It could be a coincidence, but just like I know there’s more to my father’s disinterest than my mom is letting on, I’m also skeptical Madden’s car isn’t almost identical to the one Mr. Gregg planned to gift me on my eighteenth birthday in four months for no reason. My father hates the relationship I have with the Greggs, so he’s forever seeking a crack in the unbreakable foundation we’ve forged the past twelve years.
I work the rag full of ice from one hand to the other to hide their twitch when Madden parks his sleek ride an inch away from the back patio. He was only gifted his pride and joy two short months ago, yet it’s already sporting a large graze down one side. It also doesn’t look like it’s seen a bucket and sponge since it was driven off the lot.
“I swear to God, Dad, it isn’t as she’s saying.” While tucking his polo shirt into his ripped jeans, hoping a tidy appearance will hide his leering grin, Madden rounds the hood of his car. “You know what girls are like. As soon as the cinema security guard caught our little escapade, she pledges allegiance to sainthood.”
After climbing the three stairs of the porch, Madden’s blue eyes swing my way. He looks like he wants to say something about me lurking at the side, but our father steals his attention before he can. “She’s the police chief’s daughter, Madden.”
“Exactly! That’s my point.” He slaps our father in the chest like he’s one of his buddies. “She was all for it until the guard threatened to call her daddy, then the tears came out. I cross my heart…” he physically crosses his heart, “… that I only touched her after she begged me.” His chest puffs high as arrogance beams from his eyes. “I’m a star quarterback, for crying out loud, and I don’t need to scare a high school senior into letting me touch her.”
My eyes shoot to my dad when he growls under his breath, “The security officer noted in his report that you had your hand over her mouth.”
Madden’s scoff hides his snicker. “That’s because her moans were going to get us busted.” He stops, twists his smiling lips, then whispers, “They got us busted.” When the anger lining Dad’s face deepens, Madden tries another angel. “Call Racer. He organized our double date with Fable and Annie. He’ll give you Fable’s number. She’s Annie’s best friend, so she won’t keep quiet if she thinks I hurt Annie.”
This kills me to admit, but he has a good argument. Fable and Annie have been friends for as long as Melody and me. I can sure as hell tell you I’d have Melody’s back before anyone’s—even my brothers—so if Fable agrees with Madden’s recollection of events, I don’t see why our father won’t.
When Dad jerks up his chin agreeing to investigate Madden’s side of the story, Madden digs his Google Nexus One out of his pocket, doubling my jealousy. I still have an old flip phone with a cracked screen.
The wealthier my father becomes, the more generous he is, but only with the people he likes.
I’m not on that list.
After giving our father Racer’s phone number, Madden stuffs his phone back into his pocket before shifting his focus to me. “Can you believe the lies girls come up with to remain pure in their daddies eyes?” Although he’s asking a question, he doesn’t give me a chance to answer him. “Kinda like her, hey?” He nudges his head to Melody, who’s carefully slipping through the barbwire fence dividing our properties, so none of the skin her denim shorts and bikini top doesn’t conceal is nipped. “I bet she’s still running the we’re-best-friends line to her dad, isn’t she?” He rubs his hands together as his teeth graze his lower lip. “What’s she like in bed? Phoenix swears the quiet ones are usually the wildest, so a deaf girl must be extra kinky.”
I want to show him the ridges in my midsection aren’t drawn on, but years of tactical response training ensures I don’t respond to goading like most seventeen-year-old boys do. Besides, the sexual undertone in Madden’s voice isn’t anything for me to worry about. Even with my eyes narrowed into tiny slits, I can’t miss the gag working up from Melody’s stomach to her throat when she spots Madden’s admired glare. She doesn’t just think he’s weird anymore, she thinks he’s a creep, and I’m inclined to agree with her.
“Madden…” Melody signs in greeting before sidestepping him as if he’s a fresh pile of dog shit. “Don’t worry about the ice. Dad is up and about.” Her smile makes my cheeks heat more than Madden’s eyes being locked on her backside. Her teasing smirks have kept me awake many nights the past four years. “Although I would not recommend coming over for an hour or two. He is demanding a second round.”
I bite my bottom lip with the hope it will slacken my smile. I don’t want her thinking I liked hurting her father. It’s the pride beaming from her eyes I’m eager to gobble up. We’ve been waiting over ten years for this day, so it’s hard not to celebrate.
In any of the drills Mr. Gregg ran, it was always Melody and me against him. Although we came close a few times, today is the first time we can say we won without a smidge of doubt.
I stop grinning like an idiot when Melody signs, “Mom is taking us to get milkshakes at Mary’s Diner. Do you wanna come?”
“Us?”
When she waves her hand at our right, I peer over at her friends waiting her return next to her old family sedan. The heat of their admiring gazes is felt from a distance, but since Madden is standing at my side, wiggling his fingers at them like he’s a rock star and they’re a bunch of horny groupies, I can’t be confident they won’t rag on me the entire time we’re out.
Melody is great, I love spending time with her—especially the rare snippets of alone time we get —but the female half of her friends sure know how to make a guy feel the size of an ant. I’m relatively sure they’re mocking is done in jest, but even the best jokes get stale when they’re used on repeat.
My eyes drift back to Melody. “I am good. I have got our bio-chem final to study for. I need to ace this test to guarantee my spot at Browns.”
I trained extensively in sign language twelve years ago. It was a struggle at the start, but now it seems like a walk in the park compared to the studying we’ve been doing the past four weeks. We’re hoping to secure dual scholarships to the number one college in our state, which means we need above-average grades. We started our admissions process back in our sophomore year, so we’d have a jump on the students who usually begin their college search during their junior year. Melody wants to be a lawyer like her mother, and much to my father’s disgrace, I’m hoping to study forensic science.
Our early-decision applications were approved at the commencement of our studies this year, but because it needed a binding commitment Melody’s parents weren’t able to commit to, we declined the agreement and applied for a scholarship instead. That was over ten months ago. We’ve yet to hear back from them. We’ve several rolling admissions lodged with other universities, but we have our fingers crossed our above-average grades will guarantee us a placement at Browns.
Melody’s eyes drop to my lips when I say, “Maybe once you finish your milkshake, you can come study with me?”
“Okay. That sounds good. But I should warn you… I have not looked at my bio-chem notes in almost four weeks.”
When she pulls an ‘eek’ face, I throw my head back and laugh. “You better not let your mother hear that, or you can kiss your milkshake goodbye.”
She signs so fast, I almost miss what she says, “I know. Why do you think I said it all the way over here?”
Her hand shoots out to squeeze mine when I laugh again. It sends an electrical current shooting up my arm and has my pulse returning to what it was when I was prancing around the boxing ring. It’s always like this with us—little touches that seem so much more than they are.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, BJ? I heard Mary has taken quite a liking to your dollop of peanut butter suggestion. It is more popular than she thought.”
Mary, the owner of Mary’s Café, almost castrated me last month when I asked her to add a dollop of peanut butter into my chocolate milkshake before whisking it. It took numerous reassurances that I’d clean up my mess if my experiment backfired before she succumbed to my plea.
