by Bry Ann
“Brantley!”
That’s not just Mandi. I spin around to see my mom, hands on hips, standing in the doorway.
“Brantley, you cannot use language like that. Are you kidding me right now?”
I wince. “Sorry, Mom.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna be,” she mutters. She glares at me once before turning to Mandi.
“Mandi, sweetheart, you are welcome here for as long as you like. If you want to stay ‘til you’re eighteen, we will make it work. It may not be the most cozy, but we will love you and keep you safe.”
Mandi smiles at her, but her eyes are watery.
“Now, on to sleeping arrangements, like Brantley was saying before he got himself grounded.” Great. “You have a few choices. You can sleep on the floor in my room, you can sleep on the couch —but I’ll warn you, it’s tiny— or you can sleep on the floor in Brantley’s room.”
There’s a look on my mom’s face when she says the last option that I can’t quite interpret.
“I know these options aren’t great, sweetie. I’ll see what I can do, but for now, unfortunately, it’s all I got.”
My big-hearted mom looks so broken that she can’t give Mandi more. Even though she was thrown at her. Even though she’s not hers. She wants to give her the world.
I have the best mom. I really do.
Even though she freaking grounded me.
“Whatever’s best for you guys. I don’t want to be a bother. I’m just so excited to be here! This place is so cute. It’s like a real home.”
My mom’s face gets all mushy and soft.
“You’re a sweet girl, Mandi. Thank you. Anyway, I want you to be comfortable. That’s what’s best for me. So while you are unpacking, think about where you want to sleep and I’ll have Brantley get it set up for you.”
Then she turns to me.
“We’ll discuss the terms of your punishment later, mister.”
I purse my lips, but don’t say anything. Shouldn’t me helping Mandi count for anything?
Guess not.
“What should I do?”
I spin around to see Mandi standing there, watching me.
“How should I know? Where do you want to sleep?”
“It’s not that easy.”
My eyebrows tighten. “Of course it is.”
“No, it’s not! I don’t feel comfortable sleeping on your mom’s floor, but what if she takes offense to that? There’s the couch, which is fine, but then I’m in the middle of everything. If someone wants to get up early or needs water or something, they need to worry about me sleeping there. Then there’s…”
Suddenly, Maddi just stops talking and turns away from me.
“This was a bad idea. Yep. Bad, bad. Time to go. I’ll get my stuff out. Tell your mom thanks. Bye, bye.”
“Wait, what? Mandi?” A laugh bursts out of me. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. Why don’t you just sleep in my room ‘til you figure it out? If you want to move, you can, and if not, then you just hang here. Easy. Problem solved.”
“Boys make things sound so easy. You sure, Brantley? You’ve already done so much.”
I nod.
Her shoulders sag in relief. She reaches in my drawer, grabs one of my t-shirts, throws it on, and then turns back to me in my t-shirt with her mismatched bandana and smiles.
“You’re the best human.”
“Alright, don’t get carried away.”
She laughs. My t-shirt slips down her shoulder, and that’s when I notice her shoulder is covered in makeup.
I press my fists into my eyes.
She wasn’t lying.
And even if it cost us our friendship, I desperately wish she was.
Two weeks have passed since Mandi moved in. It’s actually not been bad. She’s been overly respectful of my space, and quiet, which is so unlike her that it’s a little alarming. I’m not sure I like it. Mandi’s Mandi, and even though she bugs me, I don’t want her being anyone else.
My mom’s been struggling to feed us all. She’d never say, but I can tell. I’m gonna get a job when I’m fifteen to help pay for Mandi’s stay. The last thing I want is for my mom to stress, and for Mandi to ever get wind of it. I’d work now if I could, but no one will hire a fourteen year old with no experience, and I’m not exactly babysitting material.
