Page 3 of Pit Stop

Two

Tillman

School went like any other day. We went from class to class while I did the bare minimum to get by. No one cares if I graduate at the top, middle, or bottom of the class. They don’t even care if I graduate at all. The state is just waiting for the moment I turn eighteen so I can be out of their hair. Some other poor soul will take my place on the checklist. I do enough to get passing grades and that’s all that matters to me. College isn’t in my future. That requires a lot of money I don’t have.

Axell and I make our way towards the bus line when Tommy Sanderson trips me. Tommy has been nothing but a damn bully our entire lives. He’s large so he always picks on the skinny kids, like me. His family owns a pretty popular hamburger place in town, so he thinks he’s above the rest of us because he lives in a slightly better part of town. He’s an ass and one of these days I’m going to put him in his place, but not today. Axell helps me up and Tommy laughs. “Oh, good thing your boyfriend is here to rescue you Tilly.”

That nickname gets on my last damn nerve. My fist balls up as the rest of my body goes tense. Axell must notice the change because he’s tugging on my backpack, trying to pull me towards the bus line, but despite my current size, he’s struggling. “What is your deal man?”

“Oh, he’s going to speak now,” he taunts me, wagging his eyebrows up and down. He looks around me, his beady almost black eyes find Axell. “Hey Axman, are you going to get your lover boy under control?”

Axell could easily take Tommy, but he won’t. He’s a good kid because he’s got someone to make proud. I, on the other hand, have no one and that’s the last thing I think before my fists begin to fly. They wail on Tommy like he’s nothing but a punching bag. Axell keeps yanking at me, trying to pull me away but my anger is fueling everything in me. Tommy lands a few hits here and there, but nothing stops me until Bowie and Axell both yank me back. Tommy’s nose and mouth are bleeding. Seeing the blood knocks me back to reality. What did I just do?

Bowie yanks my backpack and the three of us run off the school grounds. We don’t stop running until we’re a good ten blocks from the school. “Where in the hell did that come from?” Bowie asks, with a laugh. Out of the James brothers he’s the one with the hottest temper. His blue eyes study me.

“Don’t encourage this shit,” Axell tells Bowie.

Bowie scoffs. “Tommy Sanderson has been giving him hell since the first day of school in kindergarten. That was bound to happen. To be honest I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner.” Bowie throws his arm over my shoulders. “I’m damn proud of you, but I got to admit I didn’t think you’d be able to hold your own like that. I’m impressed.”

Axell steps in front of us, causing us to come to an abrupt stop. “What the hell was that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know what the system will do to you if they find out about you fighting?” Axell asks, shaking his head. I know he’s worried and disappointed right now, but surely, he knows that I know the consequences my actions could have. The system could easily deem me as high-risk and move me to a facility that is basically a boot camp. Who knows though, maybe that would be better than my current living situation?

I nod my head. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me.”

“I’m just trying to help,” he defends.

“You’re raining on his damn parade, Axell. We don’t all want to act like adults the way you do,” Bowie tells him.

I can feel the argument brewing so I step forward. “Axell’s right. I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid and could cause a lot of issues for me if Tommy wants to.”

“The way Tommy just got his ass handed to him...he won’t say a damn thing. I’ll make sure of it on Monday.” Bowie turns and heads down a different street. “Tell Mom I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“Where are you going?” Axell asks.

“Roscoe’s.”

We watch as Bowie disappears down the street. Axell and I continue towards his house. “Do you want to spend the weekend at our house?” The same offer he gives me every weekend and I’ll continue to give him the same answer.

“No, I’m good. I have to show my face around the foster house this weekend.”

Axell studies me. “You tell me that every weekend.”

“Because it’s true. But I’ll swing by sometime and we can go help your dad on some cars,” I offer.

“Sounds like a plan.” When we reach Axell’s house he heads inside while I continue down the street. My foster family lives about five streets over. When I come to the house, I take a deep breath as I take in the rundown brown house that has a lot of potential if anyone would pay attention to it. I open the chain link gate that’s barely holding on and head inside. The door squeaks as I open it. I head back to the bathroom where I wash my face and hands. After examining my face, I notice I have a pretty good black eye coming in thanks to one of Tommy’s fists landing on me. I clean up the bathroom and head over to the bedroom I share with two other boys—who don’t seem to be home at the moment. Rummaging through the dresser, I find some clean clothes and pack them into my backpack before heading for the front door. I’ve almost made it out of the house when the front door opens and Paul, my foster dad, stands before me.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Nothing has changed in the two weeks since I’ve physically seen him; beer belly, smells of stale cigarette smoke, and a case of beer tucked under his arm. His thinning hair is oily and clings to his pudgy face. “What made you decide to show your ugly face around here?”

I shake my head. “I just needed to get something from my room.”

Paul’s head falls back in laughter, but it sounds menacing. “Your room? I wasn’t aware that you had a room in my house.”

“I don’t, sir. I meant I needed to get something from the room you let me sleep in.” When I’m here I want to add, but I don’t.

He clicks his tongue. “That sounds better.” He moves towards the living room where he’ll take a seat in the worn-out recliner and drink the case of beer that one of the foster kids technically pays for. He’s disgusting. “Get on out of here,” he tells me.

I nod and head for the door. Just as I reach for the door handle his sweaty hand grabs the skin on the back of my neck and pinches, adding a little twist to make sure I’m listening. “Don’t you forget your place in my house, Boy, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” I tell him. How could I forget? I have no place anywhere.

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