On the Fence(8)

“How’d it go?” Gage asked.

“I got a job.”

“Really?” He looked up at the name of the store. “Linda’s Bazaar.”

“Yeah.”

“And was it bizarre?” He wiggled his fingers.

“You have no idea.”





Chapter 5

My dad seemed surprised when I told him I’d gotten a job, like he’d expected me to come home a failure. I couldn’t blame him. I was surprised too.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”

“It’s not that I didn’t think you could get one, I just didn’t think you really would.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Do you need anything?” He looked me up and down. “Uh . . . uniform or something?”

When I was with my brothers, my dad was perfectly normal, but when he singled me out, he was so awkward. And always a beat behind. I still remembered when I was thirteen and my dad approached me one day. Sweat beaded his upper lip. “Charlie,” he’d said, “Carol at work said you might need a bra.” He said it so fast I almost didn’t catch it. Then both of our faces reddened. “I could take you shopping,” he added. “I guess they have stores where they help you get fitted . . . and stuff.” My face still red, I assured him I already had a bra. I had learned the year before, when I started changing out for gym class, that everyone but me had one. I’d told my dad I needed money for cleats and used the money to buy one. Even though I hadn’t known her, it was times like those that I longed for my mother.

“Linda—my new boss—she’s going to help me get clothes.”

He nodded, relieved. “Good. Good.” Then he pulled me into a rare hug. “I’m proud of you.” My dad was tall, so my cheek pressed against his chest. He smelled like cinnamon gum.

“No need to get all mushy. It’s eight hours a week.”

“I’m proud of you too,” Gage said, throwing his arms around us and sending us all collapsing to the sofa.

“Gage,” my dad grunted, untangling himself from our bodies and standing.

Gage filled in the now empty space by wrapping one arm around my neck and the other behind my knee and proceeding to fold me in half. I kicked and struggled to get out. “Surrender,” he said.

“Don’t break anything,” my dad said and walked away. “Oh, and congratulations, Charlie.”

“Thanks,” I called, sounding a bit like Kermit the Frog with my neck bent over like that. I pinched Gage hard on the side and he yelped but didn’t let go. I squirmed and kicked and wasn’t above biting, but I couldn’t get a good hold on his arm. My brothers always called me a cheater when I bit, but they had twice as much muscle as I did, so I had to find a way to even the playing field.

“Surrender,” he said again.

I pushed off the ground with my free foot and almost succeeded in rolling us off the couch, but he eased me back into place.

“Charlie, you stubborn child, just admit I have you. You can’t get out of this.”

I pushed against his neck and he gagged a little, but then just pulled my arm into his hold. The front door opened and closed, and Braden said, “Hey, guys.”

Gage looked over, distracted, and I forced my leg out of the hold then kneed him in the stomach. He reeled back and I jumped on him, pushing his face against the cushion.

“You’re ruthless,” he said.

“I learned it from you.” I let him go, then stood. “Hey, Braden. How was your mom’s birthday dinner last night?”

“Same old, same old.”

I tilted my head, wanting him to go on. Braden was an only child, so he was always the center of attention . . . and expectations. Sometimes I felt like he came to our house as often as he did to be surrounded by chaos. To disappear. I stared at him, but he didn’t continue. He grabbed the remote off the end table and turned on the TV. “I thought for sure you guys would be watching the A’s game.”

“Whoa! What time is it?” I consulted the clock on the DVD player. “Crap. It’s already halfway over.” I claimed my position on the couch.

It was as if the sounds of the game called my brothers from their hideouts, because soon the living room was full, everyone shouting at the TV, soda cans and chips open on the coffee table. We didn’t have a favorite sport in our house. We liked them all.

My dad came down and gestured for Gage to scoot over, which meant I had to scoot over into Braden’s hard side. He moved his arm to the back of the couch to make more room. The smell of his deodorant assaulted my senses. “You smell good.”

He pulled me into a headlock, holding me there for a minute. “You’re stuck now.”

I opened my mouth, ready to bite, when he must’ve realized what I was doing because he pushed me away with a laugh. I threw both my legs over one of Gage’s and grabbed the jar of peanuts off the coffee table.

“No!” Braden yelled at the television, right in my ear.

I elbowed him.

“Sorry,” he said, distracted.

Gage absently patted one of my knees with his closed fist. Thump thump thump. I kicked a little and he stopped. But then Braden, drinking a soda, gulped loudly in my ear. Seriously, was he the loudest swallower in the world? I stood and started collecting empty soda cans off the table in front of us.