“I was… I wasn’t doing it because it was bad. I was doing it because I was mad.”
“What’s the difference in why? You still knew it was wrong and you still did it. And…” he says all matter-of-factly, “you didn’t get caught.”
My mouth opens to respond, but I realize he’s right.
He exhales and then looks back at his house. “Don’t go running off at night anymore. This neighborhood isn’t safe. Especially for little girls.”
“I’m not a little girl.”
He smirks. “Yes, you are. See you around, Bexley Walker.” He turns and heads to his house, and I stand in the street watching my first crush disappear.
Chapter Five
Bones
One day missing
My eyes move behind closed lids, but I don’t wake. I dream.
Floating constantly and never getting a grip on consciousness. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear Bexley call my name, but she sounds odd. Her voice echoes through my mind, but I can’t reach her. It’s like I’m running in slow motion, never going fast enough and getting nowhere…
Chapter Six
Danny
1998
The piercing sting of smoke has disappeared from the horizon as sharp rays of sunlight slip through heaven-sent, crystal-clear water. It sprays with an angry force, shooting onto the sizzling pavement. The Jersey sun browns our skin, creating freckles and lines beneath that’ll show when we grow older. Paul, the oldest of us three boys, tosses the skateboard at me.
“Go already,” he says.
I flick him off, my eyes looking back at the water spewing from the fire hydrant at the bottom of the cement hill. We’ve only got one board and it’s not even ours.
Well, it is now.
I ganked it from a stupid preppy at school while he was taking a piss in the outside bathroom. We’re dirt poor, just like everyone else on this side of town. Our mom grew up in a Catholic home. Our dad was Irish. He was doing business here in the US when he and Mom fell in love. He moved her to Ireland, but things changed, and they moved to the States when Mom was pregnant with Paul, but Dad didn’t let us forget that side of him. He made us learn our Irish background and be proud of the Irish blood running through our veins. He even took us back there a few times.
But Dad was into some bad shit, which resulted in a very bad ending for him and our mom. They died when I was nine. Grandparents on Mom’s side were the only ones left to take us in, so that’s where we ended up. Pa died last year of a heart attack, so it’s just Ma raising three boys.
She’s a saint.
We’re not.
I spit onto the street before I place one foot on the grip tape. Popping the crick in my neck from falling asleep on the floor watchingThe Sandlotfor the hundredth time, I ready myself.
“Tie your shoe, dumbass,” Paul says. I lean down and do a quick loop, pulling tight before licking my finger and removing a scuff on my high-top Reebok. We may be poor, but my brothers and I do yard work in the richer neighborhoods, so we don’t have to look it. Plus, we have sticky fingers and sometimes we take without asking.
“Are you going to go or what?” Paul says.
“Shut up,” I throw back, looking over at our youngest brother, Samuel. He stands shirtless with his hands in his pockets. The sun shining on his head turns his brown hair copper. “You’re next,” I say.
“No way, Danny.” He shakes his head. “You two are idiots.”
“Don’t be a pussy,” I tell him. “You’ve got to grow some balls, man.”
“His haven’t dropped yet,” Paul says with a snicker.
Samuel lifts his chin, looking confused and shy all at once. “What does that mean?”