be extra sneaky now.” He gets off his father’s bike and dumps it behind the oak tree on the sidewalk, then crouches down. I follow suit, huddling behind the tree next to him.

  “Plan of action?” I whisper, hyper aware of his shoulders nudging mine.

  “Slash the tires, then maybe – oh, I don’t know – run like Usain Bolt?”

  I narrow my eyes at his deadpan expression until he chuckles under his breath, rolling his eyes at me. I guess the plan was obvious. It’s not like we’re going to hang around to get caught.

  He pulls out the Stanley knife from the front pouch of his hoodie and encloses his fist around it. The fact that we’re biking around town with a knife only makes this feel way more wrong than it already did, and a lot more serious. “You’re my lookout, okay? But first, full disclosure. You’re aware this is a crime, right?”

  “So is sharing indecent videos of a minor,” I say flatly, staring evenly at him. I can play his deadpan games. “Now shall you do the honors or shall I?”

  Kai smirks, then pulls on the drawstrings of his hoodie to conceal his face before he dashes off across the lawn. He disappears behind Harrison’s truck, then a few seconds later, I spot his head pop up. I glance all around the street – listening for approaching cars, searching for wandering neighbors, checking the house for movement. There’re lights on inside. Colors from a TV screen flash from a room downstairs.

  My gaze flickers back over to Kai, and I nod to give him the go-ahead. I still don’t know why he’s doing this, but I can’t help but admire his commitment to the cause.

  Immediately, he ducks out of view again. I wait by the tree, listening for some sort of loud bang or something, but all I hear is silence. And then the quiet hissing of air. And then a thunderous bang! makes me jump half out my skin.

  Suddenly, Kai is sprinting toward me, his hood blowing down as he runs. “GO, GO, GO!” he hisses, gesturing wildly at me with his hands. He shoves the knife back into his pocket and jumps onto his bike. I stumble to swing myself
onto mine, the adrenaline rush rendering me useless, and I panic even more when Kai catapults off without me. He’s standing tall, cycling at his hardest, a shrinking figure in the darkness.

  My blood is rushing to my ears, my heart pounding as I clamber onto the bike, desperately trying to find the pedals. I hear the front door open and a deep voice calls, “HEY!” across the lawn. I’m convinced I’m having a heart attack because none of my limbs are working, but then I finally burst into motion. I cycle so hard my legs go numb as I race off in the direction Kai went, leaving Harrison Boyd’s house behind, never glancing back.

  The wind blows my hair into my eyes, obscuring my vision, but I just keep on pedaling, my legs powered by fear. Was that Harrison who came outside? Or his dad? I pray with everything in me that it was his father. Harrison would have recognized me, although when he discovers his vandalized truck, I’m sure he’ll know in an instant that I’m behind it. Either way, I’m screwed. I start thinking about jail cells and extortionate bills and the criminal charges that the Boyds will press against me.

  “Nessie!” I hear Kai call, and I skid to a stop. My heart is beating so hard it hurts. I move my hair out of my face as I search for my partner-in-crime, and my shoulders sink with relief when I see Kai perched on the edge of a low wall. His bike is on the ground.

  “What the hell, Kai? Teammates? You left me behind!” I yell, panting my words. I clamber off my bike – or his bike, whatever – and walk it over to him. I throw it down hard onto the sidewalk and watch him squirm.

  “I’m here waiting for you now, aren’t I?” he says, cocking his head. He doesn’t make any comments about me possibly damaging his bike. “Teamwork also means not getting the other one caught. Sorry, but you sucked back there.”

  He’s not wrong. I just couldn’t get myself away from the scene; it was like I was glued to the spot, a sorry excuse for a criminal. With my head hung low, I sit down next to Kai and sulk. We’re in the next neighborhood over, but it doesn’t feel far enough. I’m worried the police are going to come whizzing down the street, lights blaring, any second.

  And then what? What if Dad had to pick me up from the station because I’d been charged with a crime? Would that be enough to shake him out of his numbness?

  “I got the front tires cut, but the rear one burst. Nearly blew my damn brains out,” Kai tells me, running his hands through his hair. “But at least now Harrison has one wrecked tire and two that’ll be totally flat by morning. Does that make you feel a little better?”

  I look sideways at Kai. He gives me a gentle smile. “Yeah, it does,” I admit. Harrison deserves to have a shitty week. I can picture him now – standing around his truck with his parents in shock, examining the damage. He was probably already pissed at me for hurling gravel at his paintwork last night. But who cares? He and his precious truck can go to hell.

  Kai leans back on his hands and stares up at the cold sky, dark and dotted with stars. “It’s fun, right? Doing the wrong thing,” he says almost wistfully.

  “Sounds like you’re used to doing the wrong thing.”

  “Only lately,” he says.

  “Why’s that?”

  “No one worth doing the right thing for.” He slides off the wall and yanks his bike up from the ground, turning his back on me. I get the sense that he doesn’t want to elaborate, so I don’t push it. “We should turn in for the night. The plan is to start off easy, then ramp up the pressure until Harrison cracks.”

  We get back on the bikes and head off, making our way to Kai’s place so that I can, unfortunately, claim back the Green McRusty. It’s nearing eleven, so Westerville is pretty much dead to the world. At least in these neighborhoods. We cut across lawns and fly through cross sections without looking, feeling indestructible. Kai and I don’t say much to one another, not until we’re nearing his house.

