Chapter 6
It is a sunny day and it just makes sense. It is Sun-day.
Mom and Daddy took us all to church in the morning and I had to hold Erik on my knees when he started crying because Mom said she was hurt. I know why she’s hurt. I heard Daddy scream last night. I heard how mad he was that she had bought the wrong brand of yoghurt and I heard how sorry she was.
“I don’t want to hear what excuse you have. Du er s? dum, Sarah.”
It’s not the first time Daddy calls Mom dumb. Daddy always calls Mom by her name; never calls her “love” or “honey” like Gregory Hale calls Lily Hale. Gregory Hale never gets so angry he has to hit the wall, slam the door, and hurt Mom so much that she falls and cannot carry Erik to church.
After lunch, I’m happy when Daddy takes Martin and Edwin to the park and I’m not even angry when Edwin hits my shoulder on the way out. For a moment, I think Martin will ask me to join them. Then, he shoves me out of the way with his cricket bat and an evil grin. “Move.”
I watch them leave and I lock the door when they are gone. Mom is on the couch with Erik and calls me with a soft voice. “Ashley? Sweetie, will you bring over a blanket? Erik and I are going to take a nap.”
I rush from the entrance to the living-room, and a strange feeling is growing in my belly and I almost feel like I have to cry. Carefully, I fix the blanket around Erik and Mom.
“Can I go ride bikes with Ford, Mom?”
Mom looks confused at me, as if she’s not understanding me. “Who?”
“Can I ride bikes with Ashford, at the end of the street?” I don’t know what I’m saying wrong.
In a lower voice, Mom warns me, “Don’t go past the big street.” And then she shushes me, because Erik is asleep in her arms already and she’s probably too tired to deal with me.
I don’t mind. I rush to get my shoes and I lace them up tightly. My bike is waiting outside and I stop to smell the fresh air; the sun warming me on my back.
A few minutes later, I’m ringing the Hale doorbell and I hear Gregory Hale’s voice from the window. There is music playing in the background, just like every time I’m round.
“Fordy, Ash is here. With his bike!” he calls out and I start counting the seconds until Ford appears. Seven, eight, nine, ten.
The moment I see him, I lose count of the numbers. He’s wearing a white shirt just like mine, and jean shorts like mine. Even our bikes are matching, both a dark green.
“Ah!” he exclaims happily. “We are twins.”
I giggle, because we definitely are not.
Martin and Edwin are twins, with their identical brown hair and identical noses and haircuts and laughs.
Ford and I couldn’t be more different: red hair versus brown, curly versus straight.
Though he’s a year older than me, he is almost a whole hand shorter.
I’m too pale to be his twin; too skinny, too tall.
Behind Ford, Gregory Hale appears. “Aren’t you two just two lil’ peas in a pod?”
It makes me smile, because he always says that and I don’t know what it means. Ford and I aren’t peas. We are boys. And I don’t know what a pod is.
“Hello,” I greet them both before I forget my manners. “Look what I got!” I shove my hands in my jeans pockets and I carefully extract two of my canine teeth.
“Wowie!” Ford drops his bike and runs to me.
“Congratulations, Ash!” Gregory Hale says seriously while opening the gate.
“I’m so jealous. Look at mine.” Ford shows me his mouth and wiggles one canine for me. “It won’t come off.”
“Patience, little one. Give it time.” Gregory Hale smiles at Ford as he picks up his bike.
“Yeah, this one really hurt.” I pout, then I point at an empty space in my mouth. I put the teeth back in my pocket and wipe my hand on my thigh.
“I’m sorry it hurt, Ash. I wish I was as cool as you are.” Grabbing the bike from his father, Ford steps out of the gate and joins me on the street.
“Have fun, lads.” Gregory Hale doesn’t tell us to be careful. He doesn’t need to yell at Ford, doesn’t push him on the floor when he’s home too late.
“I’ll be home soon, Daddy,” Ford reassures him.
I add, “We’ll be careful.”
“I know you will,” he answers, closing the gate as he watches us get on our bikes and go.
