CHAPTER THREE
CONNECTICUT, AGE THIRTEEN
My back was against the wall just outside my parents’ room. Luke was inside with Mom and Dad. The door was closed, but they were all talking loud enough that I could hear.
“You can go, sure,” Dad said. “But you’re taking Charlie with you.”
Luke groaned, and my chest ached at the sound of his disappointment.
He was my best friend; he always would be. But his best friend was Ritchie.
If I was being honest, I wasn’t sure I was Luke’s friend at all.
“Dad, you gotta be kidding, right? He’s …” He huffed out a loud breath, like he couldn’t believe our father could be such an unfair tyrant. “He’s a kid .”
Mom sighed, defeated. “I mean, he’s not wrong …”
“He’s thirteen; he’s not a child ,” Dad corrected, sounding serious. I could picture the twin lines forming between his brows. “And if you’re doing anything at that party that you can’t do around him, then you shouldn’t be doing it at all.”
I swallowed, my stomach tied up in a thousand knots.
They were talking about Luke’s friend’s birthday party. Rob only lived a couple of blocks away, and he had just turned sixteen. Luke had been on the phone all week, talking to his other buddies about the party with so much excitement and mischief in his tone. I knew the things he liked to do when I wasn't around, and I knew he didn't like to have me around because I prevented him from doing them.
Smoking cigarettes. Drinking beer. Kissing girls.
The knots in my stomach tightened at the idea that he might do more than just all of that, but my mind fought to push those things away.
It was bad enough that he had snuck into the house last weekend, more drunk than I'd ever seen someone—even Dad that one time he’d gone to his friend’s wedding years back. Luke had tripped up the stairs and fallen into my room, giggling like a girl and leaning all his weight against me. Telling me about this girl at his school and how she'd let him feel her boob or something before he threw up all over my T-shirt— twice .
I had never kissed a girl.
I had never felt a boob.
It was weird that Luke had done those things—and probably so much more—and it was weirder how the difference in our experiences somehow put more distance between us.
Maybe I am a kid .
Anyway, I didn't want to go to that party.
I didn't like Luke's friends. They were horrible and cruel, just as they’d always been. But they were older now, meaner, and they made him mean, too, when he was with them.
Luke was quiet now, and I wondered what he was thinking. What did his face look like? Was he mad? I wished Dad would listen to him and Mom. They knew better. They knew I was different. I thought Dad probably knew, too, but he didn't like it. He wanted me to be normal, more like Luke and more into sports, girls, and cars and less into spiders, bones, and books.
“They don't like him,” Luke muttered, quieter now than before.
“Who's they?” Dad asked.
“Rob, Pat,” Luke replied, like he was counting them off on his fingers. “Tommy … Ritchie …”
“Ritchie?” Mom sounded surprised, like she was clueless about how Luke's best friend picked on me whenever I was around. “Since when?”
“God, seriously?” Luke huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Mom, come on. Nobody likes Charlie.”
“But Ritchie and Tommy—”
“They don’t like him,” he pressed harder, enunciating every word with purpose.
He said it like he didn't like me either, and that made my throat feel tight, and my bottom lip began to wiggle like a baby. Like a kid .
“He's your brother, Luke,” Dad argued. He was definitely angry now. “And if you're going to that party, you're taking him with you.”
“Dad—”
“End of discussion,” Dad cut him off. I pictured him holding up his hand, halting my brother's protests.
“Come. On!”
“Enough, Lucas! In a second, I'm telling you that you can't go at all, all right? Now, make your decision and live with it!”
Luke growled angrily as footsteps approached the door. I raced down the hallway, my bare feet stamping against the carpet, and I turned into my room, jumping onto my bed and grabbing the book I’d been reading.
My parents' bedroom door opened, and Luke's footsteps came plodding toward my open door. He appeared, his face angry as he pinned me with his glare.
“Get dressed,” he ordered. “Now.”
“Why?” I asked, feigning cluelessness and urging my voice to sound normal and not as breathless as I felt.
