by CJ Daly
on was forced.
“Well go on then . . . get your country on,” I half-heartedly quipped.
He came over and grazed my temple with his lips. “Get some rest, Katie-
Kat,” he urged before heading out my door, and then out the back door. With
a bang.
What was all that about? I tried to recall what I’d said that upset him,
ruminating on it as I brushed my teeth. I crawled back into bed still not
knowing. I thought about how he left: with a peck on my head. Maybe he
thought of me as a kid sister? But that was definitely not a chaste kiss last night.
Oh man!—it was me trying to seduce him. Again.
Was I mistaking his niceness for something more? It felt like he really
did care for me . . . just obviously not in the same way I cared for him. The squeezing pain in my heart far surpassed the one in my head. What did I
expect? Thoroughbreds don’t really get together with Paint horses—they
always breed them with other Thoroughbreds.
I fell asleep wondering what kind of horse I really was.
• 394 •
35
BULLCR AP
Sometime later I awoke to the jarring sound of my father telling off
poor Mikey, for some minor indiscretion, I’m sure. My chest felt heavy
immediately. Back to reality. Why couldn’t I have lived a little longer
in the cocoon of smooth, good-feeling I had achieved with Pete last night?
The pleasurable moments in life seemed to be fleeting as a butterfly fluttering
nearby, and then flitting away before I could focus on its beautiful colors. Or
even really be sure of what I’d seen.
I pushed out of bed and made my way over to the window to let in some
fresh air. There was some Tylenol left for me on my nightstand, along with a
note: Be back tonight. Not very loquacious. Hungry for more, I flipped it over, but it was blank . Nevertheless, I knew I’d keep that note forever.
It was all coming to an end that was for sure. I felt sick to my stomach
that Daddy might really sign Andrew up on Monday, and heart sick that Pete
Davenport would disappear from my life on the same day.
How could I go on either way?
Despondently, I dragged out to greet the boys. Even though Andrew
was his favorite person in the whole world, Mikey would be needing me by
now. I was the only mother he could remember. And now his brother might
be leaving soon. For good. It seemed like a sin to bust up that kind of love.
Another dose of anger at Daddy and hatred for that school coursed through
me. It momentarily brushed my consciousness how easily I disassociated Pete
with his academy now, compartmentalizing my personal time with him as
having nothing to do with his mission to sign Andrew. Like they were entirely
mutually exclusive—wishful (and foolish) thinking on my part.
“Kadee!” Mikey forgot himself and came barreling into to me.
• 395 •
“Careful, buddy. Porcelain doll, remember?” I smacked his cheek with my lips.
“Hey, Katie-Kat.” Andrew went in for a quick hug and a faster release.
“Didja know that Pete’s comin’ back this afternoon to help with chores again?
And he’s bringin’ dinner. And he’s stayin’ with us—even though I don’t need a babysitter.” He paused to scoff before continuing on with an increasing
upwards lilt to his voice. “He’s gonna hang out with us tonight, so Daddy can
get some business taken care of before—” He stopped short, cutting his eyes
to his brother, who was looking sideways at him.
“Really?” I squealed, unable to keep my voice neutral. I looked to my father for confirmation. I wondered what kind of business had to be taken care of
that couldn’t wait till tomorrow.
“Yep,” Daddy confirmed, wobbling the toothpick between his lips. “Cadet
Davenport agreed to watch the boys while I get ever’thing all squared away . . .
for that thing I gotta do.” He removed the half-shredded stick from his mouth
and shot the hard point at me. “Now I wantja in yer bed at eight sharp. Door
closed. Lights out. Do you understand me, young lady?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If yer so bad off to warrant gettin’ out of chores and church then you
need to be in yer sick bed.” This, for the transgression of being unable to fulfill my quota of responsibilities.
Unable to speak, I bobbed my head.
“If you woulda used that noggin’ for somethin’ other than knockin’ a hole
in my water tank, you woulda realized that water woulda come blowin’ outta
there faster’na freight train. And you will always lose in a battle with water.
It’s a force that can’t be fought with. Trust me . . . I’ve seen some things in
my time!”
I was in too weak a state to argue my case, even though it was a strong
one. To tell the truth, I just wanted him gone—when you’re already feeling
low, you don’t want someone handing you stones.
“Yer a smart girl like yer mama,” Daddy bulldozed on, “but you lack her
good old-fashioned common sense. Maybe the back of that tank knocked
some sense back into yer head.”
I considered that to be salt in the wound. Tears pricked my eyes. Daddy
was generally authoritarian to the extreme, but he was hardly ever downright
mean. To me. I could tell he was stressed out about his upcoming IEA meeting
on Monday and the idea of signing Andrew and his parental rights away. It
must be weighing pretty heavily on him. Guess he was shifting some of that
weight onto me. I also suspected he knew he’d made himself look bad in front
• 396 •
of Pete, so was punishing me for being the catalyst to revealing his true self in front of someone he held in high esteem.
