by MC Lee
“Mom, Dad, this is Emmett. Noah’s friend.”
She couldn’t have put more emphasis on the word if she’d tried.
I shot out of my seat and shook the hand Mr. Davis extended.
“Nice to meet you, Emmett,” Mrs. Davis said. “Noah talks about you very fondly.”
It was obvious where Noah got his good looks. Mrs. Davis had flawless skin, beautiful hazel eyes, and the most spectacular smile I’d ever seen. Her husband was tall, with an athlete’s body and a relaxed elegance his son had clearly inherited.
“Emmett had an accident,” Hannah said. If I could have kicked her in the shins without being obvious, I would have.
Mrs. Davis peered closely at my face. “What happened?”
“Walked into a door.” Somehow it came out sounding more like a question, as though I was testing the concept on her. She didn’t look sold.
“Tricky things, those doors,” Mr. Davis said dryly.
Yeah. He definitely knew.
“Do you want to come and have a burger with us after the game?” Hannah said. She stood up and linked her arm in mine. I couldn’t shake her off without looking like a douche in front of Noah’s parents, but I shot her the blackest look I could muster. Her expression didn’t waver a fraction.
“I can’t,” I said. “Thanks for the invitation, but I have to get home as soon as the game is over.” I shook my arm marginally, but she refused to take a hint.
“You’d be very welcome,” Mr. Davis said.
I felt that same pull, as though there was a string threaded through my veins, tugging me gently toward better things. God, I wanted to say yes. But I’d let Dad down yesterday, and I couldn’t do it twice in a row. I couldn’t let myself get used to normal when normal wasn’t for me.
“Emmett used to play,” Hannah said brightly. “He was in Noah’s position, weren’t you?”
“Why did you drop out, son?” Mr. Davis said.
I was just wondering which lie to trot out when Hannah jumped in again.
“It was because your brother got killed in Iraq, wasn’t it, Emmett?”
“Hannah,” Mrs. Davis said sharply. “That is very personal information. You have no right to share it without permission.”
“Wasn’t it?” Hannah asked. She turned great eyes on me, looking chastened, and that same weirdly protective feeling washed through me.
“That’s okay, Mrs. Davis. Hannah’s right. I dropped out of the team when my brother was killed.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mrs. Davis said. She sounded deeply genuine, and I was unexpectedly touched. I’d heard all the sympathies before, of course, every single shade of sorrow. But this was different. She actually sounded as though she meant it in a profound way. I felt a wholly unexpected rush of emotion well up inside me, and for one horrible minute, I thought I was going to cry, but I pulled my shit together and managed a weak smile.
“You must be very proud of him,” Mr. Davis said quietly. “But I guess you miss him.”
“Something awful,” I said, surprising myself.
“And your parents?” Mrs. Davis said. “It must be so hard for them.”
Every time other people had said the same thing, I’d thought, well my mom couldn’t stand the pain, so she ran out of town as fast as she could, and Dad lost his marbles over it, so what do you think? But this time I fought against the bitter glibness and came up with something like the truth—an almost alien concept these days.
“It broke their hearts.”
Mrs. Davis turned her head, and I swear I saw tears swimming in her eyes. Hannah pulled away but then spun around and threw both arms around me.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” she whispered. She squeezed hard, ignoring the way shock froze my body in place, and then she let go and turned tail, sauntering away to loudly greet a group of her own friends.
Mr. Davis reached out for my hand again. “You’re welcome to join us any time, Emmett. That goes for your parents too. We’d be proud to invite you to dinner someday.”
I stood there shaking his hand robotically. “Thanks, Mr. Davis. I’ll run it by my parents.”
“Just let Noah know whenever you can make it,” Mrs. Davis said. She smiled warmly. “Thanks for extending such a lovely welcome to Noah. It’s sometimes difficult being the new kid at school. You’ve made his life a little easier.”
They turned and walked away, and I watched them go, wondering what the hell Noah had told his parents about me. I’d been a first-class dickhead to him, no two ways about it. But standing by the sidelines, I was determined to try harder and be the person they thought I was.
I would have liked to stay until the end of the game to congratulate Noah and say hello to Cal, who had grinned from ear to ear when he caught sight of me. But I knew they’d both want to talk and I couldn’t afford to hang around. So I reluctantly left five minutes before the whistle blew to end the game.
I had five bucks and change in my pocket, so I stopped on the way home and picked up a foot-long meatball sub with plenty of cheese. Dad was still sitting in front of the TV, and he waved me into the room and pointed to the chair next to his.
“You’re missing a classic game,” he said. “Come spend a couple of hours with your old man.”
I gave him half the sub, and we watched the rest of the game together. We split the last beer in the fridge and talked shit about the teams. He asked me about school and winked when I told him I wasn’t dating anybody special.
It was fun and relaxing, and I didn’t even care that all afternoon he called me Jamie and thought I was the favored son.
Chapter Ten
“JESUS, WHAT the hell happened to you?”