He put his entire body into his eye roll. He knew I'd been listening. “Shut the hell up, Charlie. Get ready. We're leaving in two minutes.”
***
“Rob’s parents are out for the night,” Ritchie said in a voice that implied this was the greatest thing to ever happen to them in their lives since they had discovered beer and boobs.
I rolled my eyes the moment the gigantic football player wrapped his arm around Luke's neck.
“You can’t tell my mom,” he added, giggling like a little girl. “She’d be pissed .”
“Okay, but you can’t tell mine either,” Luke replied, laughing along with him.
They almost turned into the house when Ritchie spotted me standing behind my brother. “What the hell is he doing here?” he asked, sneering.
“My asshole dad wouldn't let me come without him,” Luke grumbled, already walking through Rob’s front door.
My skin prickled at the sound of my brother calling our father an asshole, knowing Luke didn’t believe it. He was showing off for his mean friend, and I didn’t like it.
Ritchie blocked the doorway with his body after Luke passed. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, pinning me to the stoop with a menacing look. “Are you gonna be a little baby if I let you in?”
I diverted my gaze to the concrete at my feet.
“You're not gonna go running back to Mommy and Daddy like you did last time, are you?”
My cheeks burned with the evidence of my shame at the reminder of that time Luke had taken me to the movies a couple of months ago. We met up with Ritchie, Tommy, and a few girls from their school. Luke smoked a cigarette and kissed one of those girls—with his tongue and everything—when we were supposed to be watching the movie. I told Mom what had happened after we got home, and Luke didn’t speak to me for a week.
I hadn’t felt bad for saying anything. Cigarettes were bad, and that girl didn't seem very nice. But I hadn't realized Ritchie knew I'd tattled. I guessed Luke had told him, and I tried to glance around Ritchie's big, stupid body into the house to sear Luke with my angry glare.
Ritchie grabbed my arm, squeezing and hurting and probably bruising, and yanked me toward him. He scared me now, just like he always had, and my eyes teared up as my gaze met his.
“Because if you say a fucking thing, I'm gonna make sure you regret it,” he threatened, his voice low and intimidating.
“Let me go!” I tried to yank my arm away, but he only tightened his grip until the bone ached. “Ow! Stop!”
“Pinkie promise, little baby. Pinkie promise, and I'll let you go.”
A tear slipped from my eye. “Stop it!”
His fingers curled, digging his blunt nails into my flesh. “Say the magic words, Charlie boy.”
“Luke!” I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut and wishing I were at home in my room with my book.
“Come on,” Ritchie coaxed, his sweet voice playing a stark contrast to the pain he was inflicting on my arm. “Pinkie promise, and I'll let you go. Easy-peasy.”
I yelped, sounding like a hurt dog. “Fine! I pinkie promise!”
And just like that, he released me, giving instant relief to my arm, and held up his little finger. “Seal the deal, Charlie boy.”
I reluctantly offered the little finger of my left hand, and instead of holding up his end of the bargain, Ritchie grabbed my finger in his big hand and bent it back, nearly to its breaking point. I cried again, wondering where my brother was and why he didn't care—why nobody cared—as Ritchie stepped forward and bent down to press his mouth to my ear.
“I will break this fucking finger if you tell anyone anything, I swear to God. Got it?”
“I got it!”
“Good.” He let my hand go, then quickly wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Now, come on. Let's get you a drink.”
***
That night, I learned I didn’t like beer. It tasted gross, burned my throat, and felt heavy in my stomach. I struggled with every swallow and gagged a little every time, but still, I drank because Ritchie had told me to. With the memory of his threats so fresh in my mind, the last thing I wanted was to make him unhappy.
It didn’t help that he never left me alone for long, almost as if he’d assigned himself the job of being my babysitter or something. Like I needed one. And what made everything worse was, I didn’t know where Luke had gone. I hadn’t seen him since we’d arrived, and between choked swallows of beer, I worried about what he was doing.
