After making sure the nightlight was on for Brody who claimed he wasn’t scared of the dark but really was, Mom turned off the lights. “Sweet dreams,” she said like she always did before the door closed softly behind her.
“Jude?” Brody said a few minutes later.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t think my mom’s coming back, do ya?”
I tucked my arms under my head and stared up at the bunk above me even though I couldn’t see him. My mom and dad were always saying that you should never lie. And usually, I prided myself on telling the truth. But something about his tone of voice stopped me from being honest. “Sure I do. She just needed a vacation is all.”
“Yeah,” he said, letting out a breath as if he’d been holding it, waiting for my answer. “That’s what I think too.”
We were quiet for a few minutes and I was just drifting off to sleep when he said, “You think Lila’s pretty?”
I snorted. “No.”
It was the second time that night I’d lied and I had no idea why I’d done it. I just didn’t want to admit it to Brody, I guess. Lila Turner was a whole lot prettier than Ashleigh Monroe, and all the boys thought Ashleigh was the prettiest girl in our class. But Lila was our friend, she was one of us, and she was mine to protect.
I’d decided from the day I met her, scared to death that she was going to drown in that creek, that I’d always be there to rescue her and keep her safe. So I didn’t want to think about if she was pretty or not.
The next day we started school and Lila showed up at the bus stop in a dress. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t happy about wearing it. All summer, except for that first day, she’d been wearing shorts and T-shirts. So it was strange to see her in a light blue dress with white butterflies all over it. Her hair had been brushed which was a big change from the way it usually looked and she was wearing a headband to keep it off her face.
She looked like… a girl. I was staring, my mouth gaping open.
“Trying to catch flies?” she asked.
My mouth snapped shut but I was still staring. No idea why.
“Stop looking at me,” she snapped, elbowing me in the ribs. The girl had the sharpest elbows. “I look stupid,” she muttered.
I guess she was waiting for me to say she didn’t but the school bus pulled to a stop in front of us and I didn’t say a word. I climbed onto the bus in front of Brody who tried to shove me out of the way to get on first. Not happening.
“Jude!” Reese called, his hands cupping his mouth as he shouted to me. “Saved you a seat.”
I took my seat next to Reese and pretended I didn’t notice that Lila sat at the front by herself. Brody sprawled out on a seat in the back, his feet hanging in the aisle which earned him a smackdown from a few of the older boys. He didn’t back down, so I waded in to help him out and got told off by the bus driver for causing trouble. That was just the beginning of the day, and things went downhill from there, thanks to Brody.
By lunchtime, all the boys in the fourth grade were talking about Lila’s days of the week underwear and saying she never changed them. I tackled Brody in the playground and he was kicking and punching, laughing like a hyena. He punched me in the face and I punched him back. We both got sent to the principal’s office.
That night we got lectured at the dinner table.
“Fighting is not the way to solve problems,” my mom said, looking to my dad for backup. “Isn’t that right, Patrick?”
My dad looked up from his bowl of chili. “That all depends on the reason for fighting.”
I smirked. Brody grinned. He was an idiot. He had a black eye and a split lip but he didn’t seem to care. Brody loved to fight and in the short time he’d been here, he’d already picked plenty of fights with me. Now he grabbed another piece of cornbread, slathered it with butter and stuffed half of it in his mouth.
“Patrick. You’re supposed to be backing me up here.”
“I seem to remember a time when I got in a fight over you at that bar—”
“Patrick,” my mom hissed, giving him the eye. “We can’t allow them to fight.”
My dad nodded and murmured that she was right before he focused on Brody who was always watching my parents like they were an alien species. He didn’t know who his dad was and hadn’t grown up with one so I guess this was all new to him.
“Brody. No more spreading gossip, you hear? In this house, we treat the ladies with respect. And that goes for anything you say and do outside this house. Understood?” my dad questioned, his voice stern.
“Yes, sir,” Brody said, a surly expression on his face as he side-eyed me.
“And Jude…” My dad looked at my mom’s face and repeated the words she always said. “Use your words next time, son.”
I tried to keep the grin off my face. “Okay.”
“What’s for dessert?” Gideon asked. “Can I watch TV now?” That was all my brother cared about. Dessert and TV.
“Can I have ice cream?” Jesse asked, crawling into Mom’s lap and smacking his hands against her cheeks before he kissed her. “You’re so pretty, Mommy.”
“Such a charmer.”
“Does that mean I get ice cream?”
She laughed. “Yes, you two can have ice cream.”
“What about me?” Brody and I said in unison.
My mom’s lips pressed into a flat line. She wasn’t happy with us and I knew we hadn’t heard the end of it yet. “You two can clear the table and stack the dishwasher.”
I jostled Brody out of the way and stacked the plates before he could get to them. I ignored my mom cautioning me to make two trips. I could handle it.
Brody scowled as he collected the silverware and stabbed me with a fork on our way to the sink, a teetering pile of dishes in my hands. When I didn’t react, he stabbed me again, harder this time. I gritted my teeth as a plate crashed to the terracotta tiles and shattered at my feet.
“Boys!” my dad shouted, coming to stand in front of us. He took the pile of dishes out of my hands and set them in the sink, then crossed his arms over his wide chest and gave us both the look. The one that said we were testing his patience and if we didn’t stop, there’d be hell to pay.
“What did your mother say?” he asked me.
“To make two trips,” I muttered.
“No allowance for either of you this month. Money doesn’t grow on trees and these plates cost money.”
“Does that mean we don’t have to do our chores? Since we’re not getting allowance?” Brody asked, his voice hopeful. Like I said, he was an idiot. My dad was a former Marine and when he laid down the law, you didn’t argue with him unless you wanted double the punishment.
Sure enough, my dad said, “It means you’ll be doing double the chores you usually do. Now do as your mother asked. And try not to break anything.”
I exhaled loudly as my dad strode away then narrowed my gaze on Brody. He tossed the silverware in the sink, the stainless-steel clattering against the enamel and we trudged back to the farmhouse table to collect the glasses. The rest of the family was on the back porch eating ice cream sandwiches. My favorite.