“When I was in fourth grade, there was this older kid who used to pick on me,” I tell her. “Every day on the bus he would either hit me or say mean things to me. It went on for months, and there were a couple of times I would actually get off the bus with a bloody nose.”
“Jesus,” she says.
“Kyle is a couple years older than me. He was in middle school, but we rode the same bus because we went to a fairly small school. One day, after the kid hit me right in front of Kyle, I expected him to take up for me. To beat the kid’s ass, because I’m his little brother. That’s what big brothers are supposed to do. Protect their little brothers from bullies.” I stretch my legs out in front of me and sigh. “But Kyle just sat there, staring at me. He never intervened. And when we got home, I was so angry with him. I told him it was his job as my brother to teach the bullies a lesson. He laughed and said, ‘And how will that teach you anything?’
“I didn’t know what to say, because what the hell was I supposed to be learning by getting my ass kicked every day? Kyle said, ‘What is stopping one bully going to teach you? Nothing. If I intervened, what would you gain from that besides learning to rely on someone else rather than yourself? There will always be bullies, Ben. You need to learn how to deal with them yourself. You need to learn how to not let them get to you. And me beating up some kid for you isn’t going to teach you a damn thing.’ ”
Fallon faces me. “Did you listen to him?”
I shake my head. “No, I went to my room and cried because I thought he was just being mean. And the kid continued to pick on me for weeks after that. But then one day, it just clicked. I don’t know what it was, but I slowly started defending myself. I stopped letting him get to me as much as he did. Stopped acting so scared around him. And after a while, when he realized his insults didn’t bother me, he finally backed off.”
She’s quiet, but I can tell she’s wondering why I’m telling her this story.
“He’s a good brother,” I say to her. “He’s a good person. I hate that you saw the side of him you did today, because that’s not him. He had a right to be upset with me and no, I don’t want to talk about it. But my brothers are really good people and I just wanted you to know that.”
She’s looking at me appreciatively. I wrap my arm around her and pull her to my chest as I lay down on the blanket beneath us. I’m looking up at the stars now, surprised at how long it’s been since I’ve actually seen them.
“I was excited about the idea of having a sibling,” she says. “I know I acted like I wasn’t happy when my dad told me last year, but I’ve always wanted a sister or brother. Unfortunately, the girl my dad was engaged to wasn’t pregnant after all. She thought he had money thanks to his semi-celebrity status. When she found out he was actually broke, she left him.”
Wow. I don’t feel so bad about my family drama she witnessed today. “That’s awful,” I say to her. “Was he upset?” Not that I care if he was upset. The man deserves any negative karma that’s returned to him with the way he treated her that day.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. My mom told me all that. I haven’t even spoken to him since last year.”
That makes me sad for her. As much of a douchebag as he is, he’s still her father, so I know that has to hurt. “What kind of person fakes pregnancy to trap a man? That’s messed up. Although it does sound like a great plotline for a book.”
She laughs against my chest. “It’s tripe and way overused as a subplot.” She rests her chin on her arms and smiles at me. The moonlight is hitting her face, shining down on her like she’s on a stage.
Which reminds me . . .