by Angel Lawson
“No. Fighting,” he says through gritted teeth. His eyes look sad—haunted. I’m instantly filled with regret and it’s obvious Dex is too.
“Sorry,” Dexter says, hands in surrender, giving the twins an apologetic look.
“Me, too,” I say. “Look, I know you’re mad and I know you don’t understand, but this is between me and Starlee. I’m sorry if it affects you. I’ll try to keep things together.” I run my hand through my hair. “I’ve got that test in the morning and I really need to sleep.”
The tension fades, except the one in my chest, the one that tells me the guys are right and I’m being an idiot. But what’s done is done and maybe if I pass that test tomorrow and get the scholarship, everything can change.
Until then, things are the way they are.
21
Dexter
The next morning, I meet Starlee at the car with a steaming hot mocha and a Moose’s muffin. Her eyes are red, from tired or maybe crying. I’m not going to pretend like I don’t know.
“I’m sorry,” he says, touching her chin.
“I just don't understand, you know? I don’t know why he’s pushing me away.”
I grimace, wanting to tell her what the hell’s wrong with my brother, but feeling like it’s not my place. “As much as it pains me to say it, I think giving him a little room right now may be the best idea. Let him get through the test and this football stuff.”
“What if…” she says, then fades off.
“What if what?”
“What if he just doesn’t like me anymore. I mean, he barely wants to kiss me, much less anything else. What if he thinks he’s finally getting out of here—away from Lee Vines and all of us. I mean, Jake is a good player. He could have a career.”
I link my fingers with hers. “Jake doesn’t just like you, Star, he loves you. Too much, maybe, and that is what he’s going to have to work through. How to balance you and everything else in his life.”
She looks a little relieved when I say that he loves her. It’s hard to put this whole thing into words, and again it’s not my place to say. Starlee doesn’t understand how tempting she is, how difficult it is to be around her sometimes. She smells so good. She looks beautiful. Just seeing her face sets my brain and body on fire. I want to be with her all the time. Feel her. Kiss her, and I know Jake wants the same. He just doesn’t believe he’s worthy of her.
“The twins drove him down early for his test, it’s just you and me today.”
She smiles gratefully, like she may not have it in her to be with the whole crowd. I kiss her quickly before she gets behind the wheel of her grandmother’s car, hoping I eased her pain just a little.
She cranks up the car and we head down the mountain, the snow-covered peaks glinting from the sunlight. I pull off chunks of muffin and feed them to her along the way, telling stories about customers to try to brighten her spirits. Mine too.
What Starlee doesn’t realize is that when he decided to step away from her, it’s like he’s choosing to step away from us as well. She’s not the only one that feels abandoned.
22
Starlee
The test is three hours, starting at 8:30. Any other day I would have been waiting outside that room for Jake, to see how he’d done, but not today. He’d sent me away—told me to step back—and I’m trying to do what he asked.
“Want to each lunch down in the art room?” I ask Claire when the bell rings. She’d been giving me wary looks all through class.
“Sure. Need to finish an assignment?”
“More like avoiding Jake.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and wait until most of the class is gone before walking to the door.
“What’s going on?”
I start down the stairwell to the art hall. Ms. Peterman doesn’t mind if we eat in here as long as we clean up after ourselves. I sit at my normal work table and Claire sits across from me. I unpack my lunch. “Basically, Jake dumped me last night. I mean, I guess the official wording was, 'needs some space,' or some bullshit. Whatever he said, he definitely doesn’t want me around.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Claire appears stunned. “Well, I don’t even understand. I mean, Jake adores you. Like, worships the ground you walk on.”
I take a bite of my sandwich. “Apparently not.”
“Okay, so back up and tell me everything that happened.”
I tell her, laying out the past few weeks if not longer. How he’s been distant and a little tense but it’s understandable with the test coming up. I explain how we spend more time hiking and studying than anything else.
“By anything else, you mean…” she prompts, eyebrow raised.
“You know, anything intimate.”
“Sex?”
I snort, trying not to reveal how devastated and embarrassed I am. “Sex is not even on the table.”
Her lunch is spread on the table in front her, untouched. “Come again?”
“You heard me. It’s not on the table—not that I haven’t tired or alluded or whatever.” I’m not so comfortable with myself that I’m going to throw myself at him. “Before the new year we’d done, you know, some stuff together. But since then? Nada.”
“So this is a bigger issue, because I am not buying that he’s not into you.”
“Maybe. Dexter told me to give him some room to get through the test and college stuff.” I look around. “That’s why I’m down here.”
She sighs and peels her banana. “Boys. They’re so dumb.”
“Right?”
My phone buzzes.
D: Where are you?
S: Art room w/Claire
D: Well, he made it. Looked like hell but he made it.
S: Good.
D: You want us to come down?
S: Nah, we’re good. Girl talk.
D: Gotcha. See you this afternoon?
S: Yep. Love you.
D: Love you, too.
I can’t help but smile as I put the phone down.
“Jake?”
