The Rebellion Page 4

  “I’ll get Ace.”

  My mom grabs the plate. “I’ll wrap this up for you.” I hear the nervous tone. “You can eat later.”

  “Mom.” I reach for her before she turns her back. “I’m fine. I am.”

  “You don’t seem it.”

  “I.” Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I close my eyes. I’m about to speak, but I’m struggling to share my real feelings. Or rather, I’m terrified to share my real feelings. “I think I’m just tired.”

  My mom carries on and grabs the foil to cover the plate, but Leah is living the high life on this whole mess. “He sure is cute. I can’t believe you once date—”

  “Leah!” My mom and I stop her from going further in unison.

  Her mouth closes quickly. I shake my head. “No, please not tonight.”

  “Okay,” she replies gently. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be. Just . . . I’ll tell you everything soon. Just not tonight. Ace? Come on. We need to get home.”

  Ace runs into the kitchen with chocolate all over his face. “Did any make it to your belly?” I tease, reaching for the wet wipes.

  “I want another.”

  “I’m sure you do, but that’s enough for tonight.” When I stand my mother hands me two plates. My dinner on one. Brownies on the other. I kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I know you have to study, but I don’t want you up all night. I see the dark circles under your eyes. You’re not getting enough sleep.”

  “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “You’re doing a great job. Just be kind to yourself too. You’re everything to everyone else, Jamie. Be good to you every once in a while.”

  We walk out the front door and I’m about to walk down the steps, but I stop and turn back. “I’ll try.” Her brown hair is pulled back with a few strands flying free. The lines she earned worrying about me, but maybe they were destined to be there from living. I like to think I contributed more to the lines that create her smile. If you were to ask her, I did. She’s always been there for me, even when I had no one else. Hugging my mom, I whisper, “How did he look?”

  Her arms wrap around me and I feel enveloped by her love. I needed this hug. “Disappointed.”

  My smile comes easy. “Thank you.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth.”

  I step back and turn to hug Leah. “Thank you for picking Ace up and bringing him over here.”

  “No problem. You know I love hanging out with him. And your mom.”

  “She loves it too.” I look between the two of them and point my finger. “You two are trouble together.”

  Wiggling her hips with her hands on them, my mom replies, “I think I’m due a little trouble.”

  “Oh, good grief. Ace and I are leaving before you get any sassier. Love you both. Thanks again.”

  We load in and I turn back and look at my son as he buckles into his car seat. “All ready to go?”

  “Yep.”

  Ace tells me every detail of his day, including who got yellows and notes sent home to their parents in their folders, and who got an extra turn to read from the book during their story time. I got a whole earful about Francisco stealing grapes from the cafeteria line and getting caught. I gave my usual response of knowing what’s right and wrong and stealing is wrong. It’s a hard lesson to teach in an environment that encourages it. The other kids in the apartment complex where we live have already approached Ace several times. His father’s reputation protects him, but for how long? They’re scared of what might happen now, but shortly those kids will be turning eleven, twelve, and thirteen and recruited by gangs sooner than they know. The cycle will repeat itself, as it so often does.

  Six months. That’s all I need until I’ll have the tools to move us out of here to somewhere safe, somewhere my child won’t be the target of rival hate. I’ll get him out, just like Derrick got out.

  It’s possible.

  Derrick.

  I go through the motions of getting Ace to bed and spreading my books across the coffee table, preparing for another long night. I have a test tomorrow and I’m behind two chapters. I start the coffeepot, but don’t worry with heating my dinner. It’s good cold. So I eat, and read, take notes, but my mind still wanders back to what my mother said.

  Disappointed.

  Derrick Masters looked disappointed.

  Of all the things she could have said about him, I hadn’t expected that. Who would?

  What could he possibly be disappointed about? He has everything he ever dreamed of. Everything he ever wanted. Easy Street came so easy to him, practically dragging him away from me without a second glance.

  Seeing him this many years later and the only word my mom chose to describe him with is disappointed.

  Fascinating.

  I click over and open a new search tab on my clunker of a laptop. It’s slow. I think dial up back in the day was faster. But as soon as it pops open, I type in Derrick Masters. I pause before pressing enter though. It’s not like I’ve not searched him before. My browser history would be the first to bust me. This time is different though. This time I’m trying to figure out why he looked disappointed. Is it because I wasn’t there? That’s a flattering thought, but I hardly think after all this time, he’d be disappointed not to see me. Relieved was probably more like it when it comes to me.

  My mom has great intuition though, so what if he was disappointed he didn’t see me? Or worse? What if he saw Ace? Oh God. Disappointment wouldn’t be the only thought he’d have. I quickly press enter and watch my screen suddenly fill like lightning struck it. “Oh now, you’re in a hurry.” I roll my eyes. Even my computer is a traitor when it comes to Derrick.

  Scanning the news page, I read that The Resistance just wrapped the East Coast leg of The Rebellion World Tour. Livin’ the life. I smile. Even my residual anger and pain can’t keep a little pride from seeping in. He did what he set out to do. I click on the top article.

