Striking

by Lila Felix

  Oh well, it was too late now.

  “Aunt Mallory, do you mind if I take your truck over to Will’s for a little bit? I’ll put gas in it before I come home,” I promised sweetly.

  Uncle Henry glanced up at me from his place at the kitchen table and gave a short grunt before looking back down at the newspaper he was reading. My aunt was making something on the stove and the whole house smelled a little amazing and a little like we could possibly be having squirrel for dinner.

  Mallory glanced over her shoulder, scowling at me, so I added a quick, “Please, ma’am?”

  “I guess that’s fine,” she conceded slowly, turning back to her stove. “Be back for dinner.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered politely.

  “Cami?” she called before I could get too far.

  “Yes?”

  “Get rid of the dramatics while you’re gone, alright. We’re too tired to deal with any of your outbursts around here,” Mallory lectured without turning around.

  Henry didn’t even bother to glance up from his reading.

  My heart clenched inside my chest, and my stomach churned with nausea, but I forced myself to repeat yet another, “Yes, ma’am.”

  I refused to let the tears that hovered so close to the surface fall, holding them back with an iron will I didn’t even know I had. I slipped out the front door as quietly as I could and took a deep, fortifying breath. Once in the fresh, cool mountain air, I raced for my aunt’s old truck. I felt awful, it was like one blow after another today, but I was so tired of playing the victim. Every time I felt sorry for myself, I just got more and more tired of…. me.

  So what?

  So what if I had it a little rough?

  I had food, shelter and safety. And I was a survivor. Or at least I was going to be one, starting

  now.

  Mallory and Henry were hard people. They worked hard, they lived hard, they talked hard. Thank goodness they didn’t have kids of their own, because I was fairly certain this whole rebelling thing was not just isolated to me. Millions of teenagers, around the globe, were in fact infected with the rebellious teen pandemic.

  And my dad was a complete asshole, but that had been true my entire life. Fine, I’ll admit it. The last ten years had been one steady stream of cry for attention after, reckless, wild, dangerous cry for attention. And to what end? Nothing worked. Nothing!

  My parents were self-absorbed and negligent-that wasn’t going to change. It was time I put on my big girl panties and came to terms with that. And my aunt and uncle didn’t know me. All they saw was what they wanted to, and maybe a little bit of what I’d shown them. But there was so much more to me than benders and parties. I knew that, I’d always known that.

  And Stockton? Well, he could just take one of his metal pokers and shove it straight through his gorgeous, green eye. Because I was tired of trying to please him too. I didn’t even know him and I would be gone in a little bit anyway. Who cared if he saw me as Vapid Barbie? His opinion didn’t define who I was and it definitely didn’t bother me.

  Starting…. now.

  Now, officially, his opinion didn’t bother me.

  I pulled up in front of the Wright house and ignored the flutter of butterfly wings on meth in my stomach. I probably should have called Will to let her know I was coming over, but that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until now.

  Back in LA, all of my friends were just clones of each other that shared some kind of hive half brain. They were reliable when I wanted to go out and drink, or when I desperately needed to go shopping. But when crisis came around they were nowhere to be found.

  Will was the first person I’d ever felt like I could really count on, that I could really trust. And even if she was disappointed with me over the whole lunch fiasco, she wasn’t just going to give up on me or pin me down with her cruel judgments like everybody else. Will knew how to dig through the mess to find something worth it and for the first time in my life, I was thankful to be the mess if it meant I got her friendship in return.

  I clutched Stockton’s hoodie in my arms and bravely knocked on the door. I swallowed against an all-encompassing fear, a nervousness that consumed me. My body trembled at the thought of seeing him again, after everything he’d said, but I told myself over and over that I’d said things I should be ashamed of too. I hadn’t always behaved the best.

  I was an adult.

  It was time to start acting like one.

  Or at the very least, pretend to be one.

  Still, I was crossing my fingers that it would be Will that answered the door.

