Page 17 of The Beginning and End of Everything
“It’s okay,” I said, although I knew my daddy would kill me if he found out Brandon was in here. Forcing a smile to hide my worry, I sank to my bed. “Are you okay?”
He gave a curt nod. One that caused a crumpled feeling to travel through my chest. Brandon always tried so hard to come across as tough. To act like nothing bothered him. But I didn’t want him to feel like he had to be tough around me.
I wiggled down beneath the covers, pulling the comforter over my chest, then flattening it out. “You can tell me anything, Brandon. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, poss. I know.”
Silence passed between us. Eventually, he lifted his head, and I could just make out the glisten of tears that begged to fall. Tears I knew he never would set free. Everything I had been taught about right and wrong flew straight out the same window Brandon had crawled through.
I patted the mattress, knowing that boys and girls shouldn’t be in the same bed but also knowing that friends took care of one another. Brandon took a single step, then hesitated.
“There’s nowhere else for you to sleep if you’re going to stay here.” I had a pink sleeping bag in my closet that Daddy had bought for my last birthday, but that lie slipped through my lips easily. I couldn’t stand the thought of Brandon sleeping all alone on the floor when I was certain he already felt alone enough.
I tossed the comforter back, and he shuffled out of his shoes, then crawled in beside me. His head hit the pillow. I didn’t understand why, but it felt exciting to have him so close in the dark quiet.
“Thanks, poss.”
“Yep.”
We laid rigid and unnaturally still like we were afraid to brush against one another as though something about this bed made it worse. The covers shifted when Brandon moved an arm behind his head.
“Brandon…” I turned onto my side, and he rolled to face me. I touched a gentle finger to his swollen cheek because I couldn’t force the next words out: Why does your father hit you? So, I settled with a simple, “Why?”
A small line sunk between his brows. “My dad just gets mad.” He shrugged one shoulder like that was a good enough reason, and for the first time, I realized just how broken Brandon’s life was. “And I can’t let him hit Ma all the time.”
Something in my chest twisted like a rubber band winding tighter and tighter. “It’s not right.”
“It is what it is, poss.”
I shook my head, and the tears I’d been holding back broke free, soaking my pillowcase. “I don’t want him to hurt you, Brandon.”
“Hey.” He swiped a thumb beneath my eye. “Don’t cry, poss.”
“I just…” I sucked in a ragged breath. “My daddy could help you. If you needed to live here for a little while I’m sure—”
“No. It won’t change anything. And I can’t leave my ma.”
“Just let me tell—”
“It’ll make it worse.”
I gnawed at my lip for a second, knowing deep down that I should tell my father. Brandon held out his pinky, and his eyes narrowed. “Promise me you won’t.”
I reluctantly hooked my finger around his in a solemn oath not to tell. A promise that broke my heart.
Minutes of silence passed between us. “I won’t be a kid forever, Poppy.” It was like that simple fact offered him relief.
Most kids wanted to grow up so they could be a fireman or a teacher. Brandon—he wanted to grow up so he wouldn’t get beat on anymore.
“I’m going to learn how to fight. Then he won’t be able to hurt Ma or me again.”
I studied him, noting the way his jaw ticced as he stared at the ceiling. The deep swells his chest made every time he drew in a hard breath. He was hurting, that much was obvious, so I did what my mother always did that made my world right. I threw my arms around him and hugged him, holding him tight. The smell of soap and dirt filled my nose—a smell that was so undeniably Brandon O’Kieffe. I held that scent deep in my lungs until I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The annoying buzzof my alarm woke me. Grumbling, I swatted the snooze and turned on my side with every intention of going back to sleep until I remembered I wasn’t alone. My eyes shot open, and I sat straight up, ready to shake Brandon awake and get him out before my dad came in. But the bed was empty.
A gust of wind fluttered the curtains, and a folded piece of paper skipped across the worn, wood floors. I leaned over and snatched it, opening it with a smile when I saw the note from Brandon: SEE YOU AT SCHOOL. A tiny, round blob, I assumed, was meant to be a possum, was drawn in glittery pink pen. A heart beside it.
