rock (2 page)

tuff

Dad stops by to visit me and Annie, but my sister refuses to see him. Dad settles on taking me for a walk through the town belt. For three hours we hike the hills and weave through the woods in the crisp air. Birds tweet like they’re gossiping about us.

They don’t talk much these two, do they?

The smaller one looks like he’s swallowed sour worms, poor thing.

What about the taller one? He looks one peck of the beak away from crying.

They need to talk.

How can we make them?

Sparrow, are you fully digested yet?

Aim. Load. Fire—

Bird shit lands on my cap. “Gross!” I yank the cap off.

Dad chuckles and takes care of it. “There, all gone.” He hands it back to me and I reluctantly slip it on again. “It’s good luck you know.”

“Really? Will it make you come home again?”

Dad sighs and sits on a bench, patting the space next to him. “I’m sorry things are hard for you and Annie.”

“Do you love her? Is she really your true love? Did you ever care for Mum?”

“Your mum and I have a complicated history.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we were on again, off again when we first got together. She’s got a wonderful spirit, your mum, and we cared for each other a lot—”

“But?”

“Relationships don’t always work. Fifteen years ago, I thought we were broken up for good.”

“Why’d you get back together then?”

“Three or four months after we broke up, she brought me the news that she was pregnant. I cared about her, Cooper. I wanted to do the right thing.”

“So you had a shot-gun wedding, and the baby came early?”

Dad frowns. “Everyone knew about the baby already. Annie came out on time. Her tiny, red hands gripped my finger so tightly, I knew she needed me. She needed her father, and I wanted to be the best I could for her. It worked for a time after that. Your mum and me, I mean. We had a routine and we both loved Annie so much, and we’d laugh at each other when we were too tired to do anything else. And then, Annie was about six months old when your mum got pregnant again.”

“Ever heard of contraception?” I ask, although I’m not too mad at his lack of foresight, considering I came into the world and all. But still.

“She was on the mini-pill. We thought we were good.”

“So I was a mistake?”

“Cooper, when I found out your mum was pregnant, all I could think was how much I loved your sister and how happy I was she’d have a sibling.”

“So what happened? When did it all go downhill?”

“It wasn’t working.” He sighs and shakes his head. “We were fooling ourselves.”

“Got it,” I say, jumping up from the bench. “Then you met
her
and realized
she
was the love of your life. You decide to cheat on Mum for five years, and
boom
, now it’s all blowing up in your face. Well it’s tuff, isn’t it?”
Tuff
. The debris from a volcanic eruption.

This whole situation is his mess.
He
will have to clean it up.

Dad scrambles after me. “Cooper, wait. It didn’t work out how we hoped, but I didn’t go behind your mother’s back—”

“Her son starts calling you
Dad
, and you just go with it?”

“Cooper, wait—”

I raise a hand. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

obsidian

The first weeks at Newtown High go by quickly. I attend classes, do my homework, and even make a couple of friends—aptly nicknamed Ernie and Bert for their size difference and close friendship.

The first months with separated parents drag. Dad keeps calling, I keep ignoring. Annie does the same, and her skirts have all shrunk a couple of sizes.

We’re in desperate need of black obsidian to ward off our negativity.

Beginning of the third week of school, the phone rings.

Mum waits four counts, willing me or Annie to step up to the plate. We don’t bite.

She sighs and answers the phone. “David,” she says tightly. “The kids still need a bit of time—” Mum frowns and twists her back to us. “Oh, David. I’m sorry to hear that. Will she be okay?”

Annie and I, sharing a couch, shuffle forward. I tense, waiting for what Mum will say next. Even Annie is gripping the arm of the couch.

Did Dad call to say he made a mistake? Is he coming home?

I hold my breath as Mum glances at us. “Yes. I’ll tell them. Take care.” She hangs up.

She sits on the armchair across from our couch, her mouth set in a grim line. She leans forward and clasps her fingers.

