Send

by Patty Blount

  “I’m gonna run on the beach Saturday if you want to come.”

  He blinked at me. “Dude, it’s, like…November.”

  I shrugged. “Dress in layers.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that will help my problem.” He indicated the computer across the room.

  “Don’t focus on that crap, Brandon. Do stuff you like to do, get your mind off it.”

  “I don’t know. There’s not a lot I can do alone besides video games, and even that’s—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, but I got it anyway. Jeff and his pals were probably hassling Brandon on Xbox too. “Yeah, I remember. That’s why I work out.” Well, one reason anyway.

  He thought for a minute and then smiled briefly. “Okay. I’ll try it.”

  “Great.” I smiled, proud of myself. It was a little step, but it would lead to bigger ones. “I gotta go. I promised my parents I’d get my hair cut today. Place closes at seven thirty.”

  Brandon angled his head and examined my hair. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “They think it’s messy.” It waved past my collar. I could pull it into a stubby ponytail if I liked that look.

  Girl.

  I sighed. “Wanna take a ride with me? Won’t be long.”

  He bounced up and grabbed a beat-up canvas wallet from the computer desk. “Let’s go. I’ll get mine cut too.”

  Brandon’s dirty blond hair was stringy and hanging in his eyes. It needed a cut more than mine did. With a shout to his mother, Brandon was out the door with me on his heels. We’d just reached my car when Julie stepped outside, Hagrid in tow.

  “Hey.” She looked from me to Brandon, eyebrows raised. “Where are you two off to?”

  “Haircuts. Wanna come?”

  “Sure. Just give me a few minutes to take care of Hagrid.”

  She climbed into the backseat five minutes later, and I drove to a barbershop in town. They took Brandon first.

  “What’ll it be, kid?”

  Brandon’s eyes darted to mine. I looked to Julie for help. “What do you think?”

  She stepped back, angled her head, and eyed him critically. “Short. Gel the front.”

  She glanced at me, and I gave her a big smile to say thanks.

  Brandon shrugged, and the barber starting cutting. Julie took the opportunity to analyze my hair. “You shouldn’t go too short. Girls like something to run their fingers through.”

  Kenny and I both gasped. When it was my turn, I instructed the barber as Julie had suggested and ended up with a short, messy, bedhead style. Her eyes gleamed, and she nodded. “That looks really great.”

  A throat clearing had us both turning to Brandon with sheepish grins. “Um. Sorry, Brandon,” Julie said. “Yours looks great too.”

  He shrugged, and I drove us home.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked the too-quiet Brandon when I pulled in front of his house.

  “I feel, um, kinda naked.”

  “Brandon, it looks good. You can actually see your face now. You know, I’ve lived next door to you for years and never knew what color your eyes were until now.”

  To my horror, Brandon turned eyes I could now tell were green to me and sneered. “I know what you two are doing, and you don’t have to bother. It won’t help anyway.”

  I blinked, speechless, and turned to Julie for a clue. She only shrugged. “Brandon, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not a…a…freak show science project, okay? I don’t need some extreme makeover.”

  I bit back the furious retort dangling off my lips and remembered to stay patient. “Brandon, if you feel that I forced you into cutting your hair, I’m sorry. That isn’t why I asked if you wanted to come.”

  With narrowed eyes, he stared at me. “Then why did you?”

  “Because I had fun hanging out with you and thought it would be cool to have company while I went under the shears.”

  “And she just happened to show up when we were leaving?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Julie said it with attitude. “Nobody forced you to cut it. I don’t know why you’re so freaked out now. It looks good.”

  “Everyone’s gonna laugh.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, they probably will. But I’m not laughing and neither is Dan.”

  I am.

  I shoved Kenny into his corner and slammed the door. “Brandon, tell me this. Do you like it?”

