Page 14 of Forgotten
“Yeah, this one really hurt.” I pout, then I point at an empty space in my mouth. I put the teeth back in my pocket and wipe my hand on my thigh.
“I’m sorry it hurt, Ash. I wish I was as cool as you are.” Grabbing the bike from his father, Ford steps out of the gate and joins me on the street.
“Have fun, lads.” Gregory Hale doesn’t tell us to be careful. He doesn’t need to yell at Ford, doesn’t push him on the floor when he’s home too late.
“I’ll be home soon, Daddy,” Ford reassures him.
I add, “We’ll be careful.”
“I know you will,” he answers, closing the gate as he watches us get on our bikes and go.
We pedal for a couple of minutes in silence before Ford turns to me. “So where are we going?”
“Not too far. Mom said not to go past the big street.”
Ford thinks for a while, then he stretches his hand towards me. He keeps his eyes on the street and bikes slowly, waiting for me to catch on. I let go of one handlebar and grab his extended hand in mine. It’s a strange feeling and I forget I’m supposed to keep pedalling.
“What can we do?” he sing-songs, our hands clasped together. “Let’s go to the little park?”
“No. My brothers are there.”
Ford squeezes my palm. “Okay. Just ride then?”
When he grins at me, the sun reflects in my eyes, making me lose my balance. I struggle to control the bike and I drop Ford’s hand, immediately missing the softness.
Next to me, Ford laughs. “Don’t fall down.” He teases me in a soft voice and it sounds nothing like my Daddy, nothing like Martin’s or Edwin’s. Something stings in myeyes and it must be the wind. I shouldn’t have left my cap at home.
“You hold me up, then!” I shriek back, biking closer to him until I can rest one hand on his arm. I stop my legs and let Ford carry me.
“No way!” Ford says out loud, biking away from me until my arm drops. Then, he comes closer again. “You drive me.” His fingers close around my wrist and my legs burn with the additional weight.
I look at him and I think about his hand, his warm skin. With a pant, I start biking faster. “Ford, get off.”
But he holds on to me and when I try to get rid of him the next time, I almost fall off the bike. It makes him laugh harder, his shoulder shaking. I want to hold his hand more, but I don’t.
With Ford, I don’t know what time it is anymore. We keep biking side by side around the neighbourhood until it feels late enough that Mom will be angry and then, we head back.
“One truth for one truth?” Ford asks me when we stop at his gate. Stepping off his bike, he stares at his dirty shoes before sitting on the sidewalk.
I have no idea what he means but I step off my bike and join him, bending my knees. “Dunno.” I mumble, embarrassed.
“I don’t feel like going to school tomorrow,” he tells me without looking at me. “I’m never smart enough and my teacher always says that my writing is unlegible.”
A pang in my chest: it sounds familiar. “Mine, too.” I should tell him that that word doesn’t make sense, instead I keep my mouth shut.
“I don’t like it,” Ford concludes. “I’d rather spend my time biking around with you.”
“Samesies,” I reply. Though, with the exclusion of my writing, I quite enjoy school. I like the colourful crayons, the smell of books and the sound of my pencils rattling in my pencil case. But Ford seems happy with my response so I don’t feel bad about lying.
“I think it’sillegible, though,” I add in a low voice.
Ford nudges my shoulder. “Okay, smarty-Ashy. Sorry you know bigger words. Now tell me your truth.”
“I don’t feel like going home right now,” I blurt and the moment it is out of my mouth, I regret it.
Straightening up, Ford looks at me. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” He suggests shyly, “We could play UNO.”
There is nothing I would like more. But I think of my mom; of little Erik wailing every time Daddy jerks his arm. I cannot leave Erik at home alone with them.
