Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

She looked confused. “Why not?”

“He’s been sick,” Carter said before I could speak, and Kelly squeezed my leg underneath the table. They still crowded on either side of me while we ate.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he gets better.”

“He will,” I said. I must have put too much emphasis on the words because she looked at me funny.

Carter and Kelly pushed against me and I knew what they were trying to say.

GORDO HANDED me a cell phone. It wasn’t fancy. It was functional. It was awesome. He had programmed his number, the shop’s, the diner’s, and the rest of guys’ into it.

“You keep this with you, okay? But don’t you dare use it in class unless it’s an emergency.”

I nodded, touching the screen lightly. “I have my own phone number?” I asked in awe.

And he smiled at me. That little smile I knew was for me alone. “Yeah, man. You got your own number.”

I said, “Thanks, Gordo,” and I hugged him again.

He laughed in my ear and I forgot that I had hated him for a little while.

IT WAS Wednesday and Joe wasn’t there.

CARTER AND Kelly made me put their numbers in my new phone. They gave me their parents’. And Joe’s, because apparently he had one too, even though he was only eleven. I didn’t know why little kids needed phones, but as soon as I had his number, I stared at it. I couldn’t figure out how to do a text message, so I didn’t do anything at all.

CHRIS TOLD me that Jessie was hinting at him that I should ask her out again. I rolled my eyes when they laughed and whistled.

I WALKED down the road to the house. Dirt bloomed up in little clouds as I dragged my feet. The sky was gray and the clouds were threatening rain.

And there he was. Standing there. Wide, bright eyes.

I’d known him for almost a year. He’d grown during that time. His brothers still called him a runt, but I didn’t think it’d be true that much longer. He’d be big like the rest of them. He was a Bennett, after all.

His eyes never left me as I walked forward slowly, unsure of my place. He didn’t reach out for my hand when I got close. Part of me wanted to be angry, to say, It was just one fucking dinner, it was just one day that I missed, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, you can’t be like this. It was a small part, but it was there and I hated myself for it.

And then he said, “Hey, Ox,” in a small voice so unlike him that it all just went away.

So I said, “Hi, Joe,” and I sounded kind of rough.

He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch my hand but stopped himself. I waited, not wanting to push.

He said, “I wanted to see you.” He looked down at his feet and kicked a dried-out leaf. Somewhere, a bird sang a song that ached.

I said the only thing that came to mind. “I got a cell phone. I have your number. I don’t know how to text. Can you teach me? Because I want to text you things and I don’t know how.”

He looked up at me with those big eyes and his bottom lip was trembling. “Yeah. Yeah. I can teach you. It’s not hard. Do you love her?”

I said, “No. I don’t know her like that.”

And he jumped into my arms then, wrapping himself around me and crying into my neck. I held him tightly and I guess I wasn’t a man yet because my eyes leaked too. I told him I was so sorry I hadn’t been there for Sunday dinner and that it would never happen again because he was Joe and I was Ox and that was how things went.

He shook and sobbed and my neck felt sticky but eventually, he calmed and curled up against my chest. Once settled, he took a deep breath, like he was inhaling every part of me. I carried him home.

THEY WERE all waiting for us when we got to the house at the end of the lane. Joe was asleep, his face in the crook of my neck, his arms dangling at his sides.

“He was tired,” I said by way of explanation and I thought pack.

“He missed you,” Elizabeth said, her voice warm. “We did too.”