Mom and Dad will be so mad , I caught myself thinking more than once, staring into the half-empty cup of beer in my hand. But then I scowled, remembering that I couldn’t say anything to them at all … unless I wanted Ritchie to break my pinkie—which I didn’t.
What am I gonna do?
I looked up from the nasty beer and hesitantly surveyed the room, looking for my brother once again in the sea of teenagers. Most of them I didn’t recognize. I hadn’t been to school in almost five years, and besides, these kids were all at least two or three years older than me. Even if I had known any of them at some point, they all looked so much different— older —than they would’ve when I’d known them.
A wave of nerves barreled over me, and my stomach began to hurt, churning with the feeling that something was very wrong. I glanced at a clock on the wall, hanging above an entertainment center, and saw that it was past nine o’clock at night. I’d been there for almost two hours, standing against the wall of the living room with a warm, half-empty cup of beer in my hand.
God, where the hell is Luke?
My hands started to shake and grew clammy. My heart began to flutter wildly when I remembered that Dad had told us to be home no later than ten.
I didn’t even want to come at all.
“Hey.”
I turned abruptly at the sound of a girl’s voice to find a pretty face I didn’t recognize looking right at me. She was smiling, and she was holding a cup identical to mine.
“H-hi.”
Ugh . I sounded so stupid, like a little boy.
I had no business talking to a girl as pretty as her, easily three years older than me. But she didn’t seem to notice my stutter as her smile grew wider.
“Are you having fun? You’ve been standing over here for a long time.”
She noticed? I felt my cheeks growing hot as I swallowed, trying to not feel so embarrassed.
“Um … y-yeah, kinda.” I cleared my throat. “I-I mean, I’m kinda having fun … I guess.”
“Are we in class together?”
She leaned against the wall beside me, and I couldn’t believe she’d want to stand there instead of hang out with someone else. Like Ritchie or Tommy or Luke. Someone way cooler and older. Someone who wasn’t me.
I shook my head. “I-I don’t, um … I d-don’t go to school.”
“You don’t go to school?” Her eyes widened like it was the most awesome thing she’d ever heard in her life. “I’m so jealous. I wish I didn’t have to go to school.”
“W-well, I mean … I still ha-have homework and stuff,” I answered stupidly even though she hadn’t asked. “My m-mom teaches me.”
Her mouth opened in a wide O as she nodded. “Ohhh, so wait. You’re homeschooled?”
“Yeah.” Good. I didn’t stutter this time.
She didn’t look as impressed now, but she didn’t stop smiling either. “That’s still pretty cool. Do you get to sleep late?”
I lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I-I guess. I—”
“Ooh, what’s going on over here?” Ritchie sauntered over, his lips curled into a smile I immediately didn’t trust. His eyes twinkled with mischief as they bounced from me to the girl leaning against the wall beside me. “Melanie, I see you’ve met Charlie boy.”
The girl—apparently named Melanie—sighed, like the last person on the face of the planet she wanted to talk to was Ritchie Wheeler. I quickly glanced at her in time to watch her eyes roll.
“Go away, Rich.”
I stiffened and held my breath, scared of what Ritchie might do to her. Nobody talked to him like that. Everyone knew better. My eyes moved cautiously to watch as anger darkened Ritchie’s gaze for a split second, but the smile never left his lips. He slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward his side.
“Ah, come on. I’m just teasing,” he said, allowing his fingers to fiddle with the ends of her shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair. “I’m just glad someone’s keeping my little buddy company. Did you know we grew up together? His brother’s my best bud.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I didn’t know Luke had a brother.” Melanie’s eyes met mine as the smile returned to her face. “But, uh, yeah, we were just talking about how he’s homeschooled.”
Ritchie nodded. “It’s pretty cool, right?” He almost sounded sincere.
Something didn’t feel right. Ritchie never thought anything I did was cool, and I couldn’t figure out why he’d be saying that now. Unless he was trying to impress this girl, and I didn’t like that either. She seemed nice, and Ritchie was anything but.
