Page 3 of Against the Odds
To cap things off, Hobbes showed up at my elbow. “Come on, Fitzer, head on home. Tomorrow’s another day.” He grinned. “How long of a bag skate do you think Coach will give you?”
“Right. I stand up for the underdog and I get bag-skated!”
Hobbes’s grin faded and he grabbed my arm, pretend-friendly. “Enough, dude. Chill. You’re on camera. Smile and wave to the fans, and head home like a nice, polite Canadian.”
“I am a nice, polite Canadian.” I gritted my teeth, waved to the preteens who were watching me with wide eyes. Maybe they at least would be less inclined to grow up to be douchebags. Then I let my captain shove me towards Sully, and followed my roomie to his car.
“You gotta drive yourself tomorrow,” Sully said as he popped the locks. “I’m not getting up at six in the morning.”
But I would be. To let Coach rip me a new one for doing the right thing.Fuck my life.
CHAPTER 2
ZEKE
She’s dead, and I don’t really care.I stared down at the coffin in my stepmother’s open grave and felt almost nothing. Frustration, maybe, because I didn’t want to rearrange my whole life, but Krystal’s choice, making a left turn after the light went red, had dumped all her responsibilities on me. Sympathy for my half-brother, for sure, losing his mom like that. But Krystal hadn’t liked me and I hadn’t liked her, and I couldn’t feel otherwise now.
The pastor finished his prayer, and we all muttered, “Amen,” even though my family had never been that religious. Then he scattered a handful of dirt on the coffin, the little pebbles in it pattering like rain, and said, “We therefore commit the body of our sister, Krystal Evans, to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”
To my left, someone sobbed. Krystal’s sister, maybe. On my right, Josiah was white-faced and silent. The pastor bowed his head, then straightened and came over to us. “My sympathies and prayers are with you,” he said to Josiah. “Be certain that your mother’s soul is even now with God, while her body waits in its temporary resting place for the second coming of our Lord.”
Josiah flashed a wide-eyed look up at me, then turned away.
I said, “Thanks, Pastor Markham. Perhaps Krystal’s family could use your wisdom.” I gestured at where Krystal’s sister, older cousins, and mother huddled together, arms around each other.
Krystal’s mother raised her head at my words, gave the pastor a wan smile, and held out a hand. “Come, Josiah, sweetie, let’s go back to the house. You’ve done well, boy.”
With another glance my way, Josiah crossed to her and let himself be folded into an embrace. His stiff stance didn’t suggest he was happy about it, but he also didn’t resist when his grandmother straightened and drew him toward the parking lot. The whole collection of her relatives went with them.
The remaining guests offered me awkward condolences as they left, equally awkward for me, since I wasn’t feeling much loss. I just kept saying I’d pass their words on to Josiah. Mr. Fitzpatrick from next door paused in front of me. He was an elderly man, skinny and gray-haired, but with the kindest smile. He’d been at my door the day I came home on a moment’s notice to care for Josiah, offering whatever he could do to help, insisting I call him Roy, now I was grown and my father wasn’t around to insist on formality.
Behind him today was his grandson, Callum Fitzpatrick.
God, Callum had grown up hot. And tall. Well over six feet with a lean waist and thick thighs in those jeans, red hair, blue eyes, full lips, and a little cleft in his chin. He shook my hand and mumbled something, then headed off between the headstones without looking back. Roy watched him go. “Today probably brings back tough memories for Callum.”
I recalled that Callum had moved in next door after his parents died. Suddenly there’d been this loud, angry preteen in Mr. Fitzpatrick’s house. From my three-years-older vantage point, I’d decided he was a nuisance and avoided him. As anadult, having lost Dad when I was nineteen and now watching Josiah navigate his second loss, I had a bit more empathy. “Must’ve been hard.”
“He’s a good kid. Well, man now, obviously.” Roy turned back to me. “But today is about your family. What can I do for you? Shall I bring anything to the wake?”
“Krystal’s mother arranged for catering. I think they’re fine.”
“They?” He peered at me with kindly gray eyes. “What about you?”
“Me, too. I mean, they were much closer to Krystal, so they did the planning.” It was as close as I’d come all day to saying how disconnected I felt from the whole funeral process. I was living in our old house and, at least for now, was Josiah’s guardian, but from the moment the Thompsons had descended on us, they’d taken over. I was good for running errands and moving furniture, not much else. Not that Iwantedto decide what music Krystal would’ve selected or which foods were suitable for her mourners. Mrs. Thompson’s overbearing personality reminded me too much of Krystal’s to do anything except stand back.
“Well, for Josiah, then. I know Koda who works in my store does some babysitting on the side for extra cash. If you need someone, I bet they’d be glad to help out. Or you can send the boy over to me for an hour or two when I’m home, if you need to go out.”
“Don’t you think a twelve-year-old can stay by himself?” I remembered classmates babysitting around that age.
Roy blinked. “Well, I suppose so. I keep forgetting he’s that age. Seems like just last week he was a toddler following you around.”
I felt a sudden pang and my eyes stung. All through the funeral, I’d felt nothing, but yes, I missed those days when Josiah was little and thought I was the greatest ever, and whenDad was alive to occupy Krystal’s attention. “Been a while,” I managed to say.
“Sure has.” Roy patted my shoulder. “Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me. Store during work hours, and the house otherwise. And if you need a strong arm, Callum’s good about helping out.”
I couldn’t imagine asking Callum for anything. We were basically strangers, despite knowing each other for years, but I nodded.
Once the last stragglers had expressed their condolences and moved on, I paused by the graveside. Dad’s headstone stood next to the open grave. Krystal of course had chosen to be buried at his side. He’d always been her main focus. I thought about saying something to Dad, but talking to a headstone felt odd to me. I’d never visited his grave, with the effusive headstone Krystal had chosen. Dad wasn’t here.
