9. Max
9
MAX
I worried about Rafe during the entire drive to my mom’s house.
At just thirteen, my brother was a slave to his emotions. Everything was either totally amazing or beyond shitty, with very little in between. His call just now had been no exception.
“They’re fucking insane!” he’d screamed at me, causing me to pull my phone away from my ear. “Come get me, now .”
After I’d scolded him for his word choice, I’d managed to calm him down enough to get the full picture. The usual fighting between our mom and Rafe’s dad, Nick, had escalated and Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get out of the house for the day. I wanted to believe he was exaggerating, but I knew how bad the arguments could be. Nick was a controlling, narcissistic asshole and his own son hated him.
And worse, my mom was afraid of him.
I’d tried to talk some sense into her, but it was a decision she needed to make on her own—and Nick was way too good at convincing her that she’d never be able to make it without him. I just worried about the damage being done to poor Rafe, having to live in a household that toxic. My only consolation was that he considered me his refuge. He knew I’d rescue him any time he called.
Rafe was sitting on the front step when I pulled up in front of the modest bungalow, skateboard and helmet at his feet. He barely raised his head when I got out of the car.
“Can you hear them?” he asked glumly.
“Hey, Rafe.” I paused on the sidewalk to listen. Sure enough, I could make out my mom’s high-pitched voice, interspersed with Nick’s angry shouts. I walked closer, studying my brother. How was it possible that he looked like he’d grown in the two weeks since I’d seen him last? His soft brown curls were a little longer, forcing him to palm them away from his eyes every few minutes. The smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks were punctuated with a few angry red spots, which, if he was anything like me, would be the worst of his adolescent acne. Rafe was lanky, all knees and angles in transition, but I could tell my little brother was going to grow into a handsome young man.
A handsome, angry young man.
I reached out and squeezed his shoulder, and he jerked away, as if he was embarrassed by the tiniest bit of physical affection.
“Rafe.”
He finally met my eyes, and I could see the telltale red rings around his.
“What are they fighting about this time?” I asked.
He shrugged, frowning. “Money, like always. It started off because Dad threw out some leftovers. Mom fished them out of the garbage because she said they were fine, and then he called her a dumpster diver. And she said that she had no choice, money is tight, and then they went at it. He said that they were behind this month because Mom bought me a new helmet.” He kicked the shiny metallic thing at his feet.
“It’s not your fault,” I said in a low voice. “Don’t you dare let him get to you.”
He shrugged again and hugged his knees, a gesture that took years off of him and made my heart ache. If I could’ve moved him in with me I would’ve, but I wasn’t in his school district and changing schools at his age would set him back even more. Besides, Nick would never agree to it. He liked having Rafe under his roof where he could use him against Mom and me.
“Can we go now?” he asked, his voice verging on breaking.
I considered running inside to let them know I was taking him, but realized it could trigger another fight. I’d text my mom once we were a safe distance down the road.
“Sure. Where to?”
“Lot 11.”
Of course. The skate park was his refuge, a place where he could focus all of his attention and energy on landing tricks. My stomach growled.
“Can we grab lunch first?”
“Only if it’s tacos,” he said, a smile finally creeping onto his face as he jumped up.
Twenty minutes later we were eating street cart tacos on the curb at the edge of the park. Even though it was midday the place was crowded with people of all ages, from tiny kids covered in padding to teenagers showing off absolutely terrifying moves. Rafe had gotten really good at skateboarding, but I had a feeling I’d still wind up watching him with my eyes covered the minute he finished eating. The kid was fearless.
I took advantage of our moment together to try to get him to open up to me.
“So how are you?” I asked, crashing my shoulder into his. “Aside from the parents stuff. How are you ?”
He chewed with his mouth open and pretended like he didn’t hear me, staring at the guy a few feet away from us trying to perfect his ollie.
“Earth to Rafe.”
“Huh? I’m fine I guess. School is stupid, home is stupid, the only thing that matters is this.” He tapped his heel on the sticker-covered board in front of him.
“How did that science presentation go?” He took another gigantic bite. “Rafe!”
“ Sorry !” he rolled his eyes at me. “Geez. It was fine. But Max, I already have a mom. Let’s not talk about that stuff, okay?”
He was right. He didn’t need me to nag him, he needed me to be there for him. I shifted my strategy. “Fine. So what trick are you working on now?”
