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“Chasion, I’m still waiting for your help, sweetheart,” Mom called, trying to prevent Chase from running wild and showing off.
“One sec, Mom! Patrick wants to see!” Chase propped up the pillow so that it was on the floor watching TV, then he got on top of the arm of the couch and began his side commentating announcement.
“Aside from doing all the moves, Chase also does the play-by-play announcing,” I murmured to Patrick. I was grateful he was being such a good sport about all of this.
“What’s this? Fireball just entered the arena! And Hulk Hogan doesn’t see him! Oh my God! Is Fireball going to catch Hogan off guard?” Chase jumped off the couch and kicked Hulk Hogan in the head to knock him over. “I don’t believe this! Fireball has stunned the crowd with his epic moves!” Chase rolled around, holding the muscle pillow against his chest. He finally ended up on top of Hogan and made a facial expression to show he was struggling to keep on top. “Hurry, Mom, count!”
“One, two, three. Now come help me, please.”
“Yeah!” Chase got up and then jumped on the pillow just for good measure.
“Way to go! Is Fireball your stage name?” Patrick asked as Chase walked by.
“Yes!” Chase patted my abs as he walked into the kitchen. “Hollis is my tag team partner. His stage name is The Dragon. But without me, he’s just a dragon. A dragon can only be fierce when he breathes fire.” Chase shrugged and walked around the island to where our mom was. “So, yeah, I’m the fierce part of the team,” Chase explained.
Mom looked at Patrick and smiled.
“Are you sure you want to stay the night?” she half-jokingly asked.
“Definitely. I wouldn’t pass up a chance to stay at the house of The Dragon and Fireball,” Patrick replied.
“Or Dr. Popular,” Chase added. I flung my arm around Morgan and slapped his chest.
“Morgan’s stage name is Dr. Popular,” I explained.
“Or you can call him Dr. Pop for short. Pop because he pops off farts a lot,” Chase added.
“Okay, Fireball.” Mom rolled her eyes and guided Chase by the shoulders to the sink. “Wash these hands and then you’re going to help me set the food out on the counter. Morgan, come help too, please.”
“I’m going to take Patrick upstairs to put his bag away,” I called over my shoulder as I gestured for Patrick to follow.
Patrick’s interaction with both Morgan and Chase felt very real and genuine to me. I could tell he wasn’t annoyed by Chase. I gauged a lot of friends by how they’d react to Chase, because if they seemed bothered or irked by him, then I typically didn’t bring them by the house again. Ginny adored Chase and always took time to sit and listen to his stories. As we climbed the spiral staircase, I felt like Chase and Morgan had effectively taken Patrick’s mind off his earlier troubles at home. When we got to my room, I took his bag and set it on my desk.
“Cool room,” he said as he gazed around.
The walls of my room were decorated with some framed art of Porsches along with a few TCF pictures. Patrick moved to my desk and looked above the bulletin board at the drawing Chase made that spelled out The Dragon.
“And you already have a tag team partner,” he said.
I laughed, but as Patrick leaned forward to read something on the board, the bunched-up material of the hood around his neck pulled away, and I saw more black and blue marks. Fuck, what the hell is going on?
“Thanks for humoring Chase. He’s overly friendly and talks to everyone,” I said.
“I think he’s a funny little guy. Very friendly, for sure.”
“He has a huge imagination. Never a dull moment around here with him.”
Patrick stood upright and rolled his shoulders. He pushed his hands forward in the pocket of his hoodie, which naturally pulled the hood closer to his neck and concealed the marks. He must be an expert at covering things up and making excuses by now.
Only, I knew.
I’d seen hints of marks on his chest during karate this morning. I’d seen his dad grab him by his arm, his hand was hurt, and now I’d just seen marks on his neck.
And I was unsure of what to do.
“What’s this?” Patrick took a hand out of his pocket and pointed to the roundish light green crocheted ball with little black eyes and a mouth that sat on the bookshelf beside my desk. I reached out and picked it up and tossed it up and down in my hand.
“His name is Mr. Mint. He’s something my mom made when I was little. She made one for Morgan and Chase too. She calls them Worry Warts and told us if we were worried or nervous about anything, if we held it in our hands, he’d absorb all our troubles.” I handed it to Patrick to look closer at.
