Cyndi Whitaker's Blog

Let’s Hope this year is better for me. I’m going to recap of the last few months. I feel no shame in being vulnerable. You have to be if you write.

I know my last post was in July 2022 and boy, has it been hectic!

July

I had an interview for a job I was perfect for. I was excited. My mind was pre-planning lesson plans for this non-credit college class. You might be thinking someone beat me out for the position. The after-school summer camp had ended. I was preparing for the interview that morning, suddenly I get a call from my Nana. I usually clean her apartment and do her laundry once a week for her. I thought maybe I forgot to tell her. I was ready to say I’ll be there in an hour.

Her voice cracks and says. “I just called an ambulance for Pops. I’m going with him,”. My heart drops and I immediately tell my mother. She was in the shower, getting ready for therapy. (I live with my parents and have no shame, especially in this economy). I immediately send an email, saying I have to reschedule and if they can’t, I hope they consider me for future opportunities. I remember my mom just dropping me off at the ER door while she found parking.

I scrambled because this wasn’t the first time that summer he had been admitted. The month (July) before I get a call, Pops fell. My dad and I rush over to ER. It’s an instant replay as I recall handing my id to the ER clerk to find his room. My entire family makes their way to this hospital. My sister is freaking out. She is seven months pregnant. She lives in Jersey while I reside in Staten Island. I’m sitting there on my phone practicing German (thanks Duolingo) to distract my mind from the fact, my Nana is tapping her foot constantly, my Pops is on and off sleeping. I stay with them till we get any news.

A doctor comes by and recommends, “I would advise he stay the night, but it’s up to you,” I’m trying to tell my Nana he should stay the night. What if he falls again? She doesn’t want to hear it. One of my uncles comes in and asks what’s going? I explain the situation and he’s met with the same argument. I shoot my dad a text. Next thing, my Nana has a call. “Mom, he’s staying overnight end of story,”. My Nana asked me to go outside while she has a cigarette and get something to eat from the hotdog guy. (It’s a literal food truck on UberEATS). She won’t say it, but I can sense she’s worried. He lost half his body weight in eight months.

We sit there and joke about the German I was practicing. I see my other uncle has arrived and decide it’s best to go back home for a bit. There are only a certain amount of people at a time. My Tif cousin meets me two hours later. I find my two uncles and two other cousins sitting there in the waiting room with my Nana. You wouldn’t think my Pops is in the worst health with the way the conversation is flowing. Tif is telling us all about her new job, the benefits, her health insurance. That’s how you know you’re old, when you’re like health insurance with zero co-pays. My Nana is making jokes about me practicing German. Then there’s this silence. I didn’t like it.

“Why did you bring him?” My Nana asks, pointing at one of my cousins. My uncle response. “This might be the last time he sees his grandfather.” What gets strange is we all get up and leave to go to a diner. My Nana doesn’t want to come. She doesn’t want anything to eat. I feel a little guilty as Tif drives us. I feel like my sister should be with us. She loves this man. He has been there for us since we were born.

When I was born, my mother’s entire family rented a townhouse. My uncle had the first floor, my grandparents had the second, and we lived on the third. We ate dinner with them every night. We woke them up every Saturday morning instead of our dad. He was not our grandfather. He was literally a second dad. He always had a bad dad joke and would sit with a cup of tea, reading the newspaper. A few years later, he showed up to every softball game I played. He didn’t drive; he took the bus to all of them. The following year, he was the assistant coach for the team. I’m thinking about these moments before heading into an overheated diner in the middle of a humid July.

Tif appears upbeat but worried about Nana. I assure her Nana will be fine, we’ll get her a milkshake and she’ll be fine. We sit in this diner. My mom doesn’t want to come after getting off. I think she had been at the hospital with Nana. I’m asking questions to my cousins about their college plans, what they’ve been up to. My one cousin is telling me about her trip to Germany, my other is telling me how his dorming situation. The hour flies before we’re back. There’s no update on his room or what’s wrong. What caused him to fall? I have a slight panic in my stomach. I remember I was supposed to go food shopping with Nana today. I had chosen to sleep in after working all week. If I hadn’t slept in, I still wonder if we would have found him dead. How long would he have been laying on the floor calling out Nana? Tif drops me off and I take a shower and scrolled to see what movies are playing that the movies that week. I wanted to be distracted.

My sister calls, and I had been dreading the conversation. “How is he?” she says,. I don’t lie and find myself saying. “It’s not good. Come out and see him in case.” I think back to my uncle saying, “This might be the last time he gets to see his grandfather,”. I didn’t want to stress her or cause harm to her pregnancy. This was her first child and she should have been celebrating, not worrying.

Pop goes home two weeks later. My one co-worker ask me about him and my sister. There are rare co-workers who are human. She was one of them. She tells me she’s glad to hear it.

August

I’m sitting on the same bench eating a hotdog while Nana smokes a cigarette. Tif is bumming a cigarette. They haven’t given him a room yet. The security guard tries to tail me and Tif. There is a two-person only rule. This guard is staring us down. All I can think is my grandfather is dying, you dick. A doctor helps hid us from the security guard. Tif pulls out her work id, so he can’t say anything. (she works there). My Pops is laying there, sleeping on and off. He keeps saying he’s going to get to hold his first great granddaughter. He says nothing is going to stop him from meeting her. My uncle comes in with my aunt. He sits down and starts crying. I’m trying not to show I’m worried. I have never seen my uncles or mother cry. It feels surreal, almost permeant. My aunt is telling him to calm down. Tif and I go and get some air.

We don’t talk about how much of a mess our uncle is. She wonders how her father is going to take it. We decide it’s best to talk about the baby shower. Tif and I are similar in we don’t want children. Well, I don’t want to have them, but I’m not opposed to adoption. We’re excited for my sister. First one to get married, first one to have a child. Everyone is happy for her, but it feels weird to be happy with the darkness in the background.

“When do you think he’ll come home?” Tif asked. I shrug because I don’t know if he’s ever making it out of the hospital. I’m worried he’ll die there. That week my mom and I start taking Nana to the movies more. It keeps her mind off the bad for a few hours. This eventually becomes the new routine for my mom and I. Work, Hospital, movie (1x-2x a week), bed. The weeks become a blur.

Pops goes into a nursing home. I’m exhausted from that day, my Nana kept debating if she wanted me to come for the ride in the ambulette. The hospital informed us that he would be admitted at 4, but he was still waiting. My mom and I head to Wendy’s. Not the best thing for us to eating, but it’s close and cheap. We eat the car and bring Nana food. She comes down and eats; she critiques the pumpkin spice frosty, asking what’s wrong with vanilla? We get a call. Pops is leaving. It is now seven. My Nana decides she doesn’t want me to come and to meet her there.