Noah’s eyes were wide with astonishment when he saw me first thing on Monday morning. I’d pretty much forgotten about the bruise on my face, so it took a minute to clue in to what he was talking about.
“Accident,” I said.
“Hannah told me you walked into a door,” he said skeptically. “I just didn’t realize you’d done that much damage.”
“It was a feisty door,” I said flippantly.
He tipped his head and looked hard, but luckily he didn’t push. “You want to skip study hall this afternoon,” he suggested.
“Are you going to be a bad influence?” I asked, though secretly I was thrilled. Mrs. Eggers was a soft touch, and it was easy to ditch her class without much blowback. I’d done it dozens of times, but somehow I didn’t think Noah was the type.
He shoved my shoulder. “I’m not as innocent as I look,” he said, clearly reading the disbelief on my face.
“I’m sure you’re the big bad,” I said sarcastically. “Count me in. What do you have in mind?”
“How about we play it by ear?”
That worked for me. I spent the rest of the day counting the minutes until last period. Noah wasn’t at lunch, but Cal and Melissa put their trays on my table and sat down with me.
“It was great to see you at the game on Saturday, man,” Cal said. “What did you think of your boy?”
I raised an eyebrow. “My boy?”
“Noah, man,” Cal said. “He was magic out there on the field.”
“What makes him my boy,” I asked, feeling perverse.
Cal glanced at me, something shifting behind his eyes that somehow made me feel uncomfortable. “He’s got the hots for you, Easy. Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”
His tone was oddly brittle. I looked at Melissa, who was watching me closely. I wasn’t sure why, and I didn’t want to know. Whatever drama was cooking here, I wanted no part of.
“He doesn’t know the first thing about me,” I said, feeling my face flush.
“He knows you’re a good guy,” Melissa said. “What else is there?”
God, if only life really worked that way.
“You played a great game, Cal,” I said, trying to deflect attention.
“I miss you out there,” Cal replied. “We made a great team.”
<
br /> I didn’t want to look too closely at what it meant when he blushed to the roots of his hair.
I MET Noah outside the school gates at two thirty. He winced when he saw me, and I knew he was still hung up over the bruise on my face.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
It wasn’t a question a townie would have asked. Frankly, even his own kind would have known to leave the subject alone. After all, Miles Grayson had been known to turn up to school a time or two after an encounter with “a door,” just about the same time his father’s knuckles were suspiciously bruised. It wasn’t just the lowlifes who had to duck when the old man came out swinging. It made me wonder what rock Noah had been living under these past years.
“It’s totally fine.” I think my tone was a little the wrong side of belligerent, because Noah finally got the message and let the subject drop.
“So, what do you want to do?” he asked.
I didn’t have more than a dollar in my pocket, so I wanted to steer him away from anything that cost money. Luckily, it was a warm afternoon.
“You want to do the river walk?”
Noah smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
“We should probably drive to the south end and walk in,” I suggested.
It was a four-mile stretch of riverbank. Quiet, sometimes pretty, one of the most peaceful places in Whitmore. It followed Blackstone River through twists and turns and ended up just south of the railway tracks. It was one of my most favorite places.
“I’m putting myself in your hands,” Noah said, which painted all kinds of pictures in my head.
There were at least three other kids ditching last period. We nodded to each other in the parking lot like some kind of secret society, and then we jumped into our respective vehicles and tore out of school. I’d decided to leave my bike overnight. There was little chance anybody would be tempted to steal the rust bucket, and it was pretty firmly chained in place. It would take real determination to pry it off the bike rack. I was confident it was more effort than it was worth.
“Nice ride,” I said. “Your dad buy it for you?”
Noah offered a tight smile. “You’ve got us all figured out, haven’t you, Emmett?”
For once in my life, I hadn’t meant to sound like a judgmental dick.
“It was just a random question,” I said. “No ulterior motive. Hang a right here and take White’s as far as the gravel road.”
Noah maneuvered the Jeep around the corner and then shrugged. “Sorry, man. I guess I’m a little oversensitive. I don’t know what it is about this place that brings that out in me.”
I threw him a sidelong look. “Hey, I get it. To be honest, whenever I usually ask that question, I do it to needle the rich kids.”
“Is it hard just to see us as regular teens?”
“Practically fucking impossible,” I muttered.
“I’d like to change that,” he said quietly.
“Why?”
“What kind of question is that?” he asked, laughing.
I turned in the seat until I was facing him. “There’s you, and there’s us. Outside of the football field, there’s never been much in the middle.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “Tell me something, Emmett. Do you like being such a cliché?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “It isn’t a cliché if it’s the truth,” I said flatly.
He spun the wheel, and the car slid into a parking space. Noah threw the gearstick into Park and turned. We were facing each other now, the air between us charged with sudden tension.
“Do you have any interest in changing that so-called truth? Or are you happy making bullshit snap judgments based on the number of bills in my wallet?”
I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped. I definitely sat there gaping like a goldfish, my mouth opening and closing around stunned silence. By the time I found my voice again, Noah had climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut.