  The band arrived back in Burbank on their private plane to a crowd of cheering fans . . . Johnny . . . Dex . . . band manager . . . I scan farther down the page until I see Derrick’s name. Derrick Masters, the band’s lead guitarist didn’t have a comment at this time. His head is down in the photo next to the text, and I find my fingertips tracing along his jaw and my heart beating for him, just like years ago. “Oh Derrick. What has become of you?”

  That’s when I see it. The truth is found in a video.

  I click the video of the reporter hounding him as he cuts through the crowd of paparazzi. “We’ve been hitting the road pretty hard. It was great to be out there, but I’m happy to be home for a while. I think I’ll sleep for the next week.”

  My mom had it all wrong. He wasn’t disappointed.

  He was exhausted.

  A lot like me these days.

  Just for very different reasons.

  Unlike me, he still looks damn good. Square jaw that I used to caress. Broad shoulders that have widened with age. He looks taller, if that’s possible. Darker hair than I remember. Familiar in so many ways and foreign in others.

  Damn him.

  Damn me and this stupid lovesick heart. And there it is. The splintering in my heart. I close the window. That’s enough of that for one night. Because when it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter if he’s tired or disappointed. It’s only momentary. He’s not mine to worry about. My heart doesn’t matter.

  Hopefully, these feelings will subside one day. All I need to worry about is asleep in the back bedroom. I don’t need anyone else or anything. All I need is my son. We’ll get by just like we have the last five years. Just the two of us.

  “We’ve been hitting the road pretty hard. It was great to be out there, but I’m happy to be home for a while.”

  Lucky him. Home for him is respite, rest, and parties, whereas home for me is constant responsibility, studying, and fatigue.

  You have all you need, Jamie.

  You have a
ll you need.

  5

  Jaymes

  Sitting on the bench, I watch Ace run around with a girl playing tag. The park isn’t busy considering it’s a Sunday. I like it. It’s peaceful. Looking down at the textbook next to me, I feel instant guilt. I should be studying, but I don’t want to. I’d rather be distracted by birds singing in the trees above or the sound of giggles from happy children playing. Even the cars driving by on the other side of the playground seem to garner my attention.

  I think I’ll give myself the morning. It’s too beautiful a day to waste not appreciating it. Anyway, I always have this evening to bury my nose back in the books.

  The sound of a thumping bass interrupts the tranquility of the park a few minutes later. I watch the shiny royal-blue car with sparkling silver rims roll by and know it’s going slow to keep an eye on me, and Ace.

  My heart thuds in my chest louder than the music could ever be blared. A guy I don’t recognize hangs out of the window of the vehicle just far enough for me to worry. When he falls back into the shadows of the interior and the car drives off, I feel the breath I refused to breathe release. And just like that, the little peace I had found is gone.

  I toss my textbook back into my backpack and shove our water bottles into the side pockets. I’m ready to flee this park, wishing we were in another part of the city altogether. When Ace comes running up with his new friend, the mother of the other child looks over concerned. I wave. “It’s okay,” I reassure her. I’m sure she lives with the same fears I feel. The same fears our mothers once held for our futures. Maybe they still do since we’re still here. Since we haven’t gotten out yet. I’m going to change that. I’m going to make good on everything I swore I would. I’ll show Mom a better life. I’ll make sure that Ace doesn’t have to fight the same battles I fight. I’ll sleep at night knowing we’re safe, instead of living in perpetual fear.

  One day I’ll even get the puppy Ace so desperately wants. I may not be able to afford an extra mouth to feed now, but one day I will.

  Ace asks, “Can we stay longer, Mommy? Tegan wants to play on the swing. I said I would push her first if she pushed me second.”

  My smile grows. This is the biggest concern I wish my son to ever have. “Of course. It’s good you’re taking turns and helping each other out.”

  Ace shrugs. “That’s what friends do.”

  They run off and I repeat, “Yeah, that’s what friends do.” Maybe not loves of your life, but friends.

  I decide I should study before my mind drifts to a sexy guitarist that looks disappointed when I’m not around . . . I mean tired.

  * * *

  Not sure how long I’ve pushed my peas around my plate, but Mom is. She says, “Just put the poor things out of their misery and stop toying with their emotions.”

  I start laughing and set my fork down. “Dinner was good, Mom. Thank you.” Ace jumps up, but I correct, “Sit down please.”

  “Can I go?”

  “Not can I go. You need to ask, ‘May I please be excused?’ ”

  “May I please be ’scused?”

  “Yes.” He’s running before I can ask where he’s going. The back door squeaks from its rusty hinges and then slams closed. He’s safe in the backyard, one of the few places I never have to worry about him. It’s small and tidy with just enough room for a growing boy to burn off some excess energy. “He starts soccer next week. Will you still be able to help out?”

  My mom sits her elbow on the table and I know a heart-to-heart is coming. “I’m always here for you and Ace. My job, not so much. I just had my hours cut back—”

  “Again?”

  Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she nods. “I was thinking maybe you and Ace could move in. I know you like your independence and I like mine—we’re similar in that way, but I love you two more. With less money, I’m not sure I can keep the house, and I know it would help ease some of your expenses by splitting the bills.”