I’m exhausted. I had been up since 4:45 am. I ask the receptionist at the nursing home if they know what room he’ll have. She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. She wasn’t aware, but the upstairs wing was. My mom and uncle sit in the lobby, waiting for the arrival. Another hour passes. They finally arrive. My Nana looks tired. My Pops is complaining about everything. He is brought to a room. My uncle, mother and I are following behind to see his room. A woman stops my uncle and says hello. My uncle is polite and says “good, you?”. She grabs his hand and says, “I know where the bodies are buried.” I didn’t like that at all.

We’re told we can’t stay while they hook up machines and etc. We sit in the lobby. I fall asleep in a bright red chair in a cheery lobby.

September

My mom and I are getting yelled at by Nana. “Stop bringing him sweets. He’s diabetic.” My mother always replied. “He’s 84 years old. If he wants it, he gets it.” He’s grumpy and not eating that first week. He’s constantly asking about how me and my sister are doing. If there’s any update about the baby coming? The update? The doctor keeps pushing her due date back. My sister is exhausted, her body is aching, even her wrist has blown up. She just wants her daughter to come.

He is difficult and rude to my Nana. My mom finally snaps. She is worried about my Nana. Everyone else is worried about my Pops. My mom and I are both afraid she’s getting stressed. My mom and Nana make sure he starts eating, so he can get off the feeding tube.

My mom flat tells him, “It’s up to you if you are going to see your great granddaughter. It’s up to you if you are going home. Want to go home? You have to start doing what they say!” That night he eats “Comfort foods” (foods that don’t affect the feeding tube but people tend to like) without a problem. My mom takes my Nana and I to the movies that night. I don’t remember the movie we saw. I think it was a murder mystery.

At the end of the month comes, my sister is texting me at work. She says her dog has been up her butt all morning. Like he knows something is about to change forever. She is attempting to walk, but her feet are swelling, her body is aching and she has been feeling false contractions all day. She calls me asking if moms around that night. She wants to know if she should head to the hospital. My mom tells her she should already be there.

The next day, I’m greeting to a text message of my very grumpy niece, who looks like she rather be back in the womb. Normally, I would have gone to the nursing home. My uncle says he’s going to tell Pops. I go to CVS and get a photo collage made. I work fast. It’s raining. My Nana, grandma and dad are in a car that feels like hours. My Nana is in the hospital’s gift shop. She picks something up for my sister. She tells me everyone always forgets about the mother. The gift shop clerk is super friendly and nice.

Due to Covid, only two can go up at a time. I decide to go last, not take this moment from the great grandmas and grandpa (my dad). My Nana says she’ll wait, we go get coffee and admired the beach view in the lounging area. I think she is still worried about Pops. I don’t blame her.

Finally, we go up. It’s the first time in weeks. My Nana doesn’t look stressed as she speaks with my sister. My sister is clinging to her baby. A beautiful baby girl who is asleep in her arms. She wants my Nana to hold her. My Nana refuses and says another time. Nana is smiling at her great granddaughter and a very exhausted new mom. My sister texted me that morning, she threw up giving birth. She says it was worth and sent me another photo of my niece.

October

There is a major mood shift in Pops. He is ready and cooperating. His major complaint is his roommate, who constantly pulls at his curtain and knocks wires away. He has found a new snack to like. Fruit snacks I gave him as a joke. Apparently, they are soft enough to chew and swallow. He’s eating more, he’s giving it his all in physical therapy. My Nana and I discuss Thanksgiving with him. I offer to stay behind and have thanksgiving with them. We tell him we’ll bring him whatever food he wants. A man who refused to learn technology. Learn how to face time pretty quickly. He had FaceTime with his great granddaughter every day. He said she was his motivation to get out of there.

See, I was never in denial he was going to die. I like to make that clear. I thought he was going to make it Christmas, or at least the new year. I’m sure you can see where this is going.

First Saturday in November

I agreed to see my Nana and Pops after I got out of work. I’m a social creature. I spend a half-hour bullshitting with my co-worker, joking about the millennial shit we went through that was making a comeback. I say “I have to go see my grandfather in the nursing home” “I hope he’s okay,” I reply “He’ll be home for Christmas, but I don’t know about next year.”

I hop in an Uber and do my typical sign in. I make my way to his room. I say hello to the little old ladies who have nothing and think about what Tif said. (“Kill me if I ever end up here, this place is depressing”) I enter his room. “Hey! How’s she doing?” The first question he always asked. I FaceTime my sister, her baby is wide eye and paying attention to anything passing by her. He’s not hungry and has no appetite. All he wants is his Dunkin coffee. My Nana looks worry. I ask her if he’s on a new medication. Turns out he is. He’s on and off sleeping. I keep her distracted with video and photos of the baby. I wonder if it was for her or me. He tells us not to come up tomorrow. He says take the day off. He tells me to take care of grandma.

First Sunday in November

It’s six in the morning. I get a call from my mom. “Pops died last night.” I don’t want to believe it. I wanted to believe he was going to be home by Christmas. I wanted to believe he was going to get to hold the baby. My mom’s voice is shaky. She says she’s going over to Nana’s immediately. I call my sister to tell her the news. Her voice drops at the news. There is a silence. I tell her I have to tell dad and our brother. My brother says nothing, my dad takes me over to Nana’s immediately. I stop and get her coffee. I hug her when entering the apartment. I can’t tell if she had been crying. This is not a family that openly expresses emotions, we demonstrate love through our actions. I hug her and say I’m sorry. She hands me a tissue.

Her apartment is cluttered with her sons, grandkids and the baby. I’m responsible for writing the obituary. I knew this would fall on me. I hated that.

How many words does it take to describe a life? This was a man who gave up playing professional baseball for his wife. This man was a war vet. This man was the most generous man I knew. How does one describe an entire life? Feels almost impossible, even five months later. 

December

My work schedule was messed up and I decided to help my sister with her baby. This is the most precious baby in the world to me. She is alter and curious, I suppose most babies are, it’s jarring to see in action.

I take her to the movies one night, because that afternoon. We were both crying in her car, while she changed her daughter’s dirty diaper, going she misses him. Christmas felt odd without him, my Nana seemed okay, we all speculated because there was a lot of family around. I know I seem okay to everyone but shields themselves for the sake of others. Like when I was doing laundry for my Nana and had to deep a breathe and compose myself in the bathroom. Why? Bedsheets, that’s right bedsheets my Pops made fun of on several occasion. “Cyn, I couldn’t get any sleep, these birds chirped the whole night,” then he would laugh.

March 2024

Feels like a very different world, I’ve been incorporating a lot of these feelings and emotions into my current writing. I have always used writing as a way to coop. It how I feel in control sometimes.

I’m currently switching between four books right now. I know this drives people crazy, sometimes my mind wanders. Besides ever get a new book and read it? Or Does it end on the TBR list that gets read. (Keep in mind this is my digital TBR and current reads, I have a stack I haven’t touch all month.) (My friend who hates reading, read more than me this year, I guess to be fair. I’ve been working on two revisions and the three book in my series the Interference.)

