“See, I doubt that. I think you’re just a boy who thinks he’s so tough but is actually desperate for connection. But what do I know? Do the work, Cal. See you in school tomorrow.”
She left without waiting for a reply. Calum tugged the pillow over his head again and closed his eyes. He’d left school because of her, and she’d showed up in the room that wasn’t his. He hadno idea why she cared about him. They didn’t know each other. They were strangers, and he refused to consider the possibility of her being anything more. He couldn’t let her under his skin. She didn’t belong there.
Rett was nothing to him.
And stop with the ‘So’ at the beginning of your sentences, he thought though she was long gone.
Exhaling sharply, he shoved the pillow away and rolled onto his back. A sheaf of papers sat on the bed beside him, a paper-clip holding them together. Someone had written his name in the corner of each page. Large, rounded letters and I’s dotted with circles. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to see how Rett wrote. The handwriting fit her personality. He couldn’t explain why—he would never be a handwriting analyst. He just…knew.
Calum found himself, to his utter shock, filling out the worksheets as quickly as he could. “Don’t make me look like a fool,” she had said. Why did he want to listen to her? She was nothing, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to please her with something so small. Trivial. Insignificant to anyone else, but so important to himself.
Maybe because she was right, even if he’d refrain from ever admitting it: All he’d wanted back home was someone to see him as he was, not as a stand-in father to four children. He didn’t want the duties of a dad; all he wanted was to be a teenager and be seen as one. He had that with his friends. Horrible influences and enablers though they were, his friends were the only ones who had understood his desire to ruin something. To get the attention he’d needed. To escape his responsibilities. For a few precious hours, he hadn’t had to think about feeding his siblings or getting them to and from school. He didn’t have to fight with them to go to bed when all they wanted was to say goodnight to their mother. She was never home, but Calum was.
At least until the kids were asleep. Then he would sneak out, lock the doors behind him, and meet up with the others to wreak havoc on Las Vegas. Of course he went home if Melissa called if she was confronted with something she couldn’t handle at fifteen, but more often than not, Calum slipped back in through his window in the early hours of dawn without anyone realizing he’d sneaked out.
Georgie came home at six that evening. She didn’t ask why he wasn’t in school all day, but Calum readily offered up the same excuse Rett gave the teachers. His aunt gave him a look that said she didn’t believe the lie, but all she said was she hoped he felt better. Why was he lying so easily? So willingly? Especially to the woman who took him in when she didn’t have to.
Sure, Georgie was his mother’s cousin, she was family. But she could have said she had enough to worry about and another mouth to feed wasn’t it. She could have turned him away without hesitation. Instead, she opened her home to him, and Calum was repaying her with falsities and the desire to turn the town upside down.
He didn’t want the quiet peace. He wanted to destroy it all and leave behind a wake of chaos.
Calum roamed the streets until sundown. There wasn’t anything to do, so he sat on the footbridge and watched over the pond. The sunlight warmed his skin to the point of discomfort, but he didn’t move to the shade. Calum wanted to remind himself of where he didn’t belong—the place he would eventually escape from. The heat kept him grounded in his hatred. His thoughts couldn’t trail elsewhere if he had something to focus on.
Children played in front yards and the streets; their shouts and laughter echoed through the town. He hated it. The sounds reminded him too much of the family he was forced to leave. He hadn’t called home since arriving in Oak Creek, so he hadno idea how his siblings were faring. Did Melissa take over the duties of caring for the younger ones? Was Miranda still having nightmares, and had Josie apologized for breaking Ethan’s model airplane? Was their mother still working herself to the bone to provide for the little family? Calum would never know unless he called, but calling felt too much like admitting to a weakness. Especially this early into the banishment.
Later that night, after Georgie, Tiffany, and Charles had gone to sleep, Calum popped the screen from his window and clambered out into the hot, humid night. There were no streetlights to illuminate the way, something he wasn’t used to. Las Vegas was never dark.
But the moon in Oak Creek was enough. It was witness to his roaming, his unfamiliarity with the streets. The serenity of the night was a reprieve from the gossip of the day. No one spoke of him or to him—he was well and truly alone with only his thoughts and the screaming of insects. He could breathe, breathe in the scent of earth and quiet, exhale all the stress he’d carried with him for so long.
“Miss Georgie’s gonna be so mad at you,” a voice called, and he turned around. No one was there, but he recognized the voice. Rett laughed quietly. “To your right, buddy.”
“What are you doing up?” he asked once he caught sight of her face in a window. He moved closer if only to not shout from the middle of the road.
“Could ask you the same thing.”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?”
“No, I guess not.” She paused before disappearing from the frame. Light filled the room beyond as she settled back in, and Calum stared at the gold-yellow glow on her dark hair. “Miss Georgie hears you snuck out, she’ll tan your hide.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
“Finish your homework?”
“No,” he lied.
Rett grinned, shaking her head, and pulled her long hair into a quick braid. “See you tomorrow, Cal. Get some sleep.”
The question slipped out without permission: Would Rett keep the late-night wandering a secret? He didn’t care if his aunt found out. She couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Rett gave him a slow smile and swore she wouldn’t tell a soul. He trusted her. Somehow, he knew she meant what she said.
She turned off her light, saying another goodnight, and Calum continued on his way. Thunder rumbled in the distance, promising a rainstorm. Wispy clouds floated across the moon, but still, silver shined through. It was a beautiful night—hot, the air thick with moisture, but peaceful.
He shook his head much as Rett did. He couldn’t be getting sentimental about a town that meant less than nothing to him.
Calum replaced the screen in his window before realizing his only entrance was now blocked off. The front door would make too much noise and wake his aunt and uncle. Or, God forbid, his cousin. Maybe he could sleep on the porch for the night and get up with the sun. Pretend he’d taken an early morning stroll. No one would know.
“If you’re gonna sneak out, boy, least you could do is plan ahead.”
“Uncle Charles.”