“I mean, yeah,” Melanie replied, giggling and hugging the cup to her chest. “I’d love to stay at home all day.”
She grinned at me, and I smiled back despite that sick feeling in my belly. Ritchie noticed, his eyes looking from her to me and back to her.
Then, he gave her a little push in my direction.
“You know what, Mel? I think Charlie boy likes you.”
My mouth fell open as I shook my head rapidly. “W-what? No, I—”
“Yeah, I think he really likes you,” he said, nodding and ignoring my protests. “Why don’t you give her a little kiss, Charlie, huh? You want to, right? You think she’s hot?”
Melanie’s throat bobbed with a forced swallow as her eyes locked with mine. She wasn’t smiling anymore, and neither was I.
“Rich, stop it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to stand her ground.
“Aww, come on,” he coaxed, giving her back another nudge. “Don’t you think he’s kinda cute, in a weird, fucked-up sorta way? ‘Cause, you know, he is weird and fucked up. Right, Charlie boy? Especially when you”—he wrapped his arms around himself and began to shake—“get bad feelings and f-f-f-freak the f-f-f-fuck out,” he said in a whiny, mocking tone.
That feeling I’d had earlier, standing in the hallway outside my parents’ door—the one that made my chest ache and my bottom lip wiggle—it came back with an unrelenting force at the words coming out of Ritchie’s mouth. And I didn’t even know why . I didn’t like him, and I knew he didn’t like me. Why did I even care what he thought?
Or was it just that he was saying it in front of her?
Why did I care what she thought?
God, where is Luke?!
“Sh-shut up,” I muttered, weak and warbled.
“Oh no, are you gonna cry, Charlie boy? Poor baby. Melanie, you’d better kiss him and make it—”
“Rich, what the hell are you doing?”
The tension in my shoulders was released the second Luke appeared at his best friend’s side. I looked at my older brother, gratitude pulsing heavily in my heart, and I was relieved to find his eyes narrowed with rage.
I just hoped it wasn’t directed at me.
“Hey, man.” Ritchie’s demeanor changed the second he noticed Luke beside him. “I was just keeping Charlie company while you were—”
“The fuck were you doing with my brother, man?”
Before Ritchie could reply, Luke reached out and grabbed the cup from my hand and peered inside.
“Dude, you gave him beer ?”
Ritchie just laughed and shrugged it off. “I was trying to help him have a good time.”
Luke shook his head and shoved the half-empty cup against Ritchie’s chest. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
“Nah, man. Just trying to help you get laid.” Ritchie clipped his knuckles against Luke’s shoulder, and I glanced at my big brother, wondering if that was what he’d been doing this whole time.
Had he been getting laid while his mean friend kept a watchful eye over me?
The betrayal hurt more than Ritchie’s words, and the guy I’d thought was my hero just a few seconds ago was suddenly no better than the jerk he called a best friend.
I looked at Melanie, still standing in front of me, as if she was too scared to walk away. Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a small, weak smile, like she felt bad for me.
I didn’t want her pity.
I just wanted to go home.
“Oh, don’t you worry about me getting laid,” Luke said in the voice he used when he was showing off. “Becky’s not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”
Ritchie snorted and slapped him on the back. “Hell yeah!”
Luke gave him a big smile, then looked back at me. I was afraid he’d still look mad, but he didn’t. Instead, there was something else. Something I didn’t understand or really recognize. But the smile dropped from his face, and he clamped his lips together before his eyes bounced to Melanie. Then, another look—another one I didn’t understand—was on his face as his chin lifted and his teeth bit his bottom lip.
“Uh, you know, I should probably get this loser home,” he said to Ritchie. “My dad gave me a freakin’ curfew.”
Ritchie threw his entire body into his eye roll. “Lame.”
“Right? So stupid. But, uh, whatever. I’ll see you Monday, all right?”
Ritchie nodded, seeming to forget all about Melanie and me. “Yeah, all right. Later, man. I’ll give you a call.”
Luke slapped his hand against Ritchie’s back and lifted his chin. “Later.”