Landscape with Invisible Hands by M. T. Anderson (I saw the movie and like to compare it) (The movie left me some hope for humanity at the end, but the book so far is not leaving that impression. So far it is a quick read)

They All Had A Reason Series by Michele Leathers (If you like Karen McNaus, you’ll like her work, I also love supporting independent authors)

(https://www.amazon.com/They-All-Had-Reason-secret-ebook/dp/B08RW7BQ8L/ref=sr_1_2?crid=24BZX11FQ2TU7&keywords=michele+leathers&qid=1694488500&s=digital-text&sprefix=michele+le%2Cdigital-text%2C184&sr=1-2)

The Mysteries of Max by Nic Saint. (I was hooked after the first chapter) (I also love mysteries so this was an instant hell yes for me)

(https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B06XPM6X7S?ref_=dbs_m_mng_rwt_calw_tkin_0&storeType=ebooks&qid=1694488783&sr=8-2)

The After Party by AC Arthur

I picked it up because it gave me major 9-5 vibes.

I just realized as I typed this list out most of them are mysteries.

Cyndi

I am feeling burn out working on my sequel. Why? I don’t know I wrote twenty chapters and now find myself stuck outlining. I know what has to happen, I just don’t how to convey it.

Cyndi

I completely forgot I made four heyspace (myspace) accounts for four of my characters from LOST SON

https://spacehey.com/bt517

https://spacehey.com/profile?id=134303

https://spacehey.com/profile?id=134353

https://spacehey.com/profile?id=132545

I’m often to wonder if it’s writer’s block or that I have written down an uncomfortable truth.

I’m not an outliner, well I try to outline. (I only outline if I’m near the end, almost like a recap.) Meg Cabot was an idol of mine growing up. (I vividly remember the year 2008, If my memory isn’t playing tricks on me, it was a week before a musical I was in, I had just lost my phone, I was notorious for this. My Nana had taken me to replaced it and next to the Verizon store was a Border’s, I know I’m old. While her and my dad were working the details out, I had walked in and saw Airhead on display. Now I had loved almost everything Meg Cabot had written, I was not in the Princess Diaries or 1-800 series. Which was surprising because I had consumed most of my time at the library reserving her work and binging it. If you are familiar with her work, She was not really a sci-fi writer or dystopian writer in my opinion. At last my Nana came in and handed me the phone while I held the book, thinking it wasn’t supposed to be out for a few days. My Nana had purchased me the book. We left the mall around seven pm, and by 10:30 I was finished with that book. My dad looked at wonky eye and went “Kid, you’re done with that already?”. I want to be that type of author where my words consume you for hours on end)

So it should be no surprise I liked Meg Cabot’s method of knowing the beginning, the middle and the ending. But not knowing all the little details in between.

I do occasionally find my old stories from over ten years ago. There are these deep outlines or synopses. They sit in the just in case I ever go back pile. Screenplays that never panned out. Poems I have never shared because they can be misinterpret for the worse. Plays that never get produced, maybe one day.

When I usually have writer’s block it’s because of two things, I’m legit stuck and don’t want to outline. Or as I said previously, I have written an uncomfortable truth. I can not say which is worse. I guess follow along till I figure it out.

I’m activate on facebook and tiktok

https://www.facebook.com/groups/271112651763762/about and tiktok – queenofcyns

Cyndi!

In May 2021, I published an awful book that I have taken down from all available sources. There were a few videos on my YouTube page with these characters present in their adulthood. But a fan asked me an important question…… Why Does Noah hate Brad so much?

My answer was you’ll see.

In the youtube series Noah and Charlotte. Noah is known for making insane inventions and Charlotte (Brad’s on and off girlfriend) is known for putting up with his antics. All the audience ever knows is Noah hates Brad because of something from their past. (Last video ever posted was Sandwich, which was a nightmare to edit during covid)

Hence the start of the Interference Series, which doesn’t have to be read in order.

Working Titles

Lost Son (2007-2008)

Clipped Wings (2007-2008)

The Rebellion (2006-2007)

Bite Marks (2009)

Reality Check (2012)

What Follows After is the Adult Series

Side Effect: Ava and Brad (2012-2016)

Book 1: There’s Something There

Book 2: The Long Road

Book 3: The Matter

After Effect

Found Daughter (2020)

Washed Up- ( in progress 2012-2013)

Charlotte & Noah are getting completely revamped. (2012-2016)

Past Control

Balancing Act

Matter Overmind

Hope you follow me along the journey

Cyndi Whitaker

It’s simple and complicated.

I hated reading as a kid, everything bored me. I know the irony of wanting to be a writer when I hated books. My mind would wander to the what ifs. I would never focus on the words in front of me, but I could see a world of possibilities.

I would pick up one of my various notebooks, some where really bad comic stripes and others were complete drafts I never did type up. I had several books as a kid, the dollar store was a blessing with the way, I went through pencils, pens and plenty of paper.

There was only one book series I loved as a kid but they were always hard to find. Secrets of Droons, about three kids who find an entrance to a secret world in their basement. When I was reading that, I was reading vintage Archie comics. My dad would make the argument just because there are pictures doesn’t mean it’s not reading. Eventually my lack of detesting of reading fizzled out when I entered six grade.

I had a horrible teacher through six-eight grade. She would demean you if you said the wrong thing. She got a sick joy out of watching her students struggle. She was not the supporting type.

I eventually did my love of reading did return. When I was in seventh grade. I feel this may have done with my seventh grade English teacher choosing exciting novels to read, except the red badge of courage, I hated that book. I did however fall in love with The Pigman.

As that year went on, I felt I was understanding more than novels.

It was book fair day and my friend convinced me to get one of the Chicken for the Soul Soup books. They were big back then, I don’t if they are still made today. I hope they are. I fell in love with poetry. It was the first time I understood literature without a struggle.

Eight grade arrived and the nastiest teacher I ever encountered was back in site, I literally would force myself to get sick, to get out of going to school. My seventh grade teacher made me feel I could be capable and understand the concept of reading and writing. Two weeks with the 8th teacher my confidence I had gained down the drain. I went from 80’s/78’s to 64s.

I was starting not to care about anything at that point, she made life miserable at this school. I stop writing for a bit, for the first time I didn’t have the desire to pick up a pen and write.

Odd to think a random birthday party, changed that. The party favors were books. My sister walked away with Teen Idol by Meg Cabot and I walked away with The V – Club by Kate Brian. Two authors who made me love reading again. It was the first time I came across characters my age who were girls who held their ground.

Should an eight grader been reading The-V Club in hindsight? Probably not. Did my parents care no, because those books lead to me wanting to go to Borders frequently. That lead to my mom ordering book lots off Ebay for me.

Freshmen year of high school. My summer reading requirement books were.

Catherine Called Birdie for History

Make Lemonade for English

Speak for English.

That’s right Speak was required reading for all freshmen in my school. Please keep in mind. I went to a Catholic All Girls high school. Speak is the fifth most banned books in the US. I will never understand how my English teacher saw this as important and required reading but parts of this country constantly ban it. Then again, my school require us to read a lot of works deem inappropriate. I’ll go into that another day.

