Chapter 4 Wes
FOUR
WES
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Dustin teased while gathering up the pieces of our boardgame.
My brother was winning because he cheated, and while I knew he was doing it, I didn’t care enough to stop him.
I was biding my time.
It was Saturday night and way past our bedtime.
I was focused on my tree house.
Last summer, Callie would sneak up into my treehouse every Saturday night.
Most nights I would go out and say hi to her.
Sometimes I’d stay, but most of the time I’d just take her a sandwich and leave her be.
I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
She’d stopped coming as soon as the cold weather snapped into place, which was near Halloween of last year.
She hasn’t been back since.
The school year flew by, winter came. Spring passed, and now summer had arrived.
Tonight, the music from down the road echoed through our open windows, along with the laughing and revving engines. My family found a way to ignore it, but to me it was an anthem, a call to go outside and see if my friend had come.
“I’m not a sore loser, I’m just tired,” I said, pushing away from the table. I was lying, but I’d do anything to get him off my back.
“See if Jake wants a go.”
Dustin stood and stretched his arms above his head. He was thirteen now, three years older than me, and two years younger than Jake.
“Nah, I want to go watch TV now that Mom and Dad went to bed.”
Our parents were strict, and religious. Any chance of freedom we found, we grabbed hold of it. Watching television after hours was one of our favorite things about summer, but it still didn’t hold a candle to my possible guest arriving tonight.
The house was quiet as I gathered two sleeping bags, two pillows, and my backpack. Thankfully, no one was watching. If they had been, there would be a lot of questions.
I made sure the screen door didn’t slam as I exited and walked down the porch. Tonight, the moon was bright, and the crickets weren’t as loud, but my insides seemed jumpier than normal.
Once I cleared the top of the treehouse, I began to roll out the sleep sacks, trying not to let my hopes get too high. As I waited, thoughts began to expand in my head.
What if she didn’t come? What if she never came back and I never saw her again?
I must have drifted off to sleep at some point because I woke with a jolt as I heard the sound of the hatch opening.
“Wes?” Callie whispered, and hearing her voice again made sparks prance under my skin.
I sat up quickly and tried to adjust my vision to the dark.
“Callie?”
She crawled all the way inside and lowered the wooden door.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
I sat cross-legged, still wearing the shorts and T-shirt I had on earlier.
“I didn’t know if you would come again,” I finally said after the silence stretched too long.
She carefully situated the pillow on the sleeping bag.
“You brought this for me?”
I nodded, but then wasn’t sure if she could see me.
“Figured we could leave it up here for you…in case you need it and I’m not out here.”
“Are you going somewhere this summer?” she asked, tugging the backpack I had brought open.
I didn’t want to go anywhere for the summer, but it was too late to change any of it. “Camp, in a week or so, then my grandparents’ house for a bit. How about you?”
She pulled out the sandwiches.
“No. I never go anywhere.”
I thought about that for a second… letting it sink in. We’d had a dozen or so conversations about her life, but I still felt like I didn’t know her. I hated that pity knitting together in the bottom of my stomach.
I always felt it for her before, but now it felt a little different. It felt more like anger.
“How come I didn’t see you at school ever?” Callie bit into one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Her eyes stayed on me as she chewed.
It was stupid to feel embarrassed by this, but people always treated us weird when we said it.
“I’m homeschooled.”
Callie’s eyes rounded.
“Oh. I looked for you a few times…”
My chest felt like a firecracker had been shoved inside it. I had looked for her, too, but only when I rode my bike, or when I was brave enough to stop by her mailbox. I was always too scared to go any further.
“Do you like being homeschooled?”
I shrugged, toying with the sleeping bag string. The moon was bright enough that with the sheet pulled to the side, I could see Callie, and she could see me.
“It’s okay…gets boring from time to time, and my siblings are annoying, but my mom finds us a lot of stuff to do in town, with other homeschool groups.”
Callie pulled the water bottle free and twisted the cap.
“You have brothers, right?”
I nodded. “Two…and two little sisters.”
She tipped her head back, drinking, and then let out a sigh.
“That must be nice not to feel alone.”
“You don’t have any siblings?” I wanted to be closer to her for some reason, but I wasn’t sure why. Still, I straightened my legs so my toes were near the edge of the sleeping bag.
She shook her head.
“Nope. Just me. My mom died a while back, so it’s just me and Dad…plus all his girlfriends and the guys in his club.”
She’d mentioned the club before, and it intrigued me now, just like it did the first time I’d heard it.
“So the club…they all ride motorcycles, right?”
Snatching up the bag of potato chips, she pulled it open and tossed a crisp into her mouth.
“Dad says it’s like a family. The members are usually all hairy and old…but they’re nice. They just scare me sometimes when they get really loud, and they do grown-up stuff with the girls around the clubhouse.”
“There are girls around the clubhouse?” I couldn’t help but ask, because all I could picture were girls her age.
“Yeah, there are always girls around. I only like the old ladies, though; they’re the permanent ones that aren’t going anywhere.”
A yawn interrupted the tail end of her sentence, and I realized she was tired.
But a part of me didn’t care. A part of me wanted to be selfish, because like every other time, she would slip away as soon as the sun rose, and as badly as I wanted to be awake and one of these days walk her back, she always beat me.
“Have you told your dad that you don’t like it when he throws the loud parties?”
Her lips twisted to the side and some of her dark hair fell in front of her face.
“I try, but my dad doesn’t really hear me. He likes to smile and pat my head, but he always tells me to just go see Red when I’m upset.”
My brows furrowed. “Who’s Red?”
Another yawn emitted from her.
“She’s the main old lady. She runs the kitchen, and club money. She buys groceries and has a soft spot for me. I like her, but on club nights like this, she gets just as involved with all the chaos as the rest of them.”
Her dainty hand flipped the top of the sleeping bag over, and she crawled in. She wore another one of her big T-shirts that swallowed her.
“Can you tell me a story?” Her voice came out as a whisper, and I decided to lay down too and just let her sleep.
I slid into my sleeping bag and rested my head on the pillow, propping my hands underneath me.
“What kind do you want tonight?”
Another yawn. “Adventure this time.”
I started in on the story of Peter Pan, still confused as to how she never seemed to know any of these movies or story lines.
Last summer I had spent the few times I did sleep up here with her retelling the story of Cinderella.
Not that I wanted to, but she’d asked me for something with love and a happy ending, and my sisters had watched the movie that afternoon.
So, I started, and she didn’t let me stop until she’d heard the very end.
“Does Peter love Wendy?” Callie suddenly asked, the sound of sleep heavy on her voice.
I stared at the ceiling of the tree house and considered her question.
The story of Peter Pan was always something I associated with pirates, cannon fire, and sword fights…but love? I had no clue…but I suppose—
“I think he did love her.”
Callie waited a second. “Why?”
I thought it over and just went with the first thing that popped into my head.
“I think he loved her because she wasn’t lost, she just wanted an adventure. She was always sure of who she was. She knew what her role was in Neverland…and with Peter.”
“But he rescued her so many times…” Callie argued softly.
I shook my head, knowing she couldn’t see me.
“Sometimes rescuing someone can lead to a pretty fun adventure. I bet Peter enjoyed it.”
She didn’t ask anything else, and I started to drift off.
Right before I fell asleep, I heard her whisper.
“I think Wendy loved Peter more.”