“I don’t hate my sister,” Wade said when things had calmed down on screen, and they could converse beyond shouting orders or cussing each other out. “Or yours.”
“Could have fooled us,” Beau popped off before he could censor himself. Shit. Wade was being decent, and he was going to ruin it.
Wade grimaced, but he didn’t argue. Shane nodded his head while feverishly pushing buttons, as if he agreed, but he was too distracted to talk. They finished the game with minimal discussion, and though Beau focused more, he was more hindrance than help.
“You suck, dude,” Shane said, tossing down his controller.
“I suck so bad,” Beau agreed with a laugh. “Maybe we should have played Scrabble. I rule that shit.”
“Right on,” Shane said, clearly a happy-go-lucky guy.
Wade coughed into his hand. “Loser.”
For once, Beau didn’t feel insulted. He grinned and nudged Wade. “You know you love that triple letter score.”
To his shock, Wade laughed. Maybe there was hope for this guy after all.
***
Beau barely made it home before his phone rang. He looked at the display, unsurprised to see Nate’s name. He’d gotten another text: Not cool, dude. You better have a good excuse. Somehow, Beau didn’t think Nate would consider “I got a chance to hang out with a hot guy” as a good excuse. Especially when the hot guy in question was Wade Ritter and Nate already felt threatened by Ker’s comments about his looks.
“Hey, sorry,” Beau answered. “I totally spaced it was game night, and I didn’t see my texts until it was too late.”
“So, where were you?” Nate asked. “You didn’t have another run-in with Billy and Jeremy, right? If Wade flaked out on driving you . . .”
“Nothing like that,” Beau said. “Wade followed through as planned, but this friend of his, Shane, asked if I wanted to hang out with them for a while. Time got away from me, and I just spaced it. Sorry, man.”
“Dude.”
“Bro.”
Nate chuckled. “Fine, I’ll chill.”
They’d made a deal sophomore year that they’d never become like those “dude bro” guys — essentially the jocks who gave them shit for being of the geekier persuasion. Jocks like Jeremy, who played on the lackluster football team and thought they were hot shit despite losing 90 percent of their games. Guys like Billy, who’d be on the team if it weren’t for the fact his grades didn’t meet the minimum requirements and everyone knew it.
So, when Nate said “dude,” and Beau said “bro,” it was an inside joke, but it was also a cue that someone was not cool with the situation. It usually was enough to break the tension.
“Sorry I didn’t show,” Beau said.
“Yeah. Flaking on your friends over a guy is not cool,” Nate said. “Don’t make it a habit.”
Beau was a little surprised Nate mentioned his interest in guys so casually. Maybe he was finally getting over his weirdness with the gay.
“But he’s so hot,” Beau said.
“Um …”
Beau laughed. “Okay, just testing. Still don’t wanna talk about cute boys with me, huh?”
“Dude, that’s weird.”
“Bro, it’s only weird for you. Yet, I watch you drool over Ker. That’s weird for me.”
There was an abrupt silence. Beau couldn’t even hear Nate breathe.
“You there?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, but that shit about me and Ker . . .”
“Relax,” Beau said. “I’m not going to tell her. You’ll have to man up and do it yourself.”
Nate snorted. “Not likely. I’m no Wade Ritter.”
“Nate . . .”
Beau hesitated. This is where, as Nate’s friend, he’d like to tell him he was attractive. He had thick dark hair that could use a little styling but was silky and clean. And he had an intermittently clear complexion, which was more than some guys could say, including some popular kids. Beau had been lucky enough to be blessed with nice skin that didn’t break out, but he was also several inches shorter than most guys and he couldn’t seem to gain muscle mass no matter what he did. He went through a weight-lifting phase in tenth grade, and he hadn’t managed to do anything other than pull a muscle. Nate was on the slimmer side, too, but he had the height and broader shoulders that Beau would never manage. So, yeah, Nate was good-looking. He had the potential to be hot, with a little effort.