We pedal for a couple of minutes in silence before Ford turns to me. “So where are we going?”
“Not too far. Mom said not to go past the big street.”
Ford thinks for a while, then he stretches his hand towards me. He keeps his eyes on the street and bikes slowly, waiting for me to catch on. I let go of one handlebar and grab his extended hand in mine. It’s a strange feeling and I forget I’m supposed to keep pedalling.
“What can we do?” he sing-songs, our hands clasped together. “Let’s go to the little park?”
“No. My brothers are there.”
Ford squeezes my palm. “Okay. Just ride then?”
When he grins at me, the sun reflects in my eyes, making me lose my balance. I struggle to control the bike and I drop Ford’s hand, immediately missing the softness.
Next to me, Ford laughs. “Don’t fall down.” He teases me in a soft voice and it sounds nothing like my Daddy, nothing like Martin’s or Edwin’s. Something stings in my eyes and it must be the wind. I shouldn’t have left my cap at home.
“You hold me up, then!” I shriek back, biking closer to him until I can rest one hand on his arm. I stop my legs and let Ford carry me.
“No way!” Ford says out loud, biking away from me until my arm drops. Then, he comes closer again. “You drive me.” His fingers close around my wrist and my legs burn with the additional weight.
I look at him and I think about his hand, his warm skin. With a pant, I start biking faster. “Ford, get off.”
But he holds on to me and when I try to get rid of him the next time, I almost fall off the bike. It makes him laugh harder, his shoulder shaking. I want to hold his hand more, but I don’t.
With Ford, I don’t know what time it is anymore. We keep biking side by side around the neighbourhood until it feels late enough that Mom will be angry and then, we head back.
“One truth for one truth?” Ford asks me when we stop at his gate. Stepping off his bike, he stares at his dirty shoes before sitting on the sidewalk.
I have no idea what he means but I step off my bike and join him, bending my knees. “Dunno.” I mumble, embarrassed.
“I don’t feel like going to school tomorrow,” he tells me without looking at me. “I’m never smart enough and my teacher always says that my writing is unlegible.”
A pang in my chest: it sounds familiar. “Mine, too.” I should tell him that that word doesn’t make sense, instead I keep my mouth shut.
“I don’t like it,” Ford concludes. “I’d rather spend my time biking around with you.”
“Samesies,” I reply. Though, with the exclusion of my writing, I quite enjoy school. I like the colourful crayons, the smell of books and the sound of my pencils rattling in my pencil case. But Ford seems happy with my response so I don’t feel bad about lying.
“I think it’s illegible, though,” I add in a low voice.
Ford nudges my shoulder. “Okay, smarty-Ashy. Sorry you know bigger words. Now tell me your truth.”
“I don’t feel like going home right now,” I blurt and the moment it is out of my mouth, I regret it.
Straightening up, Ford looks at me. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” He suggests shyly, “We could play UNO.”
There is nothing I would like more. But I think of my mom; of little Erik wailing every time Daddy jerks his arm. I cannot leave Erik at home alone with them.
“Next time? I have to go.” It’s definitely too late now and I stand up in a rush, grabbing my bike.
Ford’s face falls a little, but he forces a smile out. He looks sad but I don’t say anything about it.
Instead, I offer, “I’ll make you a drawing tomorrow. At school. So next time we meet I can give it to you.”
His brown eyes light up and he pushes off the sidewalk, coming to stand before me.
“And I will make you a drawing, Ash,” he says with a solemn tone, and then insists we shake hands on it.
I’m back on my bike and on my way home down the street when I hear Ford’s voice.
“Hey, Ash! Wait up,” Ford screams at me.
I come to a stop a couple of houses before mine. He’s breathless when he catches up to me. “Did I forget something?” I ask and Ford tells me no, he just wanted to let me know…
“I never had a best friend,” he declares out of nowhere.
I am ten years old when Ashford Hale makes my heart skip a beat for the first time. I am his best friend and nothing will ever change us. “I never had a friend,” I respond, because it is my one truth for his one truth.