This English teacher made us write a short story based on Starry Night. My first assignment and it was an 85. My English and art teachers were always my biggest supporters of my endeavors.

This English teacher made a difference. I went from a 65 student to second honors. Most of my high school teachers believed and supported us in our decisions. My art teacher could easily read her students, she had an incredible knack for it. She has surely inspired one of my characters.

I may have gone a tangent. The reason I write is because someone saw pass the past and allowed me to live in the moment. That’s what writing is, write? Writing the moment?

Love ya,

Cyndi Whitaker

I’m just doing a little experiment.

I’m taking the first three chapters of my unedited book and publishing them on this page. I’m doing this to see if there will be any major changes later on.

It’s about

In the winter of 2007, Bartley Thames III wants five things to happen before 2008.

1. Pass his SATs 2. Get his dream girl Leanna Banks’s attention 3. Get into film school 4. Have his first kiss. 5 The most important not to live in his father’s shadow.

Good luck. He has taken the SAT three times at this point with disappointing results. Leanna Banks has been spreading rumors he’s gay since freshmen year. His father thinks film school is a waste of time. 4. A Dare Ruined His first kiss. 5. He thinks he knows

Things can only get better right? His parents are in the middle of a messy divorce. His sister has run off because of some scandalous photos making appearances on MySpace. He watched his dream girl have a mental breakdown. A few days before Christmas, he finds his mother’s blood on the kitchen floor. It should be an easy shut case, shut and close. Somehow everyone is looking at him. His senior year was supposed to be fun right? Not a nightmare of murderous torture, witchcraft, and the most confusing crush on a girl who doesn’t look at him with guilty eyes. The year can only get better, right?

Chapter 1 

December 3, 2007  

Bartley and his sister Bailey both hated these family dinners. Their parents were in the middle of a messy divorce. They had tried, they had been to couples’ therapy; they separated for a bit. During that time, his father took a job as an adjunct professor for a university. His sister started acting up around that time. Their mother found her stash of ‘lingerie’ Bartley wished he could wipe his memory clean of the lack of material. There was only one person she could be wearing that for, and he wanted none of the details about his best friend and sister hooking up.  

“Bartley Thames III you have to start thinking about your future.” his father advised, folding his hands. Bartley had heard that comment on more than one occasion since he quit baseball three years ago. He knew he didn’t have social status. The only ones he ever was around were Bailey when she wasn’t in drama practice and Noah. Noah and he would film and act in skits and Bailey was constantly changing them to make them better. It would annoy him, but her input was necessary. He and Noah had been looking at UCLA since sophomore year, ever since Bartley found out they had a killer film program and  Noah wanted far away from his sister Rebellion, who deemed herself an East Coast bitch.  

“I think about my future.” Bartley said. “Bart, enough,” his mother said, slamming her hand against the table as silverware flew a few centimeters in the air. “What Branch, I’m just saying he needs to think about how he’s going to take over my business in a few years.” His father said. “What business? You barely own property,” his mother said, trying not to scream. “Oh, come on, I’m  a motivational speaker.” His father boasted. Motivational? His father taught debate and voice in diction. “How’s your practice going?” Bartley said, changing the subject. Bailey clapped her hands as she was shaking in her seat with pure excitement. “I have a supporting role this weekend, just found out at rehearsal earlier,” she said.  

“I thought sophomores don’t get parts?” he asked, recalling it upset her last year they wouldn’t consider her for a lead. “Literally at the end of rehearsal I was pulled aside, after all I was Leanna and Sara’s understudy.” She said with a smile. Bartley was happy to have her talk about anything, if it meant cutting their dad off his talking future. “Apparently Leanna was removed for abandoning a bunch of freshman girls in Bayonne,” she paused, as she took a sip of her glass of water. Their mother and father were giving each other looks of disgust. “Leanna Banks did that?” he asked. Leanna Banks was the girl he had been crushing on since freshmen year, but she had called him and Noah a gay couple since they entered the school. 

“How’d they find out?” he added. “Oh, Reba overheard the freshmen talking about, and then asked the drama club president Charlie to step in, but that’s not the point, the point is I’m a sophomore who has an actual role, not a line or two an actual role!” Bailey said, as she was jumping in her seat. Bartley focused on her necklace that their father had given her. It was a discolored rose golden necklace with a green gem. They both knew it was a pity gift. He had turned down baseball tickets from his father. “You’re all going to be there, right? This is super important to me?” Bailey asked as their parents said not a word. “I’ll be there,” Bartley said with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Bartley, enough of that. Are you looking at any realistic colleges?” his father asked. “Dad, he’s waiting to hear from UCLA,” Bailey said. Bartley just sipped his water, avoiding any fight that he would get into with his father. “That’s a stretch, but I hear they have a great team.” his father said. Bartley just shook his head, refusing to swallow the liquid in his mouth.  

“Bart, he volunteers at the parks department, he makes small films, he’s fine.” his mother said. “He’s a disgrace.” His father corrected his wife. Bartley finally swallow as he felt his chest tighten but didn’t want to cause a scene. He knew it was tightened by the nerves and aggravation his father inflicted upon him. Bartley knew he would never be a perfect son and had given up on trying to please him. He knew that was a lie he desperately wanted to believe.    

“Aren’t you begging me for a check at the moment?” his mother asked, tapping her long, freshly cleared manicured nails against the table. “Typical,” his father said, swirling his wine glass around. “Bart, what would you like to say?” his mother asked. “He’s coddled and unprepared for college.” his father said. “I’m going to film school,” Bartley said. “Delusional because you have filled his head with ideas of, he can be anything he wants.” His father said. “Can I be excused?” Bartley asked. “Yes,” his mother said with a sigh.   

***** 

Legal Name Change Requirements    

He saw a photo of his grandparents on his desk. Those were people to idolize. They were a couple who put everyone before themselves. He was often told he heavily resembled his grandfather. This man was a war hero with a heart of gold, who many say gave up all his dreams for a woman. His grandfather would correct those beliefs. He swore there was nothing to give up when he had a family to gain. That is someone Bartley Thames III would have no problem being like. “Remember, kid, we make miracles. They just don’t happen.” That was a few years ago, before he became a shell of the man he knew, the man could barely remember his mother or sister, but it was the oddest thing, he could remember him and his best friend. That was it, he wondered if this upset his mother.  

“Bradley Beekman.” Brad typed in. His mother knocked on his  door. “I’m sorry.” She said. What did she have to apologize for? ”I want to change my name,” he said. “Please don’t overreact.” His mother pleaded. “Mom, he wants me to be him and I will never be him.” He said, trying fighting the tears attempting to leave his eye ducts. “You can’t just change your name.” His mother said. “Mom, I want to be my own person.” he said. “To what?” his mother questioned.    

“Brad, Bradley Beekman.” Brad said. “When you graduate, you can change it.” His mom said. He got her up from his computer chair and hugged her. “I’m not going by Bartley anymore.” Brad said. “That’s fine, good night.” She said, clicking his light off. “Mom, come on, I’m working on a paper.” Brad said, exhausted. “Nice try, bed young man.” She said. Brad lied on his mattress looking up at the collage Bailey made for him last Christmas. Looking at the photos, it was clear his parents were bound to split. There was only one photo of them together.  Brad grabbed his cellphone sitting on his nightstand.  

