Oh, yeah. Colton had mentioned that. “Why?”
“Bonnie made your dad her famous peach cobbler. He dropped it off. But you’re right. He’s handsome. Not many boys have shoulder-length hair.”
“Well, he’s got girls at his feet. So…”
Her head tipped to the side. “You weren’t about to say you’re not pretty enough, I hope.”
I considered myself nice looking, but I wasn’t beautiful like Amanda Gelling. Maybe Grady was right. Maybe I did look like a boy.
Nan rose and took my hand. “Come with me.”
I had no idea where we were going until something hit me. Maybe she was taking me next door to Colton.
I tugged my hand away. “I should go see Dad.”
“This will only take a minute.” She crossed the hall and went into the bathroom. “Come here, please.”
My shoulders slumped as I joined her in front of the sink.
She flicked on the lighted mirror. “I want you to tell me what you see.”
“Why? I know what I look like.” Short brown, streaked with blond and cut above my ears. Brown eyes that were red around the edges, and a nose as red as Rudolph’s.
She gripped my shoulders from behind. “Do you?”
We locked eyes through the mirror.
“I sense a bit of low self-esteem. And for as long as I’ve known you, I have yet to see someone who thinks they’re not good enough.”
I was strong and feisty when I had to be. But I was also quiet and reserved. It all depended on the situation. But maybe she was right. Since I’d laid eyes on Colton, I’d been a little out of sorts. “I just feel… I haven’t been interested in a guy before now.”
“I understand. They can bring out emotions in you that you never knew you had.”
Colton definitely did that. Since that morning, I’d experienced tingles, butterflies, heart-pounding nerves, and even sweating.
“Well,” she said, “if you need to talk, I’m a good listener. But please do me a favor. Never, ever think you’re not beautiful. Because you are.”
“What if he doesn’t see me as such?”
“Then he’s an idiot and not right for you.”
I frowned because I should have been talking about boys with Mom.
Nan rested her delicate fingers under my chin and lifted. “Smile.”
I didn’t want this to morph into a depressing convo about Mom, so I turned and hugged her. “Thank you.” In some ways, I needed her as much as Dad did. She was becoming a light in our darkness. “Nan, when that time comes, can I live with you?”
She moved strands of my hair out of my eyes. “I don’t think that’s possible. Don’t get me wrong—I would love for you to—but I think your dad has other plans.”
I shoved down the need to cry again. I didn’t want to live with his sister in California. Above all else, I couldn’t leave my friends behind. “I can talk to him.” Not that I wanted to talk about life after Dad.
“You’ll be eighteen in what, eleven months, right?”
“Yeah. End of July next year.” I’d just turned seventeen a month before. Nan had baked me a lemon cake.
“Let’s take one moment at a time. I know that doesn’t help, but we can’t look that far out. If we do, we’ll make ourselves sick. Enjoy the time with your dad as much as possible. But I also want you to have fun with your friends. It’s your senior year, after all.”
Dad grunted loudly, the sound coming through the baby monitor she had in her scrubs. That was his way of saying he needed help or wanted something.
She started for the door, pushing her glasses higher up on her nose.
“Nan, thank you for all that you do for Dad and me.”
She blinked several times, no doubt trying not to cry. “I’m so glad I took this job. I’m here anytime for you. Okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be in to see him in a minute.” It was time to put on a happy face and get myself together, but that was becoming more and more of a challenge.
5
Twenty minutes later, I walked into our modest kitchen, the aroma of roasted chicken heavy in the air. I plucked a piece of meat off the carving board that was sitting on the small island fit for two. When we moved in, Dad had given the room a makeover—fresh coat of paint, new white cabinets, black appliances, and a sprinkle of red in the curtains I’d hung in the corner window above the sink.
I savored the juicy chicken as I glanced out our sliding glass door. Pinecones littered the grass from the trees climbing to the sky at the far end of our backyard. Azalea bushes decorated the perimeter of our fence on both sides, with several rosebushes nestled between them.
