Authors: Liz Reinhardt
The kid was right.
Evan was right.
I've
been kidding myself for a long time.
I also realize I have no clue what to do, what to really do, to fix this whole damn mess. It was easy for me to let go of Evan because I told myself it was for
her own
good.
Really, it was so I didn't have to face some hard truths. And, of course, just when I resolve to change shit, just when I'm resolved to do things right, the chaos dominoes start tipping over and the Youngblood family implodes all around me.
It starts with Ithaca barging into my room twenty minutes before community service.
"What the hell did you say to him?" she
screams,
her face so distorted
with bald fury,
she looks almost ugly.
"Say to
who
? Calm down."
I move forward, attempt to put my hands on her shoulders, but she jumps back like I'm a venomous snake.
"Calm down? Fuck off!" Her voice carries through the entire house.
Benelli
cracks her door open and peeks out.
"What's going on?" she
ask
s,
her voice low. "
Ithy
, what's wrong, sweetheart?"
Ithaca throws herself into our sister's arms and weeps,
Benelli
looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed, and Colt opens his door and crowds the hallway.
"Andre Ortiz
enlisted in the army." Colt pushes his dark hair out of his eyes, and I'd take an arms-held-back be
ating rather than have to face
the lo
ok of disappointment he's shooting my way
.
Ithaca's sobs are muffled in
Benelli's
shoulder.
Benelli
looks from Colt to me and back.
"Oh no.
The skateboard boy?"
Ithaca wrenches her head from
Benelli
and points an accusing finger at her. "You're laughing at me?
You?
Out of
everyone in this entire fucked-
up family, I thought you would understand, Bee! I thought you'd get how much this hurts!"
My sisters glare at each other, a deep current of secrets tossing between them with a force that could drown us all.
"I do understand. I wasn't making a joke."
Benelli's
voice is so urgent and
nervous,
I wonder what she's hiding. "It's not the end of the world, sweetie. He's a smart guy. He'll do fine."
My little sister fists her hands in all that pretty gold hair, now tangled and wild-looking. "Josh
Ranson's
brother died in Afghanistan a few months ago. Jessica Lister's brother got his leg and hand blown off." The sobs start low and deep in her throat. "He's not cut out for this! He got accepted to an art school in Philadelphia. And I told him he could get loans and grants. We were filling out all the paperwork. Then he said he needed to take care of me, and he went off and just signed up. And you can't undo that. The recruiters make you sign a contract." She whirls around and jumps at me, her fists hammering at my chest. "What did you say to him? What did you say when you dropped him off that day?"
"Nothing," I lie. "Lots of young guys join the army, Ithaca.
Especially when they don't
have much going for them."
Her mouth drops open and her green eyes flash. "You think he didn't have much going for him?
Really?
You?
The guy who's job is being Pop's puppet--"
"Ithaca,"
Benelli
hisses. "That's enough." Her tone goes gentle when Ithaca's lips tremble and she slides into a heap on the floor. My sisters kneel, side by side. "It's okay, baby. Stop crying. Andre will be fine. You'll be fine. It's going to be okay."
Ithaca's face swings up, her eyes hollowed. "What did you say to him, Winch? Stop lying all the time and tell me."
"I didn't tell him to join the fucking army, that's for sure." Colt snorts and
Benelli
and I both shoot him a look. "You got something to say?"
It's like
all this
intense
ra
ge and upset and anger flashes
on his face for a quick second, but he shuts it
down and goes neutral.
Seeing my little brother employ my tactics gives me a peculiar twist of self-loathing I probably didn't need piled on my shoulders today.
Colt shakes his head. "No. I don't have anything to say to you."
Benelli
stands her full height, hands on her
hips,
face all pink from pissed-off rage. "You know what? You two better learn some goddamn respect, okay? Winch does things everyday neither one of you would even want to think about. He does things for all of us. He didn't get to go to some cushy private school. He didn't get to run around and play ball and go on dates. So if either one of you have something to say about how much he's messing with your little lives, maybe you should do it after you thank him."
The fury in her voice silences the twins. They
both stare at the floor
.
I don't know what to say. I'm glad
Benelli
stood up for me, bu
t I don't want their thanks.
Our
baby brother and sister are right. Maybe they come from a place where they can see it for what it is in a way
Benelli
and I just can't.
Before I can answer anything, Remy stumbles into the light, and all four of us face our older brother.
His lips are ringed with crusted blood. His skin is yellow
ish
, sagging on his face, and dipped in close to his bones like a skeleton's.
He’s been going downhill for a while, but maybe I just never let myself notice how bad it was getting.
He looks like a vampire or a zombie, or some other pieced-together night creature from a horror movie.
"What's up chickens?" he slurs, lumbering down the hallway on unsteady feet. "Ya'll were so loud, you woke me up."
Benelli's
lips tuck into a tight line, Ithaca looks
at him with clear terror, and C
olt can barely keep the disgust at bay.
