10 years old
“DUALITY” SLIPKNOT
Iwatch my older stepbrother from the swings during recess at school. He’s hanging out with his group of friends. They scare the willies out of me. The one time I approached Ryder while he was with them was the scariest day of my life. His friend, Jaxon, glared at me and looked seconds away from shoving me againstthe lockers and pummeling me with his clenched fist. He curled and uncurled his fingers, as though my mere presence annoyed him, but Ryder distracted Jaxon, saving me from a knuckle sandwich. I still don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of reaction, but either way, it didn’t get me what I really wanted.
What I still want.
I want Ryder to look at me. To acknowledge me and treat me as a normal person and not some nuisance he wishes would disappear.
My brown hair flutters in the wind as I swing back and forth, watching Ryder like a hawk. He hides his hands in the front pocket of his black hoodie, his expression flat while his friends talk. I shudder as I peek at him and find the same angry look he wears twenty-four seven.
I wonder what they’re talking about and why Ryder is hiding what’s on his mind. Though, he always keeps to himself and never shows his feelings. At least not around me. Ryder’s been this way since I first met him when I was seven and he was eight. I still remember that day like it happened yesterday.
Dad brought me with him to lunch to meet my new family. This was before he married my stepmother, and I think he planned the meeting to gauge how I’d react to the possibility of having a new mom and brother.
When Dad and I arrived at the restaurant, Ryder sat on the other side of the table as Dad seated himself next to Carolyn after brief introductions. I sat beside Ryder and kept glancing at him, expecting him to say something to me. It didn’t matter if it was just a simple “hey” or even a compliment on the new fake-seashell necklace my Aunt Mary—whom I’ve always called Minnie—bought me.
But he wouldn’t look at me.
He simply sat there, silent, hands fisted on his lap and a blank stare on his face while he stared sightlessly at the space where his plate of food would go once it arrived.
“Hi,” I said, then waited for him to blink out of the zombie state he was in.
Ryder didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t blink. He just occasionally peeked at my dad, who was talking to the server about different wines and what would pair better with a dish.
Anger simmered in my veins, and I had the urge to yell at Ryder. I wasn’t used to being ignored—the exception being my father, but it was nothing new for him. Everyone at school talked to me. They wanted to be my friends. Even my aunt spoiled me and gave me attention. But not Ryder. It was as if I were a ghost, flicking items off the counters and still not getting any reaction out of it.
Just look at me!I wanted to scream at him.I want to be friends with you!
I blink out of the memory and kick my legs out to gain more momentum as I swing.
Look at me. Please look at me,I beg Ryder in my thoughts. It’s useless, but if I screamed, then I might get in trouble and look stupid in front of the other kids on the playground.
As if he can hear my desperate thoughts, Ryder turns his back to me, ignoring me as he always does.
I just want to play with him. Get to know him more than the basic things, such as his favorite color—which is black—and his favorite candy—Starbursts. He’s always snacking on them whenever his mom brings him along with her to the store while leaving me at home. A few times, she brought home some candy for me, too, but never Starbursts, which I always want because Ryder makes them look delicious. It’s always M&M’s, which is my least favorite candy.
Sensing my gaze, Jaxon turns his head, looks directly at me, then frowns. His expression sours, and I don’t need to be a mind reader to know he’s cussing me out inside his head.
My heart stops for a moment, then kicks into a quick pace. I stop swinging, unable to look away from Jaxon’s piercing eyes. It’s like I’m staring into the endless abyss of darkness that threatens to swallow me whole and spit me out in pieces.
Ryder notices his friend’s inattention and follows the direction of his glare. I tear my gaze from Jaxon to Ryder. His dark eyebrows slash together, his lips thinning while he gives me an odd look I can’t read.
My swing slows until it stops. From my periphery, a faceless kid eagerly steps toward me with the assumption that I’m done with the swing.
He’s looking at me. Finally!
I want him to walk away from his group and come to me. Instead of doing that, he turns and gives me his backagain.
“Stupid jerk,” I mutter, and jump off the swing’s seat.
I take one step forward, then pause when Jaxon stiffens and steps toward me, like he’s about to beat me up for even daring to think I can join his group of friends. I don’t know what I did this time or why he has such a grudge against me. He reminds me too much of a guard dog protecting what’s his.
“Maddy!” someone hollers from my right.
Forcing a smile, I turn to them. Olivia grins and waves her hand above her head to catch my attention. My other friends—Mickey, Kyle, Conner, Kaila, and Nova—wave me over to join them. I peek at Ryder again. He and his friends walk away, leaving me with a sinking feeling in my stomach as they head toward the other side of the playground.
A scream lodges in my throat. Why can’t Ryder just talk to me?
