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“Come on, Dove!” Chip calls out as he rushes into the train car.
The train is busy, and we have to stand. There’s a man in front of me with his briefcase in the seat next to him. He doesn’t offer to move it, and I don’t ask him. Why bother? He’ll say no, and it will only piss me off.
We reach our stop and make our way from the train, down the stairs to the street.
“Hey bud, I need my phone.”
Chip’s face pales. “I don’t have it. I think I left it on the train. I’m sorry, Dove.”
His big brown eyes fill with tears. Even though I want to be upset that he lost my phone, I can’t be. Unlike my father, I realize that words can affect someone for a long time. Am I upset about the lost phone? Sure. Do I realize that it’s not Chip’s fault since he’s only six? Also, yes. Phones can be replaced. My brother’s childhood memories can’t.
“Don’t worry. I needed a new one, anyway. Come on.”
He takes my hand, his guilt over the phone already forgotten, and we make our way down the crowded streets to the gym where he plays basketball. As soon as we step foot in the building, he takes off running to where his friends are. Thankfully, we’re on time, but I don’t miss his coach scowling our way. I get it. I really do. We’rethatfamily. The ones that make this inner-city team look trashy. And I hate it.
Finding a spot on the bleachers away from everyone, I lift Belle’s blanket to check on her. She’s still sleeping, and I’m relieved that her forehead is cool to the touch. One less thing to worry about. Opening my bag, I pull out my math book and notes. It’s embarrassing to be taking beginners algebra at my age. There are literal high school students in my class who are taking it so they can get ahead before they actually start college. I wonder what that would be like. To be ahead for once in my life.
When I was in high school, I was an excellent student, despite my home life. But then Chip was born when I was sixteen, and I had to help take care of him. I didn’t mind because he’s my brother and I love him. But once I got behind, I couldn’t catch up. I ended up dropping out and got my GED. Even now, I can only take a few classes here and there. One day it will add up, and I can get a degree. I still don’t know what I want to be, but I know I need an education or else I’ll end up like my father. And I refuse to let that happen.
Belle stirs, and I rock her carrier with my foot. It’s amazing that she can sleep with all the noise in the gym, but she does. Chip is decent at basketball. Well, as decent as a six-year-old can be. He’s having fun, which is the important part.
I make a note at the top of my notebook of things I need to do over the weekend. Our neighbor, Mrs. McCarthy, watches the kids while I work. Hopefully she won’t mind if I run to the store after my shift tomorrow, so I can get a new phone. Belle needs diapers, and we’re going to need groceries soon, too. I tap my pen on the paper, when suddenly I feel that I’m being watched. Glancing around, I see nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve had the feeling on and off for weeks now, and it’s driving me crazy. Strike that. It makes me want to run and hide. But, like always, there isn’t anyone there.
I make awkward eye contact with one dad sitting a few rows over. Ugh. I hope he doesn’t take this as an invitation to come over and chat. Unfortunately, he does.
“Hey there. Haven’t seen you around before. Which one is yours?”
“Number 14.”
“Mine are 6 and 7.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Doug, by the way.”
“Look, Doug, I mean this in the nicest way, but I’m not interested.”
“Hey now, don’t be like that. I’m just being polite by talking to someone who looks like they could use a friend.”
“I’m not beinglikeanything. I’m trying to study while my brother plays basketball.”
To prove my point, I lift my textbook. His eyes widen when he sees it, and he holds up his hand.
“Sorry. Didn’t know you were in high school. It’s so hard to tell ages these days with the way you girls do up your make-up.”
“One, I’m not wearing make-up. Two, you’re proving my point that you’re a creeper.”
He scowls and stomps off. Good riddance.
I turn my attention to Belle and murmur, “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll teach you how to tell men off when you’re older.”
The thought makes me smile because it’s actually comical. Sure, I told off that jerk, but I’ve never found the courage to tell off my own father. Mostly because I know what will happen. My father is anything if not predicable. Drunk. Check. Child abuser. Check. Gaslighter. Check. Asshole. Check. If I ever told him off, it would end with me covered in bruises that I can’t explain. Case in point, if I were to roll up the sleeve of my shirt, there would be a bruise in the shape of a handprint around my wrist. So, I’ve become a master of disguise, wearing long shirts and baggy clothes.
I’m jolted from my thoughts when my very sweaty brother sits next to me on the bleachers.
“Dove, can I go to Beckham’s house tonight?”
Beckham is his best friend that he met when the school year started. Each day I get to hear Beckham-this Beckham-that. Mostly, I’m glad he’s able to make friends. I was always too shy.
“I don’t know, buddy. You don’t even have any clothes to change in to.”
“I do! I put some in my bag. Please?”
