Max smirks, biting his bottom lip as his eyes drift knowingly around my face. “I know exactly the type of person you are. People like you lack what it takes to survive. You can’t do shit without mommy and daddy holding your hand. You walk on the steps placed before you, while people like me have to struggle to get one foot ahead of the other, but we do it on our own. No fucking handouts. You’re so used to shit being handed to you on a silver platter, born with a silver fucking spoon in your mouth, that you just can’t see it. You think you did the right thing? You think you had the right to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong? But, you didn’t. Do you have any idea what you did to me?” he asks, his head tipping to the side. He doesn’t wait for me to answer, he keeps speaking. “You destroyed everything; you ruined my fucking life. Do you really not see that? And you think I give a shit about a thank you from you? How naive are you?”
Right then, I can see the pain in his eyes. The hurt. The sadness. It’s there for a single breath until he blinks it all away, forcing it back under the surface.
Any fear I feel melts away as I question everything I did that night. I never took the time to see it from his point of view. I never thought about what my words would mean for him.
Did I really ruin his life?
It was never my intention to screw up his life. I just answered the questions honestly. That’s what anyone else would have done, right?
“You mean nothing to me, do you understand that? You’re the fucking mouse and I’m the big bad cat, and I’m going to make you—”
“Max!” Amy yells as she grabs his shoulder and pulls him out of my face. “Back the fuck up off her!” Getting between us, Amy blocks him from me. “What the hell is wrong with you? Can’t get pleasure from torturing guys anymore, so you moved on to women?”
“This doesn’t involve you, Amy, mind your own business.”
“It involves me now, Ramon. Go pick on someone else, not this poor girl.” Shoving his shoulders, Amy grabs my forearm and pulls me back toward the field. “Come on, Prairie. I told you he was a dick.” She gives him one last angry look over her shoulder, then softens her eyes as we walk back to the track. Her voice is more tender and comforting as she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have encouraged you. Max is damaged, Prairie, he’s no good. My advice to you is just steer clear of him. You said your piece, and he’ll either accept it or he won’t, but don’t let him get to you.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Nodding in agreement, I cross my arms over my chest as we climb up the hill.
It isn’t his reaction that’s bothering me. I’m upset over his words. He’s blaming me for everything. I’m a martyr for his hate, the one he can point to when he needs to feel better.
But is he right? Did I destroy his life?
It’s hard to think that my statement was the deciding factor in anything. I don’t want to be the reason his life is miserable.
How could I be the cause? Could that really be the truth?
I’ll have to talk to my uncle to see if I can get some more answers. I need to know who this boy is, and why he seems to hate everything around him.
If I am the reason, then I’ll apologize for that too.
Because I never meant to cause any harm, I only meant to help.
4
Prairie
“Prairie, I didn’t expect to see you here.” My uncle holds the door open for me, then closes it, and walks to his desk.
“Hey, Uncle Greg, I don’t mean to interrupt you. If you’re busy, I can come back.” Twisting the sleeve of my jacket, I lean back against the door.
His office is small, covered in awards he’s won over the years, and pictures of him with the mayor and other politicians. My uncle has been a part of this force for years, starting out as a beat cop, and working his way up.
“No, it’s fine, you’re always welcome here.” He smiles and holds out his hand toward the chair at the front of his desk. “Come on in, have a seat. How was school? Today was the first day, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, my eyes checking out a few of the pictures. “It was about as good as I could expect.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” Taking his seat behind the desk, he fixes a stack of papers, and pushes them to the side. Leaning back in his chair, he holds out his arms. “So, what brings you here? Your dad didn’t mention anything about you popping over.”