Mandi’s still out. She stays out super late. Apparently, she has a new group of friends. I’m glad she has a group of friends her age. I usually get home from football practice around 6 pm, and Mandi gets home around 11 pm. My mom’s in bed by then. She works early, so she leaves Mandi’s food in the fridge for her. I think my mom’s torn on how to approach Mandi as far as rules go. On one hand, she’s not her mom, on the other hand, she’s sort of her guardian now. She’s still navigating that territory.
Click.
The front door opens. I glance over. I’ve been sitting on the couch for the past hour, throwing the tennis ball up against it, waiting for Mandi. Not that I’d tell her, but someone’s gotta be sure she gets home okay. She’s still young. Younger than me.
She lets out a deep sigh and drops her bag on the counter. The room’s dark, so she doesn’t see me yet, but I have good vision, so I see her. She’s in a small, black and white striped dress with oversized sweatpants underneath, that she must have just thrown on. Her hair was clearly in a ponytail at some point, but now it’s only kind of in one. Her hair is now all over the place. It’s her face that holds most of my attention. She looks dead tired.
“Hey, Mandi.”
She leaps out of her skin and drops the bag of chips she was holding. Turkey sandwiches, a bag of Lay’s, and chopped celery were dinner tonight. My mom had to work late, so it was a quick dinner.
“I didn’t see you. You have to announce yourself. You scared me.”
I shrug and grab her chips off the counter, stuffing one in my mouth. “Sorry.”
“Why are you up?”
I can feel her glaring at me. “Well, I always wait up for you, Mandi.”
She snatches the chips out of my hand. She’s acting mad, but there’s a small smile on her lips. She likes that I wait up for her, even if she’ll never admit it.
“I know, but not out here. You wait in our room. You give me a minute to get myself together.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re out with your friends. Why do you need to ‘get yourself together’ before you see me?”
“Stop, Brantley!” She grumbles, somewhat desperately, before stuffing half the sandwich in her mouth. “Be nice.”
I bite back my urge to tell her that I am being nice. She won’t care that me making sure no one is picking on her is my way of being nice to her. I’m not good at kindness, so I protect her. That’s how I show it. Mom knows that about me, but Mandi doesn’t seem to get it. She used to, but not anymore.
“Fine,” I quip. “Eat alone.”
I stomp off to my room. I hear her calling out for me, but I’m not gonna try if she doesn’t care.
Why should I, right?
“Brantley.”
Mandi walks in the room. Her hair is down now, all stuck to her face. Her clothes are a mess, and she’s sad.
“I’m so sorry, Brantley. Thank you for waiting for me. Please don’t be mad.”
She comes over and wraps her arms around my neck. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach me. I roll my eyes, but reluctantly pat her back.
“It’s fine. I’m over it. You look beat. Get changed.”
“I need to shower, and I still haven’t finished dinner. I’m just as hungry as I am tired.”
“Fuck the shower, and bring your food in here. I don’t care if you eat in here. Just don’t let my mom find out. Problem solved.”
She lets out a disbelieving, happy laugh.
“You’re trouble, mister.”
Yeah, whatever. She’s already walking out to grab her food. A minute later, she walks in with her dinner in hand, and her sweats are practically falling off of her body.
<
br /> “Why do you have butt ugly sweats on under your dress?”
She gives me a tired smile. “My mom got arrested today.”
Shit. “Fuck, Mandi, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t say the f word. It’s beneath you.”
Same old Mandi.
“Alright. Are you okay? I mean, shit, can I do anything?”
She shrugs, staring at the floor and stuffing a mouthful of sandwich into her mouth.
“I always knew she’d go down for my dad’s shit. It’s not a surprise.”
She won’t look at me, but even from my bed, I can feel the sadness coming off of her.
“Why don’t you change?” I say softly. “Get out of today’s clothes.”
She nods at the floor and stands up. She grabs a pair of pajamas she left on the floor this morning, and heads to the bathroom. As soon as she’s gone, I run a hand over my face. I bet she didn’t tell my mom. I’m gonna have to tell her. Mandi needs help going through this. No thirteen year old girl should lose her mom. I hate not having a dad, I get mad about it sometimes, but I have a mom and she gives me enough love for both of them.
