by E. L. Todd
Calloway sighed. “It was the right thing to do.”
Breccan rolled his eyes. “You aren’t going to be saying that by the end of the year,” he said. “This was just day one of Hawk torture. He isn’t going to stop.”
Calloway didn’t say anything. He knew his cousin was right.
“So, that’s why you’re afraid to go home?” Easton asked. “Your parents are going to be upset about paying for the camera?”
“It costs two thousand dollars to replace it,” Calloway said. “Our family can’t afford that.”
Easton’s eyes opened in alarm. “That’s a lot of money,” she said. She opened her bag and searched through a small coin purse. “I have a few hundred dollars that would help,” she said. “I got it for my birthday.”
Calloway was surprised by her selfless gesture and he stared at her in surprise, but his look was nothing compared to his cousin’s. Breccan stared at her with his mouth gaping open, astounded that she made such an offer, especially after all the insults he targeted at her. Easton counted out three hundred dollars then put in on the table.
“It isn’t much but it should help,” she said.
Breccan shook his head. “You would do that?” he asked incredulously.
“We are friends, aren’t we?” she asked. “Isn’t that what friends do?”
Calloway grabbed the money from the table and handed it back to her. “Breccan and I both really appreciate the other—we are both speechless—but we can’t accept it. Thank you anyway.”
“But I don’t mind,” she said.
Calloway smiled at her. “I know you don’t but we don’t want it. I’m getting a part time job to pay for it, so please keep it.”
She took the cash and put it back into her wallet. “Well, the offer still stands.”
Breccan looked at Easton with new eyes. “Thank you,” he said.
“Now do you still think I’m weird?” she asked.
Breccan smiled at her. “Yes, but in a good way.”
Confessions
They climbed up the stairs from the basement and entered the house. Weston was sitting at the coffee table with history books scattered around her, studying for an exam she had the next morning. Indie rock was playing from her stereo and she was drinking a cup of coffee despite the late hour. Weston looked up when she saw them enter the sitting area. “Are you guys leaving?” she asked.
“I’m going to drive them home,” Easton said as she walked to the front door. “I’ll see you later, sis.”
Weston nodded at her and turned to the two boys. “It was nice meeting you both.”
Breccan nodded and Calloway smiled at her. “Thank you for having us,” Calloway said.
“You’re welcome anytime,” she said. She turned back to her book and started highlighting a sentence on the page. Calloway watched her for a moment before he followed Easton and Breccan out the front door.
They walked to the car at the end of the driveway and got inside. Calloway sat in the back so Breccan could touch the dashboard and play with the stereo. He was so mesmerized by her car that he was acting like it was a living entity; a celebrity.
“What’s the horsepower on this thing?” Breccan asked as they drove down the street.
Easton shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the gas mileage?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t have a clue. I just fill it up when it gets empty.”
Calloway laughed at her comment and Breccan glared at her. “You have a beautiful, gorgeous, classic car and you don’t know anything about it?”
“I know how to drive it,” she said. “I think that’s the most important part.”
Breccan rolled his eyes. “You are so weird.”
“But in a good way, right?” She smiled.
Breccan nodded. “Most of the time,” he said. “When I get my license, can I drive it?”
Easton laughed loudly. “I hope that was a joke.”
“Come on,” he said. “I wouldn’t crash it or anything.”
“We’ll see,” she said. “But don’t count on it.”
Easton drove the two boys down the street toward their house across town. Calloway felt his heart accelerate the closer they came to home. The guilt was at its peak and he felt terrible for making his aunt and uncle pay for his mistake. It was entirely his fault and he wished this never happened. Calloway would prefer a bloody beating from Hawk over a financial jab at his guardians. Breccan sighed loudly when the house came into view. When Easton pulled into the driveway, neither of the boys moved from the seats, dreading the upcoming conversation.
“Come on you guys,” she said gently. “Tell them the truth—it wasn’t your fault.”
“I don’t care about that,” Calloway said. “I hate knowing they have to suffer for this—it’s unfair.”
Breccan nodded. “My parents don’t deserve to pay for that camera—they shouldn’t have to.”
“You’ll get through this,” she said to both of them.
Breccan opened the door and pulled up the seat so Calloway could get out. They crept to the door, walking as slow as possible. When they reached the doorway they turned the handle gently, hoping they could sneak into the house and avoid the conversation entirely. When they stepped inside, Aunt Grace and Uncle Scott were sitting in the living room, watching television. They didn’t look at them when they entered the house. Calloway shut the door behind them and both boys headed to the stairs, hoping that they hadn’t been spotted.
“How long are you going to avoid us?” Uncle Scott asked without looking at them.
Both boys halted and turned toward their uncle. He turned off the television and pointed to the sofa next to him and Aunt Grace. “Sit,” he commanded.
Calloway and Breccan dropped their backpacks on the floor and walked into the living room. Aunt Grace didn’t look at them once as they passed in front of her. Calloway leaned forward and looked at the floor, avoiding their gaze, and Breccan looked at the blank screen of the television.
