long flowery dress with a ridiculous yellow bow in her hair. Why do girls wear that crap?
“Hey.” I give a weak attempt at a wave. Sliding my gaze from Journey, I catch Tate rolling her eyes at me. She’s so different from any girl I’ve ever met. She’s wearing a black shirt with a faded boxing glove on it, followed by red frayed shorts.
Tatum’s mother, Marlow, clears her throat. Realizing I’ve been staring at Tatum longer than I intended I hold the front door open.
“Come in.”
“Here.” Tatum shoves a small wrapped box into my chest hard.
“Umph!” A cough erupts from my chest from the hard thrust.
I glare at her as she passes. Her mother gives her a tap upside the head.
“Act like a lady,” Marlow hisses.
Fifteen minutes later everyone has arrived, and Mom is pacing the kitchen to the point I’m sure she’s worn a path into the floor. Dad hasn’t come back and isn’t answering his phone. Most people would be scared to death that something bad had happened to their father, but I? I know he’s fallen off the wagon again.
He drinks. A lot. Mom has had a close eye on him, trying to get him to quit the last week. Now that he is out of her sight… he’s probably sitting in front of a liquor store drinking his way to the bottom of a bottle.
“You like to fight?” Bret adjusts his ball cap as he observes my cake.
“Yeah, Mom hates it though.” My mom says that is why we moved here, because I got into too many fights at school. I know that’s a lie though. We left because my dad did something with someone at work. Something that had my mom in a fury. They never would tell me what though.
“I like to fight too, got kicked out twice last year. Though one was for a fight, the other was because of this.” He lifts his shirt, showing a sheathed knife. My eyes widen.
“Whoa, that’s cool.” I’ve never held a knife before, but just looking at Bret’s secure in a leather holster… it makes me want one.
“Yeah, I don’t need it though. I can hit pretty hard with my hands.” His tone is confident, and I can’t help but want to challenge him.
“Yeah, I’m pretty strong too,” my tone antagonizing.
“Oh yeah? How about we arm wrestle then?” Bret pulls the sleeve of his shirt up and hunches down on one knee, resting an elbow on the table.
I smile, if I beat him… I’ll be the coolest kid in school.
“You’re on!” I take a knee, and palm his large hand.
“If I win, I get your slice of the cake.” He grins confidently.
“If I win, I get yours,” I counter, squeezing his hand.
He starts without counting, catching me off guard. Gritting my teeth, scrunching my nose, I push with all my might.
Breathing through my nose I start to make progress, pushing his arm to the other side. His brown eyes flick to mine with worry, just as I take his hand to the table.
I jump up, arms raised in the air in victory.
“Yeah. Yeah. My arm is weak. I had baseball practice today,” he defends.
“Whatever. I won and you know it.” I start to get angry. How dare he act like he just let me win. I won and he knows it. I look around me to see if anyone saw me take him down. But everyone is looking anywhere but at me.
He rolls his eyes and turns around. Dang it!
“Hey Camden!” Felicia calls my name catching my attention. Turning toward her, she waves with a stupid smile. She’s wearing a tight purple dress, with a ton of makeup on. Some other girls my mom made me invite standing right behind her. Curving my mouth I give a nod. My eyes catch Tatum sitting on the grass. Her legs crossed as she pulls grass from the ground as if she’s bored.
Felicia snaps her gaze to her, and grimaces. Marching over to Tatum she kicks her in the shoe. “Why are you here? Didn’t you hear? Losers aren’t invited,” Felicia insults.
Quickly I run to them. Tatum stands, her fists balled.
“You better take that back before I blacken your eye so bad you won’t need that stupid eyeshadow!” Tatum
“Hey.” I give a weak attempt at a wave. Sliding my gaze from Journey, I catch Tate rolling her eyes at me. She’s so different from any girl I’ve ever met. She’s wearing a black shirt with a faded boxing glove on it, followed by red frayed shorts.
Tatum’s mother, Marlow, clears her throat. Realizing I’ve been staring at Tatum longer than I intended I hold the front door open.
“Come in.”
“Here.” Tatum shoves a small wrapped box into my chest hard.
“Umph!” A cough erupts from my chest from the hard thrust.
I glare at her as she passes. Her mother gives her a tap upside the head.
“Act like a lady,” Marlow hisses.
Fifteen minutes later everyone has arrived, and Mom is pacing the kitchen to the point I’m sure she’s worn a path into the floor. Dad hasn’t come back and isn’t answering his phone. Most people would be scared to death that something bad had happened to their father, but I? I know he’s fallen off the wagon again.
He drinks. A lot. Mom has had a close eye on him, trying to get him to quit the last week. Now that he is out of her sight… he’s probably sitting in front of a liquor store drinking his way to the bottom of a bottle.
“You like to fight?” Bret adjusts his ball cap as he observes my cake.
“Yeah, Mom hates it though.” My mom says that is why we moved here, because I got into too many fights at school. I know that’s a lie though. We left because my dad did something with someone at work. Something that had my mom in a fury. They never would tell me what though.
“I like to fight too, got kicked out twice last year. Though one was for a fight, the other was because of this.” He lifts his shirt, showing a sheathed knife. My eyes widen.
“Whoa, that’s cool.” I’ve never held a knife before, but just looking at Bret’s secure in a leather holster… it makes me want one.
“Yeah, I don’t need it though. I can hit pretty hard with my hands.” His tone is confident, and I can’t help but want to challenge him.
“Yeah, I’m pretty strong too,” my tone antagonizing.
“Oh yeah? How about we arm wrestle then?” Bret pulls the sleeve of his shirt up and hunches down on one knee, resting an elbow on the table.
I smile, if I beat him… I’ll be the coolest kid in school.
“You’re on!” I take a knee, and palm his large hand.
“If I win, I get your slice of the cake.” He grins confidently.
“If I win, I get yours,” I counter, squeezing his hand.
He starts without counting, catching me off guard. Gritting my teeth, scrunching my nose, I push with all my might.
Breathing through my nose I start to make progress, pushing his arm to the other side. His brown eyes flick to mine with worry, just as I take his hand to the table.
I jump up, arms raised in the air in victory.
“Yeah. Yeah. My arm is weak. I had baseball practice today,” he defends.
“Whatever. I won and you know it.” I start to get angry. How dare he act like he just let me win. I won and he knows it. I look around me to see if anyone saw me take him down. But everyone is looking anywhere but at me.
He rolls his eyes and turns around. Dang it!
“Hey Camden!” Felicia calls my name catching my attention. Turning toward her, she waves with a stupid smile. She’s wearing a tight purple dress, with a ton of makeup on. Some other girls my mom made me invite standing right behind her. Curving my mouth I give a nod. My eyes catch Tatum sitting on the grass. Her legs crossed as she pulls grass from the ground as if she’s bored.
Felicia snaps her gaze to her, and grimaces. Marching over to Tatum she kicks her in the shoe. “Why are you here? Didn’t you hear? Losers aren’t invited,” Felicia insults.
Quickly I run to them. Tatum stands, her fists balled.
“You better take that back before I blacken your eye so bad you won’t need that stupid eyeshadow!” Tatum
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