Page 17 of The Wrong Side of Kai
“My dad,” he clarifies. “Truck slammed into him on the freeway a few winters ago. He’s paraplegic. There, now I saved you the awkwardness of having to ask. It also means he won’t notice that his bike is missing, ’cause it isn’t like he uses it these days.”
“That’s rough,” I say. These facts are also a little personal, especially because I wasn’t going to ask anyway.
“Yep, and between medical bills and Dad having to go freelance, we’re pretty much broke,” Kai says as we reach the landing. He stops and turns to face me, and his willingness to share such intimate information with a complete stranger makes me feel uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to. . . You don’t need to tell me this.”
“Well, actually I do, because you’re going to wonder why my room looks the way it does,” he says, then smiles slightly as he turns away again. He pushes open the first door on his left and I stare at him, confused and unsure what to expect.
Because when someone warns you that they’re broke, you might expect their room to be bare, with essentials only. Not totally cluttered with hundreds of miscellaneous items spread over the floor and a small child on the bed.
“Hey!” Kai says. “Stop playing in here, man. You can’t touch this stuff.”
The boy – I assume his little brother, Jackson – is sitting cross-legged on the bed, a handful of action figures in his lap. He freezes at the sight of us, then tosses the action figures away and scrambles off the bed. His hair is a cute explosion of curls that gets in his eyes as he whizzes past us and disappears down the hall into another room.
Kai groans in frustration, then shuts his door and carefully steps around the clutter on the floor. “That was Jackson, so now you’ve met the whole Washington crew,” he says. He grabs the action figures from his bed and reaches up to align them all back on a shelf mounted on the wall. I notice there’s an ancient Captain America figure, and I wonder if that’s where Kai’s inspiration for his code name came from.
“Those action figures are yours?” I question, watching the way he takes great care of positioning all the figures on the shelf, like there’s a certain order to it.
“Don’t laugh,” Kai says, glancing defensively over his shoulder at me. “They’re from my childhood, and I don’t have the heart to toss them. It’s not like I actually play with them.”
“And is all this stuff souvenirs from your childhood too?” I scour the floor again, and the desk space, and the window seat. There’s stacks of old CDs, video games, a couple TVs, and college textbooks.
“Not exactly,” Kai says, scratching his temple as he walks back over. He kicks a few CDs out of the way. “I hang out in thrift stores and go to yard sales a lot, and I flip shit on eBay for easy cash. Helps my parents out on the money front. I’m not a hoarder, I swear.”
Oh.There’s a lot of stuff here. Definitely a few hundred dollars’ worth of stuff that needs sold, and I think how it’s super cute that Kai does this to help out his parents. He must care about them a lot. They’re an actual family that looks out for each other. I miss how that feels.
“Speaking of your parents. . .” I say, nervously shoving my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. “Should I really be in your room right now? I don’t want them to think. . .”
“That we’re up here grabbing a knife to slash some tires with?” Kai stares intensely at me, his mouth twitching into a smirk. I stare right back at him, just as intensely, before he turns and heads to his closet. He searches through his clothes for a few moments, until finally he retrieves something. He comes back over to me and holds out his hand, presenting a small Stanley knife. “Ready to mess with Harrison Boyd?”
So, we’re really doing this. We’re really about to declare war on Harrison. I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes meet Kai’s. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
6
It’s kind of thrilling, you know. Whirling down the middle of the road with the wind in my hair, kicking up leaves as we track our way across Westerville’s quiet streets. There’s a nip to the air that bites at my nose and ears. I’m riding the hell out of Kai’s bike, like a kid at Christmas, whizzing too fast around corners and standing up in the pedals because I’m suddenly convinced it makes me look cool. And if the cops saw us now, two teenagers in hoodies and leather jackets racing across town on bikes, I’m sure they’d have some questions. Honestly, I was so glad to abandon the Green McRusty back at Kai’s place.
“I hope your parents don’t report it for suspicious inactivity and have it towed,” I said as we pedaled away from his house.
“No guarantees,” he replied, with a wink over his shoulder as he flew past me at speed.
But it’s me who’s in the lead now. I’m guiding the way to Harrison’s house, but the closer we get to his neighborhood, the more my head begins to spin. I’m shaking, but with nerves and not the cold. I like to think I really don’t have any fucks to give these days, that I’m someone who does whatever she wants. It’s an attitude that makes life easier. Living by my own rules. Not caring. But yet, as I cycle toward Harrison’s house, I find myself wondering if maybe it’s wrong to slash his tires. Plus, it’s a crime. Would it be a step too far? He loves his truck. But his family has money, and I know he’ll have a fresh set of tires fitted within twenty-four hours. It’ll be more of an inconvenience than anything else. And I think Harrison deserves to be inconvenienced, after all. He put my body on display to the world.Hecaused this anger, so he can’t blame me for being irrational.
“You keeping up?” I call back to Kai.
“Yep. Got a nice view worth keeping up with,” I hear him yell back, his tone easy.
Instantly, I slam my butt back down onto the saddle and fire him a glare over my shoulder. I nearly run into a streetlight. “Please wait until tomorrow at least before making remarks like that. That video is still raw.” If today had been any other day, his comment would have made me wonder just how much Kai likes what he sees. But I’m too numb, too protective of my body to entertain his comedic remarks this soon.
“Sorry, Nessie,” Kai says. He rolls up alongside me and when I glance over, he’s mock-pouting like a little kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s clear he’s teasing me and wants me to forgive him, but I remain seated.
“It’s just around this corner,” I say, feeling those nerves coursing through me again. I’ve never done anything like this. Never been much of a wild child, so this is all new to me, and I can’t tell if I hate the way it’s making me feel or if I’m enjoying the rush.
A car passes us, angrily honking its horn because we’re biking down the middle of the street, but Kai just flips them the finger. I don’t think he gives too many fucks either. Maybe that’s why we’re going to make a good team, because neither of us cares too much about the consequences of our actions. We might be a good team, but we’re probably a bad combination.
“Ah, how the rich kids live,” Kai remarks as we turn onto Harrison’s street. We gradually slow down, silently rolling past the rows of American-dream homes. The white picket fences. Actual driveways with more than one car parked in them. No loose trash accumulating in the gutters, no broken streetlights. Perfect homes inhabited by perfect families. “Maybe weshouldegg his house.”
“I bet a street like this has some sort of neighborhood watch in place,” I say. “Keep your head down.”
