He probably figured out I hate when Mitch stays with us. For the first few summers it was okay, until Mitch started laughing at me for how I played, or how I shiver when I get nervous, or flick my fingertips too much. Then, he wasn’t like a cousin anymore. He got mean. He hit me. Teased me. When he found out I read lyrics to Mom’s favorite Broadway songs, Mitch laughed at me.
It’s not funny; it’s the only way I like to read.
Mitch uses the p-word Grandma used to use for cat, but now I guess it’s a bad word since Mom says I’m not allowed to say it. But Mitch told me if I listen to that kind of music, it makes me the p-word.
I glare at the baseball in my hand. I looked up what people mean when they use the word, and I’m not weak. I’m actually pretty strong. I practice ball every day until the sun sets, then help Josh on the ranch on Saturdays.
Maybe I ought to hit Mitch back. I bet I could make it hurt.
I close my eyes. No, I can’t do that. He promised if I told Josh or Mom what he does, he’d make it so Josh would divorce my mom.
I don’t know how that works, but Mitch is mean enough, he’d figure out a way. I know it.
I throw the ball. Hard. I watch it land in the field behind our house. Then, I hock my spit way back in my throat and let the loogie fly at the same time a stupid tear falls onto my cheek.
Maybe I am the p-word.
“Hey, pal.” Josh stands behind me with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m sorry you heard those mean words, Ryder.”
I turn around and point my glare at the ground, replaying Dan’s voice in my head.
“Why are you ruining it, Josh? The kid isn’t normal, and he’s not even yours. This isourfamily trip. Would you stop calling him yours, he’s not. I don’t know why you’d claim him anyway, he can’t even talk clearly. No, it’s not just because he doesn’t know us well. It’s more, and you know it. He’s going to be a burden on you his whole life. No, you know what, forget it. Stay home. I mean it; we don’t want him, so you choose.”
Now, Josh knows his own brother can’t stand me.
Great.
I wipe the snot from under my nose. Josh steps up to the wooden fence and leans over on his elbows. His forearms have a bunch of military tattoos from when he was a marine. I love that he was a soldier. He’s strong and tough and helps me keep things organized.
It’s not always true what they say about soldier guys. They’re not all about push-ups and tough love. Josh is nice. He laughs a lot and isn’t afraid to explain exactly what he wants me to do. Josh is the best at making lists with steps since he knows I like them.
All he asks is I never yell at my mom, and if he asks me to do something, like chores, he expects me to do them so we can hang out and have fun sooner.
“You upset?” he asks.
I shake my head briskly.
“It’s okay if you are, you know.” Josh plucks a stalk of long grass and pinches it between his teeth. I don’t want to pick one and copy him right away. That would be stupid. It’s like he reads my mind and plucks another one, handing it over. Josh rolls the grass in his teeth a few times before going on. “It’d even be okay if you were crying.”
No, it wouldn’t. It’d be terrible. But when he says it, my stupid chin starts to shake.
Everything gets worse when Josh notices, wraps his arm around my shoulders, and pins me to his chest. He hugs me, and I start bawling.
Like a freaking baby.
Josh holds my head against his chest. His other arm squeezes me tightly the way I like to be squeezed.
He dips his chin, so his lips are sort of buried in my hair. “I need you to hear me, Ryder. Listen to me, okay? Sometimes grownups don’t do right by kids. Sometimes grownups don’t think much of themselves, so they say cruel things to the people who can’t fight back. Usually kids. But you need to know, I love you.”
That only makes me cry harder.
So, Josh squeezes me tighter. “I love you, kid. You’re my boy, and you’re always going to be enough for me. I’m telling you now, there’s nothing you can do that will make me quit loving you. Got it?”
I squeeze his waist. Too many words are spilling through my head, I don’t know how to spit them out. Josh doesn’t tell me to say anything, though. He doesn’t even make fun of me for crying or hiccupping a lot. He hugs me and keeps saying he loves me. Funny thing is, when I finally start to pull back, I sort of believe him.
With the heel of my hand, I wipe my eyes.
Josh leans over his knees, so we’re nose to nose. “Feel better?”