I can’t imagine not having her.
When I hear the bathroom door open back up, I look up and try to smile. She laughs softly and shakes her head. Nope, not doing that again. Smiling is not for me.
“You’re so weird, Brantley.”
“Not to Tara.”
Tara’s some chick who keeps inviting me to parties with her. It’s ‘cause I’m good at football. I know that, but it’s fun. She’s hot. Mandi hates her. She’s hated her since I was in middle school.
To confirm my thoughts, Mandi looks up and scowls at me.
“If you go out with her, I’ll tell everyone you wet the bed. And then maybe punch her face.”
I bite my lip to hide my laughter. “Down, girl. I’m not gonna date Tara.”
She nods once. “Good. I want you to date Emma.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise. Mandi runs out to put her food away real quick, then tucks herself in the covers. She shifts a few times trying to get ‘snuggly’, as she calls it.
“Emma Ramero?”
“Yep.”
“How do you even know her? That’s random.”
“She’s sweet.”
“Do I seem like the type of guy who should inflict myself on a sweet girl?”
Mandi rolls over and stares at me. “Inflict yourself? Are you planning on killing her? That’s a weird thing to say.”
I guess it is.
“I’m too intense for Emma Ramero. I don’t have an interest in her.”
“Of course you don’t,” Mandi grumbles. “You like sluts.”
“Mandi!”
She looks up at me, feigning innocence. “What?”
I want to say something, but I can’t. Not with her big eyes staring at me like that. I don’t want her to filter her thoughts or refrain around me. Although I have no clue why.
“Go to bed.”
She smirks, knowing she won. She winks at me and rolls over on her side. I stare at her for one more minute. It’s not until I roll over, too, that I remember what she told me.
Her mom got arrested.
I want to ask her more about it, but she’s tired. I’ll do it after school tomorrow, if she comes home. I don’t like that she’s always gone, and I don’t know where.
I really am like some kind of freaking dad.
I sigh and throw my pillow over my head. Slowly, my eyes start to flutter closed. I’m close to that blissful place of peace when I hear a small whisper.
“Brantley?”
“Yes?”
“Can I come up there?”
I stiffen. Her voice is small, almost childlike. I shouldn’t let her, but it’s dark and she sounds so broken. So different than she does in daylight.
I can’t say yes out loud. I feel weird about it, so I just nod. There’s shuffling, and then a small body comes in next to me. She wraps her arm around me and tucks her head into my shoulder. I feel better immediately. This is not like a girl with a crush at all. This is like a girl who is hurting so badly and needs to hold onto something steady. I get comfortable and let her hold me. Time passes. I start to settle into the quiet again, and then quiet sniffles echo in the small room. Snot and tears are pressed up against my shoulder. I know she thinks I fell asleep. It takes everything in me to give her the privacy she wants, and not to comfort my small, sobbing best friend.
Her body is wracked with sobs. I feel my own heart break listening to her. I’m ready to turn around when she starts talking. I really pretend to be asleep now. She’d die if she knew I was awake. She’s a girl meant for flowers, not tears.
“You’re the best friend in the world, Brantley Taylor,” she whispers, pulling her snot-covered face off my shoulder.
She starts to finally settle in next to me, headed for sleep. Before she falls asleep, she says in a quiet voice, “I’m so sorry.”
She squeezes me tight.
“I wish I was better than them.”
5
Fifteen Years Old
“Do you have your backpacks?”
“Yes, Mom.”
I roll my eyes, but like the obedient fake daughter she is, Mandi smiles. It’s been five months and Mandi is still proud of herself for being a freshman. She’s a year younger than me, so I’m a sophomore now. I don’t get the concept of being proud of yourself for making it to a grade, but Mandi sure as hell is. Whatever makes her happy, I guess.
“I got it, and my lunch and stuff. Thank you, Ms. Taylor.”
