“Steph, look at me.” Her eyes pop open.
“If you absolutely need me tomorrow, I’ll go, but I’d rather not.” The one thing I owe her is honesty.
She slides her hands down to hang at her sides and looks up at the sky. “No, my mom is taking me, and this is the right thing for both of us. I don’t want to be a mom any more than you want to be a dad.”
Before I can say anything, she turns and walks toward her house. I close my eyes, trying to get ahold of these emotions that I should feel, but the truth is I’m relieved.
All my dreams would have been just that, dreams, because I would have had to get a job and help out. I mean, I never had a dad, and look at me.
A flash of dark hair and dirty bare feet make me look up. “Christ.” I rub my hands up and down my face.
“What the freak? What’s happening to Stephanie?” Gia Fontaine sits perched on top of one of the trees in our backyard.
“What are you doing? And I told you to stop saying that,” I say, looking around. You never know with Gia. I call her the Brat because she really is. She’s Axel’s baby sister.
She’s seven, almost eight, and is like my shadow. If I had a pet puppy I don’t think it would be more loyal.
Lately, she’s started spying on me, taking pictures with the camera she got for Christmas. It’s a nice camera, older version, a Nikon and she loves it.
“Freak is not a bad word.” She waves the camera that’s around her neck at me. “And what does it look like I’m doing?” Both her knees are skinned, and the bottoms of her feet are black from running around with no shoes.
Sighing, I hear Nuke playing the drums. “Gia, get down. You can’t spy on people.” I hold out my arms for her to jump. She leaps like a frog, and not for the first time do I wish I were her.
She’s fearless.
I know it makes Axel crazy, but I think when she grows up it will be an asset. Her zest for life is usually infectious. Today, she’s testing my patience.
“You made her cry, Rhys. Why do all the girls cry around you?” I stop for a second as if she’s gut punched me. Leave it to the Brat to tell the truth.
“I guess I’m just not good.” I shake my head. “Look, Gia, this is grown-up shi… stuff. You wouldn’t understand. Steph will be fine. Let’s just go to your house,” I grumble, not bothering to see if she’s following. I know she is.
“Why is she saying she’s gonna have a baby?” She runs so that she’s at my side, then brings the camera to her face and snaps a picture of me. Jesus Christ, I didn’t think this day could get much worse, but two minutes with Gia has done it.
I stop. She almost trips on the sidewalk, which is broken and elevated from the roots of a tree. I take a deep breath. This fucking seven-year-old brat is making me feel worse than Stephanie.
“You misunderstood her. She’s sad about—”
“I heard her. She’s sad about the baby. I know all about it. I asked my mom last night.”
“What?” My temples pound. “Wait.” I crouch down so I’m on her level. “Did you tell your mom about Steph and me?” Because if she did, I know Mrs. Fontaine will call my mom, and that is something I can’t handle right now. My mom has all of a sudden found religion. Her last hospital stay she met a man, and together they think that through prayer they can cure all ailments.
I can’t wait to graduate and get the fuck out of here. Hit the road and play my music. But right now, I need to know what damage the Brat has done.
“Gia? Did you say anything about the baby?” It comes out harsh, but surprisingly she looks right back, not even affected by my tone.
Her green cat eyes narrow as she puts a dirty hand on her hip. “No, Rhys, I’m not a rat, and since I’m gonna marry you anyway… I’m the only one who’s gonna have your babies.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder as if she’s mimicking some of our groupies.
“Christ,” I mumble. This is screwed up. Gia’s a kid. She shouldn’t be hanging around with seventeen-year-olds. I need to talk to Axel. Doesn’t she have friends her own age who play with dolls or shit? Thank fuck she hasn’t said anything. Wait, did she just say she’s gonna marry me and have babies?
“Gia,” I say, my voice tight.
She turns and snaps another picture of me as she walks backward. She’s a fucking mess. Her dark hair hangs down past her butt in wild curls that are in need of a good brushing. I have no idea what she does with her shoes because she seems to be barefoot all the time. And her shorts and shirt are stained with what looks like chocolate milk and dirt. I saw her this morning and she didn’t look like this. Axel and I usually take her to school since Mrs. Fontaine leaves early to teach. Traffic is crap in Los Angeles, especially in the mornings.
“What?” She spins and starts to skip across the street.
“Stop spinning.” Again, sharper than it needs to be, but this is fucked up. “You’re seven and I’m seventeen. We’re never getting married.”
Her big eyes blink at me and she giggles. “Not now, but when I grow up.” She twirls again and I shake my head. Fucking Gia. She’s a brat. Been a thorn in my side from the day she was born.
Axel and I were nine when Gia came along. All I remember was chaos in that house, but it was still better than mine.
My mom has bipolar disorder. So, she’s either really high, believing that she can conquer the world.
Or low.
So low she’s in bed and I’m searching the bathroom for razor blades. When my grandfather was alive, it was easier, maybe because I was younger. I don’t know or care anymore. She’s a train wreck. I love her and would like to believe she’s done the best she can. Although, given her issues, it would be nice if she’d stay on her medication.
And my dad… I barely remember him. Only that he was an ass to my mom. As a child I hated him for that. Today, I’d like to take a baseball bat to his head. This is why Steph must take care of this. I’m not father material, but I’m also not the kind of person who would fuck her over either.
That’s what my old man did. Just left and never came back. If my grandfather hadn’t taken us in, we’d have been homeless.
At least I would have been.
My mom would have gone off on one of her manic spells and left me. One time she decided to go to Vegas. You know, to become a millionaire. She was gone a week, and me and my grandfather had to bring her back and put her in the hospital.
This is why I loved Axel’s house.
At Axel’s house, I was allowed to play my music. They had food, and even though his parents worked all the time, it still felt like a family.
Until the Brat.
From the first time I saw Gia, she was loud and constantly moving. She also cried if Axel and I played our guitars too loud, which is how we ended up in the garage.
That was actually the best thing to happen. I’ve spent more time in that garage than my own room. Sometimes I pass out in there. We have an old mattress in the corner loaded up with blankets.
It was supposed to be a no-Gia zone. But somehow that went out the window. I think Axel’s parents’ divorce probably instigated it, but as soon as Gia found the garage, it seemed to be her favorite place too.