I blink. Right, of course. The only one of us moving in the upper social circles would be Tessa. “Thanks. I’ll see if I can make it.”
Because money is real tight. We have food stamps, and Medicaid, but it’s not enough. I’ve worked as a security guard before. Being an athlete, I’m often selected for that kind of job, and I have some references to show.
“You do that,” Zane says, not seeming to pick up on the fact I said I can’t go to Dakota’s concert because I have no babysitter, but then saying I can go work.
Then again, Zane has been through some real tough times. If anyone can understand the difference, it’s him.
I hope the others can see it, too. I feel like I haven’t seen them in ages. Not sure I have friends anymore. I’m not there for them, and everyone eventually moves on, finds new interests, new friends…
“Are you growing deaf, fucker?” Zane is still talking, and I force myself to pay attention.
“What?” With one last look at Teo, I get up and step out of the room. I turn off the light.
“I said, call me if you need anything, okay? We all want to help. You only need to tell us how.”
I glance into Miles’s room, but he’s a lump under the covers, and the light is already off. Could it be that simple—ask the Brotherhood for help, with everything they’ve got going on in their lives? I chew on the inside of my cheek, just standing there.
“Dylan. Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.” I rub my eyes. “Thanks, Z-man. I appreciate it.”
“Talk to you later,” he says and disconnects.
I shove the cell into my pocket and step quietly into the room. Miles’s eyes are closed, but I’m not sure he’s asleep. What if he is, though? I don’t want to wake him up. I suck at this parental thing. I’m no good at filling in for Mom and Dad both.
I squat down by the bed and put a light hand on his hair, short and blond like mine. Both my brothers look a lot like me. A lot like Dad.
His jaw is red, already bruising. Dried blood stains his chin. Charlie assured me no injuries are hidden under his clothes, just a few bruises on his arms, or I’d wake him up to check.
Dammit, I have to talk to the school again, ask them to do something about the bullying. Every single time I talk to them, they say what happens on the street is not their responsibility.
That’s true. It’s mine.
My eyes burn, and I dig my thumbs into the sockets. I’m just fucking tired. I’ll talk to Miles, make sure Teo gets better, talk to Dad, ask about the security job on Saturday, find a babysitter, talk to Coach West…
My head hurts. My whole body hurts. The thoughts blur. Damn.
I get up and stumble into my bedroom. Over my desk, I have a photo of Tessa. I taped it there long ago, and I wander there first, as usual, and touch her face in silent apology.
“Hey, Tess,” I murmur, tracing the shape of her pretty mouth, those wide blue eyes, filled with laughter and mischief, and smile at her. “Hope you’re okay.”
Fuck. How sick is this—that I talk to her photo, and feel so close to her this way, when I can’t ever approach her again in real life?
Gritting my teeth, I throw myself onto the bed, and I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.
***
The security job at the gala on Saturday is a go, and Charlie and Kate have agreed to keep an eye on my brothers. Meanwhile, Miles refuses to talk to me about the bullying, and Teo isn’t eating. This morning I loaded them both into the school bus and prayed they’ll be returned to me whole and healthy in the afternoon.
As if worrying about them isn’t enough, Dad came and left again, leaving a mysterious message stuck on the fridge—“I’ll go, and when I return I will lift you up with me”—and I haven’t heard from him since.
Now the bus is late, I’m frozen to the bone, Coach West is waiting for me—and I should be heading to work. Goddammit.
Thank God it’s Friday, I guess.
The bus finally arrives, and I find a seat, which is a miracle. The ride goes by in a blur, as I try to calculate in my mind how much money is left in my account, how much is left in the prepaid card for my cell phone, how much I need to set aside for any extra school expenses my brother may have, their clothes, the new jackets they need… I want to bang my head against a wall repeatedly, but my head hurts enough as it is already.
Instead, I rest my forehead on the cold window pane, staring at the trees, the buildings, the parked cars, the people and dogs and bicycles. We enter the campus, and normal college life unfolds around me, full of what-ifs and maybes. Teasing me. Mocking me.
Suck it up, I tell myself. Pull yourself together.