“Noa u up?”- Brad    

Brad’s phone rang. “Are you crazy? My text messages are limited.” Noah said. Brad could hear Rebellion, Noah’s sister, singing secret lovers in the background. “Bell go away.” Noah shouted. “How’s that going?” Brad asked, biting at a cuticle. “She’s still here. She’s blacklisted from almost every boarding school.” Noah replied. “Mom thinks she can handle homeschooling me.” Rebellion said. She swiped the phone. “Don’t you get sick of being in the tabloids?” Brad asked.  

Rebellion V. Redwood was being spoken about in multiple trash talk tv shows. The publicity allowed her ego to become enlarged. “Ya know, Noah talk to the twat.” She said. “I’m sorry.” Noah said, defeated.  “She hasn’t changed a bit.” Brad noted. “Hey can we finish this at school? I’m tired, Bell just never stops.” Noah requested. “Sounds like my dad, night.” Brad said, flipping his phone close. His door peaked open. Bailey was standing there. She looked like she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and her lips were bleeding. She had a habit of picking at them when nervous.  

“Come in Bails,” he said as he sat up. Bailey closed his door and sat on his computer chair. He had a few notebooks sitting on his desk as she peered at them. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Leanna Banks,” she answered as she opened his notebooks and started marking them up.. “Because of the play?” he said as he rubbed his face in frustration. Bailey nodded her head as she highlighted notes she made in his book.  

“She has been sending me nasty MySpace messages and emails.” She sighed, closing his notebook. “Aren’t you the one who always says to ignore those messages?” he asked. “Can you just talk to her for me?” she responded, turning to his face. “You think she’s going to listen to me? Hey, Leanna, stop sending nasty messages to my sister.” Brad responded with his eyes becoming itchy. “Could you try? I know you have a few classes with her.” His sister pleaded as she tried to hide her tears. “Is this about the play or the divorce?” he questioned as he rose from the bed. She jumped from the chair and hugged him. 

“I know it’s not fair,” he said as her teardrops hit his basic white shirt. ”Wanna watch I Dream of Jeannine?” she asked as she pulled away. “Mom won’t be happy if she finds you on the couch again,” he responded.  

His sister hadn’t been sleeping in her room the past few months. He presumed it was due to the fact she really couldn’t sleep, and their mom unplugged the internet at eleven-thirty every night. He couldn’t fathom sleeping on the couch almost every night, but it made sense to him. Bailey and their father would stay up late on the weekends watching reruns of old television shows. He guessed it was her way of coping with their father not being around. It pained him to say their dad was still trying, but he couldn’t shake the feeling both his parents were keeping a bigger secret from them.  

“Bails, I have a quiz in the morning. I have to get to bed,” he said. “Okay,” she said with her voice low and her head hung as she softly closed the door. If it were a Friday night, he would have stayed awake in the living room. They would have snuck a frozen pizza or a few cups of ramen. His sister would have convinced him there were shows worth watching on Disney Channel at odd hours of the night. It would feel like when they were kids. His sister opened the door one more time. “Please, just one episode?” she asked. Brad sighed. “Just one,” he said as he jumped out of his bed. 

Chapter 2   

Brad yawned before stretching. He sighed, feeling stubble on his face. One more year of rules and uniforms. He didn’t mind going to Catholic school. Most days, he went unnoticed. To some, that was a blessing, but he just wanted to be seen. He wanted his existence to be known. His sister had figured it out. Why was it difficult for him? He grunted, his bare feet touching the warm carpet. There was his uniform shirt with a bulldog mascot that was wrinkled and khaki pants. He sighed, pulling up his pants, struggling to button them. He was unsure if he had gained weight or if the pants were designed smaller. 

“Bart! We’re gonna be late!” Bailey shouted. Her hair was parted and skunked, her plaid skirt was at least five inches above her knee, she had pins all along her vest, she did this purposely to get out of wearing it throughout the day. Her eyeliner was heavy. “Bailey don’t you get sick of being in trouble,” he said, shaking his head.  

“Not really.” She said, holding her necklace tightly with a grin on her face. He assumed she got over whatever nonsense she and Leanna were arguing about last night. He took a hairbrush off his dresser and quickly rushed in through his thick black hair. 

“You’re going to talk to Leanna, right?” Bailey said, stealing her brother’s senior sweater. “No,” he said quickly, pulling his socks up as he struggled to keep his balance. “The sweater or the Leanna thing,” she asked. Brad just sighed and surrendered it. He knew she would agitate him till it was hers. “Noah’s here,” Bailey said, running out of his room. “Only a few months left,” he whispered to himself. Then he would be far away from this place.   

*****   

“You can’t change your name because you don’t like your dad,” Noah said, holding a small box in his hands. “Sure I can,” he said. “Okay, to what?” Noah asked, attempting to open the door. “Brad,” he said with a smile. Noah chuckled at the absurdity. “Brad, Brad? You are essentially just changing one letter.” Noah said. “Noa, he’s acting sketchy,” Brad said. “Yeah, because your mom brings home the bacon,” Noah said as they walked through the crowded halls. “It’s something weird. He gave Bailey a necklace, it just didn’t feel right.” Brad said. “You got a weird feeling from a necklace,” Noah said, rolling his eyes. “Guys! Don’t forget this weekend, is our production of Bye Bye Birdie.” The drama dorks were handing out fliers with Bailey. Brad recognized one from his Religion and Art class. She and Leanna Banks always had heated debates.   

“How important is this show?” Noah asked as they stopped at their lockers. Noah twisted his lock open and carefully placed his small, peculiar box on a stack of his textbooks. Brad noticed Leanna Banks take all the fliers from them and tossed them in the air. “She replaced Leanna in the show,” he said as he watched the girl whose name he could never remember exchanging a few quips. “Yikes,” Noah said, blowing his light brown hair from his face.  

“She wanted me to talk to her,” Brad said, opening his locker and staring at the notebooks he had barely touched in the last few weeks. His mind was hyper focused on passing the SAT. “Yeah, but she is your girlfriend,” Brad said. “Why is it such a big deal if we are dating?” Noah snapped. “Why did she recently buy lace underwear?” Brad said. “She didn’t. She’s hiding them for Reba,” Noah answered. Brad closed his locker and smiled. That was an awkward conversation he could semi-avoid. “Hey, I’ll have videos finished after school. I just had a college interview last week.” Noah said. “Which school?” he asked. Noah quickly threw his notebooks in his backpack. The bell rang and Noah grabbed his box and slammed his locker shut, speed walking out of Brad’s direction. Which he found odd, they were in the same homeroom. 

