Kele Moon - Crossing the line

“Can I have the phone, Mama?” Tabitha said in an even voice. “He’s trying to get on the wrestling team. He needs good grades for that.”

“Fine. Take it.”

There was a scuffle over the phone before Tabitha spoke uncertainly. “Yes.”

“She’s drunk,” Clay said with a scowl.

“Yes, I know.” Tabitha sighed, sounding tired. “What homework assignment do you need?”

Wyatt yanked the phone out of Clay’s grasp and then slammed his palm into his chest when he tried to grab it back. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

“Yes,” Tabitha whispered, as if afraid just Wyatt’s voice on the other end of the line would give her away.

“Are you sure?” Wyatt pressed, because his heart had been racing since he let her leave. “’Cause Clay and I were gonna ride out there and—”

“I think that would be a really bad idea.” Tabitha almost choked on the words. “I heard Mrs. Conway is strict ’bout turning in assignments.”

“I can still call my dad,” Wyatt went on despite the ruse Tabitha was playing about the homework. “If you’re in danger, you need to tell me.”

“No, I think it’ll be fine.”

“She thinks?” Jules cut in. “I don’t like that. Ask more questions.”

“Who was that?” Tabitha asked, a thread of fear sounding in her voice.

“My sister.”

“Oh my God.” Tabitha groaned. “You’re gonna fail, and we just started.”

“Look, she was here when I got home, and she’s nosy as hell. You try keeping stuff from her. She heard me talking to Clay ’bout riding out there and—”

“I have to go now,” Tabitha cut him off.

“You didn’t give me the homework assignment,” Wyatt reminded her, hoping to keep Tabitha on the phone longer.

“Jeez.” Tabitha huffed. “Fine. Let me go get my bag.”

“Can you take the phone with you?”

“No.”

“They don’t have a portable,” Clay clarified before Wyatt could argue. “Let her go.”

Wyatt tapped his foot, holding the phone tighter to his ear while both Clay and Jules suffocated him. When the other line was picked up once more, he was expecting Tabitha, but got Brett McMillen instead.

“I know this is you, Conner.”

Clay jerked the phone out of Wyatt’s hand and said, “That’s what you think.”

“Bullshit, you called for him.”

“Yeah, unlike you, I’m not a lapdog. How’s Vaughn? Still blowing him for pot?”

“Fuck you, Clay.”

“Suck me.”

“This is charming,” Jules whispered in Wyatt’s ear. “No wonder we can’t get him to be civil for the foster system if this is what he came from.”

Clay flipped both of them off and then said, “Can I help you, Brett? Why the fuck are you still on the phone?”

“I wanna know why you’re calling.”

“’Cause I needed the assignment. Some of us do homework.”

“Conner didn’t put you up to it?”

“Is there something I should know? What’s your obsession with him?” Clay countered. “It sounds like you wanna date him.”

“I think you’re full of shit.”

Clay sighed tiredly, doing a very good job of sounding bored. “Whatever. You got to lay off the drugs, man; they’re making you paranoid.”

“Fine,” Brett grumbled, and there was a shuffle over the phone as if he tossed it aside.

A second later Tabitha picked it up. “You have a pen?”

“Sure.” Clay held up a hand to stop Wyatt before he could take the phone back. “Your brother’s a dick.”

“He can still hear you,” Tabitha said flippantly.

Clay gave Wyatt a pointed look and then asked Tabitha, “Why’s he asking ’bout Wyatt?”

“I don’t know.” She sounded tense. “Are you ready to write this down?”

“Yup.” Clay nodded, even though he had already finished his homework for the night.

Tabitha read off the homework assignment for American Literature, the only class she shared with Clay. Then she asked softly, “Is that all?”

“I guess.” Clay looked back at Wyatt, seeming to consider his words before he asked Tabitha, “Am I gonna see you at school tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

Wyatt tensed in apprehension and made another swipe for the portable, but Clay jumped back and shoved him away at the same time. “Skipping school already?”

“I’m not feeling good. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Staying home could cause issues.” Clay sidestepped Wyatt again, swiftly dodging his grab for the phone. He raised his fist threateningly as if to punch him and snapped into the receiver, “You do not want to skip classes when school just started.”

“Maybe.”

“No, not maybe.” Clay spoke in slow, concise words. “Staying home ain’t an option for you. You need to be in school. You’re too smart to ruin your chances at college. Got it?”

Tabitha was quiet for a long moment before she said, “Yeah, I got it.”

“And you’re okay tonight?” Clay asked in a low, concerned voice. “You don’t need a doctor or nothing if you’re feeling ill?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Clay hung up the phone and set it on the counter. He gave Wyatt a hard glare. “She’s fine.”

“No, she’s not. She said she was ill. Why doesn’t she wanna come to school if she’s fine?” Wyatt practically roared; the blood was rushing to his face from the level of his fear. “There’s something wrong.”

“If she wanted your help, she would’ve asked for it.” Clay pushed him back when Wyatt made another go for the phone, intent on redialing. “We gave her plenty of chances.”

“Like hell!”

“You have to wait, Wyatt. This is life-altering shit we’re dealing with.”

“If her mother’s drunk all the time and her brother’s such a bully, why does she want to stay there?” Jules asked, voicing out loud the same question Wyatt asked himself all the time.

