Exasperating, p.24
Exasperating, page 24
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What he fears is love.
Jackson gave him an almost feral grin.
“When you look like me, all hookups are easy.”
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“What do you mean you don’t get it? Sound it out.”
Dayton stared at the letters until they swam, his brow wrinkled and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. She always acted like it was so simple. Maybe it was. Maybe he really was just stupid. “Cuh-T-uh.”
“Cuh-T-uh?” she mocked. “That sound like any word you ever heard of, Dayton? Use your fucking brain. If you even have one. C-A-T. Cat. Cat. How fucking hard is that?”
Day’s heart shriveled in his chest, and he bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood. If he cried it would only get worse. She got real mean when he cried. “Men don’t cry,” she’d said. Babies cried. Was he a baby? “Sowwy,” he managed, wincing.
His head shot forward as his grandma’s hand connected with the back of his head. “Sah-REE. Not sowwy. Christ. What am I gonna do with you? You’re as stupid as your fucking mama was, but unlike her, you can’t make a living shaking your ass for money, so you better figure it out.”
At least she got away. Day hoped she did anyway. Nobody deserved to be trapped in this stupid, gross house with its icky stained walls and dirty floors and poop everywhere from Grandma’s two yappy dogs that bit his ankles and snapped at his face. He hated it there. He didn’t know why he even had to be there. He had to have a dad somewhere, right? Sarah had a dad. Xander had a dad. Joel had two moms, but they were nice. Why hadn’t his mom at least left Day with him?
Day stared down at his homework, relief flooding his system as he heard the screen door open and shut, his grandma muttering under her breath as she walked away. She was going next door to Jack’s place. She’d be there for a long time. Sometimes, she stayed all night. Day hated being by himself but he loved when she stayed away. He couldn’t use the stove yet, but he had taught himself to use the microwave. But he didn’t have to do that today.
Today was fried chicken day.
Day grabbed his book and flew out the door, running the four houses down to Sarah’s house. He skipped knocking on the door. Sarah wouldn’t be there. She was in the fort. Sarah’s dad was the coolest. He built her a fort at the top of the big tree in her backyard. Sarah’s mama also owned a restaurant in town, and they always had the best food at home.
Day let himself into the backyard, tucking his workbook into his jeans before climbing up the steps nailed to the big tree in the backyard, tapping out their secret knock before flinging open the door. Sarah lay in the corner, putting together a puzzle, her feet swaying as she worked, her black hair plaited along her shoulders in two braids. The tubes that helped her breathe stuck into her nostrils, a small green tank beside her. Sarah was the smartest person Day knew. She was a year older than him but she was two years ahead in school. She looked up as Day came in and slammed the door a little too hard.
One look at Day’s face and she forgot her puzzle. She sat crisscross applesauce in her overalls and a pink t-shirt that matched her favorite pink sequined Skechers. She handed him a plastic container, and Day’s stomach growled. He attacked the fried chicken and mac and cheese with his fingers, ignoring the fork that sat just to his left. Fried chicken day at the restaurant was Day’s favorite, so Sarah’s mama always made extra just for him.
While Day shoveled food into his mouth, Sarah took his notebook and carefully finished his homework, doing her best to make their handwriting match. Sarah thought of everything. Day knew it was cheating and that it was wrong, but the last time the teacher had called Day’s grandma, she’d beat him with a switch from the tree out back. The teacher said he had a learning problem. That things were mixed up in his brain and that there were programs to help. His grandma had beat him for embarrassing her. He always embarrassed her. It was bad enough he talked funny, now he couldn’t read. She’d called him the R word. The one the teacher said they weren’t allowed to say.
When his homework was done and his belly was full, they lay on the floor of Sarah’s fort, staring up past the branches of the tree to the sky above, watching the clouds roll by as the sun set. Sarah’s feet pointed one way and Day’s the other, their heads slotted together so they could both see.
“When I finally get my new lungs, I’m going to fly away to California and be a movie star,” Sarah said with a sigh. She always said that. She was going to be a big star and be on the tv.
Day couldn’t imagine wanting that kind of attention. People staring at him, listening to him talk, making fun of him. “Not me. The idea of a bunch of people sta-staring at me sounds kinda awful.”
