Page 31 of Inviting Trouble
“You’re twelve now; that’s a big deal,” Mr. Campbell had said, sitting him down on the sofa in the living room after a small Campbell family birthday party that overwhelmed Park. His birthday with his single druggie mom had always been a painful reminder to her that she was getting older and nothing special for him. Mr. Campbell had sent the others outside, though Park suspected Mad was hiding somewhere eavesdropping. The nine-year-old twerp was forever hanging around the big kids.
Park sat up straighter on the sofa. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Campbell leaned forward, elbows on his knees, from where he sat in his recliner chair. “This is a critical time for you to choose the path your life is gonna take. Are you gonna be a man who uses his fists when he can’t handle life or be a man who thinks first and takes action that will set him on a good path?”
Park didn’t reply. It was an obvious answer with a not-so-easy solution.
Mr. Campbell went on. “I don’t like all the fights you’re getting in. This is a destructive pattern, and I want it to stop.” His kind brown eyes met Park’s. “But you have to want that too.”
Park swallowed hard. He never wanted to disappoint Mr. Campbell. He always felt like he had to tread carefully in case Mr. Campbell changed his mind about him. “Yes, sir. I’ll try to do better.”
Mr. Campbell studied him for a long moment, taking his measure as a man, Park supposed. Park squared his shoulders, trying to be that man.
The older man spoke quietly. “You need to forgive your mom. She is what she is and you can’t change that. This is your family now. And I’m not just talking Campbells. I’m talking Ethan, Zach, Marcus, Ben, Nick. All of us are your family.” Those were the guys they hung around with from the Police Athletic League. They were over at the house all the time.
Park nodded.
“Your mom will always be a part of you, but she doesn’t have to be everything. She doesn’t have to rule you.”
“Yeah!” a pip-squeak voice chimed in. They both turned to see Mad peeking through the railing at the top of the stairs, where she must’ve been listening. Her dark brown hair was in a crooked ponytail, her brown eyes large in her face like a baby deer. Innocent. Fragile. “Your mom sucks!”
Honest.
“Madison Campbell,” Mr. Campbell barked, “we’ll be having a talk as soon as I’m done here with Park.”
Mad stood, leaning over the railing from the top of the stairs, making Park’s heart pound hard. It was nearly a ten-foot drop. He had to keep her alive.
“Get off the railing!” Park hollered.
She leaned even further over, grinning with a big gap of missing front teeth. Fearless as ever. “My mom sucks too. Don’t worry, Park, you got us.” Hers’s lisped from the gap in her teeth, reminding him how little she was. She raised a small clenched fist in solidarity.
He raised a fist back.
She hitched one denim-clad leg over the railing, and his heart stopped and then lurched painfully on as she slid down the railing in a blur. She crossed to him and made their fists bump.
“Go outside with your brothers,” Mr. Campbell snapped. “You’re in trouble, young lady.”
Mad strolled toward the front door, all sass and attitude.
“Coat,” Mr. Campbell ordered.
Mad snagged her red coat off the hook in the hall closet and carried it outside, not bothering to put it on even though it was February. Before the door shut behind her, they heard her holler to her brothers, “Dad says you have to let me play.”
Park fought back a grin. Her brothers hated having her on their team for anything because she was little and slow (compared to them). Park was the one who made sure she was included. He knew it sucked to feel like you were all alone, watching everyone else have fun.
Mr. Campbell took a deep breath and turned back to Park. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say? I want you to dig deep for that inner strength I know is in there and choose a different path. No more fistfights.”
“Yes, sir.” He wanted to be strong like Mr. Campbell. His own dad was weak, an alcoholic who split when Park’s baby sister died.
Mr. Campbell smiled, laugh lines forming around his eyes. “When’re you going to call me Dad? You’ve lived here two years. I told you you’re one of us.”
“Yes, sir, Dad.”
Mr. Campbell, his honorary dad, stood, held out a hand and pulled Park to his feet. His dad hugged him in a big bear hug. Park could count on one hand the number of times he’d been hugged. He felt surrounded by strength and love. Most of his previous hugs had been the quick kind from the very physical older brother Ty Campbell hugging him and pounding him on the back for scoring a goal or a basket. This felt different. Important.
His dad pulled back and ruffled Park’s hair. “All right, go outside and shoot hoops with the guys while I have a talk with Miss Sassy Pants.”
“Lotta beauties at this party,” Ty commented, jolting Park out of his memories.
