Sam sighs. ‘Are you staying all night?’
Avery busts the packet and peers inside. ‘These are diseased. Anyway, I want to—’ He looks up. ‘Oh. Your face.’
Sam should’ve gone straight to a mirror to inspect the damage. He needs to soak his knuckles and put antiseptic on the cuts, but he forgot since he’s used to feeling like a rug with the dust beaten out.
Avery pulls himself up to sit on the bench top next to an empty fruit bowl and crushes crackers between his fingertips instead of eating them. ‘You said you were going to stop beating people up.’ The accusatory edge is there.
Something in Sam’s chest tugs, like he’s a boy made out of paper and string and the threads have been pulled too tight. ‘Leave it.’ His voice stays low.
Avery doesn’t notice Sam’s tone, he hardly ever does. His legs swing, pace growing frantic. Sam needs to intervene before agitation turns to panic and Avery spins out.
‘You said you’d stop hitting,’ Avery says, ‘and I’d promise to keep my job at the mechanic’s. Those are the rules.’ Crackers crunch. Packet rustles. Heels drum on the bench.
‘I guess we both broke the rules,’ Sam says quietly.
Avery’s eyes widen. ‘But I—’
‘Save it. I know you drove a car into the wall at the mechanic’s shop.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘Were you drunk?’ Sam’s scowl is all flint, but wasted on Avery because he’s looking anywhere but Sam’s face.
Avery snaps his fingers by his ears and doesn’t answer.
This is all so unfair.
Sam can still see the other apprentice mechanic in oily coveralls splayed out on the cement behind the shop, holding his broken hand and whimpering. Sam didn’t mean to take it so far, but does he ever? He went there to beat up the guy, make him unable to work for a day or two so the boss wouldn’t fire Avery. He’d need him. Avery would have a chance to redeem himself. It was simple – until bone snapped and Sam got a split lip and a boot imprint on his chest and limped off into the dark before the apprentice could see his face or call for help.
The guy was big, but Sam’s good at fighting. Practice.
It scares Avery, the way Sam hits. It scares Sam too. But what’s he supposed to do? He’s got nothing else. He doesn’t get to spin into a screaming heap when it gets too much like Avery does – Avery who’s wired a little different, Avery who acts like he’s younger instead of two years older than Sam.
‘I’m probably going to get fired.’ Avery throws the crumpled packet in the sink and swings his legs viciously. ‘But I had this genius idea.’ His voice lightens, a good indication the idea is terrible. ‘See, there’s this super sweet sedan in the shop right now. We’ll have hours before anyone knows we took it.’
‘Took it where?’ Sam’s voice is tight.
And Avery says, ‘We could leave town,’ like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
‘In a stolen car? Are you insane?’
‘We’d ditch it tomorrow. Get another. I know cars. No big deal.’
‘That’s not part of our plan,’ Sam says.
‘Our plan sucks.’ Avery rocks on the bench. ‘It’s impossible. Let’s just drive away. You. And me. We.’ He smiles then, small but unguarded, like he really thinks Sam is going to go for this.
Doesn’t he know Sam at all?
Sam looks down at his hands, fisted and trembling. He’s furious at the hot tears pricking the back of his nose. He wills himself to be still, find that pocket of calm. ‘We made a plan.’ His voice shakes in an effort to stay level. ‘We’re going to earn money, get a house, fix ourselves up—’
‘I’m not even eighteen. And you’re a wanted criminal. There’s no way we’ll ever steal enough for a house of our own.’
This is not what they talked about. This is not what they spent countless hours planning last year, lying on the trampoline in their aunt’s backyard because she’d locked them outside again.
We’re going to live in our own house. We’re going to be OK.
‘No.’ But there are too many cracks in Sam’s voice. ‘No, we’re not stealing some car and we’re not leaving town and—’ He stops because it’s all crashing into him. How unrealistic his wishes are. How naive he’s being. He’s supposed to be the one with his head screwed on, but he’ll chase this dream until it cuts him to ribbons.
It’s hard to breathe, but he’s not sure if that’s his bruised ribs or the agony of fighting with his brother.
Avery’s voice grows shrill. ‘But if we stay the police will catch you! I can’t let them catch you. They’ll put you in p-prison and then – I can’t … you can’t—’ It ends in a frantic cry and Avery’s fingers rip at his hair and then suddenly he’s off the bench, knocking the fruit bowl as he goes.
It splinters against the tiles like a gunshot.
Someone’s going to hear.
The shouts.
The crashes.
The brothers.
Avery flinches away, knocking into a chair so hard it flies backwards and hits the wall, leaves an indent in the plaster. This is Avery. Unintentional chaos.
Sam just watches, frozen, while Avery recoils from the mess, his tics exploding until he punches his own leg and gasps furiously for air. Sam tries to reach out, catch his brother’s arm and stroke it until he stops hurting himself and swaps to a calmer tic – like he did when they were kids – but Avery snaps away.
‘I’ll leave then.’ His thin chest moves in and out, too fast. ‘I’ll steal a car and drive away by myself. You c-can get caught if you want. I don’t care. I don’t care!’ He shoves Sam then, and Sam sucks in a sharp breath.
‘Don’t say that.’ Sam’s voice is barely a whisper.
Avery storms towards the door, his limbs jerking like a puppet. He turns back with one last vicious glare – except there are tears in his eyes and his lip trembles. ‘I’ll leave you.’
Don’t ever, ever say that.
He slams the door on his way out.
Sam stares at the chaos, the broken dish and the dent in the wall. The family will come back and never understand what happened here.
Sam doesn’t understand.
But he can’t stay here now.
He’s already shouldering his backpack, the weight of a hundred stolen keys clinking their comforting song. He should run after Avery. Make him calm down, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself – make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like try to leave. He didn’t mean it, right? They’re all each other has. Avery’s the only who sees Sammy Lou, the forgotten boy.