  “Cami,” Stockton’s rumbly voice sounded surprised to see me.

  Of course he would be the one to answer the door, I’d momentarily forgotten the Universe hated me. “Hi, Stockton,” I replied evenly, super proud of my maturity right now. “I was hoping Will was home?”

  Stockton nodded slowly and shouted behind him for his sister. Slowly he turned back to face me and then, as if he couldn’t help himself, opened the screen door and stepped outside on the porch with me.

  He stared me down, arms crossed against his chest, mint green eyes practically glowing with intensity. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of electrically charged moments between us, he growled out, “Listen, about earlier-“

  “Stop, please,” I tried to sound firm, but my voice broke just a tiny bit at the end. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I don’t want to talk about it. I won’t talk about it, so please stop.”

  So much for being a grown up.

  Something finally registered behind his intensely bright eyes and he took a step toward me, completely invading my personal space. Instead of backing up, like any sane person would, I just breathed in his masculine scent and basked in the nearness of his body.

  “Have you been crying all afternoon?”

  I stepped back then, anxious to get away from him. He sounded furious at the possibility I’d been that upset at his words and I didn’t have the strength or energy to explain how messed up I really was right now-or probably ever.

  “Here’s your jacket,” I deflected, thrusting the hoodie at him.

  He slowly reached for it, eyeing me from under thick black lashes. “You and me need to talk, Duchess.”

  I hated his domineering and patronizing tone in that moment. Anger sparked, hot and fiery, inside me, lighting a temper he was going to wish he never provoked. “I’m not playing games with you, Stockton. Don’t think for a minute that’s what I’m doing. So stop playing games with me. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me, so let me make it perfectly clear how I feel about you. You don’t get to tell me what a screw up I am, when you don’t even know me. Not before, not now and not ever again. I’ve heard it enough, my entire life, that frankly I’m sick and tired of it. You don’t even know anything about me! Not one single thing, except maybe that I like to write and I bet you stole that little tidbit from your sister. I’m here, in this redneck hell hole, to change. To get my mess of a life together. But here’s the thing, I’m never going to change if I keep letting everyone else’s opinion of me derail me from each step of progress I’ve made, including yours. So go ahead and collect all those bad thoughts about me and let them fester because honestly, at this point, I don’t care anymore. Go ahead and just choke on them.”

  I spun on my heel, just as Will came bounding out the screen door. She had to push her dumbfounded brother out of the way, because he stood there gawking at me with his mouth open.

  “And another thing,” I called to him, as I walked backwards toward the line of trees that surrounded their property. Will trailed after me, knowing instinctively I would be headed toward the creek-our favorite spot. “You and me, we had a connection, something most people don’t get to feel very often. We could have had something great, Stockton. Guess we’ll never know now, will we?”

  Will caught up to me and we turned around together, giggling and bumping each other with our shoulders. I didn’t know
what Stockton thought about my speech, and I didn’t stick around to find out. There was also the possibility these feelings were completely one-sided on my part, but I was starting over today, trying to grow up. And that meant I needed to say how I felt and fight for what I believed in.

  “Did you really mean that?” Will whispered, even though we were quite a ways from the house.

  “Mean what?” I asked, shooting her a side glance.

  “That you’ll never know now?”

  I cleared my throat, because I honestly didn’t mean that. “With Stockton? It depends on how desperately he’s willing to grovel.”

  We both dissolved into laughter and linked arms to stay standing upright. Eventually we settled down and things grew serious between us again.

  “Cami?” Will asked in a soft voice. “Are you, alright?”

  “I will be,” I answered honestly.

  “Do you need anything from me?”

  At that moment I knew I could ask her for anything and she would move heaven and Earth for me.

  “Your help,” I sighed.

  “With how to talk to my brother?” she guessed and I loved her naivety.

  “Hell, no,” I laughed. “All that with your brother will work itself out. No, I need you to help me

  speak hillbilly.”