But Beau didn’t want to weird him out, so he settled for empty platitudes. “You don’t need to be Wade Ritter. Just be yourself.”
“Yeah,” Nate said, sounding unconvinced, “thanks.”
***
Wade pushed mushy peas around his plate while his mother and sister argued about an after-school activity. He wasn’t paying attention, more focused on the unappetizing canned peas and instant mashed potatoes that accompanied a grilled pork chop.
His mother used to be the ultimate stay-at-home mom. She cooked from scratch with organic ingredients and planned elaborate menus. She kept the house immaculate and waited on Wade and Katy hand and foot. Now, she worked a receptionist gig at a dental office, and when she wasn’t there, she often met Trent for coffee or went shopping with friends. She even stopped by the James residence for bitch sessions with Beau’s mother, Twyla, though she’d told Wade once that she only went if she was in the mood because the venting would be harsh and long.
She’d given up trying to be the perfect little homemaker, and Wade guessed he could see why. She’d lost her husband, and her son had turned into a pain in the ass that not even multiple attempts at therapy could change. She’d lost touch with her upper-class friends from the Kansas City suburbs and relocated to a tiny town in the middle of Kansas.
Still, he missed eating something that didn’t come from a box or a can. Thankfully, they had Sunday dinners at the James family’s house to fulfill that craving.
Helen Ritter didn’t have to work as hard as many single moms. The Ritters had a decent investment portfolio when his dad died, and Ashe, Kansas, was more affordable than Overland Park, too, so his mom had been able to put away some of the money from their home sale and use it as a nest egg.
Wade didn’t really need to help out, but he’d worked over the summer. He’d had no choice after he got busted for defacing city property by spray-painting the skate park with dumb, juvenile phrases. He’d been bored but not terribly creative. It hadn’t been worth it, considering he had to do community service for a month and pay restitution for the clean-up of his “art.”
When school started up, his mom insisted he focus on earning his diploma. He thought she might have been a little worried he’d get too comfortable slopping together tacos and burritos, but even Wade had higher ambitions than that. Not that he’d given his mother much reason to believe that or to see that he was trying to change.
Fucking up his first paper of the year didn’t help either.
“Why can’t Wade give me a ride?” Katy said, her whine turning her voice high and piercing Wade’s thoughts. “He has a car, and he doesn’t have school in the afternoon!”
“Katy, that’s when Wade works at the library,” his mother said patiently.
Wait? What was this? Wade hadn’t yet made it to the library. He’d been chauffeuring Beau around and never gotten a start on rewriting his paper. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t change his grade, so it would be work with no payoff. Boring, tedious work.
“Can’t he just go to the library after he picks me up?” Katy said. “The library is open late. He can study all night!”
Her tone was decidedly bratty at this point. His mother’s lips thinned.
“Rewriting his paper takes precedence over cheerleader tryouts. I’m sorry. And I have to work.”
Katy’s lips trembled. Her eyes filled to the brink.
“I didn’t even know they had cheerleaders in middle school,” Wade said. “Do they actually have games?”
“That’s not the point!”
“Ac
tually, the point of cheerleading is to cheer on a game, I’m pretty sure, so—”
His sister burst into tears. “Why does everyone hate me?”
“Oh geez,” their mom muttered, sliding a hand over her eyes.
Wade, in his attempt to turn over a new leaf by apparently chauffeuring everyone he knew, said, “I can give her a ride.”
The tears dried up like magic.
“No, Wade, your paper is important. Your grades.”
Oh, man. Wade felt trapped between two opposing forces. On one side was Mt. Katy, about to erupt in more tears and snot and slamming doors. On the other was Mt. Helen, which would undoubtedly rain fire when Wade confessed he hadn’t done any work on that paper.
