Chapter 7
7
FARRON
Mom’s text had been short but clear.
Call your brother.
Funny enough, she hadn’t indicated which one, as I had two, but I didn’t even need to ask. Rowan never got into trouble. Nope, that was always Caspian, now a senior in high school and my mom’s biggest worry.
I jabbed at my phone screen, initiating the FaceTime call with a sense of dread clawing at my chest. What had he done now? It rang twice before Caspian’s face filled the frame, his eyes shadowed and defensive. “Yo.”
“Why did Mom text me to call you?”
He scowled at me. “Why does she always get you involved?”
“Because you don’t listen to her and she’s hoping I can get through to you. What happened?”
Caspian’s gaze flickered away. “She’s overreacting.”
“How about you let me be the judge of that? Tell me what’s going on.”
It took a moment—seconds that stretched into an eternity of silence—before Caspian’s walls crumbled. His mouth opened, then closed, a silent war waged behind his eyes. “I got into a fight at school and now I’m suspended for two days.”
“Suspended? You got suspended? It’s only the second week of school, bro. What the fuck happened?” My voice rose despite my attempt to keep cool. I leaned forward, making sure my presence filled his small screen.
“The principal screwed me over. That’s what happened.”
“Start at the beginning.”
Another deep sigh. “There’s this new kid, Chandler Rodham III.”
I couldn’t hold back a snort. “For real? That’s his name?”
“I know, right? Totally pretentious, which fits him because he’s a stuck-up rich kid. His family moved into the Rollins House.”
The Rollins House was an old mansion in my hometown that was on some historical list for reasons that eluded me. It had been for sale for a while since, first of all, not many buyers in our area had one point five million to spare, and second, no one wanted to carry the burden of the strictly regulated upkeep. You couldn’t even paint the damn house without permission.
“So that finally sold, huh? What does his dad do?”
“He owns, like, half of Dealership Row.”
All the car dealerships were concentrated in one area of town everyone called Dealership Row. “That’ll do it. Anyway, what’s up with this Chandler kid?”
“He took offense to my clothes.” His voice was laced with embarrassment and anger.
I blinked. “He did what now?”
“Off-brand junk, he called it. Said even thrift stores wouldn’t take ’em.”
I nodded, absorbing the half-truths and reading between the lines. We never had much, and it stung more than either of us liked to admit. “You stood up for yourself.”
“I showed him that I might be wearing cheap-ass shit but that I could still kick his ass. But of course, his dad complained to the principal and that got me a suspension. I mean, what would you have done?”
I would’ve beat the shit out of that kid as well, and Caspian knew it. The defiance in his eyes was mirrored in my own—Carey pride mixed with a healthy dose of Carey temper. “Who threw the first punch?”
“I did, and I don’t regret it. What the fuck am I supposed to do when he’s mocking me and he won’t stop?”
“Did anyone hear him say this shit?”
“Fuck, yeah. All my friends did. Plus Mr. Summers, my math teacher. He told Chandler to stop. Which he did… until that class was over.”
“Okay, I’ll call the principal and see what I can do, okay? You can’t have a suspension on your record during your senior year. That’ll kill your chances of getting a full ride.”
“Coach threatened to kick me off varsity.”
Oh, hell no. Like me, Caspian excelled in soccer, and it would be his ticket out of there. He had college scouts interested in him already. No way was some little rich punk gonna mess that up. “The fact that he didn’t already tells you how much he values you as a player.”
“How much he needs me, you mean. They don’t stand a chance of winning State without me, and he knows it.”
Caspian’s confidence in his abilities bordered on arrogance, but was it wrong when we both knew he spoke the truth? He had a solid team, but he was the star player, and everyone knew it.
“I’ll talk to Coach as well, okay? I’ll do my best to sort this out. But Cas, you can’t get into any more fights. You gotta keep your cool, man.”
His shoulders hunched. “I know. I was so angry, you know?”
I knew what it felt like, the sting of humiliation when you couldn’t measure up to everyone else’s standards. “He’s a spoiled, rich kid, and he’s an idiot, Cas. He has no idea what honest work looks like. You need to learn to ignore people like him.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to deal with them every day,” he shot back, tinged with a bitterness that seemed too harsh for someone his age. “For once, I’d like to wear what everyone else is wearing, you know? And I’m not even talking about some five-hundred-dollar sneakers or some shit. Just a pair of decent jeans would be great.”
“Look, Mom’s working her ass off.” I raked a hand through my hair, the frustration clear in my voice. “And I’m sending back money when I can. But with everything getting more expensive, it’s tough to keep up.”