Uncle Scott stared at them both. “So how’d you manage to break a camera beyond repair?” he asked. “What were you doing? Using it as a baseball?”
Both boys were silent.
“Well?” he asked.
“No,” Calloway said.
“Then what happened?” Uncle Scott asked. “And you better tell me the truth. It’s going to cost me two thousand dollars—it better be a good story.”
Calloway sighed. “It wasn’t Breccan’s fault—he had nothing to do with it—I’m the one responsible for this.”
Breccan shook his head but said nothing.
Uncle Scott stared at him and waited for him to continue.
“A girl in our class was being harassed by this jock—a typical bully—and he wouldn’t leave her alone and made her cry—that’s when I intervened.” Calloway held his hands together. “The guy got angry and started to pick a fight with me, teasing me about how I dress and—stuff.” Calloway didn’t want to confess what characteristic he was teased about the most. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings. “And when we were outside, the guy destroyed our camera because he knew it was checked out to us and we would have to pay for it.”
“Why didn’t you tell the teacher this?” Aunt Grace asked. She spoke up from her spot on the couch as she looked at her nephew.
“We did,” Breccan said. “But he had two witnesses—his friends—that said he didn’t do it. Since the camera was checked out to us we were still liable for it.”
“Is this the truth?” Uncle Scott asked.
“Of course it is,” Aunt Grace said. “They wouldn’t lie to us. Our boys would never do that.”
Calloway felt even guiltier for their undying belief in them. They trusted them.
“Well,” Uncle Scott said. “If that’s the story, I don’t see how I can punish you for it. Even though it ended badly for us, Calloway did the right thing by standing up for that girl. We would never punish our son for doing the right thi
ng.”
Calloway felt his heart tug at their words. They had referred to them as their own son on occasion, whether it was on accident or on purpose, and it made him feel like he belonged with them, that this was his family. Knowing he was responsible for the damaged camera and Hawk’s childish behavior made him angry. It wasn’t fair.
“You are both dismissed,” Uncle Scott said.
The both got up and headed up the stairs to their room. Calloway left the bedroom and walked to the bathroom down the hall and stopped when he heard voices.
“I’ll have to get a job,” Aunt Grace whispered. “It’s the only way we’ll make rent and buy groceries.”
Uncle Scott sighed. “I really don’t want you to do this,” he said. “I can pick up some extra shifts.”
“No,” she said quickly. “You already work all the time. I can’t expect you to do that.”
“Well, I know how hard it for you to stay on your feet.”
“It’s just for now,” she said. “We have to do this.”
Uncle Scott was quiet for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “We don’t have a choice.”
Poverty Boy #2
The alarm woke Calloway before sunrise. He stumbled out of bed and dressed himself in the dark, not wanting to wake up his cousin with the brightness of the overhead lamp. After he brushed his teeth and grabbed a snack from the refrigerator, he rode his bike through the winter morning toward the campus down the street.
Calloway’s hands were numb even though they were covered in thick gloves to protect his skin, and his body was shaking from the intense cold. He pedaled his bike harder to keep his body warm. He locked his bike when he reached the campus and walked into the library an hour before school started.
The librarian stared at him from across the room, making sure he wasn’t eating, and then looked back at her computer. Calloway caught her glancing at him every now and then, paranoid that he was going to eat at the computer station, but he tried to ignore her perpetual looks.
He logged onto the computer and searched for part time jobs that were student friendly. After listening to the conversation he heard last night, he knew he had to find employment. He couldn’t let his aunt pay for his mistake. He refused to let that happen. He finally found an opening at a nearby sandwich shop and he printed out the application to fill out later. The librarian marched over to him and saw that he was searching for a work position.
“The computers are for academic use only,” she snapped. Her eyes looked larger than he’d ever seen them. He wasn’t sure why she was so adamant about enforcing the rules with such a vicious attitude and it was starting to irritate him. He held back his anger and humored her. “I apologize,” he said. He typed on the computer and pulled up the SAT website then looked back at her. “It won’t happen again.”
She marched away and Calloway could hear the sound of her heels echo against the ground. He grabbed the application from the printer before she could confiscate it and shoved it into his backpack. Calloway explored the website and clicked on the registration link. There was a schedule of upcoming test dates before the deadline for college applications and he chose the exam scheduled for next week, but when he selected the date they asked for the payment information and Calloway sighed in frustration. He refused to ask his aunt and uncle for the money but he had no one else. Calloway assumed he could pay for the exam on the day of the test.
Calloway glanced at the clock and saw the time. School was about to begin. He logged out of the computer then left the library, walking to his English class in the classroom building. Just as he suspected, Beatrice completely ignored him when he walked in. She didn’t look at him or acknowledge him in any way. It seemed like she hated him for what he’d done. He assumed she refused to talk to him because she didn’t want to be seen conversing with a school loser. The thought angered Calloway but he ignored the ferocity coursing through him, remembering that he would have done it whether she appreciated it or not.