“That was your dad with some sad news. Lila lost her baby.”

“How far along was she?” Annie asks.

“Four months.”

Annie quiets and starts sucking her lips in on one side.

She doesn’t hate Dad. Does that make me a worse person than her?

I don’t know how I feel about the pregnancy not taking. I want to feel sad for Lila. I know that I probably
should
, but I’m stopped by the lightness in my belly and a selfish whisper:
Maybe Dad will come back now.

ocean jasper

I stroll across the school courtyard to Ernie and Bert, who are lounging against an old brick wall with their arms crossed, checking out all the girls.

Dozens of people mill about, talking loudly and laughing at things on their phones. The sun provides a steady heat, with only light breezes whipping at the posters plastered on the school buildings. Most of the benches are occupied by groups of three or four, except for his.

Jace sits alone on the bench in the middle of the courtyard, elbows on his knees, staring at his shoes. He’s wearing black from head to toe.

I arrow through a crowd gossiping about the upcoming dance, and I weave around a pair of skateboarders. Considering the last time I spoke to Jace, do I even have the right to walk over there and say hi? Maybe it’s the guilt, but something pushes me closer.

Maybe Dad will come back now
.

The moment he notices me, Jace straightens his shoulders and slips on his mask of nonchalance. The cold stare he gives me doesn’t tame the tiredness in his eyes or the slight puffiness at their edges.

“I didn’t even know you went to this school,” I say, sliding onto the bench next to him.

He shrugs. “Well, I do.”

I want to acknowledge his mourning somehow, but guilt holds my tongue captive. I am beginning to feel sorry that the pregnancy didn’t take, but I still can’t silence that other whisper:
We’re better than you.

I wish I hadn’t sat. Sweat glazes my hands and the backs of my knees. I instinctively search the ground for a rock, a pebble, a stone. Close to Jace’s heel, a colorful beach stone with spots at one end seems to wink at me. If it represented the moment, it would be ocean jasper, a stone known for helping people cope with change.

I lean forward to pick it up, but I misjudge the angle and hit my nose against Jace’s knee.

He shuffles to the side as I swing up, gripping the stone. Almost immediately—and even though heat is rushing to my cheeks—my breathing steadies. The smooth stone massages and revitalizes my skin as the sediments absorb my stress. I can do this.

“You’re weird,” Jace says, staring at my fist.

“You mean Dad hasn’t told you?”

Now I
feel
weird. I glance away, but when I look back, Jace is eying me carefully, from my sandals to my turquoise shorts and white
Music Rocks
T-shirt. He lingers on the shirt. “He said you have a few ticks.”

I nod. “Only this, really. But I flip out if I—” I decide not to go into the rest. What’s the point? It’s not as though we have to be friends now that our families are somewhat connected. “It doesn’t matter.”

I want to walk away but Jace catches my gaze. “Why’d you come over?” he asks.

I shrug.
Because it sucks. Raw nerves and lemon juice.

He shrugs and mutters, “Not that I care or anything, but Dad misses you.”

I try to shake off his words as I slouch my way to Ernie and Bert. Ernie might be short, but he makes up for it by being loud and obnoxious. But hey, friends are friends. At least I have someone to eat lunch with. “You look like your balls are being stung by wetas,” he says.

Bert, who’s big and beefy and plays rugby like he needs to declare the gospel and convert everyone, punches Ernie on the arm. “You talk about balls so much I’m beginning to think you’re a fag.”

“Fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Bert says, “I don’t think I’m having you over for sleepovers anymore.”

Ernie flips him off and scooches over enough that I can rest against the wall. I drop my shoulder bag between my feet. Their shit-talking is stupid, but I know they don’t mean it. At least, I hope they don’t. Some people at school are known for getting stupid with their fists, though, and I steer clear of their radar.

“So what’s up your ass?” Ernie asks.

I pull out a sandwich from my bag. “Nothing.”