“Oh hell no. That was Dexter.”
She pulls the tab off her yogurt and stirs it with a plastic spoon. There’s a smirk in her face when she says, “I bet that one’s not holding back.”
I laugh and shake my head, cheeks heating at the mention. “Yeah no, not an issue for Dexter.”
Or George or even Charlie, I don’t say. Whatever is doing on with Jake is all about Jake. He’s going to have to figure that one out on his own.
23
George
Because Mammoth Lakes is so small, the courthouse is the same for juveniles and adults. Walking in the building feels like déjà vu, especially with Dexter still wearing that too tight suit.
“Dude, you’ve got to get a new one for Mrs. Nye’s wedding,” Charlie says, eyeing him.
Dexter runs his hands through his hair, pretending his sleeves aren’t three inches too short. “It’s fine.”
“Babe,” Starlee says, taking his hand, “I think he’s right. It’s time.”
He grimaces and tugs at his tie. “Fine.”
We’re sitting along the long wooden benches in the waiting area. Claire, too. Mrs. Nye and Mrs. Jones are talking to the clerk at the window. All we have to do here today is testify but just being in the building, around lawyers and caseworkers, sets everyone on edge.
Oh, and to make things worse? Jake and Starlee still aren’t speaking. He’s down the hall standing at the window. Everyone’s getting tired of that bullshit also. Whatever’s going on with Jake needs to stop—I’d make him stop if I really understood it, but he’s shutting everyone out.
The main door swings open and two figures stride in. I blink through the glare of the sun and see that it’s Christina and her mother—an older, identical version of herself. Mrs. Nye calls her name and she walks to the counter.
Starlee, to her credit, gets up and meets Christina. “Thanks for coming today.”
“I told you,” she says w
ith her typical snobby tone, “I really don’t like drunks.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” Dexter says. “It’ll help for the judge to have a witness that’s not one of us.”
Christina’s eyes skim over us, searching, until they flick to the back of the room where Jake stands alone. She moves to walk toward him but Claire, always observant, never afraid, cuts her off. “They said to wait over here.”
There’s no time for her to argue because someone from the court walks out and heads directly toward us. Charlie and I glance at one another.
It’s time to face our father.
24
Starlee
The judge is different from the one at Dexter’s hearing. That makes sense, obviously, because he was for the juvenile court and this is the adult system. The room is similar, although more serious. The judge doesn’t know Mr. Evans the way Judge Adams knew Dexter. There’s no social workers here to advocate for him—just a lawyer in unflattering pants.
The testimony begins with the police officer that arrested everyone that night, including his admission that we’d been the victims of the assault. During this I can’t help but watch Mr. Evans, who sits stone-faced at the table, eyes never shifting in the direction of either of his boys.
Next, we’re called up one at a time and answer similar questions.
“What were you doing at the Mammoth Lodge on New Year’s Eve?”
“Had you been drinking?"
“What’s your relationship with the defendant?”
For Claire, Jake, Dexter, Christina, and I the questions aren’t hard, but for the twins their discomfort is palpable. They’re forced to recount why their father was angry at them. George had to describe the fight at their apartment. The wound on his temple. His shoulders are tense as he speaks, his eyes forward, never drifting to his father. The boy that usually looks so big seems tiny, and I long to wrap my arms around him and make him feel better.
Charlie is less emotional, stating the facts and making it clear he’s disinterested in anything to do with his father. A different kind of sadness settles in my bones as he answers his questions. As with everything, the twins are similar yet so very different.
Mercifully, the defense doesn’t ask a lot of questions. The prosecutor told the twins right before it started that he’d tried to make Mr. Evans take a plea. He refused. Stubborn even in the face of jail time.
Once the judge hears all the information, he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes before replacing them and looking at Mr. Evans.
“Will the defendant please stand.”
Mr. Evans and his lawyer stand up.
“I can’t tell you how disappointing it is to sit here and listen to the testimonies of the witnesses in this case. Children, all of them, assaulted by an adult and parent in a violent, disturbing manner. I’d like to take a moment to express my regret to George and Charlie for having to live in such a violent, dangerous home. I’d like to thank their friends for defending them and being courageous to come here today and testify. Is there anything else you’d like to say before I deliver the sentence?”
“I do.” To my surprise, Charlie, who is sitting next to me, stands. The look on his brother’s face tells me he didn’t expect it either. “I just wanted to take a minute to talk about how well my brother and I are doing without our dad. No, not just without, despite our father. Our lives with him were filled with fear and apathy. We were told we’d never amount to anything and to toss aside our dreams. Why? Because that’s what he did and he hated his life. We were told to forgo college, avoid the people that cared for us, and prepare for a life of disappointment.” His voice becomes stronger. “He tried to break us, but because of the very people he warned us about, that he tried to keep us from, we’ve become better. We’re both going to college in our respective fields. We’re both getting scholarships.” He looks down at me and the other wayward sons. “And we’re surrounded by people that love us.”