I was ready to grab another piece of the juicy meat when I heard yelling.
“I hate you.” It was Colton’s voice.
My heartbeat tripped. I inched over to the window that I realized was cracked. Nan often opened it to let out the heat from the oven.
From where I stood, part of my view landed right on Colton’s deck. The other part looked out into our yard.
“Why did you pull me out of Deer Run Academy?” Colton practically shouted. “So I could endure your shit? News flash, old man. I’m not living here if you’re going to lash out every time you get an ounce of liquor in you.”
Colton’s dad, who resembled Colton with his brown eyes and thick hair, jumped out of his chair so quickly that I couldn’t track him. The next thing I knew, the elder Caldwell had his hand around his son’s neck, almost bending Colton’s back over the railing. “Respect your elders, son. And let’s not forget: my house, my rules.”
Mrs. Caldwell ran out, trying hard to wedge her petite frame in-between father and son, but she failed. “Mike, what are you doing?”
Colton shoved his dad, baring his teeth. “Touch me again and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
Mr. Caldwell slammed his beer bottle on the deck and closed his hands into fists. “You’re threatening me?”
My pulse became unsteady as I watched father and son practically tear each other apart.
I couldn’t quite see Mr. Caldwell’s face, but I didn’t have to, given the rage dripping in his tone.
Mrs. Caldwell swept her hand up the back of her brown bun. “Mike, stop this right now.”
Her husband wasn’t listening. Colton stood tall, his features pinched hard.
I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping or watching, but I couldn’t look away. Our neighbors were privy to Mr. Caldwell’s drunken outbursts even when Colton wasn’t home. At times, the whole neighborhood could hear him yelling at his wife.
“Son,” Mrs. Caldwell said to Colton. “Please.”
Colton regarded his mom, his eyes softening. “No. I didn’t come home to be attacked by my father or to put up with his shit.”
Mr. Caldwell raised his fist.
“Go ahead, old man. You won’t win this round.”
Mr. Caldwell retreated a few steps.
“If you weren’t drinking, you still might have a job, and I would be at the academy instead of in this dump of a town.”
In a mere second, Mr. Caldwell was throwing a punch at Colton.
I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth, hoping they didn’t hear me.
Mrs. Caldwell cried, “Mike, stop right now! The neighbors are probably watching.”
I didn’t know if she’d seen me, but she knew we could see her deck from our kitchen.
Colton touched his bleeding lip. “I’m out of here.”
“Colton,” Mrs. Caldwell pleaded. “Please.”
Her plea fell on deaf ears as Colton stormed into the house. In a matter of seconds, I heard his truck fire to life. Tires screeched before the sound of the engine faded.
Nan came in. “Are you listening to the commotion?” She pointed to the window.
“I now know why Colton is finishing his senior year at Blue Oaks. His dad lost his job.”
“It’s none of our business,” she said. “A
nd your dad is asking for you.”
I understood that I shouldn’t get involved, and I wouldn’t. But it was difficult when neighbors aired their dirty laundry outdoors.
After wiping my hands, I waltzed into Dad’s bedroom, complete with a hospital bed, lift system, two rolling carts filled with medical supplies, a stand with his eye-gaze computer, and a big-screen TV on wheels situated at the foot of his bed.
Dad’s smile brightened my day. “There you are! How was school?” the robotic male voice from the computer asked.
I bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “Fine. Teachers explaining the upcoming year mostly.”
He typed again.
As I waited, I glanced at one of many framed pictures of Mom and me that Dad had on the walls. The images were his way of feeling like he had us at his side.
“Did you see Colton today? He came by this morning. Maybe you can ask him to help you change the oil in the Toyota. Bonnie says Colton has been tinkering with cars up at the academy.”
I’d heard him, but I read the words on the screen anyway, more to collect my thoughts than anything else. I felt as though I’d been sideswiped by an oncoming car. I mean, Colton had been on my mind since he’d hit me that morning, but I wasn’t prepared to hear Dad bring him up. “I’m sure I can take the car to one of those oil places or change it myself. You did teach me how.” I hadn’t done it yet, but I was sure I could.