Mikey openly glowered up at Daddy, and even Andrew stepped back into
me, as though offering his support with his nearness. One or both of them
was about to say something. I didn’t want anything to upset the balance of
Daddy skedaddling out of here, so I placed a hand on each of their shoulders,
squeezing in wordless communication.
Daddy’s fleshy lips drew together at the sight of us walling up on him.
He yanked me out of my position and marched me into my room, where he
instructed me to pack a suitcase for Andrew. I was to pack his nicest church
clothes, and under no circumstances tell Mikey that he and Andrew were
leaving for San Francisco.
Something fishy was going on, but I had too much of a headache to
concentrate on it at the moment. I also wondered how stupid he thought
Mikey was while he continued doling out stuff for me to do when I was
supposed to be taking it easy. He informed me he was taking Andrew into
town to get a fresh haircut and a new suit for their all-important visit to “The Academy.” Then, without so much as a backward glance, he slammed out the
door with an eager Andrew in tow. I pondered, again, what the heck kind of
physical was so important that Andrew had to go all the way to California
for it and decided to brave asking Pete about it tonight.
After a late lunch of nuked frozen burritos, Mikey and I leisured away the
afternoon playing Chutes and Latters, the only game not likely to boggle my brain at the moment. Then I sent him in to watch TV while I showered and
packed a suitcase for Andrew. I popped two
more real Tylenol that Pete had
kindly left for me, keeping my headaches at bay with clocklike precision of
pill taking. I didn’t want to chance the severe headache coming back tonight
with Pete here, determined to enjoy every moment, knowing it could be our
last. I sighed, leaning over to stare at my reflection in the mirror, noticing I
still had faint circles under my eyes, despite the good amount of sleeping I’d
been doing. There was also a large purple bruise over my right shoulder, and
my neck was still sore.
Aggravated by my unkempt looks, I blamed it all on the strain of worry
and sleeplessness catching up with me. I wondered if a little mascara would
help improve my appearance (and if it would be noticed by either Daddy or
Pete). In the end, I compromised with one sooty layer that had the instant
result of making my lashes feel decadent. After blowing out my hair, I brushed
it where it didn’t hurt until it shone. Then, slipping out of my baggy sweats
• 397 •
and into a pair of snuggly gray leggings, I topped it off with one of my handy-dandy five-dollar tees, this one in pink.
What could I do? Dress up for my date with my bed? Daddy would be suspicious if I was wearing anything that looked too good, and I desperately
wanted him to leave. To keep my eyes off the clock, I couldn’t help straightening
the bit of clutter that had accumulated over my sick leave. I was busy swiping
some creamy vanilla onto my lips when Mikey wandered into my room,
looking glum as only a kid can.
“Kadee, is Drewy comin’ back from his trip with Daddy to Pete’s school?”
“How’d you know about that?”
“I heard them talkin’ ‘bout it when they didn’t know I was listenin’.”
Apparently, I had a never-ending supply of sighs because another one
leaked out of me, long and weary. I collapsed onto my bed, dragging Mikey
with me. “I’m sorry you had to hear about it that way. Daddy wanted to keep
it a secret . . . you know how he is. I was gonna tell you about it but didn’t
wanna worry you unnecessarily.”
“Is he comin’ back?” Mikey pleaded.
I nodded, feeling confident in my answer. “Yeah, honey. He’s comin’ back
soon. They’re just lookin’ around at Pete’s school, and he’s gonna see a doctor
for some tests, and then they’re turnin’ right around and comin’ back home.”
Mikey plucked at my clean shirt with grubby hands. “Is he sick like our
mama was?”
“No, of course not! It’s only a well-check, I promise.” I collected Mikey’s
doubtful face between my palms, stared into his muddied-green eyes. “I want
you to know, I’m not worried anymore. I have one of those strong feelin’s I
sometimes get that Andrew’s not goin’ anywhere any time soon,” I said, trying
to reassure us both.
Mikey nodded up at me. “I know. It’s cause I’ve been tellin’ Daddy ever
chance I get not to sign him up for that bored school. . . . But I can’t stop
him if I’m not there!”
“Nobody expects you to, honey. I don’t want you to worry—everything’s
gonna be alright.” I bolstered this flimsy declaration with a tight hug.
“I don’t want Drewy to go away!” Mikey wailed, the gathering tears
beginning to disperse into the thin fabric of my shirt.
“Shhh.” I rocked him back and forth. “Hey, remember? . . . The good
guys always win—just like in Batman and Spider-Man.”
“Is Daddy a good guy?”
“Drewy’s a good guy,” I evaded. “One of the best. So everything’s gonna
• 398 •
work out okay for him. Don’t you worry,” I soothed, thumbing away the salty streams rolling over his cheek-hills.
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
Unable to deal another second, I snapped off the light and crawled into
bed with Mikey. Curling around him like a question mark, I whispered in
his ear, “Everything’s gonna be okay” over and over until we both fell asleep.
