Page 42 of Infinite as They Come
“Yup,” he answered, rubbing at his arm.
“So…” I cleared my throat, the silence between us way too noticeable. “The other day was fun, huh? At the park. With your dad. And your mom. My mom too. The lady who lives with you.”
“I really liked it,” he said softly. “And so did my mom and dad.”
“Yeah? I’m glad. I… I liked it too. You’re real good with all that gardening stuff.”
“It’s fun.”
“What makes you like that stuff?” I asked, trying to keep the silence at bay. “I mean, what do you enjoy about it?”
“I don’t know. It just makes me happy, and I get to do it on my own and with my dad sometimes, and I don’t…” His voice trailed off.
“Don’t what?”
“I don’t… I don’t really have a lot of friends…”
Those words echoed there in the truck as we came to a red light. My eyes met his: all big and brown and vulnerable behind his glasses, his hand clutching his arm for a second.
“I get it,” I said. “I was kinda a loner in school too.”
“Really?” He blinked at me. “You?”
“Yeah, I was. You know, kids can be assholes,” I said, and Spencer let out a laugh that had me laughing too. “Don’t tell your parents I said that.”
His head shook. “I won’t.”
“Those, uh, guys from the other day?” I continued. “They give you a hard time, don’t they?”
Chewing at his bottom lip, he nodded. “Sometimes.”
“It’s not you. Don’t think it’s you. Sometimes kids can be… not good. I’m sorry they’re mean to you.”
Again, his hand found his arm, and I could see his little fingers clinging on tight.
“Is your arm okay?” I asked.
He gave me a frantic nod. “It’s okay.”
“You keep holding it like that.”
“We did a lot of writing at school today.”
“Why do—” I tugged the sleeve up a little and winced when I saw a bruise there. “Spencer…”
“Don’t tell my parents!” he cried out. “They’ll go down to my school again and talk to their parents and then everyone will find out. It’s embarrassing. Last time everyone in my class knew about it. If I tell again, the wholeschoolwill know this time.”
My finger gripped the steering wheel tight, hissing as the red light turned green. “I gotta tell them. I have to tell your mom. My mom. Our mom. Fuckin’ whatever—don’t tell them I said that either. I have to tell them.”
“It doesn’t even hurt that much! I can still move it. I can write and wear my bag and garden and it’s not even the first time they did it so it’s not a big deal.”
My head snapped to him. “How many times has this happened?”
“Twice.”
“Spencer.”
“Three times.”
