SAME SHIT.
Different day.
Different climate.
New start.
Or, at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I dig through my still-packed bags, searching for a clean sock—it doesn’t even have to be a matching one, just a clean one—in the tiny shoebox of a bedroom at Henry’s cabin. Henry is my father. The father whom I haven’t seen since I was eleven years old. The father who bailed on our family long before that. The father whom Jesse barely even remembers, seeing as how he was only seven when our dad left for good. The father who reluctantly agreed to let Jess and me stay with him when shit hit the fan back home. All out of options, I unfolded the scrap of paper I’d managed to keep hidden from Mom all these years—the one with my dad’s address and phone number—and made the call. We went from the shittiest part of Oakland to River’s fucking Edge, Nowhere, USA. Population: us, and like three other people.
I grab one of Jesse’s socks and bring the dingy, off-white thing to my nose before deciding that it smells clean enough. I throw on my old pair of black army boots that hit just below my calf over my black leggings, button up my oversized flannel, and pull on my gray beanie over my messy hair. I make a mental note to buy us some actual winter clothes with my first paycheck. You’d think it would still be warm in October—granted, it’s practically November—but you’d be wrong. When people think of California, they think of palm trees and beaches. But here? Way up here? There’s nothing but mountains and pine trees. Which, I’ll admit, is part of its charm, and I’d probably be in heaven if it weren’t for the fact that I’m fucking freezing and Henry already lectured us not to turn the heat above sixty.
I stand with my hands on my hips, scanning the room for an acceptable hiding place. The mattress sits on the floor next to a busted old nightstand. The closet is overflowing with storage and trash bags full of God knows what. It’s not that I have anything of value to most people in this particular bag—besides the few bucks I have left to my name—but it’s all I own. My entire life has been reduced to three duffle bags. And if I’ve learned anything from growing up with an addict for a parent in Oakland, it’s always hide your shit. I bend over to zip my bag shut before wedging it between the nightstand and the mattress. It will have to do. Henry says River’s Edge isn’t like The Bay Area, and while that’s clear, I’d argue that people are the same at their core, regardless of their zip code. We’re all flawed, selfish humans doing what it takes in order to survive. Myself included.
I suck in a fortifying breath, taking in my new life, and mentally preparing myself for what today holds. I have to enroll Jesse in school, fight with him to get him there first, then apply to anywhere and everywhere in this one-horse town so I can pick up a job. Henry said he could try to find something for me to do at his auto shop once a week until I find something else, but what the hell do I know about cars? I mean, I could probably hotwire one, but I don’t know anything about maintenance. Plus, I need to work more than one day a week. I walk out of my new room, kicking the door shut behind me.
“Jess!” I yell once I enter the living room, only to find him still asleep, with one arm and one leg hanging off the edge of the couch. “I told you to get up twenty minutes ago!” I nudge him in the ass with my foot until he groans and rolls over.
“Why the fuck won’t you let this go?” Jess mumbles, pulling the blanket over his eyes. “I’d be more help getting a fucking job than wasting time with school.”
“It’s your senior year,” I argue, tugging the blanket off his face. “You can’t quit now.” I won’t let him. Where we come from, it’s a rarity to even make it that far. Myself included. I dropped out my junior year to work full-time and take care of him. I don’t regret my choice, but I want more for him.
Jess rolls his eyes and snatches an old cigarette out of the ashtray on the coffee table and lights it up before taking a drag. He stands and pulls on his crumpled-up jeans from the night before and throws on his beat-up brown boots, not even bothering to tie the laces.
“Happy?” He shrugs. “I’m dressed. Let’s fucking go.”
“It’s cold out,” I scold him, but I smile when he grabs his jacket and backpack off the recliner next to him.
“You’re bossy. Anyone ever tell you that?” He plucks his trusty skateboard that sits next to the front door, holding it under his arm.
“You love me anyway.” I knock him with my shoulder, eliciting another eye roll, but he can’t hide his smirk.
I open the door, pulling my jacket up to my chin. Holy shit, it’s cold. We don’t even take two steps outside before we both stop short.
“How are we getting there?” Jess asks, arching a brow.
“Fuck.”
Jess huffs out a laugh before turning back for the door. “I’m going back to bed.” In The Bay, we could walk almost anywhere we needed to go, and for anywhere else, we had BART. Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to work here.
“Wait, Jess,” I say, jerking my chin toward the old, shitty 4Runner with silver paint oxidized from the sun. It sits on the far side of the driveway, halfway in the yard. It’s a long shot. It might not have gas or even run. It’s old enough to be hotwired, though. Definitely an early nineties model.
“Worth a try, right?” I shrug, and Jess reluctantly makes his way over to the run-down SUV to check it out. I follow. He opens the door, and the sound of metal screeching against metal assaults my ears.
“The keys are in it,” he says, sounding about as baffled as I feel, but my face, along with any hope I had, falls because we
both know what that means. There’s no way anyone would leave the keys in a working vehicle. He tries them anyway, and to both our surprise, the engine roars to life. “No fucking way.”
“Eeek!” I squeal, hopping in as he slides over into the passenger seat.
“Good old Henry was right. This place is nothing like The Bay.”
“And look,” I say, pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket. “We still have time to get you to school.”
“You know, on second thought, this is stealing…” Jess says.
“And you suddenly have a problem with that on the day you start school?” I ask with an arched brow.
“I’m just sayin’. We might not want to steal from the person letting us live with him. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you and all that.”
“Fuck him.” I laugh. “He has years of making up to do. And this piece of shit doesn’t even begin to cover it.” I slide the seat forward as far as it will go and put the car in reverse. “This is the first day of our new life, little brother. Don’t screw it up.”
“You’re not his legal guardian?”
“No, ma’am. He’s my brother, though, and I’ve never had a problem enrolling him before.” God knows I’ve done it enough times between moving and Jess getting kicked out.
“That’s fine, as long as he does live with you and you both live within the district. You’ll need to fill out the Custodial Statement and Agreement forms, then come back with your proof of residence, and, if at all possible, a parent’s signature. He will be able to start as soon as we have that information,” the lady in front of me explains. She looks young. Maybe thirty, with blonde, stringy hair and a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her petite nose.
“Listen…” I start, leaning my forearm on the desk in front of me, my eyes locking onto the name on her desk plate, “Lacey. I will get you everything you need. But Jesse has already been out of school for two weeks. It’s his senior year. He’s going to have trouble catching up as it is.” It’s a damn lie. Jess is brilliant. The only way he won’t catch up is if he doesn’t try. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can look for a job. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that every day he misses is another day he’ll fall behind.”
Lacey worries her bottom lip, looking over at Jess who gives her his best innocent, underprivileged boy face.
Lacey sighs, and I know we’ve won. “Fine. He can start. Fill out these forms now, then bring me your proof of address and a parent’s signature tomorrow at the latest.”
“Thank you!” I say, slapping my palms down on her desk a little too enthusiastically, causing her to jump in her seat. “Really, thank you. We need more people like you working in the public school system.”
Lacey beams with pride, and Jess snorts out a laugh at my bullshitting before disguising it as a cough.