Chapter 24
Jameson
Hot water beats down on me as I rub the sleep from my eyes. It felt like pulling teeth trying to drag myself out of bed this morning. The dream I was having felt far too real. Far too good.
I was down by the river with Sam. We were both floating on our backs, our bodies side by side, looking up at the sky. The sun was bright, but we could look right at it, its light wrapping around us.
I turned my head, and as I glanced over at her, she was already looking at me.
“You’re glowing,” she said.
I raised my hand above my face and realized she was right.
“You can see it, too?” she asked.
I nodded. “How long have I …?” I couldn’t believe I was even asking this. “How long have I been glowing?”
She glanced over at me, blinking. “You’ve always glowed.” She turned back to look up at the sky, “Well, for me, anyway.”
“Wait, what?”
“Nobody else can see it.” She paused. “Even you couldn’t see it, but I kept telling you, remember?”
I shook my head because, for some reason, I couldn’t seem to remember anything but that moment.
“I told you one day you’d see it, too.” She laughed lightly. “I must have told you a hundred times.”
“Then why didn’t you just give up?”
“Because—”
I never got to find out her answer because my alarm shattered the dream. I tried to hold onto it long enough to hear what she was going to say, but it was no use.
I wanted to go back to sleep, back to that river. Floating there, everything felt so … easy. So right.
But I couldn’t.
The water is starting to run cold, so I move through the rest of my shower quickly.
Stepping out, I stop in front of the sink and rub away the fogged-up mirror with the palm of my hand. My eyes instantly go to the new tattoo I got on my other shoulder—a clock that looks melted so you can’t tell the time.
I got it a few weeks ago, the night after we hit that pawn shop. The score was more than we were expecting, and my old man was in a celebrating mood, so he invited Big Jim back to the garage and said anyone who wanted a new piece could get one.
I came up with the idea while I waited for Johnny to finish with his. Just thought it was a cool thing to think about—that time doesn’t really exist. To not live your life by it.
After combing my hair back the way I like it, I slip into my room to get dressed before heading for the kitchen. I know what I’ll find waiting for me before I even walk in.
Sitting on the table in front of my usual spot is a huge stack of pancakes with a collection of candles sticking out of the top.
My mother whirls around at the sound of my incoming steps. “There’s my birthday boy.” She beams.
She’s always been big on birthdays. Ever since I was a little kid, she’s made it a whole thing. No matter what else was going on, she found a way to make the moments special. To make it feel like we’re a happy family. If only on those few days a year.
“Levi,” she hollers. “It’s time to sing.”
I don’t know when she started this tradition. I can’t think of a time when we didn’t do it. Every year, even if it’s her own birthday, she makes pancakes, covers them with candles, and we sing “Happy Birthday.”
I slide into my seat, and she comes over, standing behind me, then drops a kiss onto my head and says, “Happy birthday, honey.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I say, looking up at her.
My father walks in and tips his head up at me. “Happy birthday, boy.”
I nod back in response. “Thanks.”
Reaching into the pocket of her robe, my mother produces a lighter and begins lighting the candles. She claps once she’s done and says, “You ready for your song?”
I nod, and she begins to sing, her light voice filling the room.
My father leans against the counter, his eyes on my mother. He never sings along, but he shows up every year.
The song finishes, and she places her hands on my shoulders. “Make a wish,” she whispers.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wished for the same thing—to get out of this town, to leave this life. But this year, Sam pops into my mind and something becomes clear.
I don’t want to leave, if it means leaving her.
“Jameson,” my mother prompts, the word pulling me from my thoughts.
I focus on the candles in front of me, watching the wax begin to melt. Closing my eyes, I blow them out and silently make my wish.
My mother slides the plate away from me and starts to pluck out the candles.
“I’ve gotta head in early,” my father says, pushing away from the counter. “See you at the garage tonight.”
He’s throwing a party to celebrate, something he started doing since I’ve gotten older.
It’s not how I’d choose to spend my birthday—around a bunch of people I don’t know all that well.
They usually get really rowdy, too. It’s just not my thing.
But, what am I gonna do? Not show up to my own party? So, I tip my chin. “See you tonight.”
The front door slams closed behind him as I pour syrup over the plate of pancakes my mother sets back in front of me.
While I eat, she moves around the kitchen, cleaning as she hums to herself. I lean back in my chair, appreciating one of the few moments I feel at peace inside this house.
