True?â
âUmmm . . . ,â Kyle moaned.
âIâm glad youâre making friends, but donât let others decide whatâs best for you. March to your own beat, understand?â
âUmmm.â He burped, not really listening.
His father patted Kyleâs stubble. âI kind of miss that curly head of hair, but I guess youâll be cooler this way.â He stood up. âCome to the kitchen when youâre able.â
When his dad left the room, Kyle lay back and closed his eyes. He fell asleep almost immediately and didnât wake until after noon. He staggered into the kitchen and found two slices of hard dry toast and a pot of coffee waiting for him. Propped against the sugar bowl was a note. âCall your mother. Iâll be back by four. Stick aroundâIâm going to need you. And stay away from the liquor cabinet. Ha, ha.â
âHa, ha,â Kyle said aloud. And then he wondered why his mom wanted him to phone again.
As his mind cleared he thought about the night before. Small-town life wasnât all that much different from the big city after all. At the parties he went to at home, guys and girls drank, too. Some even smoked pot. They made out in corners of the living room or in bedrooms, rather than in the bushes. They didnât race their cars with the lights off like last night, because in L.A. youâd never get away with it. So they cruised instead. The big difference between L.A. and here, he decided, were the guns. Here,
everyone
seemed to own one, not just the bad guys. Youâd think that where there was practically no crime they wouldnât need them.
Kyle dialed home as soon as he felt himself again. âHi, Mom. Whatâs up? Howâs everything?â
âHi, honey!â His mother sounded breathless and happy. âEverythingâs fine, very fine! I called because we wanted you to be the first to know. Brian and I are getting married! Weâve set a wedding date. December fifteenth!â
âBully for you.â Kyle felt a pain, like a knife stab, in his chest.
âDonât be that way, Kyle! Be happy for me. And for you, too. Brian really likes you. Heâll try to be a good father.â
âI donât
need
a good father. I
have
one, Mom, and heâs pretty terrific! I donât know what youâve got against him!â
His mother didnât answer. Brian was probably standing nearby, ready to take the phone and hear the congratulations. Well, tough.
âHow has your week been?â his mother asked, all her enthusiasm gone.
âGreat. Iâve made some friends. Dad bought me a bike until I learn how to drive a stick shift. Heâs got a dog and a horse andââ He paused, uncertain if he should tell about the guns. Why not? Let Brian squirm a little. Big Shot liked to talk about police routine and cases that made
him
look like a hero. Let him know that he, Kyle, had not only held a gun, but was also a pretty good shot.
âLet me speak with your father!â his mother said as soon as he told her.
âHeâs not here, Mom, and anyway, it wonât matter what you say.â
âOh yes, it will! I
am
your mother. I have primary custody.â
âCool it, Mom. Itâs no big deal, honest.â He began to worry. Maybe heâd been a little too cocky, but sheâd
made
him want to hurt her because of her news about Brian. He should have guessed her reaction, though. She always said, âThereâd be a whole lot less crime if there were fewer people who owned guns.â
âCongratulations, about Brian.â He forced the words out in the silence that followed. âI guess heâs okay. I hope he makes you happy.â
âThanks, darling. Do you want to say hello to him?â
âSure.â It was the last thing he wanted to do.
âHi, Kyle. Howâs it going? Whatâs this I hear about you learning to shoot?â
So,
Linda Westphal
Ruth Hamilton
Julie Gerstenblatt
Ian M. Dudley
Leslie Glass
Neneh J. Gordon
Keri Arthur
Ella Dominguez
April Henry
Dana Bate