Calum and Rett had made plans to meet up at ‘their’ tree after school. Instead, he spent the hours stocking shelves at Georgie’s Market and avoiding conversation with anyone who tried. Few people gave him the time of day. They all knew already—they probably knew before school even began—but their accusing looks told Calum all he needed to know. Any respect they might have been forming for him was gone.
He should have made Rett go home.
Someone cleared their throat beside him. Calum glanced at the person from the corner of his eye. Pink dotted sundress and white Mary Janes. Miss Youngahemed again. Sighing, he turned to face his teacher, and she raised a thick eyebrow. He didn’t apologize for his exasperation. She made no pretenses that she cared.
“I’d like to invite you over for tea tomorrow.” Despite living in Oak Creek, Tennessee, Miss Young didn’t have the same accent. Calum remembered Rett telling him that their teacher had only been in town for four years.
He cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Be at my house by four, young man. We have plenty to talk about. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
He tried to protest, tried to refuse, but Miss Young walked away before he could do more than open his mouth. Her handbag knocked a can of peas off the shelf. She didn’t stop to pick it up; of course not. Why should she, when it was his task to do? He grumbled to himself, cursing ladies’ accessories and the creator of oversized purses, as he stomped down the aisle. Tiffany stood behind the counter and watched with her elbows on the glass top, one hand propping up her chin.
“Are you happy?” he spat without looking away from the tinned vegetables.
“Oh, yeah. I’m tickled pink.”
He closed his eyes, grip tightening on the kidney beans. Of course she was. She’d told him not to ruin the friendship with Rett, but there she was doing it herself. Had she been biding her time, letting him get closer to the girl he cared so deeply for, just so she could obliterate the flicker of happiness he’d found almost two thousand miles from home? Was it her goal to watch him trust someone only to destroy everything?
“You’re a damn gossip,” he snarled, but Tiffany’s expression remained the same. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself. You ruined the one friendship I’ve made since I got here, all because what? You were angry that your mom didn’t yell at me? You should never have done that!”
“You shouldn’t’a had Rett sleep in your bed! She ain’t—”
“It was four in the morning, you self-righteous, good-for—”
“That’senough.”
Calum swallowed thickly but didn’t cower under Charles’s thundering voice. Tiffany smirked before she turned away to grab a box of cigarettes off the rack. She slid them toward her father, but he ignored them, staring between the two teenagers. Calum went back to stocking the shelves.
“Calum, go home.”
“I’m busy.”
“I said go home, boy.”
“You aren’t my dad.” Such a petulant response, but it was the only thing Calum could think to say.
“No, but I’m the closest thing you got to one since yours done run off. Now go.”
Tiffany snorted and rested her elbows on the counter again. “Yeah, Calum. Go home.”
He knew she didn’t mean the house he’d been staying in since August. No. She meant Nevada, far away from the place he didn’t belong.
He would never belong in Oak Creek.
So he swallowed down the hurt of being reminded that his father cared so little that it was easy to run from his responsibilities. He focused on his own body instead of his cousin’s amusement. Slamming the basket of goods onto the floor, Calum shoved past his uncle and down the short aisle to the door.
“And don’t think you’re so innocent, little girl,” said Charles as Calum burst out onto the street.
His heart pounded out a painful, rapid tattoo against his ribs, and his throat closed up. His vision blurred, eyes burning. Charles probably hadn’t meant anything by what he said, but he’d struck a sore spot with ease. Calum had spent the last seven years wondering why the family wasn’t good enough for Spencer Wilson. He remembered staying up late in the dark, listening to his mother cry herself to sleep on rare nights off from her multiple jobs. He was the one who tucked his sisters and brother back into bed when they had a nightmare.
They hadn’t needed to hear their mother fall apart like that.
Calum never let himself feel the betrayal, but it certainly left its mark nonetheless.
The townspeople gave him a wide berth while he stormed down the street. A rarely seen car came to a stop when hecrossed the road without looking. Why would he, when the last vehicle he saw was two weeks ago, during Miss Julia’s biweekly trip to the next city over for more fabric? Rett had helped her carry the enormous load into the house before running back to Calum.
Rett.
