by Unknown
The grandfather clock in the living room chimes and I’m afraid to see the time, afraid it’s too late to try and get my parents to allow me to leave.
I make a decision not to ask. I decide I’m going to get my bike from the garage, shout a goodbye, and leave like it’s a perfectly natural thing to do. Which it should be, I’m eighteen. I shouldn’t need my parents’ permission to sleep over at a friend’s house. Yet here I am, where I know I will have to be until I’m married, and then it will be my husband I have to ask for permission to do anything.
I pick up the backpack that I had left by the garage door and try to sound as confident as I can, “Okay, well, I’m off!” I cheerfully wave, thankful my voice doesn’t crack from nerves.
My father is just making himself comfortable in his chair – the one no one else is allowed to sit in, newspaper ready to be read on his lap.
He frowns, checking his wrist for the time, “It’s eight o’clock.”
I don’t roll my eyes even though I want to. Eight isn’t that late, especially for a Friday night.
I play with the end of my braid behind my back, “I know, I just thought I could still make it over. This is the time we usually watch a movie before going to bed.” I go to bed every night at ten, except on Friday, but they don’t know that. “We’re finishing the second half of Anne of Green Gables!” I say with excitement. My dad is never a pushover – except when he knows he has the chance to make his kids happy, and according to them Anne of Green Gables is my favorite movie. They don’t know that my actual favorite movie is anything involving Tina Fey. They don’t even know I’ve ever watched something they haven’t approved. They believe that I go over to have bible study, then to keep Sam off the streets we watch a clean, God-approved movie until bed. It’s never crossed their minds that I would deceive them. I push that from my mind as well. I don’t want to feel guilty about this, the only thing that truly makes me happy.
My father sighs as he glances at his watch again, “It’s too dark to be riding your bike.”
“Its summer, it won’t be dark for another hour.” I instantly regret talking back, “Sorry, sir. I’m just really excited.”
My mom’s busy knitting a baby sweater and doesn’t look up when she talks, “You know, Marv, she’s been a real help all week around here. At church last Sunday and Wednesday night service she stayed to clean up. She also finished all her chores well before she was expected. And it is summer…” She trails off like that’s reason enough for a girl of eighteen to go out on a Friday night. In any other house it would be.
“Fine,” he says, not looking happy about it, “but leave now before I change my mind.”
I hurry over to give them both a kiss on the cheek and then scurry to the garage, pull my bike out, and ride it away as fast as I can.
The night is still warm and sweat glistens on my forehead, but I only push harder.
The streets change from being safe and suburban to run-down and poor. It’s still safe around here though. Everywhere in my town is.
I skid to a stop in front of their house, the street already getting crowded with cars. It won’t be packed for another hour or two. I bring my bike over to the side of the house. I’m not worried about it being stolen. Although this is considered a trashy neighborhood, everyone around here is like a close-knit family, and the fact that Daniel Shepard and his boys will beat the crap out of you if you do. Nobody wants to be on the other end of that round-up. I only do it to keep it out of the way of any drunk people that might stumble over it and hurt themselves. It’s happened a time or two.
I enter without knocking. Nobody ever knocks.
The small living room is filled with the usual crew, the same group that’s been here most every night and weekends since they were all kids. They’re sprawled out everywhere: the couch, the recliners, the floor, watching whoever has the controls and passing around a bottle of whatever was on sale that night at the liquor store.
They only take notice of me when I block the television for the half a second it takes to rush past.
“Hey!” They yell in unison, then just as quickly go back to what they were doing.
I smile and shake my head. It’s good to be home.
I speed down a short hall to Sam’s room, which is to the left, between the living room and kitchen. Their mom’s room is right next to Sam’s, and since the door is open and the room empty I know she’s already out at the bars. Only on rare occasions does she stay home and party with her kids. My parents think she works nights as a waitress. They don’t know she works at a bar a few times a week, mostly relying on Danny’s income to support them. They also don’t know Sam’s dad is in jail. They think he’s dead, which he might as well be since he will be there for life and his children want nothing to do with him. They won’t even talk about him.
I’m surprised to find Sam isn’t dancing all over her room. Instead I find her crossed-legged on her bed, biting her thumbnail, looking worried at whatever magazine she’s flipping through. Her hair is normally loose and wild, but tonight she has it piled high at the top of her head.
“Hi,” I greet, shutting the door behind me.
Sam looks up, her face completely changing at the sight of me. Her blue eyes light up and she scurries across the bed, flinging herself at me. “You’re here!” We hug each other. “I was worried you weren’t coming.”
I drop my backpack to the floor, “I almost didn’t.”
She yanks on my hand toward her bed, “Thank God you are. I don’t know what to do!”
“About what?”
She throws her hands up, “I did something stupid!”
I can’t help it, I let out a bark of a laugh. This isn’t the first time she’s started a conversation with this. Most of the time it has me covering for her because she doesn’t want her brother to know something. Of course, Dan always finds out anyway and then we both get yelled at. Dan usually lets her do whatever she wants, except when she does something stupid (which is usually once a month).
“You know the ice cream shop?”
I smile at Sam, “I remember.” That was the day my life changed for the better.
