“I’m just saying. I wanted to lick the back of your neck today.”
“Jackson,” I said in a low, conspiratorial whisper. “That’s gross!” But I could feel my neck tingling with anticipation.
“Seriously, I want to lick your mouth, but I keep thinking about Hunter’s tongue down your throat.”
“He did stick his tongue down my throat.” I shuddered, and Jackson laughed some more, so I elbowed him. I could barely deal with our flirty banter.
“It looked bad, Em.”
“Well, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Stop teasing me.”
“I’m not teasing you. It’s just there’s a certain finesse to it, you know? I’ll teach you later.” He winked.
“Geez, you really are so full of yourself sometimes.”
“You love me.”
“I have no choice,” I said.
We jumped off the stairs of the bus one after the other. “’Bye, Ms. Beels,” Jackson yelled from the mailboxes. “See you tomorrow.”
“Is your mom working tonight?” I asked him.
“Yeah, what about your dad?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, you want to come over? We can watch TV at my house. And I can undo everything Hunter taught you,” he deadpanned.
“Jackson Fisher, will you stop that right now?!”
“I’m kidding, I want you to come over and hang out. No pressure.”
“All right, I’m gonna do homework first and then I’ll be over.”
He put his arm around my shoulder. “You can do mine if you want.”
“No, you can do your own, Casanova.”
He laughed. “You’re right. I have a higher percentage than you in biology and math.”
“You know what, you sure have let all this attention from girls go to your head. I’m not sure you deserve me.”
“Well, I don’t care about any of the other girls. Only you.”
The air was full of anticipation. We talked and laughed all the way home. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were lovesick. Our innocence was beautiful, impossible to capture again, impossible to re-create. Sometimes on the bus, when it was just Jax and me passing the mile markers, I would daydream that Ms. Beels would turn around and drive us all out of Neeble. The three of us would live together in that bus, somewhere, anywhere where there were no brothers drowning in the creek, no drug-addicted mothers, no whiskey monsters lurking.
My smile faded when I noticed my dad’s beat-up Toyota truck parked oddly in front of our house. “See you in a bit,” I said absently.
Jax kissed the top of my head. “I can’t wait.”
Just before I reached my front door and he reached his, we both turned around. He kissed his hand and waved. I did the same.
The moment I opened my front door, I knew. The house was dark. The musty smell of booze and BO hit me as I walked through the entryway. On my way to my room, I glanced over to see my dad passed out on the couch, the TV blaring and an empty bottle lying on its side next to him.
As quietly as I could, I closed the door to my room and started on my homework. He was supposed to leave for work around four p.m., so at a quarter till, I went into the living room and tried to wake him.
“Dad?” I shook his shoulder, but he slapped my hand away. “You’re gonna be late for work.”
“Fuck that job. I’m not going back,” he mumbled into a cushion. The whiskey monster was back. I hadn’t seen him like this in a while.
“Dad? Come on.”
“I said leave me alone, Emerson! Don’t you listen?”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” I went back into my room to finish studying for the biology test the following day.
A short while later, I heard him lumbering down the hallway. He swung my bedroom door open, staggered to my dresser, and started rummaging through the drawers.
“Where is it?”
“Where is what, Dad?”
“Your money from the egg ranch.” His chest was pumping in and out. I stood up and went to a small purse I had hanging on my bedpost. I reached in and took out the wad of money, mostly ones and fives—about thirty-eight dollars. I had been saving it for so long to buy a dress for the end-of-the-year dance.
He snatched it out of my hand. “Dad, that’s for my . . .”
“I don’t give a shit what it’s for. Haven’t I been good to you?”
“Um . . .”
“Haven’t I?!” he screamed.
“Yes, sir.”
Sweat was forming on his brow. “I’ll get another job, okay, you little cunt?” The word stung and made me feel physically sick. I noticed that I had torn out a chunk of my hair from twirling it so violently from nervousness.