I stepped away from the wall, anxious to get out of there. But Luke didn’t make a move to leave until Ritchie walked away, distracted by a girl with big boobs in the adjacent kitchen.
Then, Luke looked at me and whispered, “Are you okay?”
He would’ve laughed if he knew how happy my heart felt to hear him ask that.
“Yeah.” I am now .
He looked satisfied as he turned to Melanie and asked, “You wanna get out of here too?”
She nodded eagerly in reply.
“Okay,” he said, turning toward the door and leading the way. “Let’s go.”
***
She lived down the street from Rob’s house. Luke and I walked her home without speaking a single word, and when we reached her front porch, she thanked us both with a pretty, friendly smile and a quiet, “See you around, Luke,” before disappearing behind her door.
Then, it was just Luke and me, and all I could think about was what he had been doing while I stood alone in his friend’s living room, drinking gross beer and dealing with Ritchie.
We began to walk home in silence, the streetlights passing over us and the sound of our rubber-soled footsteps against the sidewalk filling the space between us. I felt like a little kid beside him, aware now more than ever that he was closer to being a grown-up than I was. Girls liked Luke. They wanted to kiss him; they wanted to do things with him. Girls looked at me and wanted to run away—like Melanie had when Ritchie told her to kiss me.
I sighed, training my eyes on the sidewalk. I hadn’t ever cared about it much before, but now, I started to think that maybe I wanted them to like me. One day at least. And what if they never did?
“Charlie.”
Luke sounded annoyed, and I didn’t bother looking up at him.
“What?”
He didn’t answer right away, and I imagined all the things he might say. Like maybe Ritchie was right, that I was weird and fucked up. I mean, kids had been saying it my whole life, so why wouldn’t Luke agree? Or maybe he wanted to tell me how pissed he was that I’d been there, ruining his good time. He could’ve been getting drunk right now or spending more time with that girl—Becky, whoever that was. Maybe he’d even say that he wished he’d never had a little brother at all, and as much as it pinched at my chest to think about it, I didn’t think I would blame him.
I wasn’t sure I’d want me for a little brother either, if I were him.
Every possible reply weighed me down a little more until it felt like a six-thousand-ton brick was sitting on my shoulders, and all I wanted was to drop onto my bed to relieve myself of the pain. I’d probably cry, and I didn’t want Luke to know about that either. He’d think I was a baby, just like Ritchie.
But then Luke finally said, “Don’t let him get to you, okay?”
I was so shocked that I couldn’t speak. I just continued to walk beside him as we turned the corner onto our street.
“You’re not a freak, no matter what he says.”
I swallowed, afraid I would cry right there on the sidewalk, and still, I said nothing.
“And just so you know, I didn’t do it with Becky,” he continued, like I had any idea who she was. “I mean, like, we made out a little, but we didn’t do it . I just told Rich that. I’ve never … you know … done it. So …”
I was so confused. Why was he saying all of this to me? It felt more like old times, when we had been little kids, back when we would talk and hang out and the years between us felt more like inches rather than miles.
I didn’t know what to say, if I should say anything at all, and before I knew it, we were nearing the lamppost at the end of our walkway.
“So, um …” Luke cleared his throat awkwardly.
That was when I looked up at him, acutely aware now of just how much taller he was than me, and I wondered if I’d ever stand eye to eye with him again.
“Do me a favor, okay?”
“Sure,” I replied, finally speaking after a long ten minutes of silence.
“Don’t tell Mom and Dad you drank beer. They’ll kill me. Like, literally.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I wasn’t gonna say anything. They’d kill me too.”
“No, they wouldn’t. You’re their favorite, and you know it.” He slugged my shoulder, and I was so painfully aware of how much I missed him, even as he stood beside me. “Thanks, Charlie.”
He turned and walked up the path, and I waited a couple of seconds, reflecting on the things he’d said as I watched him climb the porch steps. Thinking that maybe there was a chance we weren’t so far apart after all.
And then I followed.