I mop up the remaining syrup with my last bite then bring the plate over to the sink. My mother takes it with a satisfied look. “That good, hmm?”
“Always,” I tell her. “Thanks for making them.”
Before she can answer, a horn sounds from outside.
“Gotta go,” I mutter.
She nods. “See you at the party.”
I push open the door and make my way out to Luke’s waiting car.
Billy jumps out and pulls me into a one-armed hug, slapping his other hand against my back. “Happy birthday, old man.”
The joke is worn out at this point. I’m only two months older than him, but he reminds me any chance he gets.
I move into the back seat, and Luke turns, wishing me a happy birthday, too.
“You coming to the party tonight?” I ask. It’s rare that Luke ever hangs out at things after-hours and even more rare that he lets Billy, but in the past, my birthday has been an exception.
“Course we’ll be there,” Luke answers before pulling away from the curb.
“Sam coming?” Billy asks.
I’ve never brought her to a party at the garage before, but when she found out about the one tonight, she insisted on coming.
“She’ll be there.”
“Sweet!”
“Just keep an extra eye on her, yeah?” I say, noticing the way Luke tenses at the fact that I even have to ask. He lets out an angry breath but doesn’t say anything, so I continue on. “Johnny will be there, too, but just in case, you know …”
Billy’s quiet for a second before he says, “Yeah, course I will.”
We pull in front of her house, and I start up the lawn like I do every day then knock on the front door and wait.
A couple minutes go by before the door swings open and she walks out. For just a moment, she looks upset, but by the time she focuses on me, she’s smoothed out her expression.
She inches into my space and glances up at me. “You look older,” she murmurs.
“You saw me yesterday.”
“Hmm,” she breathes, slipping her arms around me. Her cold hands slide up the back of my shirt, dragging over my bare skin.
She called me last night at 12:01 a.m. to wish me a happy birthday; said she wanted to be the first one. Still, she smiles up at me and tells me again.
I pull her in closer and bring my lips to hers. “Thanks, baby.”
“Get a room!” Billy yells at us from his open window.
I laugh against her mouth then take a step back, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go.”
Me and Billy are in our usual spot after school. He’s talking to Madison as I watch for Sam in the crowd of kids filtering out of the building.
Today was uneventful, boring even. But as much as the party tonight isn’t how I’d like to spend my birthday, I’m excited I’ll at least get to be with Sam and Billy.
The crowd begins to thin, and my attention catches on a flash of familiar dark hair. Her eyes are fixed on the ground, and my eyes are fixed on her.
They’re always on her.
I take in her long legs and trail my gaze up to the short denim skirt she’s wearing. I love that fucking skirt. I keep moving up, eyeing the black shirt she has on that hugs her small waist and drops off her shoulder. Finally, I reach her face and realize her eyes are no longer on the ground.
She’s watching me, just as intently as I’m watching her.
Her lips tip up into a knowing smirk. Yeah, she knows exactly what she does to me and owns every bit of it.
“Hey,” she says as she stops in front us.
I push off from the wall. “Hey.”
Madison peeks around Billy and gives Sam a little wave.
Sam looks from her to Billy then to me with a question on her face.
I subtly shake my head, telling her that I’m just as confused as she is. Billy’s been saying since the summer that he was gonna cut her loose, but he keeps going back.
It’s clear Madison knows she’s not the only girl he messes around with, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Or maybe she’s just happy she seems to have his number one spot.
“So,” Madison says, “what’re you guys doing tonight?”
Billy glances at me. “Well, it’s Jameson’s birthday, so—”
“Wait,” she interrupts. “How come you didn’t say anything? I didn’t know it was your birthday, Jamie.”
“What’d you just call me?”
She stares back at me and stammers, “W-what do you mean?”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
“Dude,” Billy cuts in. “Chill.”
“Call you what? Jamie?” She looks over at Sam. “She calls you that all the time.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not her.”
Madison holds up her hands. “Jeez, sorry, didn’t realize it was a thing.” She forces a smile. “Still, happy birthday.”
When I don’t say anything, Billy narrows his eyes.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“So, you doing anything fun to celebrate?”
Just as I answer, “No,” Billy says, “We’re having a party.”
“It’s a family thing,” I butt in.
I don’t want this girl anywhere near that party, and if I had my way, nowhere near Billy, either.
There’s something about her that’s always rubbed me the wrong way. Something about her that feels off. Maybe I just don’t buy the nice girl cheerleader act. Plus, my old man doesn’t do well with bringing outsiders around.