Wyatt held up one foot. Across the side of his baseball cleat was a hot pink Nike swoosh. My mom must’ve picked them up at the thrift store like she did a lot of things.
“Yeah. The kids thought it was funny when Coach Cade said it. They laughed. But then everyone was cool with it.”
I swallowed the anger in my throat for my brother’s sake. I did not want him to feel bad. That was a name everyone was going to laugh at every single week and have to keep remembering they were cool with.
“That’s a fun nickname,” I said at last.
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Well, go shower.”
He started to walk away then stopped. “Lily?”
“Wyatt?”
He looked down at his feet. “Um … never mind.”
I frowned. Had Cade made him feel stupid? I didn’t want to ask him that if it wasn’t true. But I wanted my brother to be able to talk about it with me. For him to know he wasn’t alone in that feeling.
“Are you sure you don’t need to tell me something?” I asked gently.
Wyatt nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Wyatt may not have needed to talk about it, but I was going to talk about it. With the source.
I searched the halls before school on Friday, not sure what Cade’s morning routine was. I’d seen his car in the parking lot, so I knew he was here. I usually tried to avoid him. Today would be the opposite. My blood was on fire. Even my eyes were hot.
He was standing alone at his locker, staring at it, like he’d forgotten the combination or something.
I marched straight up to him and poked his shoulder with my finger. “How dare you.”
He turned to me, a tired look on his face. “What do you want?”
“You named my brother Pink Lightning? Let those kids mock him?”
Cade’s eyebrows went up. “Is that what he said? That the kids were mocking him?”
“Yes. He said they laughed at him.”
“For one second.”
“Well they wouldn’t have at all if you hadn’t given him that nickname,” I spat out.
“Really? That’s what you think? Did you see the sneakers your brother was wearing? I knew they would make fun of him. I needed to cut them off at the pass.”
“By beating them to it?”
“By making it seem purposeful. Cool, even.”
The next words I’d planned, whatever those were, left my brain. I stood staring at Cade.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Are we done? Have you rid the world of all your perceived injustice?” Before I could respond he started to walk away. Then he turned and added, “Who bought him those cleats, anyway? They’re the person you should be yelling at.” He didn’t wait for my answer before walking off again.
I growled then looked at his locker, the one he hadn’t opened. Had he forgotten since I interrupted him or had he gotten something out before I came? If so, why had he been standing there staring at it when I walked up? No, I was not going to worry about Cade. He didn’t need my worrying. He took care of himself just fine.
Picturing Cade’s face now as I read his letters was both infuriating and oddly satisfying. Infuriating because he was cute and he knew it, which made me angry. Satisfying because it was nice to put a face with words. It made them more personal.
Even if that face infuriated me …
Have you and your brother made up yet? It is almost Thanksgiving. I don’t know what that has to do with making up with your brother but the holidays always seem like a good time to do … well, anything, I guess. It’s the Fourth of July, let’s eat and get the family together. It’s Easter, we better make up with the neighbor who ruined our fence. It’s Presidents’ Day, let’s buy a couch. My mom actually did buy a couch last Presidents’ Day. I didn’t even know we needed a couch. I really think she bought it just because it was a holiday. Anyway, I’m going off the path here. My point? It’s Thanksgiving (almost). Time to do that thing you’ve been meaning to do. I’ll do my thing, too.
And that’s how he ended the letter. In that vague way that left me dying to know what his thing was. What had he been meaning to do?
I bit my lip. Hadn’t I sworn I wasn’t going to write him back? But what was one more exchange really? In the scheme of things.
What thing have you been meaning to do? Listen to the entire Pink Floyd library in one sitting? I’ve been meaning to do that. Maybe that needs to be my Thanksgiving thing because my brother and I have sort of made up. Or at least I’ve accepted that he’ll never admit to what he did, but he is my brother. So yeah. All that’s left in the make up is the official hug-it-out. That has to be part of every make up because hugs are full of magical healing powers.