  She snorted a laugh and gripped my bicep tightly with her hand to give it a shake. “Like your aunt and uncle?”

  “Them and everyone else. I’m tired of feeling useless. I’m tired of having other people clean up my mess. I want to be self-sufficient and I really want people to start taking me seriously.” I finished my plea and then had to suck in a breath at how real that all was. I really, truly wanted those things and even more, I needed them.

  “Alright, I can do that,” Will promised.

  “What about teaching me to spoon feed a really, really, really old man?” I teased, but I was also serious.

  “I can do that too,” she grinned over at me. “Turns out, I’m an expert.”

  “Oh good,” I laughed. “Right now, I need an expert.”

  “Stockton would be lucky to have you, Cami,” Will whispered so sweetly, that tears formed in my eyes again without my permission.

  “I don’t know if I believe that,” I answered honestly and I felt so vulnerable I wanted to vomit. “But I’m hoping I will soon.”

  Chapter 10

  Stockton

  I still couldn’t tell you what the word moxie meant according to the dictionary, but as the screen door to my house hit me in the nose and I didn’t budge an inch—I could tell you exactly what it looked like. It was five foot six, it smelled like a dream, it knew exactly how to move its hips in a way that made me growl—and its name was Cami.

  How had the tables turned so quickly?

  Wasn’t I the one who was pissed?

  And was it completely necessary for her to show up looking that f-ing sexy while she tore me a new asshole?

  But the tables had been turned. And as she walked off, partnered by my sister, I realized I didn’t care. She was right. I’d somehow allowed my morals to vamp into an attitude of haughtiness and expected her to live up to them without care or concern if she wanted to—or if she even knew how.

  I’d thrown the first stone—and she’d thrown it back.

  How do I always end up being the bastard?

  Because you are the bastard.

  And you also talk to yourself—nice.

  I pushed away from the door and proceeded to put some chili, thawed out from its frozen state in a Ziploc bag, into a pot and turned on the burner. I mixed up a pan of cornbread and put it in the oven—cornbread I could handle.

  She said we could’ve had something great. She said we had a connection. Damn it, why did she have to be so right? Were there degrees of right? Was I really going to analyze everything until it didn’t exist anymore—probably.

  But at least she’d confirmed it wasn’t all me. Maybe she’d found something in me.

  Dirt—she probably found dirt.

  She came here to change. That’s what she said. And since I’d been that person who came back home to change, to be who my father would’ve wanted me to be—I could help her—if she’d let me. And since there was no chance, her words, of us ever having any kind of—whatever—maybe she’d let me be her friend. Since I’d fouled up any chance I had to woo this girl. It wasn’t what I wanted—but it was better than nothing.

  After pulling the cornbread out of the oven and turning the chili down to a simmer, I got the broom out of the closet and went outside to finish up Will’s chores since it looked like she wouldn’t be back for a while. I swept off the stairs and the porch. I took my time raking out the chicken pen and slopping the pigs. I went to the shop, making sure everything was in its place, forcing my head to my work, determined not to glance out the windows looking for a sign of their return.

  After dicking around outside for hours, I went back to the house, showered, and threw on a hooded sweatshirt and some grey shorts. I padded out to the living room, humming a song by my favorite band, Alpha Rev, and then I heard her voice in my house—in my space. It stopped me in my tracks. It was one thing to be dumbstruck by her presence everywhere else. But there was something about having her here, in my family’s home that just sat right with me—like she was home too.

  I walked through the living room towards the kitchen as fast as I could. Even if she wasn’t speaking to me, I wanted her to stay here as long as possible. I probably looked like a moron, sneaking around my own house.

  “Stock, I turned the chili off.”

  I rounded the threshold, just enough to talk to Will, but not enough to scare off Cami.

  “And I finished your chores. Thanks.”

  “Well, I’m gonna make a cheating peach cobbler.”