  He looked from me to Julie, then back to me, and I shook my head. “No, don’t ask us. Tell us. Do you like the way your hair looks now?” I flipped the visor down, opened the vanity mirror above his seat. He tilted his head from side to side, carefully examined his reflection.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Julie mockingly punched his arm. “That’s all that matters.”

  Brandon just sighed and got out of the car.

  “Hey.” I stopped him. “Want a ride tomorrow?”

  With a shrug, he kept walking. “I guess.”

  “Six forty-five. I’ll bring the hair gel.”

  “Guess I should head inside too,” Julie murmured from the backseat.

  I swiveled around to face her. “What do you think?”

  “Your hair looks good.”

  I waved a hand. “No, about Brandon.”

  “His hair looks good too.”

  “Julie.”

  “Okay, okay.” She climbed over my center console and into the passenger seat. “I think you did a good thing today. He’s uncomfortable, but he likes it. He kept checking out his reflection all the way home.”

  “Thank you. For being nicer to him, I mean.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Yeah, well. Maybe you’re right. I could do more.”

  No! No doing more. Kenny insisted from the passenger seat, where he’d suddenly materialized.

  I tried to disguise my flinch as a cough. I didn’t know if Julie bought it.

  “Is that why you came with us?”

  “Yeah.” She pushed her glasses up. “Too obvious?”

  I glanced at the light in Brandon’s window. “I don’t know. Maybe. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t great.”

  Julie looked up at me. “You…you thought it was great?”

  My heart pounded when Julie’s eyes, barely visible in the dashboard lights, lowered and fixed on my mouth. Which suddenly filled with cotton balls.

  Holy crap, dude. Kenny breathed beside me. Tell her she’s great. Tell her!

  I swallowed and shook my head. “No, I think you’re great, Julie.”

  Her eyes bounced back up to mine. She stared at me, eyes soft, and slowly lifted her hands to my neck, tugging me toward her. I went. Deep in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that this was wrong, that I should resist. She stroked her hands through my hair, leaning closer, close enough to take me away. When I closed my eyes, it felt like I was on the beach. The warmth of her hands on me was the sun. Her words in my ear were the breeze. I filled my lungs with her scent and snaked my right arm up to hold her, grip her, and then I waited for the panic lodged in my throat to weaken and fade.

  It was the most perfect moment of my life.

  She shifted. I pulled back, my head pressed against the seat back, afraid I’d offended her, but she touched my face. I watched, hypnotized, as she stared at my mouth, angled her head between the front seats, and closed in. I didn’t stop her. I should have. She didn’t know what I was. She wouldn’t want to kiss me if she did. But I couldn’t make myself question that perfect moment. Even Kenny was quiet.

  Her lips covered mine, and I swear to God my heart jumped so hard I expected to see it lying on the upholstery between us, still beating. I didn’t want her to stop, so I ignored the pain, hid it with the silk of her hair through my finge
rs, the scent of her skin in my nose, the taste of her lips against mine, the sound of her little moans, but still, I felt the friggin’ pain. I thought, More! If I could only have more, the pain would end. My hands shifted, roamed, and tightened, clutching Julie closer. Her mouth opened, an invitation I wouldn’t have refused even if I could have, and I took, took as much as she offered for as long as she let me. And finally, I could feel nothing, hear nothing, think nothing—nothing but Julie.

  We broke apart, panting and staring at each other in amazement. Okay, this was the most perfect moment of my life. Until the guilt rushed back and I had to push her away.

  “Um. Wow,” she said.

  No kidding, Kenny said.

  “I should go,” I said.

  Are you crazy?

  “Oh. Right. Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  And she was gone.

  Why did you do that? She kissed us, man. She likes us. Now she’ll probably never talk to us again.

  She’d be better off if she didn’t.

  Bigger Things to Worry About

  I flopped onto my bed and threw an arm over my eyes. My parents had been waiting for me when I got home. They liked the haircut but weren’t happy to hear about me kissing Julie, so I escaped to the solitude of my room after they’d tag-teamed me with reminders about how important it was not to slip up, not to get too close, not to have a damn life.

