Page 2 of Expressionate
"Watch after Love and Trish. I put some money in your account," he's saying. "Call me if you have any trouble. I shouldn't be gone for too long, but they haven't exactly given me fulldetails."
"I'm sure Pennsylvania will be wonderful," Anne gushes. "Philadelphia is such a largecity."
Dad grins and shakes his head. "I'm only flying into Philadelphia," he says. "I'm not staying there." He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek again. "I'll call when I getin."
My heart races in my chest before stumbling over the edge of a steep cliff and diving, headfirst, into disappointment. I watch Dad get into his truck and back out. Why is he leavingnow? When we just moved in. He didn’t even say goodbye. I watch the taillights of his truck fade up the road and disappear completely as he turns a corner. Tears prick my eyes. It’s notfair.
Anne doesn't even notice me watching when she walks back inside. I stay at the window for a long time after he's gone, and only when Anne calls me down, sometime later, do I move. And when I move, I do so slowly, because I can't comprehend why my dad’s gone. It was obvious by his attire that he left to go on a business trip. He told Anne he wasn't sure how long he would beaway.
When did he have time to plan this?I think.What about the new house? Why didn’t he tell me?Why did he leave me alone with Anne?When I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn into the living room, she's sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand. She looks at meexpectantly.
"You have some unpacking to do," she says, nodding to the kitchen. "Get to it." With that, she flips on the TV and promptly ignoresme.
I blink and head toward the kitchen. Several minutes later, Trish comes fumbling down the stairs as well, her hair pulled back in two cutebraids.
"Mom!" she calls, "there are kids outside on their bikes! Can I goplay?"
I pause, looking at her. There were no kids in the trailer park. Only old people and weird middle-aged couples with missing teeth and magic black eyes that disappeared and reappeared depending on whether or not blue and red lights had lit up the neighborhood the nightbefore.
"Sure," Anne calls, "just stay where you can hear me when I call, or I'll send Love afteryou."
"Yes, ma'am!" Trish says excitedly before turning to me. "You want to come?" sheasks.
"She has work to do," Anneanswers.
I watch Trish's crestfallen face and the way her shoulders droop. I force myself to smile and lean over to hugher.
"It's okay," I say. "Maybe next time." She wavers in front of me, unsure if she should go now that she knows I can't. "Don't worry about me," I urge her. "Go havefun."
She hesitates for a moment more, but the thought of meeting the neighborhood kids is too thrilling and soon she's waving goodbye and heading out the door. I watch as she goes before I pull down one of the boxes from the kitchen counter and start to unpack. Anne continues to ignore me, and I can only hope that's how the rest of my dad's business trip will go. If she just ignores me, things will be justfine.
I’ll befine.
Ihope.
Prologue: Part Two
Tax
13 yearsold
My arms and legs are sore as fuck. I've got bruises on my face, on my arms – hell, they're on my shins too. I've got bruises on my bruises, and my dad tells me that each and every one of them makes me a man. They're supposed to give me pride – I'm supposed to beproudof what I'm doing, of beating other kids to a bloody fucking pulp. But I'm not. I can't be. I don't understand how this is supposed to make me a man at all. I've only been doing it for a couple of years – not a decade like some of the older guys. Some of them started as early as six or seven I hear. It makes me sick, but I'm not exactly in the position to do anything aboutit.
Thankfully, I'm not squeamish about the blood. I once fought a kid who was. Poor kid. I punched him in the face, and I'm pretty sure I broke his nose. He put one hand to his face and pulled it away before he promptly passed out. He was a skinny guy too. Those are the ones you know aren't good fighters because most of the fighters – I won't call them kids because none of us really are anymore – fight for their food. If they lose, they don't eat. It's a dog eat dog world. Or rather, dog starving dog world because we're all starving for something outhere.
I close my eyes and hold my breath for a moment, releasing it in a gust as someone opens the cage and my dad pushes me in. "You got this, boy," he says, eyeing the competition. It's Corbin Jung. I've fought him before. I watch him with a narrow gaze. "You win this match for me, you hear me, boy?" Dad says. "You win it for your mom, win it forAlly."
Fuck that, I think. And fuck him. I don't do this shit for him or for Mom. She's a bitch anyway. Always high as fuck. Dad sticks it in her and probably half of the dads here tonight do the same. There's no telling if the man at my back is even my real father. I don't do this shit for either of them. I do it for Ally. My little sister needs me, and I won't let her down. If I keep fighting, I can keep her safe. If I keep fighting she won't end up likeMom.
I stare down at my hands as the gate closes behind me. She's always been sunshine, my Ally. I will always be nothing but blood. I raise my gaze to Corbin who looks back with sunken eyes. He circles me, and I raise my fists, doing the same. Foot to the side, I keep moving. We assess each other – Corbin and I. He's bulked up a bit since I last saw him. He must have won a few more fights. Either that or whoever makes him fight is feeding him steroids. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened here. There are so few rules. What rules do exist aren't written down. We justknow.
Rule 1, I think as Corbin jumps forward, raising his fist. I dodge.No one talks shit about the fights.If you do and you're caught, you'redead.
Rule 2.I raise my own fist and slam it into Corbin's cheek. He doesn't even hesitate to use the momentum to come barreling around and shove a knuckled fist right back at me.You don't have to fight fair.I see Corbin's right hook coming a bit too late and it lands on my jaw, knocking mebackward.
Rule 3.My whole head is spinning, and I try to right myself before Corbin comes at me again. He's like a fucking shark, if he smells weakness, he'll come down extra hard.If you kill someone in the ring, you get double what you were promised, but you have to dispose of the body.Corbin and I start circling each otheragain.
Then there are the other rules. The rules the fighters and I have. No, they aren't written down either and no, we never talk about them. They're the unspoken rules. The ones we keep to survive both mentally andphysically.