  “That sounds good, thanks.”

  My body was still in the kitchen, my head wrapped around the wall, trying to technically be not in their way, but as Will passed me she caught me off guard and pushed me into the living room. I was gonna strangle or thank her later—I didn’t know which yet. Cami sat, facing me, but defiant in posture, making it clear she had no intention of looking at me.

  “Um, Henry said something about,” I sat in my mother’s chair, “a couple of lost sheep.” She blushed, and though I knew it was from embarrassment, I couldn’t deny the need to feel the heat of it with my mouth. It shone in stark contrast to her cream colored face and gave her an air of vulnerability. In what universe was starting a conversation with sheep talk acceptable?

  In the Stockton-Bastardly cosmos?

  Stop talking to yourself—dickhead.

  “Um, you’ve seen the plastic tags in their ears?” I started it, might as well let the stupidity run its gambit.

  She nodded and scooted a little closer to the edge of the couch, she was listening—a good thing.

  “And you know in the barn, where Henry keeps the clipboards on the wall, by the blue ribbons and awards?”

  “Yeah, right inside on the left.”

  I smiled, then retracted it, “Well, on one of the clipboards, it used to have a piece of red duct tape on the clip, it has all the sheep and what color tags they have depending on their age, sex, weight, and whether or not they are for milk or meat. Write the colors and how many of each down on your hand or a piece of paper or something until you remember it—then when you get them to the next field, count them, make sure you got them all. If you are missing one, just open the gate back up and the dogs will find it before it gets lost or eaten. Lone sheep are prime coyote food.”

  “Why didn’t anyone explain this before?” she flopped herself back on the couch and groaned.

  “I supposed they’re making you learn the hard way—giving you a tough time—it’s a mistake a lot of us have been making.”

  She sat back up and finally looked me in the eyes, “And the thing is, I don’t understand why. I made it so easy for you all to be nice to me. I was practically a living, breathing, b
all of sunshine.”

  She was being a smart aleck, but she was a lot closer to the truth than she knew.

  “Well, that’s true. This whole county is the one with the problem—bunch of dumbass, mountain folk.”

  She belted out one octave of laughter and I swore I’d never heard a more chest-filling melody.

  I put one hand on my chest to make sure it wasn’t smoldering.

  “I didn’t know you were funny, Stockton.”

  “Oh, you know, we grimy, grungy smiths have our moments.”

  She smiled, “In between rescuing damsels from sheep and then tearing them apart in the woods after a good sermon.”

  She didn’t bullshit—I’d give her that.

  “Yeah, um, about that…”

  Will bounced into the room, “Everything’s done. I’m starving.”

  Cami jumped from her place on the couch, “I’m going to go. Aunt Mallory was cooking something, um interesting—I swear it was squirrel. I should get back.”

  I surprised myself by blurting out, “Stay—it’s just me and Will tonight, Bridger and West are at school. We have plenty. I mean, it’s just chili but—stay.”

  She sucked in her heart lips, reigning in a smile, “Well, I think I should at least call and let them know.”

  I nodded, “Just tell them you’re here. They won’t mind.”

  I exited the room to set the table and attempt to make the meal nice for her. I took out my mother’s good silverware along with the bowls and plates she only used for company. But there was just so much dolling up you could do with chili. Cami took out her cell but it got no reception, so she had to use our, made in the 1980’s, attached to the wall, landline phone. I could hear her, now replying ‘Yes, ma’am and No ma’am,’ she’d obviously been berated for that already.

  She hung up with a grin, “I’ve been approved for dinner at the Wright house.”

  “Have a seat,” Will exclaimed.

  Cami grabbed her spoon and dug in but I no longer had the heart or the callous to intercede. But my sister made me proud once again. And after she spoke, I realized I could learn a lot from the way she instructed Cami without completely humiliating her. I held the title for that honor—Prime Humiliator Supreme.