13. Oakley
oakley
“Oak,” Nell hisses, reaching out to poke me with her pencil. “Oak!”
I ignore her, eyes on the teacher as she talks about some poem we’re supposed to be learning about, but it’s boring. Of course you can’t see the wind.
Nell pokes me again, and I swivel to face her with a glare, mean-mugging her. That’s what my mom calls it. “What? I’m tryna learn.”
Her face scrunches up. “You are not.”
“What d’you want, Nell?” I use the tone Mom uses whenever I ask for something more than three times, and her answer still hasn’t changed, and she’s about to get really loud in telling me no.
“I was thinking you could ask to come over again today,” she says hopefully. “It was fun yesterday.”
I open my mouth, but stop myself before something rude comes out, knowing it’ll hurt her feelings. And I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I don’t want to play Barbies, either, and that’s all she wants to do.
“I can’t today,” I say instead. “I told Cale I’d help in his backyard.”
Nell blinks, her eyes going shiny like she might cry. “You’re always hanging out with him,” she accuses. “He’s old.”
“He’s my friend!” I defend, shuffling away from her, hoping she’ll stop talking. “And he likes it when I help.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me, but she swings around, facing the teacher again, and my chest feels tight and uncomfortable.
“Maybe I could come over tomorrow.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles. “Shh. I’m tryna learn.”
She doesn’t say a word to me for the rest of the lesson, and it makes my stomach weird. She’s been a little off ever since I joined the baseball team, like she thinks it means I’m leaving her behind. I feel bad about it because I know she doesn’t have any other friends.
I still don’t really understand why the other kids treat her that way. If my mom was right and it’s because of adults…shouldn’t they know better?
After we eat our packed lunches, the two of us go outside, heading for the trees that line the other side of the playground. We sit next to each other, and our knees almost touch when Nell asks, “Does your mom go on dates?”
My brows pull down as I look at her. She’s got her head tilted back, eyes on the leaves above us. “What?”
“You know…like, with a man. Or a lady, I guess. And they go out and eat.” The invisible wind knocks a leaf from the tree, and she tracks it to the ground.
I shake my head. “I dunno. Does Cale eating at our house count? He’s a man.”
She purses her lips, thinking about it. “No, they have to go out.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, picking at the grass next to her sneaker.
“My grandma said my mom needs to go out more. That she needs to water her garden if she expects anything to grow.” Her voice is all weird, like she’s trying to talk like her grandma.
She just sounds like she’s choking on cookie crumbs.
“What does that mean?” I wonder. “Water her garden? You know, Cale’s real good at looking after his yard. No weeds.” I send her a knowing look. “Maybe he could help her.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe. I don’t want my mom to go out on dates.”
“I thought you wanted a dad.” I think she’s crazy for wanting one when they can just leave whenever they want. Something gross slithers through my chest, and I push it away.
“I thought I did too,” Nell whispers. “What if having a dad means my mom doesn’t want to play with me anymore?”
“I don’t think she’d do that. Your mom is almost as good as my mom.”
She lets out this watery laugh. I pretend I don’t see the snot running from her nose. Mom said sometimes we should tell, but sometimes we shouldn’t.
This feels like a shouldn’t.
“You’re right,” Nell whispers, and I’m relieved when she wipes her nose on her sleeve. “My mom’s—”
She’s cut off by a voice singing out. “Oakley and Nell, sitting in a tree!” A bunch of kids start laughing just as we look up, finding a group approaching us. Clarissa is front and center, her grin wide. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” she finishes loudly, and a girl, Tilly, claps from beside her.
I get to my feet, ordering, “Go away!”
Nell stands with me, trembling. “Y-yeah,” she mutters. “Leave us alone, Clarissa.”
She narrows her eyes, looking all squinty like the sun is too bright. “Why? What are you gonna do?” she asks, her tone taunting. “Gonna tell your dad, Nell?”
Another kid, Jayden, snickers behind her. “How can she? Her dad didn’t want her.”
Tilly’s voice turns self-important. “My mom said her mom doesn’t even know who her dad is. Mom said you’ve got to be real trash not to know something like that.”
I scowl, not fully understanding what she means, knowing it’s bad. Nell’s shaking so much that her arm bumps into mine. When I look at her, tears are slipping down her cheeks.
I whip around, yelling at them, “Shut up! You guys don’t know anything!”
Clarissa tilts her head, eyes on me. “I know that your dad didn’t want you either.
It’s funny how neither of you has a dad, and now I’ve got two.
” The kids behind her gasp and giggle, Tilly high-fiving her.
Someone whispers, “Oooooooh!” at the back of the group.
My throat burns, like I swallowed a bite of mac and cheese without waiting for it to cool down.
“Shut up,” I whisper.
Clarissa steps forward, cupping a hand by her ear. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Shut up!” I shout. There’s a loud whooshing noise, but I still hear the way Nell whispers my name.
“Why?” Clarissa demands. “I’m just telling you the truth! Your dad doesn’t want you or your stupid mom! If he wanted you”—her voice is getting louder—“he wouldn’t be living with me and my mom.”
Everyone gets a little closer, blocking Nell and me in. I look around, seeing all the wide eyes as they flit between Clarissa and me like they’re watching tennis, their eyes bouncing all over the place.
Never understood that game. There’s nothing fun about watching people hit a ball back and forth over a net. No one even gets tackled.
My face is on fire, and the tips of my ears will be glowing pink.
Mom says it’s the first sign of me being angry, that she knows when to watch out if my ears have changed color.
My tongue feels too big for my mouth, so I keep my lips clamped shut.
The world around me has gone fuzzy and bright and red.