He looked between them, knowing that one way or another, a blowout was imminent. He could lie and let the two women in his family have it out, but eventually his mother would want to see the paper or know what his teacher said about his revised paper. That blowup was inevitable, so he might as well get it out of the way.
“I haven’t started my paper.”
His mother paused, hand tightening around her fork. “What do you mean? You’ve been gone every afternoon.”
“Yeah. But I haven’t been at the library.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And where have you been? So help me if you’re back to vandalizing city property . . .”
You get busted for vandalism one time . . .
“No way. You know I’m not dumb enough to get caught doing that again.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Not dumb enough to get caught, or not dumb enough to do it in the first place?”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, word police. No, I’m not going to do it again. I’ve been helping Beau.”
If anything, she looked more skeptical. “The last time you ‘helped’ Beau, he looked like you’d killed his puppy. No, wait, I take that back. You’ve never helped Beau.”
Okay, he’d been an asshole a few times when Beau didn’t take the hint he didn’t want to be friends. But that was years ago when they first moved to town. Beau had accepted Wade didn’t want his attention after a couple of carefully aimed insults.
“He was just here playing video games!” Wade protested. “You saw him leaving as you pulled up.”
Shane had offered to drop off Beau at home when he left, and Wade knew it would look weird if he insisted on driving him. Shane would never hassle Beau; he was far too good-natured for that. But it nagged at Wade that he hadn’t seen him home. The protective streak was an unfamiliar feeling. Beau’s words came back to him: You my guard dog now?
She nodded. “I see. So, you’re helping Beau learn how to master shooter games instead of studying.”
“No.”
“You can’t expect me to believe you’ve suddenly become altruistic.”
Okay, so he didn’t have the best track record, but could she not give him the benefit of the doubt? It kind of pissed him off that her first conclusion was that he was up to no good. “Yeah, I get it. I fucked up. Like, a lot. If they were giving awards for biggest fuckup, I would totally own that medal.”
“Wade—”
“But it’d be nice if you’d hear me out before assuming the worst.”
She sighed, but before she could respond, Katy spoke up. “What about me? Can I do the cheerleader tryouts or not?”
“Katy, not now.”
“But I need to know!”
“I can pick her up,” he said, eager to cut off the argument and Katy’s rising voice.
“Fine,” his mom said, “but you’re grounded otherwise. You should have told me you weren’t working on that paper. I can’t have you lying to me, Wade.”
He stared. “Mom, I’m nineteen years old.”
Helen Ritter calmly picked up her fork and knife and cut into her pork chop. “Yes, and you live here and don’t seem to care about graduating,” she said.
“I care.”
“Grounded,” she repeated.
He threw down his fork in disgust, and she pointed at him. “If you fight me on this, I can take your car keys or your phone. The only time I want you out of this house is to drive to school or to study at the library, and you damn well better be at the library if you’re not here. If you don’t want me to assume the worst, then start doing your best, Wade.”
Her voice took on a hardness he’d never heard before. Usually his mother met his transgressions with desperation rather than anger. She sent him to therapists. She begged him to tell her what would help bring back the kid he’d been before his dad died. He knew she wanted happy Wade, who played music and got good grades and never locked himself in his room and refused to come out or got suspended from school for cussing out a teacher.
But that Wade was gone. Wade didn’t know where he’d gone, couldn’t find him even if he tried. He’d had to craft a new Wade, and he’d done a shitty job of it.
But it was a work in progress. Maybe he could salvage something of himself yet.
“You’re serious?” he asked, dumbfounded. “I’m actually grounded?”
“If you won’t care about yourself and your future, I’ll do it for you.”
Tough love. Well, shit. He didn’t see that coming.
Then he thought of Beau and his stomach flipped. “What about Beau? I really have been helping him out.”
“Okay, helping him how?” she asked.
“I’ve been giving him rides to and from school and his volunteer gig at the hospital.”
It was his mother’s turn to stare. She looked at him as if he was a strange creature she’d never encountered. “Why?”