“I could get a job again.”
I firmly shook my head. “Not in your senior year. You need to focus. Keep your eyes on the ball, dude. You’re almost there. You can do this. I have so much faith in you.” I softened my tone, tried to smooth the edge of command into something more resembling support. He needed to know I was here for him, not merely laying down the law.
“I’m just so…”
“Angry,” I finished softly. “I know.”
“Not at you or Mom. I know you’re doing what you can, but it feels so unfair that we’re always struggling. We can never catch a break.”
“If you wanna be mad at someone, be pissed off at Dad’s family. They’re the ones who let us down after Dad died. They’re loaded and they could’ve helped us, but they chose not to because they didn’t think Mom was good enough for Dad. They’d been married for fourteen years when he died, but they still held a grudge.”
“I don’t understand why. What was wrong with Mom?”
I shrugged. “Wrong side of town. White trailer trash, they called her. When she got pregnant with me, they accused her of doing it deliberately to trap him.”
“Did she?”
I firmly shook my head. “They were so in love, Cas. I know you don’t remember much of that, but I was thirteen when he died, and I remember so many moments where I could see how much they were in love. Don’t ever question that, okay? He chose her because he loved her.”
I had to fight to keep the bitterness out of my voice. Not only was I old enough to remember my father’s death; I’d been in the car with him when we’d been hit. I had walked away with minor injuries, but the drunk driver had hit the driver’s side, and my dad never stood a chance. My only consolation was that his last words had been that he loved me and that he was sorry.
Which made the betrayal of his family all the worse. I’d always felt the arctic cold from my dad’s parents but had never fully understood why. After Dad died, Mom had no choice but to explain the situation to me because we quickly ran out of money and I was forced to get a job.
“How do you deal with that anger?”
“You learn from it. The lesson is that we can’t trust those rich pricks. They’re all about themselves, their own image. They’ll step on anyone to stay on top, and they don’t give a damn who they hurt along the way.”
Caspian’s eyes narrowed, the blue of them darkening with the shadows. “So, what? We let them walk all over us?”
“No.” I shook my head with force, the movement so vigorous I felt my neck crack. “We play smarter, not harder. You’ve got brains, Cas. Use ’em.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Damn right it is,” I said, leaning close to the camera. “Because I’m doing it, aren’t I? Here at Hawley, on the soccer team, busting my ass day and night. And the only reason I’m here is because I got that scholarship.”
He tilted his head, and I could see he was listening.
“Listen, Cas,” I said, shifting to sit on the edge of my bed, the phone propped up against my knee. “You’ve got every right to be pissed. Life dealt us a crappy hand. But remember, it’s not about the labels on your clothes. It’s what you do that counts.”
“I know, but…”
“Listen to me.” I squashed my own frustration. “We’re stronger than them. We don’t need their damn money. We’ve got something they’ll never have.”
“Which is?” His tone was skeptical, but underneath it was a plea for something to hold onto.
“Each other,” I said simply. “We’ve got each other’s backs as a family, Cas. Always. We’d never treat each other the way they treat us.”
He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders as he let out a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
“Damn straight, I am.” I flashed him a half-smile, trying to lift the mood. “Now, wipe that scowl off your face. You’re gonna get wrinkles before you even hit twenty.”
A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Shut up, Farron.”
“And how will you make me?” The familiar warmth of sibling banter eased the heavy atmosphere.
“Thanks,” he said after a moment, his voice softer. “For being here, even when you’re not.”
“Always. Remember that.”
He slowly nodded.
“Promise me you’ll focus on what matters? Your education, soccer, the future you’ve worked so hard for?” I held his gaze, willing him to see the conviction in mine.
“I promise.”
“All right, time for me to hit the books,” I said, pushing off the wall and preparing to dive back into my own set of responsibilities. “Remember what I said. Stay strong,” I urged him, wiping a smudge off the phone screen absentmindedly, as if I could clear away the obstacles in his path just as easily. “You’ve got me in your corner.”
“Thanks, Farron,” he replied, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of emotion that made me want to reach through the damn screen and give him a noogie. Instead, I settled for a firm nod.
Leaning back against my desk, I let out a long breath, feeling it ripple through me. Frustration knotted in my gut because he deserved better than this crap, but there was determination too, hot and fierce, lighting a fire within me.
The weight of responsibility for my siblings was heavy, but it was mine to bear, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’d been dealt a crappy hand, sure, but we were Careys. We played to win, no matter the odds. And I’d be damned if I didn’t do everything in my power to give them a life where brand names on their backs weren’t a measure of worth.