Clay scrubbed a hand over his face and looked away. His body was tense, and he seemed to be battling an inner war with himself before he admitted in a quiet voice, “I know y’all don’t get it, but no one wants to end up with the state. It sucks. Belonging to a fucked-up family is better than being an outsider in a normal one. I’d go back to the trailer park in a minute. It’s better to stay with the place you know. Some of those normal folks only appear that way on the outside. Bad things happen in foster homes too.”

Jules took a step toward him. “Clay—”

“No.” He held up a hand before Jules could hug him in a motherly fashion. “I ain’t looking for your sympathy or your babying. I’m just telling you why Tabitha is the way she is. She knows her mama is fucked-up, and she knows her family’s broke, and she knows her home life ain’t healthy, but it’s all she’s got, and right now she’s not ready to leave, and I think you got to respect that. That’s it.”

There was a deathly silence after Clay’s admission that was the closest he had ever come to explaining his feelings about his mother leaving or his being stuck in the foster system.

“You’re not an outsider here,” Jules finally whispered. “You don’t feel that way, do you?”

He looked away, the discomfort radiating off him in waves.

“Clay,” Jules pressed when he avoided her question.

He looked back to her after a long moment and shrugged. “No, I don’t feel that way here, but y’all ain’t exactly a typical family. Trust me, I’ve been stuck in dozens of normal houses, and this one ain’t even in the running for normal. Your dad keeps weird hours, and you’re home alone most of the time, but instead of fucking around like normal teenagers, you work yourselves to death for stupid things like sports and grades, and when you do finally go to bed, you sit up half the night listening to police radios. What the rest of this town doesn’t know is Conners are ’bout as paranoid and fucked-up as they come, which is probably why I like y’all. Now I’m going to bed.”

Clay turned to leave while Jules and Wyatt stood there gaping after him.

* * *

Wyatt stayed up listening to the police scanner, hearing his father’s voice crackle over the radio waves as he communicated with the deputies and dealt with all the mundane occurrences that went on in Garnet at night. Two cars got tickets for speeding. A third got pulled over and ended up with a DUI. Someone broke their foot getting out of the shower. A domestic disturbance at two in the morning had Wyatt sitting up in bed, but when he heard the address, he knew it wasn’t Tabitha’s house.

He was up when his father got home at four.

Wyatt’s hands were laced behind his head when the door cracked open, sending a sliver of light into the dark room.

“Hey, Dad,” he said rather than feign sleep like he usually did.

His father walked in, still wearing his uniform. “How come you’re still up?”

“Just thinking.”

He sat on the edge of Wyatt’s bed. “Whatcha thinking ’bout?”

“Just stuff.”

“Your sister okay?”

“Yup,” Wyatt said with a weak smile. “Jules is better than most.”

“Clay all right?”

“I guess so.” Wyatt pushed the covers back and sat up. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his sweaty forehead because the nerves still had him anxious. “Why can’t he live here all the time? Why do we have keep forcing him into these places he hates?”

“Well, Wy.” His father sighed tiredly. “We’re okay in a pinch, but I don’t think the state wants him here full-time.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I ain’t got a wife or a normal job, and there’s probably better places for a kid who ain’t never had a stable home life.”

“I think that’s bullshit.”

“Maybe,” his father said with a laugh. “Is that what’s got you counting sheep at four in the morning?”

“Do you get tired of your job?” Wyatt asked him curiously. “Tired of dealing with all the stuff you can’t fix?”

His father considered the question for a long time before he nodded. “Yeah, I get tired of it, but I reckon someone’s got to do it. Might as well be me. Besides, there are good days. It ain’t all hopeless.”

“Just most of the time,” Wyatt said, knowing the answer without hearing it.

“You know, Wyatt, you don’t have to be a deputy right out of school like I was,” he said in concern. “Whatever you wanna do, I support you. If you think this job’s not for you—”

“It’s not that.” Wyatt cut him off before he could waste his breath. “It’s just, I don’t always know what the right answers are. It’s supposed to be easy, right? This is the law. This ain’t. You break it, and that’s it. You go to jail, but sometimes the rules don’t work the way they’re supposed to.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Wyatt said quickly. “I’m just thinking ’bout things.”

“Well, stop it.” His father reached over and pushed his head lightly. “Turn it off for a while and get some sleep. You got school in a few hours.”

Wyatt fell back against the bed and went back to staring at the ceiling as his father stood. He was at the door before Wyatt asked, “How’d you know you loved our mom?”

In the ray of light, Wyatt could see the pain flash over his face as he answered in a soft, endearing voice. “To be honest, Wyatt, I can’t really remember a time when I didn’t love her.”

Wyatt sighed, understanding completely, and it scared him to death.

“Would you undo it?” he asked curiously. “I mean, I know you got to say all the crap ’bout getting us out of the deal and everything, but if you take all that out of it, would you still love her, knowing you were gonna spend most of your life hurting over it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded without hesitation. “Without a doubt.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it was just that great.” His father grabbed the door handle and stepped out of the room. “Now try to get some sleep.

“What the heck happened to you?”

Tabitha pulled her hair over the bandage over her forehead and peeked out at Terry from beneath the red strands when he sat down next to her on the bus. “Nothing.”

“You are very accident prone.” Terry dropped his bag down on the floor between them. “What’s Conner got to say ’bout that?”

“Why?” Tabitha asked defensively.

“I’m just saying, girls as accident prone as you tend to have a story to tell.”

“My mama says my head’s up in the clouds too much. It makes me clumsy.”

“Is that it?”

“Yup.”

Terry dropped his head back against the seat, and then let it loll to the side to study her. “You look like hell today.”