"Remington, you need a shower, some hot soup, and to get back
in bed. I'll tell Mama to start you some
lunch."
Benelli
looks as grimly determined as a captain in the army marching her troops to certain death.
"No rest for the wicked, baby." Remy sniffs under his armpit. "No rest, but yes to a shower."
It would have been something we would have all laughed about not all that long ago. When did Remy stop being our favorite comic relief and turn into a macabre reminder of every single
thing
that's so fucked-
up about our family?
"Why are you all so damn serious?" His eyes attempt to focus on one of our faces, then the next, and the next. He can't stop himself from rocking back on his heels and swiveling in a wide circle. "Someone die?"
You died.
I know the same thought is at the forefront
of all our brains. We all knew he’d
been bad for a while,
but his downward spiral sped up in the last few weeks.
How did he turn into this reanimated corpse version of himself right in front of our eyes?
"No."
Benelli's
voice is gentle as a nanny's. "Come on. You need food."
"He needs help," Ithaca says, watching
Benelli
help Remy walk down the hall on rickety legs like he's ninety.
"That's Winch's job.
Right?"
Colt slides a glare my way, his mouth working back and forth like he's wondering if he should spit out the words pressed in his mouth. And then he does. My pacifist brother sure as shit knows how to kick me when I'm low down. "By the way, I forgot to say
thank you.
"
He stalks to his room and slams his door.
"Thi
s family is so seriously fucked-
up," Ithaca mutters and slams her door.
I'm alone in the hallway, a headache grinding through my skull, a feeling of complete despair eating at my gut.
And I'm late to community service.
By the time I pull up at the center, they're already dismissing people who put in hours this morning.
"Mr. Youngblood." The officer in charge frowns when I check in. "We don't tolerate late arrivals."
"I'm very sorry, ma'am. I'll do whatever you need. This won't happen again."
I scan the area for Evan, and should be glad I don't see her.
I shouldn't see her.
I made so many promises I could never begin to keep, I feel like a huge loser. I feel like I have no right to ask anything of her when I
've basically given her nothing. I haven’t even had the guts to call and check on her.
I get handed a shovel and pointed in the direction of a smoldering garbage pit. I shovel through the debris and ash and keep the fire going strong. I take a handkerchief
Rolo
hands me, not even worried if it's full of germs and gunk because I'd be choking on the thick smoke if it wasn't for him.
I want Evan.
I think about her constantly. If I'm honest with myself, for once, I've hardly thought about anything else for days, since she got out of my car and walked up the steps to her grandparents' house.
I dream about her. I wake up hard and ready, wanting her with every uncontrolled shred of my body.
I look for her every time I stand up with a shovelful of smoldering garbage.
I don't deserve her. I've wasted second and third chances with her.
I've been an idiot.
But none of that stops me from wanting her.
So badly it aches.
I'm sick of doing the right thing and ignoring all the desire that's built up inside me for her. I want her. I want her in every way there is to want a girl, and I want her more than all that, too.
I shovel and choke until it's time to leave, and I'm completely covered in grime. No amount of standing under the dribbling hose is going to wash this all off.
"You
wanna
come out with
a couple of the guys? Play some pool, drink some beers?"
Rolo
never usually invites me
to go anywhere, but most of the time, I’m
calm and laid-back. Today I've been a furious dickhead, and, unfortunately,
Rolo
took the brunt of my asshole behavior.
I guess he figures I could use a drink or five.
"Thanks, man." I try to hand his handkerchief back, but he wa
ves it off. "Look, I'm sorry
I was an asshole to work with today. I'm just having a whole thing with Evan
and my family."
I've never
been big on sharing how I feel, and it's just as awkward as I thought it might be.
Rolo
switches his weight from foot to foot. "I'm sorry
, bro
. That sucks."
He's not inviting me to tell him anything else, but the words just kind of spill out. "I love her
. Evan
, you know?" He nods. "But my family...they ask a lot of me. And it's been coming between us."
"You still work for your old man?"
Rolo
runs the weakly dribbling water over his arms and passes the hose my way again.
It's stupid to even pretend that it's going
to help get me clean, but I drizzle
the water over my skin so I have an excuse to stand here and hash this all out with him.
"Yeah.
I do. I just...it's complicated, you know because it's work and all, but it's more family."
"Oh, I get it."
Rolo
rubs his dirty handkerchief over his face and neck, taking the black soot down to a dull gray. "Family helps you every time you need a hand, but they cross every damn line, too."
That's it.
"Exactly.
And I'm just trying to figure out how much I owe them and how much I can take for myself, I guess."
I thought my filth couldn't be washed off, but even these few minutes of tepid, tricking
water and this thin handk
erchief are taking the grime away
, layer by minuscule layer.
"Well, you know, family is good and all. You need them. But you
gotta
do your thing, too. Remember, at some point your dad was just his father's son, too. And he had to grow up and be his own man. I'm
gonna
bet that didn't happen without some shit going down, right?"
Rolo
yanks his sweaty shirt back over his head.