He shrugged. “He needed a ride.”
“What’s really going on?” She got up and grabbed her phone from her purse. “I know he was over here today, but you guys aren’t friends, no matter how much I’ve tried to encourage it.”
“Maybe that’s changed,” he argued, as she picked up the phone and punched a button. “What are you doing?”
“Calling Twyla.”
Wade crossed his arms, fuming as she called Beau’s mother to verify Wade’s story. For all the trouble he’d been in, lying wasn’t his way. Well, lying about small things wasn’t. It took all his energy to maintain the larger lie that was his life. He had no space for the small stuff.
“Hey, Twyla, quick question. Has Wade been driving Beau to school?”
She paused, looking over at him. “He has? Do you know why? Hmm. Okay. Thanks.”
She hit disconnect, then stared off into space for a long minute. She looked puzzled.
“Mom?”
She blinked and looked at him. “Okay, you can drive Beau, but then come straight home.”
He nodded, so relieved he didn’t care about the grounding.
She returned to her seat, picking up a glass and sipping her soda. “Twyla said she didn’t get a good answer from Beau about why you’re driving him back and forth. Do you want to tell me what spurred this good Samaritan streak?”
Wade was reluctant to tell his mom about the bullying. If he did, he might have to explain the kids all thought Beau was gay. Then he’d have to tell her more about the party, and the video, and just no.
“I saw him walking one day, lugging his instrument, and it seemed dumb to make him walk. The weather is crap every other day.”
She watched him, not speaking. Her lips curled into a small smile after he’d given up on a response.
“Okay then. Drive Beau where he needs to go and come home. But I want you to get a tutor. You have two weeks to do it yourself, or I’ll pick one for you.” She smiled sweetly. “Now, eat up.”
Wade retreated to his room soon after dinner, popping in headphones and blaring music into his ears. He lay back on his bed and picked up his phone, intending to aimlessly scroll through a few of his favorite sites. Instead, he opened his Facebook app. The news feed of updates from the few kids at school he’d accepted as friends didn’t interest him. Selfies of girls and boys both littered the feed, as well as a few cryptic message
s like, I thought I could trust people. Wade didn’t need the drama.
He went to the search bar and typed in the name Beau James. A short results list popped up, and he clicked on the right Beau. His profile pic was adorable. Beau was wearing his ever-present beanie, but it couldn’t contain all his curls. They spilled out the edges. Wade knew Beau hated them by the way he constantly covered his hair with hats, but Wade thought they were cute.
Beau’s smile was wide, and he looked genuinely happy. Wade ached when he saw happiness like that. Even his happiest memories were colored by grief until he couldn’t remember what joy felt like anymore.
There was something about Beau that made him think maybe he could remind Wade.
His finger hovered over the friend request Beau had sent him three years ago, which he’d ignored. Should he accept now? Were they becoming friends? Should they?
Instead of clicking it, he scrolled through the few pictures he could see on Beau’s timeline. His cover photo: Beau and his two best friends at a gaming store, a mix of comic books and games like Magic: The Gathering and Pokémon in the background.
Wade stared at that photo for a long time, looking for hints that Beau was anything more than friends with Nate. Then he rolled his eyes at himself. What the hell was he doing, Facebook stalking Beau like he had a crush?
He didn’t have a crush. He didn’t.
He closed the app and threw down his phone on the bed, closing his eyes. The rough notes of the angry music he usually favored grated on him, though. He was tired of being angry. He picked up his phone again, opened the music app and browsed until he found something upbeat but mellow. Then he lay back and tried not to think about Beau James and why he was taking up so much space in Wade’s head this year.
Chapter 7
Wade navigated the streets to the hospital, delivering Beau to another volunteer shift. He’d picked him up after classes let out, as he had every day the past two weeks. He’d found Beau chatting with the other sax player, Miles, by the football field where band practice was held — just like he did every day.
Room for Recovery Page 5