After Dad was diagnosed with ALS, he’d begun a list of things to teach me, such as car maintenance, how to use the collection of tools he had, and other things that didn’t seem important. He’d been preparing me for when he wasn’t here anymore.
“Do you remember how?” Dad asked.
“I have my notes.”
“Let Colton help you. At least this one time.”
I gave him a thumbs-up. If Dad wanted me to solicit Colton’s help, then I would. I couldn’t or wouldn’t disappoint my dad. Besides, maybe it was a way to break the ice between Colton and me. “I’ll ask him.”
Hell, him ramming his truck into you broke the ice.
Dad’s blue eyes brightened before he returned to typing. “Skye, Aunt Clara will be flying out to get reacquainted with you. I think it’s important to discuss some of the details of guardianship before it’s too late.”
My stomach hollowed. “I want to live with Nan.” The words rushed out like a fast-moving current after a hard rain.
His eyes filled with tears.
Way to go, Skyler. Hurt your dad’s feelings. I leaned in so my head touched his. “I’m sorry.” I shuddered. “Aunt Clara is nice.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I didn’t like her. Or maybe it was more the idea of moving over three thousand miles away. “I don’t want to leave my friends. And you’re not dying anytime soon.” I had to believe that.
“We need to be prepared, and my sister is family,” the computer voice said.
Nan was more family than my aunt. But with his emotions all over the place, I debated whether to continue to push the subject.
He typed, “I know Aunt Clara and I have been at odds, but since she found out I had ALS, we’re building back the relationship we once had. We’re putting our past behind us.”
In my opinion, it was a little too late. “Dad, I want to graduate here with my friends, not in California.” I figured one last-ditch effort wouldn’t hurt.
More tears leaked down his face as he typed once again.
“Please, Dad. Don’t send me to California. Mom is buried here. You’ll be buried next to her. I can’t leave you guys. I won’t.” It was my turn to cry as I bit my thumbnail.
Dad sobbed like a baby.
I felt like a schmuck as my heart broke a thousand times over.
Nan came in with a tray of food. “I thought it was no-crying Monday.”
Dad and I both laughed.
As Nan set his food down on the table, the computer said, “Aunt Clara will be here this weekend, Skye.”
My aunt was only visiting. Still, my stomach dropped to my Vans. Reality was quickly setting in. “She’s just visiting?” I asked, just to be sure. I didn’t think Dad would send me away before he passed. If he did, they would have to drag me out of North Carolina. I was not leaving Dad alone to die.
Nan nodded. “Yes. Only visiting.”
The blood began to flow through my veins again. I had time to convince Dad that Nan was the better option.
Still, the conversation was too much. I wanted my dad to live for the next fifty years. I wanted him to see me flourish into a woman, get married, and play with his grandchildren. I wanted him to teach me the things he hadn’t had a chance to, and above all else, for him to be there for me when I needed him.
As much as I didn’t want to disappoint Dad, I labored for air. I needed to get out of the house.
“Skye,” Nan called as I ran out of the room.
I grabbed my skateboard and backpack on my way out the front door. I felt like I was pulling a Colton, but I had to clear my head.
6
“Beautiful Pain” by Andy Black blared in my ears as I skated through my neighborhood, letting the tears fall.
It was hard not to feel sorry for myself. It was hard to be strong, to laugh, to act like everything was okay. It wasn’t.
A boulder sat in my stomach. I felt alone and broken. I had no one anymore. Mom was gone, and Dad… I couldn’t think that far ahead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment, wringing out my sorrow. My heart hurt more than ever before, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.
My pity party came to an abrupt halt when a vehicle whizzed by, narrowly missing me. One beat passed before I realized it wasn’t just any car. Then shock stung me worse than a bee. What is Grady doing in my neck of the woods? Rich kids like him stuck to their big mansions on the ocean and hung out at the ritzy golf club my dad couldn’t afford to play at.