“Noa,” Brad said, noticing the underclassmen. Neither Noah nor Brad had grown an inch since freshman year. Most freshmen girls were taller than them. “Oh my God, Noah!” Reba shouted as she rushed over to him. Reba Oaks was the kind of girl who could crawl under one’s skin. She was petite, she was always copying upperclassmen’s hairstyles, no one was certain if her hair was meant to be brown or black. Her gray eyes hidden behind popped lenses of cheap dollar store glasses, to be taken seriously. She had almost flawless skin, except for her forehead. Brad would sometimes get distracted by the zits above her thick eyebrows.    

“Reba,” Noah said unbothered. “Do you have it? Bailey said you spent the last three days working on it.” Reba said. Brad had eyed him as Noah sunk into his chair. “Rebecca, sit down!” their teacher shouted. Reba took a seat on Noah’s desk, picking up the little box. She gazed at it, astonished. “Is it bright?” she asked. “Unbelievable,” Brad said under his breath. “Yup,” Noah said. “When’s the next video? It’s been two weeks?” Reba asked. “We’re on hiatus right now,” Brad said. “Oh, are you coming this weekend? Sophomores never get roles.” Reba said. “Yeah, we’ll be there,” Brad said, trying to be polite. It was hard because Reba was usually energetic this early in the morning, it was a nightmare. “Oh, and if you guys want, there’s a cast party after if you want to come,” Reba said. “Aren’t your cast parties just singing in a diner after the show?” Noah asked. “No, we have them at people’s houses. They get pretty wild,” Reba answered.   

“Yeah, I believe a bunch of drama dorks have wild parties,” Brad scoffed, leaning back in his desk chair, hoping the weight wouldn’t make an unhinged noise. “Bart, they totally are,” Reba said. “He just changed his name to Brad,” Noah said, handing her the box. “Brad? Boring. If I was going to change my name, it’d be something more exciting.” Reba said. “This should be good, you mean, like Rebecca?” Brad said. “Rebecca is boring. I changed it to Vera or Betsey,” Reba explained, starry-eyed. “Why not Becky?” Noah asked. “So everyone can assume I’m Bailey’s shadow, pass.” She said as she jumped off the desk as the bell rang. “See ya later,” Reba said. Noah and he headed to their lockers. “Noah, family dinner was just weird,” Brad said. “Your parents are in the middle of a divorce. It’s weird to even have a family dinner,” Noah said, opening his locker to grab two textbooks. “Noa, there’s something else. I can feel it,” Brad said.      

“Noahy!” Bailey shouted, running in the hallways. She kissed him on the cheek, Noah laughed, Brad couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Bart, you don’t have to be that way,” Bailey said as a teacher was walking around the halls with a ruler. “Oh, great, she’s the dean of the students today,” Bailey said, tying her sweater around her waist. “Ms. Thames, the office now,” she said. “See ya later,” Bailey said as she entered  the office nearby.  

“Who’s she impressing?” Brad questioned, skived out  by his baby sister growing up. He was a little envious that puberty had given her a height taller than a measly five feet. Brad was sick of being mistaken for a freshman. All the girls he deemed cute would laugh in his face anytime he attempted to ask them out. The girls that paid attention to him, he didn’t want to even hold a three-word conversation with. Bailey had overheard this in the past. She would call him shallow and disgusting. He couldn’t argue with her. 

Brad cracked his neck. Noah shook his head. Brad knew Noah hated that sound. “Sorry Ms. Lincoln, it won’t happen again,” Bailey laughed as she left the office in thick navy tights. The school had them on hand for the girls, who thought they were going to walk around with their underwear on display. It was the same for the boys who thought they were going to get away with facial hair. A box of cheap razors sat in a desk drawer. Brad had made that mistake once of attempting to show up with what little facial hair appearing above his lips. “It’ll be up today,” Noah said. Brad had forgotten about the videos for a moment. The only ones who watched their videos were his sister and Reba.  

“Bart, um Brad, maybe we should go to that party,” Noah suggested as they walked into their first-period class. Brad took a seat at their table. This was unusual behavior for Noah. Noah was the type who hated the party scene. He found them to be a waste of time. Brad contributed that to his older sister’s wild behavior. Their first-period Religion class was a mix of juniors and seniors and his eyes were focused on Leanna and that girl tossing paper balls at each other. He noticed Leanna spit her gum out and put it in her hair. The girl just took a pair of scissors out of her backpack and snipped it unbothered. How could someone be that calm after that stunt? His sister was right, not that she didn’t say it aloud, but he was a coward.   

 “We’re seniors and we never went to a party,” Noah said, nudging him in the gut. “Since when do you care about that?” Brad asked, doodling in his notebook. The bell rang. “Truth?” Noah wrote in his notebook. “Mr. Redwood, please refrain from passing notes in my class. I’m sure whatever thrilling conversation Mr. Thames would like to have can wait till after my class.” Ms. Lincoln said, carrying a stack of papers. They were most likely for the midterm that was to take place next month. “Yes, Ms. Lincoln,” Noah responded, opening his notebook.   

“Ladies and gentlemen today, I would like to speak about life lessons.” Ms. Lincoln said, standing front and center. Her hair was always short and curly, she had a physique that most would consider large, her eyes hidden behind a set of thick frame lenses, her attire was always bright and playful. One junior was already arguing with Ms. Lincoln. He never remembered her name but always had on the most brightly colored obnoxious headbands. Her vest was covered in pins.  

“May I give you all a piece of advice? Life is not fair, get over it.” Ms. Lincoln wrote on the blackboard. Leanna raised her hand. “Ms. L isn’t that a little unreasonable?” Leanna Banks asked. Brad couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had long blonde hair with chunky highlights, her hazel eyes twinkled, and she owned an hourglass body. Most jealous girls said she was bound to peak before nineteen. 

Ms. Lincoln shook her head as wiped her hands clean of the white dusty chalk. “Wow, it’s not even a full five minutes and they’re at it,” Noah said under his breath. Brad was looking over his notes, his chicken scratch handwriting was sometimes even undetectable to him. Brad was counting the days till winter break. They were closely approaching. He was snapped back into reality when he heard the name Sean mentioned. Noah shook his head, wanting Ms. Lincoln to get back on the topic.

“Did she say Sean?” Brad wrote in the corner of his notebook as he nudged Noah. Noah wrote in the margins of his notebook. “There was only one Sean, and he’s gone.” The name alone made his skin crawl. He wondered if their lives would have been worse without Bailey around. 

It was the first day of the school year. Brad had promised to monitor his sister, Bailey. She was standing at their locker, trying to comprehend a six-day schedule. “It doesn’t make sense A B C D E does but F?” she whined, holding a bright yellow folder. “It just means Monday you follow F day and then Tuesday would be A day,” Noah explained. “This is stupid.” Bailey sighed. “You get used to it,” Brad said as he tossed his textbooks in his backpack like no big deal. Bailey’s eyes grew with fear, looking at the twenty pounds her brother threw in his bag like no big deal. 