Bert and Ernie share a look I’m not privy to, but their raised brows suggest they’re secretly plotting a way to get a real answer out of me.

They can try as hard as they like, but I’m not talking about Dad or Jace to either of them.

They prod a few more times but eventually give up and change topics. “Are we going to the dance or what?” Ernie asks, winking at a girl who looks like Annie.

“No,” I say. “What’s the point?”

This earns me a whack on the back of the head. “But there’ll be tits galore—”

“Yeah,” I say, and add a firm, “No.” Because it’s not happening.

And it doesn’t.

Bert and Ernie go to the dance alone.

granite

The next six months, Jace is everywhere.

We never talk but he’s always around; he’s in the courtyard, in the music room, on the soccer field, or waiting for the bus on the other side of the street like he is right now. I’m waiting for bus 10 to take me back to Mum’s; he’s waiting for bus 02 to take him to Dad’s.

A few others are hanging around. Annie is chatting to a large Maori dude, who’s smiling as though he might get lucky.

I hang a few meters back and rest against the brick part of the school fence. On his side of the street, Jace has adopted a spot against a concrete wall with a book in his hand.

It’s a pose we’ve been holding for months. We’ve perfected the art of pretending to read while surreptitiously peeking at each other. Looking without getting caught has become our game. When we do catch each other, we scowl and mutter various insults. I like “dickweed” best, but my exceptional lip-reading skills tell me Jace hasn’t settled on a favorite insult, though he is particularly creative.

I open my geology textbook and stare blankly at a summary on plate tectonics. I flip a page and glance up. Jace is frowning into a brown book that’s a shade or two lighter than his hair—still pretty dark. I risk staring for three counts before I fake-read some more.

I take my time and savor the tingling that prickles the back of my neck as Jace watches me. It’s like a game of I Spy, but somehow it feels risky. Like we’re two cowboys about to draw our guns. Like it’s a contest to prove who is better.

I grit my teeth and mutter, “Dickweed.”

A shadow falls over me, and I snap the book shut. The puff of air makes me cough. Jace has crossed the street and is standing in front of me.

“Little shit,” he murmurs, but his lips are twitching at the edges as if he’s holding back a grin.

“What do you want?”

“You didn’t pick up a stone today.” He gestures to the chipped brick at my feet. “You usually do.”

“So you’ve noticed. That’s a bit stalkerish of you, don’t you think?”

He snorts and ignores the dig. “Dad’s birthday is coming up.”

I reign in the urge to shove him, opting instead for a tight smile. “Stop calling him your dad.”

Jace shrugs it off. “He wants you and Annie there.”

Dad’s birthday is on Halloween, and his greatest wish is to make people love it. Halloween, that is. He decorates every year—well, he
used to
decorate every year. He’d invite all the neighbors to tour our haunted maze, then tally-up how many people screamed so he could beat his record the following year.

Our Halloween tradition was the best. We planned for months, practically the entire year. Jace and Lila won’t even come close to pulling off such a feat.

This fact makes me smug, and my tight smile turns into a grin.

We’re better than you.

Not at this.

“I’ll be there,” I say, hoping Annie will come along as well. Maybe Dad will tell us our Halloween birthdays are the best. He won’t even have to say it because I’ll be able to read his Frankenstein face.

“Really? You’ll come?” Jace shifts, and the afternoon sun hits my face.

I raise a hand to block it out. Jace corrects his position so I’m once again in his shadow. Even though other students are chatting, tires are bumping over the road, and somewhere in the distance an ambulance is calling, we stare each other down in silence.

“Okay. Cool.” He turns, then swivels back. “Oh, and before I forget.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small stone. He stuffs it into my hand. It’s smooth and warm, like he’s been holding it for a while. “Found it on my side of the road.”

The sun pelts my face with bright warmth, and by the time I adjust to the light, Jace has crossed the road and taken up his spot at the wall.

We return to reading—or pretending to.

The duel has only just begun.