His phone vibrated. He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled it out. It was Cole. Jake shut off his iPod. “What do you want?”
“Nice greeting.”
“I’m bagged, man. What’s up?”
“Flash party.”
Jake sat up. The rusty bed frame creaked. “Party? Where?”
“No idea.”
Cole was one of those guys who dragged everything out, like a cat playing with a mouse before he ate it.
“That’s stupid. How can you not know where?”
“It’s a flash party. Could be anywhere. At a house. In an alley. In a barn …”
Jake sighed. “Okay. So how does it work?”
“You’ll get a text later tonight. It’ll tell everyone where to meet. You won’t know where until the last minute. What do you think? You in?”
In. Out. In. Out. Jake’s thoughts were spinning again. “I dunno.”
“Come on,” Cole whined. He paused, then pulled out his ace in the hole. “Shelly might be there.”
“Shelly? You sure?”
“I can’t guarantee she’ll show, but she’ll get the text.”
Jake stood up. He walked over to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. His mother was sitting beside Drew on the sofa. “What time?”
“Late,” Cole said. “So?”
Jake watched his mom put her arm around his little brother. Drew was the perfect son. He did well in school. Never got into trouble. Jake and his brother were like night and day. Jake couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. His mother would skin him alive if he snuck out again. She caught him once and nearly kicked him out. She gave him the silent treatment for an entire week. Wouldn’t say a single word to him, as if he didn’t exist.
“I dunno …”
Cole sighed dramatically. “Jake … Jake … this is so you. You say you wanna be cool. You say you wanna hook up with Shelly. Then you get a chance and you chicken out. You’re such a loser.”
Cole’s words stung. “Watch your mouth.”
“Whatever,” said Cole. “You’ll get the text. It’s up to you.”
Jake stared at his phone for a second, then pressed end.
Another decision. Why couldn’t life be simple? No problems. No decisions. Jake suddenly wished he was a wild animal. A wolf. A lone wolf, sitting pretty at the top of the food chain, with nothing and no one to worry about. Except maybe his next meal. Or the odd hunter. Or a possible run-in with an angry bear. And then there was the deterioration of his natural habitat …
Okay, so life sucks even for wolves, he thought.
Anyway, he’d made up his mind. Shelly or no Shelly, he was tired. He wasn’t going to any stupid flash party.
Just as Jake lay down again, his bedroom door burst open. His mother stood there with that crazed look she got when Jake had done something really horrible.
“I can’t believe you!” she hissed.
Jake winced. This wasn’t good. For a second he wondered if she’d overheard his conversation with Cole. Maybe she had his room bugged.
“I can’t believe you did such a rotten thing!”
Did? That was the past tense. Jake took a deep breath. Whatever it was, he’d already done it and she knew about it. No use in trying to talk his way out.
“Where’s Drew?” he asked.
“Brushing his teeth.” His mother eyed him with disgust. “How could you take your little brother’s money and gamble it away?”
Jake rolled his eyes. The money thing again.
“It’s bad enough you gamble your own money, my money, money I work hard for and give to you so you can buy lunch and clothes, but now you have to gamble Drew’s money away, too?”
“Listen, Mom …” he tried.
“Don’t listen Mom me! I’ve had enough of you. Lazy. Irresponsible. You’re throwing your life away, you know that? You’re so selfish. You’re exactly like —”
Jake sat up and cut her off before she could finish. “Like who? The Pigeon? Is that who I’m like?” He glared at her.
She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her expression had changed. She slumped against the wall as if her bones had evaporated. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it,” he snapped.
Whenever his mother compared him to his father — the father who had abandoned them when Drew was a baby and Jake was only four — Jake went ballistic. He barely had any memory of the guy, yet he hated him. He didn’t refer to him as Dad or even by his first name. He called him “The Pigeon” because, as his mom always said, “He flew the coop.”
“Listen to me, Jake,” she said. “You can be anything you want to be. You just gotta make the right choices.”
Jake hated it even more when she got all philosophical on him. She sounded exactly like Mr. Dean. And what did either of them know, anyway? Truth was, he couldn’t be anything. Not like Drew. Not like the smart one, the good one. If Jake wanted respect, he’d have to take it. Steal it. Like Damon and Vlad. Like the 5 Kings …
“Do I look like him?” he blurted out “Is that it? Is that why you hate me so much?”
He stared at her, waiting for something, anything, to tell him he was wrong. Seconds felt like hours. He gritted his teeth and flung himself back onto his bed, turning to face the wall.
“I love you, Jake …” Her voice trailed off. He could feel her stare pulling at him, trying to turn him around. He imagined the sticky-sweet smile masking her real feelings.
“Please, Jake,” she tried again. “I’m just tired. I can’t hold your hand anymore. You’re not a little kid. You’re going to do what you want to do. But it’s killing me. I feel like I’m just standing there watching you throw it all away.”
Her words hung in the air like a rotten odour. She was giving up on him. He could feel it. Maybe she already had. Maybe she drove his father away by nagging him all the time, too. Maybe it was all her fault.
Just then Drew bounced into the room. “You’re not going to believe who they eliminated!”
His mother sighed and left the room. Tears burned at the back of Jake’s eyes, but he held them prisoner. Drew went on and on about the show until he finally wore himself out.
For the longest time Jake lay awake thinking about his father. Why did he leave? Where did he go? His mother never talked about him. She’d thrown away all his pictures. Jake couldn’t even remember what he looked like. He was a phantom haunting the hollow rooms of Jake’s mind.
The only clear memory Jake had was of the time his father bought him a shiny red toboggan. It was mid-October and wouldn’t snow for quite a while, but his dad had promised that the very first snowfall they would go tobogganing together. By the time the snow arrived, his father was long gone. Jake kept that toboggan for years. Then one day he walked to the curb, tossed it onto the trash, and stood watching as the garbage truck crushed it.
Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
He was four years old, riding down the perfect hill covered in December snow. Strong arms cradled him from behind, helping him steer. He could feel icy wind on his cheeks, hot breath on his neck. Deep laughter filled the air. He was happy.
Then