Page 3 of Kings Don't Break
I forgot all about it—it still throbs if I move it too much, but I’ve been wearing long sleeves at school to cover it up.
I jerk my arm away from her. “Mind your business. I don’t even know you.”
“Well… you’re going to,” she says in a smart-alecky tone. “We’ll be in the same class, won’t we?”
Probably so. Pulsboro Elementary’s small enough that there’s only one or two classes per grade level.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t know you… and… and I don’t like you very much. You come over here laughing at me and showing me up climbing the tree. Why would I wanna go over your place for dinner?”
As soon as I say what I’ve said, I know I’ve finally done it.
I’ve hurt the girl’s feelings.
She slow blinks several times. Tears shine in her eyes and her chin quivers.
Oh, no. Here it comes. The waterworks.
Girls love breaking out in cries and making boys the bad guys.
But she doesn’t let a single tear fall. She sucks in a sharp breath and then mumbles, “Fine.”
I’m speechless watching as she swings upside down for a brief second before letting go of the branch completely. She flips over and lands perfectly, right side up on her feet.
How the hell did she do that?! And why can’t I be that cool?!
She takes off without another word or look at me. She’s decided I’m no good and not worth any more of her time.
The screen door to her house slams shut.
Her old man’s on his way out to grab more things from the truck. He glances at his upset daughter as she scurries past him and then looks over at me.
Yep. I’m already the bad guy.
I fold my arms and glare at him. Much like Pa would.
He doesn’t intimidate me, and I don’t feel bad for running his daughter off.
…except, I sorta do. The longer I stay put on the tree branch and watch the house, waiting to see if she’ll make another appearance, I wonder if maybe I really was a jerk.
She seemed like she was just trying to hang out. Even if she did it in an annoying way.
I huff out a sigh and roll my eyes at how she’s got me feeling guilty when I barely know her name.
Korine.
Getting down from the tree’s almost as hard as getting up. I struggle and cut up my palm with bitter thoughts about how easy it had looked when she did it.
It’s official. I don’t like the girl. I don’t care how bad I feel. I’ll get over it.
“BLAKE!” Pa roars from inside the house. “Where the hell’d you go?! Get me another cold one!”
Dread sinks into me. My shoulders slump and I drag my feet, following the sound of his angry voice. It’ll be another night of his fits and bad mood. Another night of peanut butter and jelly for dinner. Meanwhile, my new next-door neighbors will be having a pot roast (I smell it wafting in the air later on).
More than once I consider heading over to knock on their door and apologize.
The girl had said her mom liked having company over. She had seemed nice… like one of those TV moms.
As the sun sets and the sky turns into night, I peek out the window and happen to catch the girl looking too. Her eyes widen at the sight of me catching her, then she tugs the curtain back over the window.