  “Mom—”

  “Just hear me out, Jamie. You’re busy. He’s over here all the time already—”

  I reach over and take her hand. She sits up and I hold tight. “You don’t have to sell me on it. I think this is a good idea.”

  “You do?” she asks, surprised.

  “I do.” I breathe out and it feels like some of my load has lightened. “I’m tired of fighting this war, trying to prove to God only knows, that I can be super mom. I’m exhausted—mentally, physically, and financially. You’re right. This way we can keep the house and help ease some of the financial burdens. Then next year, we’re moving away anyway.”

  “Jamie, you work so hard. It will pay off for you and Ace.”

  “And you. We’re all going to get out of this part of the city. I promise you. No more worrying about him, or his guys.”

  I try to never say his name. Not ever unless I’m being forced to, which has happened before. Once to the police who sent me right back to face him on my own. Once when he forced his name on Ace’s birth certificate just like he forced himself on me.

  That pain in my chest comes back with a vengeance, the tears that blur my vision come quicker. I hate feeling weak. I hate being weak. My mom is up and her arms are wrapped around me before I have time to turn away. I close my eyes and the tears are squeezed and fall to the table. “It’s okay, honey. Everything you said, we’ll do.”

  Nodding against her, I’m too choked up to speak. I finally pull myself together and she sits back down. “I promise you. I’ll get us all out of here. If I give my notice by morning, I won’t have to pay another month. The sooner I’m out of that place the better.”

  The tightness of her lips would indicate otherwise, but the look of determination in her eyes matches mine. “I know.” She stands and smiles, her sunshine smothering the heavy, and bringing back the light. “Can I get my pretty daughter a bowl of ice cream? Oops, I mean may I?”

  We laugh while I stand. “I’m good, but I could bet my paycheck that the little guy out back wants some.”

  “That’s a sucker’s bet. You go out and I’ll bring the ice cream.”

  Sitting under the stars, I look up. They’re hard to see in the city, but I manage to make a few out. Ace has finished his ice cream and had another burst of energy from the sugar rush. My mom has a glass of wine and is in the chair next to me. “Diane says hello.”

  I turn her way. Diane Masters. “We never did get to talk about your visit. How was it?”

  A thoughtful smile appears. “It was so much fun. We talked for hours. Just like old times.”

  “It has been a few years since you’ve seen each other, right? Why is that?”

  She sips her wine and then watches Ace make a divot into her lawn with his play shovel—an imaginary game of Whack-A-Mole happening. “I guess we just drifted apart after she moved a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You guys were good friends and the breakup—”

  “You and Derrick had nothing to do with Diane and me not seeing each other. We are grown women. We let life get in the way of our friendship, but we’re going to change that. Lunch last Thursday was a renewal. We’re actually going to see each other again this week.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. So if you want to come a few minutes early on Wednesday we might get to see something other than disappointment on a certain someone’s face.”

  “No, don’t even go there. That ship has long sailed.”

  “Maybe there’s a port nearby?”

  I give her the look, the one that warns her not to even contemplate whatever she’s already plotting.

  “He sure is handsome.”

  “Mom. No.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Tilting my head back, I look for the stars Derrick used to say only shined for us. In my darkest hours, I would search for the fated couple, wondering if Derrick was searching for them wherever he was in the world. The stars seem to align better w
hen we were together, the memories from back then still too vivid . . .

  The tailgate was pulled down and a blanket was spread out. I stood by waiting until it was ready. Derrick had gone to so much trouble that I didn’t want to ruin it by taking over, but the giggles still came.

  “Fuck it,” he says, then looks back at me. His expression responds to mine, and he smiles. “I tried.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “It’s not. I want it to be for you, but it will have to do.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re together.”

  He nods and then lifts me by the waist and sets me on the tailgate. I scoot to the back and take my guitar before settling on the pillows and stretching my legs out.

  With ease, he jumps into the back of the truck bed. Grabbing his guitar, he sits across from me and starts strumming. His fingers move from memory as he looks up. “Perseus.” I follow his line of sight to the dark night above. “Perseus. Poor but determined to live a better life.”

  “Is life so bad with me?” I tease, but like the tides, Derrick’s mood has shifted.

  “I’m moving to Hollywood.”

  My hand stops, the chords crashing together in an unsoundly catastrophe. “You’re leaving?” Me?

  “I want us to leave. It’s time. Six more months max. I’ve already started looking for places. I found a cheap—”

  “I can’t leave my mother. My father died not even a year ago. I can’t leave her now.”

  “We’ll leave. We’ll pack our moms and just go.”

  “Derrick, you’re talking crazy.”

  “No, I’m not.” His voice falters to anger. “I can’t keep Reggie off my back much longer. You know what that means?” I do. He continues, “I’ve been busted for possession once. Reggie twice. He’s not going to go down. He’ll pin it all on me. And then what happens to you? What happens to my mom if I go to jail?” His fingers run through his hair. “What happens to me?”