 “Why?” she asked. “Why what?” Brad asked. “All the textbooks?” she inquired. “He’s afraid of Sean River, the vain of our existence here. Leanna Banks is just as bad, but we don’t have gym class with her,” Noah explained. Sean shoved them towards their lockers. Leanna was chuckling by his side. “Welcome back fags,” Sean said. Noah always swore he would be a nobody after graduation, so why fight with him?  

“What is your problem?” Bailey demanded. “That’s cute, pink tails thinks she can ask questions.” He laughed. Bailey pulled out her pink tails and grinned. Her hair flowed with ease. She handed Noah her vest. He held her maroon vest in his hands. Brad attempted to stand up straight but was paralyzed by fear. 

“I’m Bailey Thames and I’m your worst nightmare.” She grinned. “Really?” Sean chuckled. “See you are a pretty boy, you’ve got the looks, you’ve got the teachers fool but I will not wait for life to kick your ass,” she said as she sideswiped him, Sean fell to the floor, Leanna gasped as a group of laughter was heard among the halls, Brad noticed Ms. Lincoln smiled and turn her back. He found it odd, Ms. Lincoln never allowed that behavior.  

“Bitch,” he muttered. “Listen, I’m an equal opportunist,” she said, bending over him, her face brightened with a wicked smile. “But you can hit me right back,” she said, pointing at her cheek over in rouge. “Sean, come on,” Leanna said, giving him a hand. “No,” Sean said. “Touch my brother or his friend again and you’ll find out how vicious I can be,” she said, standing tall as she put her hair back into her pink tails. The bell rang, the halls disbursed.  

“Had to make an impression already, huh?” Brad grunted. “You allow jerks like that to belittle you, I won’t,” Bailey said as she took her vest back from Noah. She placed it on with ease. “Which room is 112?” she asked. They both pointed down the hall. “Thanks,” she said as she skipped off. “She just made our lives worse,” Brad said. “Maybe Sean is actually afraid of her?” Noah questioned, trying not to shake as the last warning bell rang. Sean had feared Bailey. Ever since that day he had never bothered the two of them again. 

“Dear, what’s your end goal?” Leanna asked, obnoxiously chewing her gum. “Get us the rights to our intended jukebox musical,” Charlie said, folding her arms, leaning back in her chair. She was at least two hundred and forty pounds, and he feared he would fall out of his chairs most days. How was she testing the laws of faith, like it was no big deal? He was envious that she was acting so casual about it. “You have an abortion scene in that script. The PTA will never approve that,” Leanna said. “That wasn’t the question,” Charlie said. 

Noah raised his hand. Ms. Lincoln pointed at him. “Ms. Lincoln, can we get back on topic?” Noah asked. The class threw paper balls while they booed at him. Ms. Lincoln always allowed these two to go at one another at least once a week. “We have a midterm coming up and I like to pass the latest Degrassi drama,” Noah grunted. “Mr. Redwood is right, you all go on winter break shortly and luckily I have the study packets, right here.” Ms. Lincoln said, handing them out.      

Chapter 3  

“Mom?” Brad asked, casting his backpack to the floor, Noah following close behind him. “Pizza rolls?” Brad asked, entering the kitchen. “Yeah, what midterms are you worried about?” Noah asked, opening his backpack, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Math,” Brad responded, aggravated, as Noah pulled out his laptop. “What are you doing?” Brad asked, preheating the oven. Noah responded, blowing his hair out of his face, “I just have to add some music to finish the video.”  

“Just cut it already,” Brad said, taking a seat across from Noah. ”Bailey’s obsessed with it being longer than hers,” Noah said, clicking around on his laptop. “You’re not a doll,” Brad said, resting his head on the table, trying to keep his eyes open. “Midterms aren’t going to kill you,” Noah noted. “No, but my mom will. Do you know how much money I spend on tuition?” Brad responded by intimating his mother. That’s all he heard any time he got anything below a B-, he did study, he gave it all he could but it wasn’t easy because Bailey was an honor roll student and she never opened a book. “You’re overreacting,” Noah said, still typing away. “Noa, we can’t be lucky like you. Have you ever once struggled with anything?” Brad said.   

Noah Redwood was a tad taller than Brad, but only by an inch or two. His brown hair had become longer than most girls at their school. He possessed a slim waist. Noah was considered a genius, born into a family founded on billions. He intimidated the other competitors at science fairs. Robotic teams backed away from him, and he exceeded most teachers’ expectations, except for Ms. Lincoln. Art was the only class he struggled with; Brad wouldn’t ask the question that was on everyone’s mind in that class. Noah’s grandma was a well-known retired artist whose sculptures and abstract paintings affected the modern art world. “I’m not perfect.” Noah scoffed. The timer went off, and Brad threw a tray of pizza rolls in the oven. Brad leaned against the oven, folding his arms.     

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to that party?” Noah asked, looking up from his laptop. “What aren’t you telling me?” Brad asked, unfolding his arms. “I think she’s cheating on me,” Noah responded, going back to his laptop. “With who? She’s only ever with Reba.” Brad asked, stunned that the thought would even cross his mind. Bailey could be annoying, but she was madly in love with Noah. “She’s been distant and closed off,” Noah confessed, shutting his laptop closed. “Did you just finish the videos?” Brad questioned, hoping to end any conversation about his sister being a cheater.   

“Bart, sorry Brad, I get that the divorce is difficult, but I want her to know I’m here for her,” Noah said with a sigh. “Is that why you won’t cut your hair? To please my sister?” Brad asked, feeling his stomach rumbling. “Maybe, when she’s not distant, she’s psychotic. And when I told her I wasn’t going away for college,” Noah said. “You’re not going away?” Brad cut him off. Brad was always under the impression they’d be at UCLA together. He’d study film and Noah would study something science-related. They would get an apartment off-campus and navigate the world together.  

“No, and it doesn’t have to do with your sister,” Noah said. “Sure, it doesn’t,” Brad said, rolling his eyes. Noah was quiet as he stared at the back glass door, watching the flurries fall to the uncut grass in Brad’s yard. The tire swing they used to have became unhinged. The tree branches were nearly ready to snap into pieces. “Noa?” Brad asked, bothered by his unhinged silence. “My grandma has been going to the doctor a lot more than usual,” Noah said. “Isn’t that just because she’s getting older?” Brad asked, getting up from his seat. Noah’s eyes shifted to his laptop. “Maybe, I just posted the video, and I’ll post the next one next week,” Noah said.  

Brad wanted to argue with him, but he was afraid of confrontation even with people he had known all his life. Brad looked at Noah as he opened Brad’s practice SATs workbooks. Brad heard the timer go off and just threw the tray on the stovetop. He bit into a cheesy little roll and burnt his tongue. 

“I just have a gut feeling, I’m not supposed to leave,” Noah said, putting his laptop in his backpack. “I spoke with Banks today,” Noah said as he marked all the answers in red. “Why?” he questioned, nearly dropping a scolding pan on himself. Noah looked up at him and shook his head. “Because she’s being obnoxious to Bailey because of me,” Noah said. Brad placed the pan back on the stove and ran his hand under cold water, as he could feel it blistering. “She and I are in the lead for valedictorian,” he explained. Brad turned off the water and shook his hand. “Noa, would it be possible to control someone with jewelry?” Brad questioned, recalling his eyes that had deceived him quite a few times last night.    