Mandi throws her arms around my mom. I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. If there’s one thing my mom can never question, it’s that despite the struggle she’s had to endure to become Mandi’s guardian, she can never doubt that Mandi does not one hundred percent appreciate it.
My mom’s a saint, pretty much. Moral of the story. My mom fought legal crap to become Mandi’s guardian. She had to pick up more hours on top of her already-busy schedule to pay for supporting another child.
Did she complain once?
Nope.
Did she tell Mandi what she’s had to do?
No.
If I ever had doubts about my respect for my mother, for how incredible women are, she crushed them when she gave Mandi a home.
“Ready, Mandi?” I ask. “As much as I’d love to stay and get sentimental here for the next hour...”
My mom rolls her eyes and stands up fully. “Where’s my sweet boy at, huh?”
“I’m not sweet, Mom.”
“You’re always gonna be my sweet boy. Even if you’re almost two hundred pounds of muscle and are almost double my size.”
I shrug, but damn, that’s a compliment.
“Don’t feed his ego, Ms. Taylor. Lord knows he has enough of it to go around.”
I grin at Mandi and wink, so only she can see. She makes a fake gagging motion.
“It’s gross to look at you, really. I don’t know how I do it.”
My mom laughs. “Okay, you two. Get out of here. Have a good day. I’m working my later shift today, so I won’t be home ‘til both of you are in bed.”
Her ‘later shift’ is the second job she works on her days off to support Mandi. She’d just never let Mandi know that.
“Okay, Ms. Taylor,” Mandi tells her with a bright smile. I know it’s that smile that makes all of my mom’s work worth it. I see it in her eyes.
“Love you both,” my mom says as she pulls up her boots.
“Bye.”
My voice is low, deep and sounds almost uncaring as we both walk out the door. My tone indicates nothing about how I really feel, though.
Mandi and I both hop on the bus, but we sit separately. I sit with my teammates. She sits with a group of girls. Today, though, she scoots in next to a guy with her group around her. My eyes zero in on the guy rubbing her upper thigh. She’s in shorts, so he’s actually touching her skin. She’s fourteen. I want to rip his hand off h
er, but I turn to my friends and try to socialize. I can’t help but check on Mandi. She doesn’t seem to enjoy him touching her, but she’s not pulling away, either. I’ll have to ask her about that later.
With that in my head, I turn back to my friends. The bus ride is around thirty minutes long, so I’m always freaking relieved when we get to school. I hate the flipping bus. I can’t wait to drive.
I glance over at Mandi one last time. She gives me a small wave, as is tradition for us, then we go off to our respective classes. For me, an hour of chemistry, English, and forensics before finally getting to go to lunch.
“Brant, catch!”
Dave throws me a football across the cafeteria, earning us a hard glare from the teacher on duty. We both smile sheepishly before laughing as we get to the table. I swear our table is a freaking buffet since the whole first string football team sits here.
“Hey, Brantley, who are you going to the dance with?”
I spin around to see Tara standing there with a group of her friends. Her infatuation with me hasn’t changed. To be honest, she’s hot. I’d love to go to the dance with her, hopefully have some fun after, but every time I see her I think of Mandi telling me multiple times that she’ll “punch her face” if she dares seduce me.
And then I laugh.
“Not sure yet, Tara,” I say dismissively.
“Well, I was thinking maybe me and you could…”
“Come on, baby, don’t be that way.”
“Get your hands off me. I said not here!”
I spin around. Six tables down is a table full of freshman guys and girls.
“Brantley? Are you listening to me?” Tara rattles off.
I’m not listening. At that table is Mandi, and some asshole is sliding his hand up her leg. The same asshole from the bus. She looks upset and is trying to shove his hand off. I’m seeing red, but I don’t want to embarrass her in front of anyone if she’s got it handled. She’s sitting at a table full of her friends, so someone should speak up soon. Even if her friends look like pieces of shit, no offense, one of them is bound to come to her defense before it comes to the point of me having to step in and embarrass her.
“Brantley!” Tara snaps.