I awoke by an irritating light reflecting the back of my eyelids at me. Followed
by equally irritating laughter. Recognizing the low rumble right away, my
eyes popped open.
“Looks like you have no shortage of dashing young men to share your
bed.” Pete stood there with his casual hotness, prettying up the room.
“You’re back!” An insta-smile sprang to my mouth. “Mikey, Pete’s here,”
I announced, shaking him out of his sleep.
“I hate to break it up, but if I let you two sleep any later, you’ll be up all
night.”
Mikey pried his eyes open. “Hi, Pete.” He yawned hugely. “Is Drewy
back yet?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s crashed on the couch watching YouTube videos
on my phone. We just got finished feeding the animals—Buttercup says to
say hello,” he said, just when I didn’t think my smile could grow any bigger.
He smiled back, and my heart did its backflip thing. “I’m fixin’ to rustle up
some vittles right now.”
“I know what vittles is,” Mikey informed Pete before cannonballing off
the bed into his arms. “It’s weally just a fancy word for food.”
“That’s right—you sure are a smart little guy, just like big brother.” Pete
tossed him up and almost knocked my dang ceiling fan down (which would’ve
been an improvement seeing as how it was both oversized and outdated).
Mikey grinned ear-to-ear, planting his hands on either side of Pete’s face.
“How come you didn’t wait for me to do chores with you and Drewy?”
“You guys looked like two comfy peas-in-a-pod, so I didn’t have the heart
to wake you,” Pete answered, poking Mikey in the stomach before flipping
him upside down so that he landed on his feet.
“Whoa!” Mikey giggled, staggering sideways before running to catch up
with his brother. The sound of his squeal interrupted Pete and I’s stare fest.
“Whoa!—you gotta short cut . . . almost wike mine!”
My starter-smile morphed into a yawn. I really felt like I should be better
• 399 •
rested. “Thanks again for helpin’ out,” I said, hoisting myself up. “That’s awfully nice of you.”
Pete nodded thoughtfully, staring at me until my face warmed. “You look
pretty warn out.”
“Words every girl dreams of hearin’.” I resisted the urge to smooth down
my hair.
His lips didn’t even twitch. “You have to take better care of yourself, Kate.
Slow down a bit. Don’t work all the time—try to enjoy yourself every once-
in-a-while.” He recommended this as if the ideas had never crossed my mind.
“I’ll get right on bookin’ a spa retreat to Cabo right after my mani-pedi
on Monday,” I said, pushing the covers off a little too airily.
I was trying not to be combative but felt piqued. Does he think I enjoy
living like this? Like it’s a lifestyle choice? I tried not to be mad. He probably couldn’t fathom how hard things were in my world, having had the good
fortune of being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I looked over at his
polished perfection—make that golden spoon. I yanked the covers back up,
hastily making my bed.
“You see what I mean?” He held out his palm. “Ju
st leave it for goodness
sake.”
I wheeled around. “Some of us don’t happen to have a merry maid to
magically come along and pick up after us when we leave!”
Pete sighed, running a hand through his hair . “I’m not trying to criticize.
All I’m saying is—try to cut corners a little. Take some time out to have fun.
You have too much responsibility on your young shoulders.”
“Says the seventeen-year-old boy,” I shot back then punched my pink,
fuzzy pillow and tossed it on top of my bed.
He ignored the hit. “Why didn’t you go to homecoming?”
“Because the guy I wanted to ask me happened to be out of town,” I
mumbled, finding the need to straighten the picture frames on my nightstand.
Pete came up behind me and pulled my hair to one side. He kissed my
shoulder, grazing the tender bruise with his lips. “I would’ve loved to have
taken you to homecoming,” he breathed down my neck.
I shivered in an entirely pleasant way then huffed out a chuckle. I had
a hard time picturing him at our cheesy homecoming dance. It seemed so
juvenile and . . . lowbrow for him, and I told him so.
“I can picture it,” he disagreed. “And your spectacular body in a little
black dress. Would’ve been a kick—I’ve never been to a homecoming. It’s
actually been a little fun taking a hiatus from The Academy to experience
regular high school. Feels . . . normal.”
• 400 •
Ah. My word.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but there’s nothing normal about you.” My eyebrows remained suspended at this revelation. I’m not sure why because it
really did seem like he was enjoying himself, almost like he was on vacation.
But I still wondered: How much of it was real and how much was part of the
mission to win me over? I really hoped he wasn’t faking—that would kill me;
it really would.
I forced an upbeat tone. “And I think that ship has already sailed.”
“There’s always prom,” he said.
Spinning around in his arms, I tilted my face up. “Yeah right—prom. I
won’t hold my breath for that.” I tried for jovial but ended up with wistful.
He wrapped his arms around my waist. I wound my arms around his
neck, and we kind of just swayed together until he stopped to grimace. “Just