He tried to avoid words with Rs and THs. They always made the w sound. His teacher said those were his ‘problem letters.’ He didn’t know what that meant other than that was when the other kids started laughing. His teacher tried to make them stop but she wasn’t with him at recess. Sarah said she thought maybe his eyes and his tongue didn’t talk to each other. His grandma said all letters were his problem, that he was just born dumb…like his mama. That was why he still couldn’t read.
“Nah, acting is neat. You get to be anybody you want, and you get to wear costumes and makeup and jewelry,” Sarah gushed, ignoring his slowed speech.
Wearing makeup and jewelry sounded fun, but Day would never do that again. He might be dumb, but he wasn’t that dumb. His grandma had flipped out when she’d seen Day and Sarah playing dress up, said dressing up was for girls and sissy boys. She always liked to use that word. Sissy. She called him that every time he cried, anytime he showed any sign of pain.
But Sarah always looked pretty in her fancy clothes and her mama’s big earrings and her scarlet lipstick, even if she sometimes put it on outside the lines. Day’s grandma said makeup was for sluts. He didn’t know what a slut was, but it had to be bad because his grandma spit it at him like she did the R word. Day liked the way girl clothes felt. They were soft and silky, and Sarah’s sneakers had sequins. Day didn’t understand how a fabric could be made just for a girl or just for a boy but he didn’t argue with his grandma.
“I don’t want to be he-ar wif-without you,” Day said, blushing as the words didn’t come out right once again.
As far as Day could see, anywhere was better than Challis, Idaho.
“You’ll come with me. I’ll need people.”
“Why?” Day asked.
Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. Movie stars and famous people have people that just do things for them. You could be the person who just does things for me and then we can be friends forever.”
Sarah started to cough, not a regular cough but one of those coughs that triggered spasms in her lungs. There was nothing to do but wait it out. When it finally died down, she looked pale, with purple crescent moons under her eyes. Sarah had something she called CF. It scarred up her lungs. It was why she needed new ones. But there was a list for new lungs so she had to wait her turn. It seemed weird that there was a list of people who needed new parts. But Sarah didn’t really seem bothered by it. She just sort of acted like it was normal.
Day wished somebody would give him a new brain or maybe a new tongue, then maybe his grandma would stop hating him. Sometimes, he didn’t think he wanted her to stop hating him. If she loved him then maybe that meant he was like her. He didn’t want to be like her. He hated her back. Sarah said it wasn’t nice to hate people, and he guessed that was true, but he was scared of his grandma. He hated going home. Shouldn’t it be okay to hate somebody who made you scared? Who hit you and was mean to you all the time?
“Promise me you’ll come with me to California when I get my new lungs,” Sarah said, holding up her pinky.
Anywhere was better than Idaho. He hooked his pinky with hers. “Okay. As soon as you get new lungs.”
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Thank you so much for reading Exasperating, Book 3 in my Elite Protection Services Series. I hope you loved reading this book as much as I loved writing it. The fourth book in the series, Infuriating, is available here.
If you’ve read my books before, you have probably come to realize that I have an addiction to writing about the psyche and exactly how both nature and nurture often play a part in who a person becomes. I spent years working as an RN in a psychiatric hospital, most of those years I spent with children aged anywhere from five to eighteen. It took a big toll on me and my own mental health, which is why writing these characters has become my own form of therapy. While sociopathic bodyguards and megalomaniacal cult leaders are all works of fiction, my heroes and villains are all drawn from real people who I encountered in my time as a nurse.
Wyatt, Elijah, and Robby are all grown-up versions of kids who I only met for a brief time, but to whom, for my own peace of mind, I needed to give a happy ending they may or may not have gotten in real life. As for the villains, I learned a long time ago, that sadly, it’s the people closest to you who often do the most damage. This is all a rather maudlin way of saying thank you for reading my books and loving my characters and allowing me to use these stories as my own therapy sessions.
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ONLEY JAMES is the pen name of YA author, Martina McAtee, who lives in Central Florida with her children, her pitbull, her weiner dog, and an ever-growing collection of shady looking cats. She splits her time between writing YA LGBT paranormal romances and writing adult m/m romances.
When not at her desk, you can find her mainlining Starbucks refreshers, whining about how much she has to do, and avoiding the things she has to do by binge-watching unhealthy amounts of television in one sitting. She loves ghost stories, true crime documentaries, obsessively scrolling social media, and writing kinky, snarky books about men who fall in love with other men.
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Onley James, Exasperating