“Okay, well, remember the park next to it where we first met?”
I smile even bigger, “Of course.” I ride by that park sometimes just to remember all the fun we had there before the boys became “too cool” for it and would much rather spend their time on video games, booze, and girls.
“Tag kissed me!” Sam blurts out before slapping her hands over her mouth like she can’t believe she just said it out loud.
“What?!” I shriek.
“Shhh,” she nervously looks to the door, even though we both know the boys never pay us any attention.
I scoot closer, “Tell me everything.”
“Okay,” she lowers her voice and moves her body closer to mine. “He picked me up from dance class. I was starving and it was about a bazillion degrees outside so I begged him to stop for ice cream. It was crowded, so we got our ice cream, walked over to the park, and ate it under a tree. He laughed that I had ice cream on my face, then said something like ‘how do you always get ice cream everywhere?’” Sam tries to mimic his deep baritone voice. “So then his thumb brushed some off, and I kid you not Hannah…” She puts out her arms with wide eyes, “Goosebumps, all over them. Has that ever happened to you?”
Every time your brother looks at me, I think, but I can’t tell her that so I shake my head no.
“Anyway, next thing I know he’s leaning in closer and my stomach’s swirling around and my heart is racing because I’m thinking ‘Omygod is Tag going to kiss me?’ And then I’m thinking ‘Omygod I want Tag to kiss me!’ I felt like I should be grossed out, he’s like my brother, but then he did it! He kissed me! Right there. Under the tree. We went at it. Like, holy hell, Hannah! We went at it! Then his phone rang, my brother the cockblocker wondering what was taking so long. Tag got all freaked out and rushed us home. Now I’m too freaked out to go out t
here. Do you think he told anyone?”
“No, he wouldn’t want Danny to find out.” Dan has told everyone on more than one occasion that if they touch Sam or me they’re dead.
She nervously bites her lip, “True, but still. How am I supposed to go out there? Do I pretend it never happened?”
“Do you want to pretend it never happened?”
Sam looks down at her hands, picking her nails, “The weird thing is that I don’t. I’ve never felt like that after a kiss. I don’t know if it’s because he’s a good kisser or because of who it was kissing me.” She looks up at me with pleading eyes, “What do I do?”
I laugh, “You’re asking me? The girl who’s never even had a boy hold her hand?”
“Like that matters, you still give good advice.”
That’s another thing I love about Sam. She’s never made me feel weird about the fact that I’m eighteen and have never had a boy so much as even attempt to hold my hand.
I give the only reasonable suggestion, “Talk to Tag.”
“I can’t. The idea makes me want to puke. You should have seen the way he wigged out after my brother called, it’s like he just realized who I was,” she pauses, her eyes getting wide. “Do you think he was high? Not on pot, but like, something harder? Do you think that’s why he did it?”
I shake my head no, “He’d never drive that way with you in the car.” Plus that has never been any of the boys’ style.
“True,” she agrees. The boys may be considered white trash punks to the outside world, but the way they look out for each other is honorable. Especially for Sam, and now me for the past five years. They would protect us with their lives. It’s a good feeling. Better than good really, to know someone always has your back.
Sam lightly pushes my shoulder with her hand, “Go out there and see if he’s being weird or not. See if he looks at you when you come in. I know he’ll want to know if I’ve told you.”
I point a thumb behind me, “You want to send me out to the front lines?”
“It’s no big deal,” she waves it off with her hand. “You hang out there with them all the time.”
“Not to spy!” I protest. Of course she can say it so casually, she’s not the one going out there!
“It’s not spying. I just need you to get a feel for his mood.” Sam clasps her hands together. “Please,” she pleads with a pouty lip.
“Fine,” I huff, but only because when she gets like this she will wear me down until she gets her way. “First things first,” I say as I stand. I begin undressing and I go to her dresser to pull out a pair of her leggings (the kind you could sleep in they’re so comfy), and a shirt that hangs off my shoulder because it’s been stretched out and worn so many times. I undo my braid, pulling it up high and twisting it into a bun before I clip it in place. I instantly feel lighter, happier.
I give her a look on my way out to let her know I’m not happy about this.
“I owe you one,” she whispers after me.
I add it to the long list of favors that I know I’ll never have her repay; my life never has any scandal that would require it. Unless you consider lying to my parents, but I’m pretty sure almost every child does that. I say almost because I doubt my sister Lauren has, or Chelsea for that matter. I’m the rebel, if you can believe that. The thought almost has me laughing out loud.
I go to the refrigerator and get a soda. They always keep it stocked with root beer, just for me. When I first started hanging out at their house I only drank water, denying anything they offered since I’ve never been a fan of most drinks. One day, Danny asked if there was anything I did like to drink. I said root beer, and from then on the fridge is always stocked with it. It warms my soul every time I reach for a can.
I crack it open and plop down on the floor by a chair, watching them play some kind of combat game.
“It’s my turn dickwad,” Tripp yells at his twin, swiping the controller out of his hand.
“With your sorry-ass skills I’ll have it back in five minutes. Ten, tops. Fucktard,” Price replies with the class of a ten-year-old.
