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“Carrot. Or maybe apricot. But not the skin, the inside bit. If a carrot and an apricot had a baby, it would be Brianne’s hair.”
Jesus. This kid.
“I hope you didn’t tell her that?”
“What? Why? There’s nothing wrong with—” He stopped himself and blew out another frustrated breath. “Mase?”
“Yeah, Scottie?”
“Brianne said she can’t be my girlfriend.”
And there it was.
His trigger.
The reason his room probably lay in disarray.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” I forced myself to take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth.
“She said I say and do weird things, and it freaks her out.” He paused, his discomfort palpable. “She said I freak her out.”
“Sounds like her loss to me, bud.”
“Her loss? It’s not a game, Mase. I want her to be my girlfriend, and she thinks I’m a freak.”
“You’re only twelve, buddy. There’s plenty of time for girls.”
“So you don’t think I’m a freak?”
“No, Scottie, I don’t think you’re a freak.”
“Okay,” he said.
And that was that.
“Can you come home to see me tomorrow?”
“I’m going to come Wednesday, okay? I’m away this weekend, but I can come Wednesday and stay the night.” It would mean an early drive back to campus, but I’d make it work.
“Can I come with you this weekend?”
“You know you can’t.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “I gotta go. Mom is crying again. I don’t like it when she cries.”
Fuck.
“Okay. Help her tidy your room, okay? Now that I’m not there, I need you to help around the house. Do you think you can do that?”
“I hate chores.”
“So do I. But I didn’t clean my room or take out the trash because I liked doing it. I did it because I knew it made Mom happy.”
“I guess I can help,” he grumbled.
“Good kid. Wednesday, we can do whatever you want, okay?”
“Promise?”