“A late kick-flip.”
“Okay … and that is?”
He rolled his eyes again, like it was something everyone knew, and I was totally lame for not being aware. “It’s when you skate fast and then jump into the air and kick the board up with you, and then flip it in the air, then land it and keep going.”
I tried to keep him talking. “Do you do it one of those ramps?” I pointed to the one opposite us on the other side of the park.
Rafe scoffed at me. “No, I have to learn how to do it on flat ground first.”
“Can you do anything cool on the ramps?
“You tell me.”
He stood up and threw his taco wrapper on the ground. I fussed at him, but he was too busy putting on his helmet to notice. He dropped his board down and tore off toward a ramp across the park.
Despite his grumpy attitude, I could tell he was happy that I was there and interested in what he was doing. My mom tried, but she was so busy trying to get established in her new real estate job and dealing with Nick that she barely had time for herself. And she knew I was always there for Rafe, which gave her a little relief.
Rafe weaved in and out of the other skaters. He looked so at home on the board, and so fearless, but to me he’d always be a little boy. I was eleven when he was born, the perfect age to fall in love with a squishy baby brother. We were tight despite the age difference, made even more so by his need to find a safe space outside of the house.
I sighed. Things were on the verge of changing for me, which meant that Rafe’s life was going to be in flux as well. The Richard Adams internship was basically a full-time job and then some. From what I’d heard the man demanded that his interns shadow him no matter what was going on, including after hours. I’d read an article about him that referenced his “groupies,” which made the interns sound more like fans rather than students getting ready to launch their own careers. The photo that accompanied the piece showed Adams behind the lens shooting the year’s latest silver screen ingenue, with a pack of black-clad women clustered in the corner of the frame, behind the computer that flashed the images he was capturing. They looked beautiful and petrified.
I shook my head. That wouldn’t be me. I respected the man, but I wasn’t some nervous little newbie. I was there to learn his craft and that was all. I wouldn’t let someone I was paying a boatload of money make me feel unsettled.
The money. Theo .
The morning had passed in such a rush that I’d barely had time to think about the Q it looked like the kid needed it.
Rafe sped up the wall and when he reached the top managed to launch himself into the air with the skateboard still plastered to his feet, hanging weightless for what felt like an eternity. I could feel the grimace on my face as the board landed back on the cement, expecting Rafe to wipe out. But no, the kid swished down the incline totally in control, like what he’d just done was no big deal. To him, it probably wasn’t.
As excited as I was about the internship, I had to admit that watching Rafe made me feel a little dread too. If all my time was taken up with the program, I wasn’t going to be able to give this fragile guy the attention he needed. Sure, we could text and call, but it took a lot to get Rafe to open up to me these days even when I was standing right there next to him, and I knew it would be near impossible to make it happen on the phone. Where would that leave him?
I watched him try the kick flip move over and over. He could get the board in the air, but the flip part wasn’t coming together, and he kept landing awkwardly. I kept expecting him to give up, especially when he came down on the board with one foot and sent the thing shooting across the park. But he chased it down and gave it another shot, this time managing a half flip.
I glanced at my phone. I did actually have work to do, but I wasn’t about to interrupt Rafe. I could work late tonight; it wasn’t like I had plans. When I looked back up Rafe was midair, with the skateboard just beneath him doing a full rotation then seeming to reattach itself to his feet as he made a perfect landing.
“ Yes !” I cheered, loudly enough that he probably wanted to murder me for being so tragically uncool. He pretended like I wasn’t there and then repeated the move flawlessly a few times before skating back to me, trying hard not to smile.
“You did it!” It was an effort to keep from hugging him.
He nodded as he unbuckled his helmet. “I’ve been working on that for a long time.”
“You’re so determined,” I gushed, keeping the praise coming because I knew he was lapping it up, even though he was pretending it didn’t matter. “You never give up.”
“Yeah,” he said, glancing up at me through his curtain of unruly hair. “But I think there was something else, too.”
“What’s that?”
He started walking toward my car. “You’re my good luck charm.”
He tossed the compliment over his shoulder which meant he didn’t see my posture sag with a mix of happiness and heartache. Rafe needed me, and I wanted to do everything I could to support him.
What the hell was I going to do when the internship started?