Calloway saw the students place their essays into a pile on the teacher’s desk, and he recalled that he had a paper due today but he had forgotten about it—again. When he reached the teacher’s desk, Mr. Avey looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to place his own paper on top, but Calloway passed the stack and walked to this desk.
When Calloway approached his seat, he spotted a small box sitting on the surface. It was a McDonald’s value meal apple pie and ‘Poverty Boy #2’ was written in permanent marker on the cover. Calloway tossed it into the garbage and the students started to chuckle at him. He sat in his seat and ignored the rest of the class to the best of his ability. He didn’t know who was responsible for the prank but he didn’t care anymore—he hated school.
Mr. Avey stared at him for a moment then shook his head slightly before he started lecturing. They were reading another Shakespeare play, Henry V, and all the students took out their own books. Calloway borrowed a copy from Mr. Avey since he wasn’t able to afford his own. Different students read aloud the prose of the play but Calloway found it innately boring to listen to. He loved reading Shakespeare but not when it was being read to him. He read much quicker in his head.
When the bell rang, Calloway grabbed his backpack and was about to head for the exit when Mr. Avey spoke to him.
“Please wait a moment, Calloway,” he said. “I’d like to speak with you.”
The students laughed as they walked out the door, enjoying the sight of Calloway being disciplined for something.
Calloway sighed and approached Mr. Avey’s desk. “Yes?” he asked.
“You’re serving detention with me after school.”
“Why?” he asked. “I did nothing wrong.”
“Really?” Mr. Avey asked. His blue eyes shined brighter when he spoke and contrasted against the white hair of his head and chin. He held his hands together on the desk. “Then where is your essay?”
Calloway was quiet for a moment. “I—I didn’t have time to finish it.”
“So, you started it?” the teacher asked.
“Well, no,” he said honestly.
“Now you’ll have time in detention,” Mr. Avey said. “Be in my class immediately after the last bell rings. You will serve one hour.”
Calloway sighed. He never heard of a student receiving detention because they weren’t completing their work but he decided not to challenge the instructor. Calloway tightened his backpack strap then left the classroom, fighting his anger as he walked to his next period.
When he walked into his math class, he sat in the back row and didn’t even glance at the front board, where the teacher was writing down the homework for the day. The teacher started to lecture but Calloway didn’t care about anything he said. He was very good at math—always had been—but he was barely passing the class because he failed to complete his assignments. His high exam scores carried him with a passing grade.
He closed his eyes and sighed, shutting out the world with his mind, and stopped listening to the teacher. He couldn’t concentrate anyway. Calloway was too distracted with the stress of his life. Now he had to work a job in addition to his other responsibilities, plus he had to fight for all humankind. The depression spread through his body and poisoned his mind. He didn’t see the purpose in any of this. What was the point?
As soon as the bell rang for lunch, Calloway practically ran from the room and headed for the library across the way. When he walked inside, Easton and Breccan were already sitting together. Calloway sat down without saying anything.
Easton immediately picked up on his mood. She had a woman’s intuition. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said. He looked around the room and spotted the table in the back of the library, hidden from the librarian’s sight. “Let’s go in the back. I can’t stand to have the librarian gawk at us all day and berate Breccan for eating.”
Breccan smiled as he chewed the chip in his mouth. They grabbed their bags and moved to the back of the room. The librarian watched them
move away and she glared at them as they disappeared behind the bookshelves.
“I think we should bring her donuts,” Easton said.
“Why?” Breccan asked.
“So it will lighten up her mood,” she said. “The woman is obviously stressed about something. Why else would she act that way?”
Calloway felt guilty for being so judgmental before. You never knew what a person was experiencing in their life—the good and the awful—so it was unfair to criticize her. Calloway understood what it was like to be judged unfairly. Everyone thought he was a horrible student who didn’t care about his education, but he simply didn’t have the time or the resources to be successful. He was given a label that didn’t portray him accurately whatsoever. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “Besides, it’ll make the environment much better for us. She probably won’t care if we eat in here.”
Easton pulled the book from her bag and placed it on the table. It was still dusty despite its constant use, and the dirt swirled in the air when she turned the pages. It seemed like the ancient dust was embedded into the paper permanently.
Breccan looked at his cousin. “So, did Beatrice say anything?”
“No.” Calloway sighed. “She pretended I didn’t exist.”
“That’s so cold,” Breccan said.
Easton shook her head. “I agree. She doesn’t have to be your friend but she could at least acknowledge what you did,” she said. “This is why I hate people.”
Breccan opened his sandwich and started to eat. “She cares about her image too much,” he said in between bites. “She doesn’t want to risk her reputation by talking to a poor loser.”
“Thanks,” Calloway said.
Breccan shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“Have you seen Hawk today?” Easton asked.
“No,” Calloway said. “But there was a McDonald’s breakfast on my table. I suspect he had something to do with that.”