I sat for a moment, processing what he’d said, examining it from every angle to see if it held any truth. I pushed open the car door and stepped out, then crossed the few steps to stand beside Noah. He was staring at the water, lost in thought.
“So how many bills do you have in your wallet?” I asked.
Noah made a sound that I desperately hoped was a laugh.
“Any chance we can start again?” I said. “Hi. I’m Emmett Callaghan. I like puppies, rich boys, and long walks by the river.”
“Asshole,” Noah said, but this time he was definitely laughing. He turned to face me, his expression suddenly sobering. “Adults want to hang labels all the time. They put us into boxes based on color or race or social status. Because of who we love or what goddamned football team we support. We think it’s so fucked-up. And then we turn around and do the same thing to each other.”
“You’re right,” I said. “And based on that outburst, I’m putting you in the ‘Yoda’ box.”
“Has anybody ever told you you’re a dick?” The smile on Noah’s face went a long way to taking the sting out of his words.
“You’ve pointed it out more than once,” I replied. “A guy could get a complex.”
“About that river walk,” Noah said.
I grinned. “Follow me.”
We slithered down a steep incline until we reached the flat path that ran the length of the river. It wasn’t particularly pretty at this point, looking out as it did over an abandoned factory whose windows had long since been smashed. But once we rounded the first bend, things started to look up.
For a mile, there was nothing but budding trees, long grass, and the sweet smell of spring flowers growing wild beside the riverbank. It was such an unexpected sight in the middle of industrial Whitmore that Noah stopped in his tracks.
“Neat, huh?”
“It’s beautiful,” Noah breathed.
I let him take it all in for a couple of minutes, and then I nudged him. “Come on. I know the perfect place.”
I led him closer to the river and then pulled him down onto the grass underneath a tall tree. The ground was carpeted with daisies and warmed by the sun slanting through the branches overhead.
Noah stretched out beside me. “How’d you find this place?”
“I used to come with my brother. We spent hours down here when we were kids.” I didn’t tell him we were escaping our father for a few blissful hours. I’d always seen this place as a refuge from the merciless bickering or the vengeful silences that weighed our house down.
“Tell me about your family,” Noah said.
I shrugged. “What’s to tell? Dead brother, standard-issue parents.”
“There’s no such thing,” Noah said softly. “I notice you like to deflect a lot.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, Psych 101.”
Noah snorted. “I don’t think it takes psychiatric training to see you have issues.”
I stiffened and turned my head. “I guess we can’t all be smart, well-adjusted individuals.”
Noah rolled onto his stomach and cradled his head on his arms. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding from me?”
I threw up my hands in protest. “Hey, I’m an open fucking book. I can’t help it if my life is so boring I’d fall asleep describing it.”
“Nobody’s that uncomplicated,” Noah said. He reached out lazily and grabbed hold of me, tumbling me down in the grass so I was lying on my back beside him.
“Tell me about yourself,” I said, practicing the deflection he’d already spotted.
His knowing smile told me he wasn’t fooled, but he went along with it anyway. “What do you want to know?”
“Surprise me.”
He rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky. It was such a weird mix of excitement and ease to lie next to him, our hands finding each other’s and loosely clasping. There was a brief silence where I knew he was considering what to tell me, and when he spoke, he sounded thoughtful.
“I’ve been lucky. I’ve seen things a lot of kids will nev
er get the chance to see and been places a lot of people only dream about. It’s a great big, wonderful world out there.” The wistful tone slipped for a moment. “I’ve lived in countries where my mom’s is the unique face in the crowd and surprising places you’d swear had never even seen a black face let alone considered it an equal.” He huffed out a sigh, and I was glad when the smile returned to his voice. “And I’ve met people who made me believe anything is possible.”
“It sounds amazing,” I whispered, my own world feeling smaller and more dreary than usual.
“But I’ve also met people who made me question the existence of a higher power,” he added.
I didn’t want to spoil the mood, or force him to dwell on the pain I heard in his voice. “Tell me about the really important stuff,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Boyfriends. How many? Which ones broke your heart?”
His rich laugh rang out, and he levered up onto his side and looked down at me.
“Firstly, what makes you think there was more than one? And secondly, how do you know I wasn’t the one breaking hearts?”
I shaded my eyes as I looked up into his face. His eyes sparkled with silent laughter, and I smiled, fighting a sudden urge to cup my hand around the back of his neck and pull his lips down onto mine.
“You should smile more often,” he said. “Your whole face lights up.”
I didn’t want to scare him off, so I didn’t tell him I hadn’t had much to smile about recently.
As though he’d read my thoughts, Noah ducked his head and soft lips covered my own in a long, slow kiss. My whole body seemed to spark and jump until he pulled his head back, leaving me gasping.
“There were two. Both times I had to leave when my dad got reassigned. And both times I thought I’d never get over the heartbreak.”
I reached up and brushed his cheek. His skin was flushed and warm to the touch. I imagined it was how a blush felt. “But you did? You forgot about them?”