My hands clench into fists without me even telling them, too.
I can’t hit her.
Mom says I can’t punch people to solve problems.
And Clarissa’s a girl, anyway.
I can’t hit her.
Can’t, can’t, can’t.
My eyes water, but I’m not sad.
Clarissa cackles, pointing a finger at me. “Look! Oakley’s gonna cry! What a baby.”
I don’t move, pretending I’m made of stone.
If I am, then her words can’t hurt me, and neither can my dad.
It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t live with us anymore or that he keeps promising to pick me up and just not turning up.
It doesn’t matter that when he does pick me, he ignores me and spends all his time with Clarissa’s mom.
It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t come to a single baseball game.
It doesn’t matter that he turned up at our house on Saturday morning and still didn’t come.
It doesn’t matter that he made my mom sad.
It doesn’t matter, and I’m stone, so I don’t feel any of it, anyway.
When I don’t react except to stare at her, Clarissa loses interest. I watch as she walks away with a huff, taking her friends with her. The anger doesn’t fade away. It bubbles in my chest like a pot of water on the stove, but there’s nowhere for it to go.
“Oak?” Nell says, coming up and touching my shoulder. “You okay? Want me to get a teacher?”
I shake my head, hair flopping into my eyes. “No,” I tell her, my voice all raspy and weird. “I’m going home.”
“What?” she asks, looking all worried. “You can’t go home, Oak. You’ll get in so much trouble.” She’s a goody-goody and would never skip in the middle of the day. I wouldn’t normally, but I’m not sitting in class with Clarissa. She’ll keep talking about our dads. I know she will.
And if she says anything else about my mom, I won’t be able to stop myself.
“I’m going home,” I say again, and then I just do, leaving Nell calling my name behind me.
I don’t even stop to grab my bag, glad that we don’t live too far and I know the fastest way home.
I run the entire way, my chest heaving…But I freeze at the sight of the driveway, because the car isn’t there.
Mom’s not here.
She works from home, so she must be at the grocery store or something. I stare at the blank space where her car should be, my lips trembling because she’s supposed to be here.
When she dropped me off at Rosie and Nell’s yesterday, I told her I was too old for hugs, but I’ve changed my mind. I think I need one today.
A laugh catches my attention. I look over at the house next door, hearing voices coming from around the back. Cale’s truck isn’t in his driveway. It could be in the garage, because there’s an unfamiliar white car parked there instead.
Cale’s home.
Relief makes my breath catch, everything feeling wobbly. Maybe I can hang with him, just until Mom gets back. He won’t mind—he came to my baseball game, even when my own dad didn’t.
I beeline for his place, heading around the side to the garden gate. As I approach, I can hear him talking to someone.
“…easy fuck, no strings. Why wouldn’t I do it?” That’s Cale, even though it doesn’t sound like him. His voice is all wrong, like he’s spitting each word out.
I freeze, one hand on the latch, unsure what I should do. Mom doesn’t curse much, but I know what that word means. Matty’s got an older brother, and he told us what it meant—all the meanings.
“She lives right next to you. Talk about shitting where you eat,” someone says back. A man, and it sounds like he’s laughing. “And she’s got a kid. You ready for that?”
I blink rapidly, confused, my eyes drifting toward my house.
I think they’re talking about me and my mom.
Cale’s been spending time with us, especially since someone broke into our house.
He’s been eating dinner with us lots, staying to watch movies.
I thought he was my mom’s friend—even my friend—but there’s nothing friendly in his voice right now.
“I never signed up to play daddy to someone else’s kid,” Cale scoffs, and he sounds annoyed. He doesn’t even sound like that when I beat him at Mario Kart, and I always win.
“Didn’t think she was your type, honestly,” the other voice says, taunting just like the kids at school. I fall back a step, my breath coming out even faster, my heart pounding in my chest. “She’s got a handful. You can definitely tell she’s a mom.”
“Fuck off, Jordan,” Cale snaps. “Melanie’s a nice girl. Wild in bed, no joke. It’s just fucking. She knows what’s up. I made sure of that.”
“Yeah, but does the kid?” Jordan isn’t laughing now. “You’d be better off fucking Randi. At least she doesn’t live right next door to you, and she doesn’t have some kid hanging off her.”
Some kid. I’m not just some kid. He cheered for me so loudly at my game that I heard him before I even heard my mom, and she’s not quiet. Cale likes hanging out with me. Otherwise, why would he let me come over and play games?
Right?
I take another step back, my lip trembling. I bite down on it, but it doesn’t stop the hot tears from slipping from my eyes. I don’t breathe as I wait for Cale to say that the other guy is wrong—that he’s my friend, that he likes us.
“Doesn’t matter,” he finally says, his voice as rough as tree bark when I’m climbing in shorts. “It’ll burn out between us, and that’s it. I’m not playing a long game.”
The tightness comes back into my chest. I scrub my sleeve over my face, drying my tears right before more of them drip from my eyes. I shake my head, back and forth, trying to get rid of the words ringing in my ears as Cale keeps talking.
“The kid already has a dad. It’s not my fault the guy’s a piece of shi—”
A loud crash rings through the air, too loud. I cover my head with my arm as the window shatters, glass flying everywhere. My other arm is still above my head, fingers curled like I’m still holding the rock.
But the rock’s inside, and I threw it.
I don’t even remember picking it up.
A whimper leaves me as I drop back a step, and then another, staring up at the broken window. Shouts come from around the house, followed by a thud and loud stomping footsteps.
I don’t wait for Cale to find me, spinning around and sprinting for my house, the wind whipping against my wet cheeks as a choked sob rips out of my throat.