  “Damn, no one stole it,” Kai says, tutting in dismay at my horrible SUV still parked up outside.

  I slide off my bike and pull out the keys from my pocket, pausing next to the car. I think my heartbeat has only just returned to normal. I look at Kai as I hold onto the handlebars, waiting for him to take his bike from me. “I guess I’ll see you at school.”

  “No, you won’t see me at school,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s still sat on his dad’s bike, feet planted on the ground to keep his balance. When I stare at him with confusion flashing across my face, he rolls his eyes as though the explanation is obvious. “We’re not friends. We don’t know each other. We’re not associated. So, don’t look anywhere in my direction. And keep the bike. You’ll need it for next time.”

  “Uh. Okay.” I go quiet, still perplexed. I’m searching Kai’s expression for something more, but I can’t get past his calm, cool exterior. “You trust me enough to give me your bike?”

  “What are you gonna do, Nessie? Pedal off into the horizon with it?”

  I purse my lips and shove his bike into the backseat, slamming the door shut. I turn around once more, only to be polite, and give Kai a smile that even feels awkward, so I don’t know how it must look to him. How do I say goodbye to him, a stranger but one who I’m now complicit with?

  But the stranger does it for me. “Goodnight, Nessie. I’m sorry for leaving you behind.”

  “It’s fine. Goodnight, Kai.”

  He pulls a face, shaking his head. “No, Nessie, that’s not how this works. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Goodnight—” I grit my teeth and lower my voice “—Captain Washington.”

  Kai’s face lights up with that childlike glee again, and it makes me wonder what he meant when he said he hasn’t been doing the right thing lately. Other than witnessing him literally slashing someone’s truck tires thirty minutes ago, he doesn’t seem all that bad to me. But then again, would someone who wasn’t that bad really set out to ruin someone else’s life? I guess we all have different sides. Right now, I just so happen to be seeing the wrong side of Kai.

  We turn our backs on one another. Kai cycles off into his back yard and I climb into my car, and I definitely don’t dither. In a matter of seconds, I’m speeding away from his house, heading back to my own. As I drive alone in silence for the few minutes that it takes to get home, fatigue sinks in. All of the emotional stress from today has exhausted me.

  My head is a war zone, so many different thoughts fighting with one another; the minute one comes out top, another jostles for position and shoves it to one side. The conflict of feelings is relentless.

  I’m feeling fury at Harrison for betraying me by sharing something that was for no one else to see. But also anger at myself for being so stupid, for letting him record that video in the first place. But was I really so wrong to trust him to keep it to himself? A small part of me wants to believe I’m innocent, that I’m a victim in this, but it’s no match for the voice in my head that’s insisting it’s all my fault. Like, if I wind it all back to the start, I should have never hooked up with Harrison in the first place. That action was the trigger for all this.

  It’s strange the way life works. You can feel comfortable about your decisions, content with them, yet the outside world can turn a single, unthinking moment into something so awful that you’re forced to regret it. I feel disgusted at myself – not for the hookup, but for not realizing what I was letting myself in for – even when yesterday I didn’t. What we’ve done to Harrison doesn’t wash that disgust away, not one bit.

  I park outside my house and grab Kai’s bike from the back seat. I don’t want Dad heading off to work in the morning and spying it in the rearview, so I dump it in the yard and hope for the love of God that no one steals it during the night. Our neighborhood isn’t particularly sketchy, but we do get some weirdos roaming through on their way uptown. I don’t think Kai would be too impressed if I told him some stranger had taken his bike.

  The front door is unlocked when I reach it. Dad always forgets to lock the front door at night, but I like to pretend he leaves it unlocked on purpose because h
e’s worried I’ll forget my keys or something.

  “Dad?” I gently call out. All the lights are still on, so Dad must still be up. I walk into the living room, and there he is, standing on a step ladder and trying to balance some artwork on the wall.

  “The painting fell down again,” he says without looking over his shoulder at me. For once, it seems he’s actually heard me come home. He stretches up higher and the ladder wobbles. “It’s a goddamn ugly painting, but Debra loved it, so I need to get it back up.” He tucks the artwork under his armpit and begins fiddling with the hooks in the walls. True, the painting doesn’t come close to matching our color scheme and it used to give Kennedy nightmares when we were younger, but our living room wouldn’t be the same without that murky lake with human faces beneath the water that Mom bought off one of her quirky art friends a decade ago.

  I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s after eleven. Now is not the time for DIY. “Just do it in the morning, Dad.”

  “No, Vanessa!” Dad snaps, his head swiveling around. His cheeks flare red as he clings onto the painting while balancing on the ladder. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to fix it? I’m almost done.”

  Maybe, I think in despair, things would be different if Mom’s health had gradually deteriorated over time, if we knew what was to come. Maybe that extra time would have allowed us to prepare ourselves mentally for such a loss, but it didn’t happen that way. On the Wednesday evening, Mom was yelling at Kennedy and me for fighting over the TV remote and reminding us to bring our laundry downstairs. By the Thursday afternoon, she was pronounced dead in the ambulance. She didn’t even make it to the hospital. Our entire world changed in that moment. We had no time to prepare. No time to learn how to accept it. I just remember being pulled out of school and how all the air in my lungs was knocked straight out of me when my grandparents choked through sobs that my mother was gone. When we arrived at the ER, Dad was an inconsolable, untouchable heap on the floor, his knees hugged to his chest and his head in his hands. It was the first and only time I’ve ever heard anyone wail.