“Yeah, it’s called an engagement ring,” Noah said, pulling out his sketchbook. “Ms. Lincoln still won’t give you a break?” Brad said, tossing the pizza rolls on a plate and placing it on the table. Brad sat down and looked up at the ceiling. Somehow his doodles were B material, but Noah’s sketches were D work. “She thinks I’m going to art school. Even if computer science doesn’t work out, I have a backup plan,” Noah said, erasing with a force that the pages shed. Brad stood up and turned the stereo on to a local college station that was always giving out tickets. He knew it was legit because a majority of the students at their school had won once a week. “Since when do you like emo?” Noah questioned.    

“Since my parents’ denial fest,” Brad said, sitting back down sulking. “You know what would help?” Noah asked as he switched to his colored pencils. “I don’t want to be annoyed by Reba and the drama dorks singing Cats,” Brad responded, crossing his arms. “Come on, we can always leave,” Noah said. “Fine,” Brad grunted. These plays were becoming a reminder of when he and his family had supported everyone fully. “When are you officially changing your name?” Noah asked.

“After graduation, my mom thinks if I change it now, it’ll be harder to graduate,” Brad said. “When are you just going to tell Reba you’re not interested?” Noah said “That’s social suicide,” Brad said, noticing the pencil shavings sitting on the wooden polished table. He knew Rebecca “Reba” Oaks had a crush on him. She made her way into his room whenever she was hanging out with Bailey. Brad tried to hint to her he wasn’t interested. She was bubbly and sensitive. It was a disastrous combination. If he simply said I like you as a friend, she would cry and he would be vilified. 

“Bart, are you home yet?” his mother called in as the door closed. “Yeah,” he replied. “Give me a hand with the groceries, please,” she called. Brad shrugged and Noah followed behind. There were fewer bags than he was used to. The temperature must have dropped, the room was colder. He realized he had forgotten to turn the heat on when he came home. 

“How’s it going Noah.” his mother asked, placing bags on the counter. “Alright,” Noah replied. “Why is the oven on? Are you trying to start a fire?” his mother asked, turning the knob off. “I just took something out,” Brad mumbled. “Bailey’s still at practice?” his mother asked. “She said she was spending the night at Reba’s.” Brad responded; Noah looked at him with suspicion. Brad shook his head no, knowing Noah’s mind was running wild. “Reba? Oh, Rebecca.” his mother said. She had been running back and forth between the city and the island frequently. Brad was trying not to take advantage of his mother being absent more than usual.  

 “How’s the real-estate business?” Noah said. “Pretty good,” his mother said. “Really, my dad keeps telling me no one’s buying.” Noah said, unbagging some groceries. He was stacking cans on top of each other. “My place is doing well.” His mother said, placing those cans in a cabinet neither of the boys could reach. “I guess you’re lucky. My dad said they’re going to have to lay-off about 50,000 people across the country.” Noah said callously. His mother shrugged, placing the rest of the cans away as Brad was struggling to reach the other cabinet. 

“Bart, don’t worry about that.” his mother said. “My grandma wants to know, are you guys coming for Christmas dinner?” Noah asked. “Bart and Bailey should be. I just have to check with some listings.” His mother responded. “Who’s buying on Christmas eve?” Brad questioned. “It’s complicated,” she sighed. Complicated? Was it really or was there a truth none of them were ready to face?    

*****  

Noah and Brad were sitting in his room, playing Clue. It was a board game Brad could never win. Noah had always been analytical for his own good and Brad couldn’t lie to save his life. “You’re in the kitchen with a dagger,” Noah said, unamused. “My mom’s lying about something,” Brad noted, throwing his cards at the board. “Maybe the divorce is a reminder,” Noah said.  

Brad stood up and looked out his window. Flurries were coming down at an abnormal speed. “Do you think they will cancel school tomorrow?” Brad asked. Noah laughed. It was well deserved. Our Lady of Lord closed twice for a snow day in the four years they attended the school and it only closed because the buses weren’t running.

“Our school rarely closes, hey can I spend the night. I can’t take another day of Bell, “Noah responded, putting the game pieces away. “I guess,” Brad said, as he pulled the extra sleeping bag out from under his bed.   There was a knock at the door. Bailey opened it, she looked miserable. Her eyeliner had faded, her tights torn. 

“Noah, are you staying for dinner?” she asked. “Bails, I thought you were spending the night at Reba’s,” Brad said. “She’s acting weird,” Bailey said. “I guess your practice didn’t go well.” Noah said. She threw herself on Brad’s bed and screamed into a pillow. “Stop being dramatic,” Brad said, pulling his pillow from her.  

“They canceled school tomorrow, the lead isn’t even off book, and we lost a full day of rehearsal,” Bailey whined. “They closed school?” Brad and Noah said in unison. “The parking lot had two feet of snow. Mrs. Oaks’ dropped everyone off. She came in and demanded we all get out and started a fight with Ms. Lincoln.” Bailey said as she grabbed Noah’s hand and pulled him away from his room. He overheard Bailey going on about how Ms. Lincoln wanted one more hour with her cast but Mrs. Oaks wasn’t having it. Brad entered the living room, with his gaming console, the wires were tangled on the floor and he was becoming flustered trying to connect the adapter to the television. 

“Kid, are you okay?” his mother asked. “I’m fine,” he grunted after a brutal setup. He was heavily smashing buttons, the joystick was on the verge of snapping. “I just want to make sure with the divorce you know we both love you,” she said, taking a seat next to him. “Yeah, okay,” Brad said, hunched over, staring at the screen flashing bright colors. “He cares about you, he’s just not good at showing it.” She said with very little conviction in her voice. He knew she was in denial. His mother hadn’t played favorites. Although it had come across that way to Bailey, Brad just stayed out of trouble .  

Brad paused his game and looked into his mother’s green eyes; her black hair was showing gray strands. A box of dye in the bathroom did not belong to Bailey, since she usually skunked her black hair with blonde streaks. They didn’t have their father’s amethyst eyes. Bailey always wanted them. Whenever his father looked at him, he felt transparent, with all his secrets on display without his consent.  

“Don’t lie,” Brad said. “Just because I don’t love him, doesn’t mean he doesn’t love both his kids.” His mother said. “Mom, he has made it clear time and time again,” Brad responded, feeling his temples forming into an undesired pounding of the mind. This was a normal reaction anytime his father was discussed. “You know that’s not true.” His mother said. “Is dinner almost ready?” he asked, trying to keep his anger in check and not smash his controller. “Yes, Bailey, that door better be open.” His mother said, leaving the couch to check the hallway. “God mom!” Bailey shouted. “No need for the attitude.” His mother said. “There is when you don’t trust me with my boyfriend. We’re just watching YouTube videos, that’s it.” Bailey snapped.