He slowed before his reverse lights illuminated. His disgusting signature truck nuts dangled from the trailer hitch.
I was tempted to head the other way but knew that Grady would probably chase me down.
I hopped off my board, snapped it up, and beelined for the sidewalk. Maybe he hadn’t seen me. Maybe I could duck down behind one of the many cars parked along the street.
“Lawson!” Grady shouted in his grating voice.
Too late. “Fuck off.” I threw him the finger as I walked at a fast pace.
His truck rolled along with the speed of my legs. “Is that any way to act? I was being nice,” he shouted over the rap music blaring from inside his cab.
I rolled my eyes and tapped my ear, even though I’d heard him. I wasn’t about to scream at him. I didn’t want to disturb the neighbors.
Then the music died. “Did you hear me?”
“What are you doing in my neighborhood, anyway?”
“Looking for Colton. Have you seen him? He was supposed to meet me an hour ago. You do live next door to him, right?”
“I’m not his babysitter.” I wouldn’t have told Grady shit even if I had known where Colton was.
A stop sign loomed ahead, which meant he had to stop—but I didn’t. I could turn right at the end of the block. The skate park wasn’t that way, but I could take a detour.
When we reached the corner, he asked, “Where are you headed? I can give you a ride.”
A wild laugh escaped me, my middle finger flying in the air. “I’m not getting in a car with you.”
I wasn’t worried about what he might do to me, but rather what I would do to him—I wanted to claw out his eyes. After all, he and I had a mutual hatred for each other, especially after he’d called me a boy and dissed my haircut.
I banked right without even batting an eye, willing and praying that Grady wouldn’t follow me.
He peeled out, and within a second the sound of his engine began to fade. I tossed a look behind me, catching the last glimpse of those nasty truck nuts as he turned a corner.
I sighed as I got back on my skateboard. Georgia’
s house wasn’t that far, and I suddenly didn’t want to be around a crowd of people. I needed my BFF’s shoulder to cry on. Besides, if I did end up at the skate park, the minute I did a vert—a skate term for vertical—down one of the bowls, I would probably faceplant.
I stuck my earbuds in my ears just as “Rollercoaster” by the Jonas Brothers, a perfect song to describe my emotions, began to play. I probably shouldn’t have been wearing my earbuds. Safety and all. Dad had reprimanded me for that very thing a few times. But I was on the sidewalk, and I wasn’t in any danger of getting hit by anything, other than maybe running into a person.
A warm breeze blew in my face and the music blasted as I passed homes and crossed streets. A sense of calm washed over me, as it always did when I rode. I didn’t skateboard to compete—I wasn’t that good—but to relax.
With Grady not in my face, my pulse began to slow until I thought of Colton and wondered where he had gone when he tore out of his driveway. He probably had a girlfriend. Or maybe he was going to see Amanda. After all, they’d seemed chummy at lunch.
I killed the music and pulled out my earbuds as I darted into a shopping center, a shortcut to Georgia’s house. I paid attention to traffic. I didn’t need another mishap.
Once on the other side, the coast was clear, devoid of any cars.
When I reached Crane Plantation, I hopped off my board, admiring the manicured shrubs and flowers in front of the brick walls on either side of the entrance. It was a ritual for me whenever I went to Georgia’s. In a way, I felt like Mom was there with me. She’d been on the homeowner’s association when we lived a block down from Georgia and had always made sure that the gold-plated name tacked to the brick wall had been spit-shined and glistened.
I briefly closed my eyes, inhaled the salt air—the ocean wasn’t far from there—collected my skateboard, then headed into the upscale property. In addition to the beautiful homes, the place boasted a golf course, a recreation area with a pool, tennis courts, and a small park.
I walked by Craftsman-style homes and brick mansions with columns and large porticos that fit in with the Southern charm. When I reached Pony Circle, my pulse quickened as it always did when I went to see Georgia.
Crazy For You Page 4