  Shouldn’t have told them.

  So much for solitude. I moved my arm and cracked an eye open. Kenny sat at the foot of the bed, smirking.

  “Kenny, I am so not in the mood.” I rolled onto my side to turn away from him. It didn’t help. Kenny swung his feet onto the bed, stretched out beside me.

  So. Julie. That was sweet, dude. Seriously.

  My lips quirked. It was pretty cool. Wrong though. But cool.

  What was so wrong about it? She kissed us, man. We liked it. Don’t even bother trying to deny it. She liked it. Everybody’s happy.

  “It was wrong. We’re not…I’m not who she thinks. If she knew, she’d never—”

  Exactly! Changing your name was probably the smartest thing you ever did! She’ll never know.

  His words hung in the air, seductive. I knew it was wrong, so wrong, but damn it, I wanted it. Wanted her. If I could just keep my mouth shut, I could have her. It was that easy. And that hard.

  Bro, we have to talk to her. Get to know her better. Go on a date or something.

  I snorted. A date! Yeah. Sure. I had this image of me meeting Julie at some club, imagining how that conversation would go. “Hi, I’m Dan. I like running on the beach, working out, taking walks in the rain, and camping. Oh, by the way, I’m an adjudicated juvenile criminal, and by law, I can’t be alone with anyone under the age of eighteen. Can I have your number? You are eighteen, aren’t you?” I’d drape an arm around her, flash her the killer smile.

  Yep, I’m a real playa.

  My laughter dried up, and I swung my legs over the bed, hanging my head. There was more, much more to my script.

  Shut up, man.

  Kenny and I hated thinking about that part.

  She never has to know.

  “She’ll find out. Everyone will find out, Kenny. They always do. It’s just a matter of time, and we’ll have to move again.”

  She likes us, bro. She kissed us.

  “What’s with all the we’s and our’s? She kissed me, not you.”

  Without me, asshole, you’d still be curled up on the floor of that bathroom in juvie, so how about backing the hell off for once, okay?

  I blinked. He was right. Damn it, I hated admitting that. Hated even more that he knew I hated it. I changed the subject. “You’ll see, Kenny. Tomorrow, she’ll be all weirded out over the whole thing. Wait and see.”

  You’re wrong, man. Julie’s different. Special.

  I let my eyes close and thought again about Julie, about kissing Julie, smelling that scent, looking at that smile. Kenny was right. Julie was pretty special. I hoped he was right about being different too. Unlikely as it was—I didn’t have that kind of luck—a man could still dream.

  I bit my lower lip and realized I’d been rubbing my finger across it for the past several minutes. Damn it, it still tingled. Tomorrow, when she once again pretended that I didn’t exist, it would be torture forgetting that kiss.

  I’d been tortured a time or twelve. I wasn’t looking forward to an encore.

  Stop being a dick. She likes us. She won’t pretend we don’t exist.

  “Kenny, give it a rest already. I’m just being realistic.”

  A knock on my door prevented Kenny from finishing his argument. Mom poked her head inside my room. Kenny didn’t bother hiding. Nobody saw him but me.

  “Hey, you never ate your stew, so I thought you might like a bowl.” She handed me a steaming bowl, a hunk of bread perched on the rim. “What are you being realistic about?”

  Crap. I took the bowl and tried to hide my wince. I’d been keeping Kenny’s presence a secret for the past five years. I was determined to live a life the closest thing to normal as I could manage. Seeing and hearing myself at thirteen was not normal, and I knew it.

  I dunked the bread into the stew gravy, popped it into my mouth to buy some time. Mmm. God, that was good. I chewed and considered the best way to respond to my mother’s question and finally decided to appeal to her feminine side. “Just preparing myself for Julie to be uncomfortable around me tomorrow.”

  She sat beside me on the bed. I tried not to laugh when Kenny scrambled out of the way. “Are you worried about falling for her or leaving her?”