“Hehe,” Jerry lets out, barely moving his shoulders, already stoned.
I watch Dan out of the corner of my eye. I can’t stop myself. If he’s in the same room as me I have to watch him.
He has a beer in one hand, his feet propped up on the coffee table. I like his feet. Is that weird? I’m pretty sure it is, but I don’t care. Everything about Dan turns me on; I can’t stop it, and believe me, I’ve tried. It’s only recently I’ve accepted that I’ll always have a massive crush on him and it’s never going away. Which sucks, but oh well.
Nobody pays me any attention, but I don’t need special greetings. I’m one of them.
I try and slyly look over at Tag to gage his mood and am startled to find his eyes boring into me. His serious face drops when he sees me looking back. Something in his eyes tells me that he knows I know. I don’t know how.
I grimace, I didn’t intend to, but this whole thing is awkward.
He scrubs his hands over his face; something he does when he stressed.
Tag looks at me again, searching my face, and I stay completely still, not sure what to do. He eventually stands and nods his head toward the backyard. I nod back and get up to follow him.
Tag has to pass the television and I see Danny follow his movements with his head, and then he notices me standing, ready to follow behind him. Dan immediately stands up, jutting a chin at us, his face stern, “What’s up, guys?” He only uses the word guys when he’s irritated.
“I need to talk to Hannah,” Tag ticks off like he’s annoyed, grabbing hold of my elbow so I will continue to follow.
“About what?” Dan calls after us.
“None of your fucking business,” Tag shouts back.
Danny isn’t having it. He starts after us.
Tag pauses and holds up two fingers in irritation, “Two fucking minutes. Jesus, Danny. Give me two fucking minutes. I’m not going to touch your girl.”
Your girl. What that does to my stomach I guarantee will keep me up all night for the next week.
“Two minutes,” he reluctantly complies.
“What the fuck does he think we’re going to do?” Tag exclaims once we are outside and out of earshot. “He knows I wouldn’t touch you.”
“You touched his sister,” I remind him.
He curses and kicks invisible rocks on the ground. He looks up at me with desperate eyes, “What’d she say to you? What’d she tell you?”
“I’m not playing this game. I’m not being your go-between.” I nod my head in the direction of her bedroom window, “Go talk to her while you two have a minute to be alone.”
He looks at Sam’s window like it might be the scariest thing he’s ever seen, like the boogie monster is waiting on the other side. Which is funny, because he’s grown over the years. I mean really grown. He’s a big brute of a man, tall and packed with muscles. He could squash anyone with just his fingers.
Tag takes in a deep breath, and as he lets it all out he jogs over to the window, raps on the glass with his knuckles, and waits a few seconds before Sam lifts it up. She pokes her head out, glancing between the two of us.
I lift two fingers up and mouth, “Two minutes.”
She nods, looks to Tag with wide eyes, and they stare for a long time. He whispers something that has her smiling, and then they’re going at it. Just like she had described to me, they go at it.
I look away in embarrassment, right into the living room where Danny is there watching me. His brows are buried together; his look when he’s getting past the point of pissed off.
I’m pretty confident he didn’t see Tag walk away or he’d be out here wondering what’s going on.
Is it possible he thinks I’m blushing because of something Tag said?
I quickly turn my head back to pretend like Tag’s still there and not mauling Sam with his tongue. I act like I’m listening to whatever he’s saying.
/> I give them thirty more seconds before I let out a really loud fake cough.
It doesn’t work.
Sam currently has Tag’s massive body halfway through her window.
If Danny saw this he’d flip his lid.
Sam is no virgin, but it’s never been from the hands of one of his boys. Never.
I walk over, taking hold of Tag by the belt and yank. “Time’s up.”
He grunts and gets down, both of them wiping their mouths at the same time.
“Shit, Hannah. You’re surprisingly strong,” Tag sounds half surprised, half proud.
I hear Danny coming up behind us, “What’s going on?”
Great.
Sam is quick to prattle off an excuse, “Tag borrowed a hundred bucks from Hannah. He hasn’t given it back yet. I’m wondering why the fuck not,” she growls at Tag, playing the role of protective best friend.
She’s so convincing even I believe her, and then just as quickly, I’m pissed at her for always putting me in the middle of her drama.
Danny crosses his arms over his chest, “How soon do you need the money?”
“Today,” Sam answers for me. “But Tag says he can’t get it until next Friday.” She waves her hands around, “You can see why there’s all this drama.”
If I didn’t love her so much I’d throttle her.
Danny pulls out his wallet, whips out a hundred dollar bill, and hands it to me, “Here.”
I hesitate to take it. That money doesn’t belong to me.
He forces it into my hand at the same time he knocks Tag upside the head with his free one, “Don’t borrow money from her you dipshit.”
“Sorry,” Tag mumbles at me.
“Its fine,” I dismiss, wanting this whole moment to be over with.
Danny doesn’t move until we do.
“Don’t let them take advantage of you,” Danny says from behind me once Tag is almost inside.
“I know,” I grumble.
He tugs on my elbow.
I hate when he touches me. It does things to me, things I can’t ignore, yearnings I can’t ignore at my age.
“Hannah,” his voice has deepened.