He sits and I take his hand, feeling the tremble that’s running through his body. He looked brave up there but I can feel the emotion he’d held back. George wipes at his own eyes. It’s a powerful moment.
“Thank you for having the courage to speak,” the judge says. “Good luck to both of you in your studies.”
From there, the results are swift. The judge finds him guilty of assault and battery, along with a few other charges. I hold my breath as he announces the sentence,
“Thirty-six months,” he declares. “Take advantage of the programs they have while you’re in there.”
George exhales next to me, a deep, rattling sigh. Charlie rests his hands on his forehead. And a sense of relief passes over our whole little section. The twins aren’t finished with their father. They probably never will be entirely, but for now they have the peace that he’ll be locked up and unable to interfere with their lives for a while.
Long enough for them to build a life without him.
25
Starlee
A week later, the principal interrupts class to make an announcement. “Excuse the interruption, but it’s with Woolly pride that the administration and staff at Sierra Academy is proud to announce that Jake Hollingsworth has been awarded a full-football scholarship to Stanford University.”
My heart swells. Swells, and it takes every single ounce of willpower not to walk out of the room and find him. At the same time, it hurts. He obviously got the news about his test scores and didn’t tell me, which means passing the test isn’t his issue. It’s been seven days. Seven. And he hasn’t come to me once. He hasn’t apologized or asked for me back. He’s barely looked at me, so whatever the hell Jake is dealing with, he’s still in the thick of it.
LeeLee and Mom are ecstatic and during our next Supernatural night, it turns into a celebration. Dexter bakes a cake iced in bright red with a big “S” in the center. It’s Jake’s favorite, caramel, and since Dex has become a master of icing, it’s better than usual. LeeLee and Tom give Jake a jersey and Mom’s eyes shine bright with pride, like she’s known him for years. My heart clenches a little when she hugs him, overwhelmed by the fact my real family has taken in my acquired family.
“What happens next?” Tom asked. LeeLee met with the coaches and college officials the other day at school, signing the paperwork as his official guardian.
“There’s a training week over spring break that me and all the other incoming freshman are required to attend.” His eyes dart to mine and then back down to his plate piled high with cake. I’m trying my best to remain normal—civil, but it’s hard, not knowing what’s really his problem.
“The three Starlees will be in San Francisco that week, too,” Mom says. I glance up, confused for a moment. Crap, I’d forgotten. Wedding dress shopping. “You boys will have to man the shop and Lodge for us.”
“No problem,” Dexter says. “Charlie can help Katie at the lodge. George can stay with me at the Wayward Sun.”
“I was planning on updating the booking system anyway,” Charlie says, through a mouthful of cake.
“Tom will be here if there’s any problems.”
As much as I’d like to beg off this trip and stay back here with the three guys, I know there’s no chance. LeeLee’s heart is just as excited as my mom about this trip and there’s no way I’m going to let her down.
“It’s almost time,” Dexter says, eyeing the kitchen clock. There’s always a hint of sadness in his eyes when the show starts. Sadness that he pushes through. He misses his sister but not enough to miss out on the traditions she established. We walk into the living room and I feel Dexter’s hand low on my back. When I glance over my shoulder, it’s not his face though that I see.
It’s Jake’s, and that boy can tell me all he wants that he needs some space, but just from that look, the set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes; I know better.
Spring break arrives after weeks of non-stop activities. With the hard part of senior year behind us, acceptance letters have arrived in the mail, choices
are being made. Well, for most people. I did get two acceptances—Stanford and Berkeley. I hide the letters in my sock drawer, not ready to face making a decision.
Although it’s certainly not hot and there’s not the beauty of a southern spring with flowers and blooming trees all over the place, warmer weather does settle into the Sierras and the clear roads in Yosemite bring the tourists out of hibernation. Lee Vines slowly begins to awaken. The coffee shop has a steady stream of customers, keeping my mother busy. Half the lodge’s rooms are rented out and LeeLee worries about us taking time away. Katie assures her that she and Charlie can handle it.
Even I’m looking forward to a little bit of a break. The stuff with Jake is weighing on me—weighing on all of us. It’s added a complication to the time we spend together as a group. I think the boys may be just as hurt as I am—they just show it differently.
All of this pushes me into focusing on the trip and since I’ve never spent time in San Francisco, I mark several places I’d like to visit. The morning we’re set to leave, the sun shines bright and things feel fresh. That’s why seeing Jake standing by the car, with his duffle bag by his feet, rattles me so hard. I stop midway down the sidewalk and LeeLee bumps into me.
“What is he doing here?”
His blue eyes pierce mine and an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.
“We’re driving him to Stanford,” she says, walking around me. “It’s on the way.”
I slowly make my way to the car. My mother walks toward us from the Wayward Sun, hauling two suitcases behind her. Jake’s eyes tear from mine as he moves to help both my grandmother and mother, grabbing their luggage and hoisting it in the back of the SUV. I still haven’t taken a step—I’m too shaken—when he walks up the sidewalk and reaches for my bag.