  I swallowed another bite. “Both, I guess.”

  She patted my knee. “Sweetie, give her some credit. She chased after you because she obviously cares about you. And you should give yourself some credit too. You’re not the big bad monster you think you are. Your sincerity and honor must have made an impression.”

  Almost against my will, I smiled. “Why do you say that?”

  Her gray eyes softened, blurred, even though she smiled. “I know your heart.”

  It gave such a pang at her words, I was certain my heart failed. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure I had a heart. Maybe I never did. Before…before I did what I did, I didn’t remember feeling love for anybody but myself. I was all I cared about. And now? Well, I couldn’t say I loved myself much these days.

  “Honey, why does that surprise you?”

  I stared at Mom. Wasn’t it obvious? Did I really need to say it out loud? “Mom, come on. If Julie sees any honor in me, it only means I’m a damn good actor.”

  I expected her to deny it, so I shoveled more food into my mouth and waited for the inevitable Mom lies. You know, things like how great you are, how much you have to offer the world, how proud she is of you. In other words, Mom propaganda.

  But she surprised me by staying silent.

  I lifted my eyes and found her staring clear through me. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? That Julie can’t see the real you. She kissed you but can’t know who you really are.”

  I slid my bowl to the table beside me bed, abruptly ill. I raked my hair back, forgetting it was short, and sighed.

  I really hated when she did this—this reading me like I’m a friggin’ dashboard indicator light. She made it seem so easy, so obvious when I knew it was anything but. “Okay,” I finally admitted. “That’s part of it. She likes the me she thinks I am enough to kiss me. But that’s not the worst part.” I glanced at Kenny, still sitting with his knees tucked to his chest on the corner of my bed. His head was leaning on the wall, his expression flat and bored. “I liked it, Mom. Oh, not just the kiss.” I waved away her knowing smile. “It hurts that she believes the lie, but I don’t think I can stand her knowing the truth. I like the lie. I like the whole friggin’
special effect.”

  I shut up when I saw her brows climb. She didn’t get it, and I was suddenly furious. Was she unable to see or unable to accept what she saw?

  With a sound of frustration, I jumped to my feet and shouted at her. “Don’t you get it, Mom? I’m liking all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons! It means I am bad.”

  The sound echoed in my small bedroom, the crack of skin meeting skin. It was the sound, not the pain that had me staring at my mother, jaw hanging. She’d…she’d…God, she’d slapped me. I couldn’t remember her doing that before. And then I saw the disappointment on her face. My stomach clenched.

  I couldn’t remember her ever looking like that before either. Not when I was arrested, not when I was sentenced. Not even when she visited me in detention.

  “If you believe that,” she said in a low, trembling voice, her eyes shimmering with tears, “if you really believe that, you’ve got bigger things to worry about than Julie being weirded out.” She turned and left my room, the door closing with a soft click.

  I was alone with the knowledge—the certainty—that, yes, I really did believe it.

  Resistance Is Futile

  Thursday morning, I grabbed a quick shower, combed my hair, and grabbed one of the hair products I’d picked up over time to rake some gel into it. “Bedhead,” Julie’d said. I shrugged at my reflection and saw Kenny.

  Lookin’ good. He ran his hands over his—my?—okay, our hair and grinned.

  “Gotta go.” I wasn’t in the mood to start off the day beating my head against Kenny’s.

  “Hey, bud, where’s the fire?” my dad said when I nearly tackled him at the kitchen door.

  “I’m picking up Brandon.”

  “Brandon. Who’s that again?”

  “Kid at school.”

  “The one you protected?”

  I nodded and caught the frown he tried to hide. “What?”

  Dad shook his head. “Dan, I thought we settled this last night. I worry how you’ll handle this if you have to say good-bye.”

  I sighed. “I won’t. It won’t happen. I promise.”

  Dad put down the pair of coffee cups he held in each hand and gripped my shoulders. “Danny, I don’t want to see you hurt again.”