Burnt (2 page)

At that my mom started giggling, and dad grunts in amusement. Uncle Pipe seems a little mad if his response is anything to go by

“Holy shit. You didn’t? Tell me you did not tell my son to interrupt my muff diving episodes on the live Wild ‘n’ Wet show to have a father son midnight snack.” Oh yeah. Mom is really laughing now. Heading towards the stairs uncle Pipe turns to look at mom. This time he does it with softer eyes, and his voice is calmer “I’ll make sure he isn’t listening again Brenna. I am sorry you had to deal with it and all, but shit. Midnight snack. Fuck me woman.”

I hear him getting closer to my hiding spot, so I rush down the hall shutting my door as quietly as I can. I have to be quiet because Declan is sleeping on the air mattress in my room. That’s where he always sleeps since he has been out of a crib anyway. Closing my eyes I pretend to be asleep. I feel uncle Pipe kiss the top of my head whispering,

“Night sweet Kenny. Dream Big.” He’s always said this to me when he picks a sleeping Declan up from our house. Or at least I think he does. The few times I’ve been awake when he has. I can’t be sure about the rest of the times, but it feel nice to think he does, so that’s what I chose believe. Walking around my bed, and heaving Declan up because Declan always stays asleep no matter what is happening. I think he could sleep through a bomb going off actually. Uncle Pipe whispers to him too when he has him firmly cradled in his arms. “Come on big fella. Time to go home. I’m sorry I can’t give you somethin like this, but you’ve got me, and I’ve got you, so we’ll be ok.”

That was the first time I remembered feeling really sad for uncle Pipe and Declan. He wanted to give my best friend a family, and he couldn’t. I didn’t know why he couldn’t at the time. I mean there are lots of pretty ladies around that liked kids. Weren’t there? Remember this is my eight-year-old self-thinking mind you. I wanted to do something for him that had meaning, maybe brought a smile to his face, so the next day, which was also the first day I can remember art being hugely important to me I drew uncle Pipe a picture. I’ll never forget what I drew, and neither would he. I drew blue sky, a huge shiny sun, green grass, and a big Oak tree like the one at the club house. Underneath it I drew uncle Pipe, Declan, and a pretty lady with long yellow hair, and red lips that were all smiling holding hands together.

I proudly presented my picture to uncle Pipe saying,

“You don’t have one, but I drew one for you till you get one for yourself uncle Pipe.” He looked at my picture, and I think I made him cry because his eyes got all shiny, and his smile was a bit sad. I thought he was mad at me at first and I started to cry too.

He wasn’t mad though. He scooped me up hugging me really tightly. Speaking into my curly brown hair he said,

“Don’t cry Tiny. This is the best picture ever. I’ll keep it forever.” He kissed my head, and scooted me away to play with Declan on the climbing frame. That picture has been on his fridge ever since. It’s yellowing a little, and a bit torn up, but it still takes pride of place smack bang in the centre of the fridge door.

When I was sixteen, for uncle Pipe’s fortieth birthday I did a painted re-creation of that picture. I was done on a four foot by two foot canvas. I used my acrylic paints, and added textured finishes through the leaves of the oak tree, and its trunk. It took me almost four months to complete, but the reaction from uncle Pipe was worth every frustrated yell, late night, and early morning I had dedicated to it. He was stunned speechless when I presented it to him. That’s not an easy thing to do with him. He kind of has a big mouth, and always has something to say. He openly shed a few tears that day too.

Currently that painting is hanging over his fireplace in the living room at his place. Uncle Pipe swears black and blue it will be the first thing he saves in the event of an emergency. Before Declan even. I hope he is joking about that part. Sometimes I see him looking at the painting wistfully. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I like to imagine it’s something good. Declan just looks sad when I see him staring at it occasionally.

All that being said, Declan who is now Dec to me because he grew up, and well you know he’s a boy, so he wanted a permanent nick name of his own and all, are still best friends. We went to grade school, and middle school together, and now high school. We hang out on weekends. Whether it’s at the club, or not. We do homework together. Go to movies, and go swimming together. We pretty much do everything together. That’s not to say we don’t have other friends though because we do. Uncle Max has a son our age too. William Stephen Andrews, or Billy he hates being called William, hangs out with us most of the time. Billy looks like his dad uncle Max. He’s got messy black hair that looks like he just got out of bed regardless of the time of day, brown eyes that border more on hazel, a swimmers build, and he’s tall at nearly six foot two inches. Not quite as tall as Dec, but still far taller than my five foot one. When Billy, Dec, and I are together I feel like I’m being overrun by testosterone, sometimes to the point of suffocation. Enter my best girl-friend, Louisa Jane McCormick.

Louisa and I met in eighth grade when she had just moved to Blackwater from California after her mom lost her job. Louisa is tall with long legs that I’m so envious of I feel the need to tell her so every day. She has short raven black hair cut in one of those pixie styles that frame her heart shaped face perfectly. With pretty blue eyes, and a figure that rivals a pin-up girl, what makes her my other best friend though is her personality. She’s extroverted, hilariously funny, and so outspoken. The outspoken part has got her, and me occasionally into a ton of trouble, but she wouldn’t be her without it, so I don’t really care. We made fast friends, and over the last four years that’s never changed. I hope it never does either.

Most people do a double take when we’re seen together in public. Let’s just say I can completely understand why. Louisa is almost the complete opposite to me in the looks department. Lucky bitch. See I take after my mom in the height department. I’m tiny. When I say tiny I mean I often get called a fairy because of my size. I ended up getting called it so often that Dec took to calling me that ALL the time. At first it annoyed the shit out of me. Now I could care less. Like everything, after a while you get used to it.

Now look, I don’t have hang ups over my size. I am what I am, and I’ve accepted that. My genetics have made me like this, and really I’m ok with that. I stand about five foot one in my stocking feet, and my feet and hands are tiny to match the rest of me. I’m glad I’m proportional at least. I have waist length wavy brown hair and green eyes. If you ask me my eyes are a little too big for my face, but Louisa says they’re like emerald orbs, and she wishes she had ones just like them. I must admit I do like my eyes if I had to pick out my favourite feature for the colour alone. They have little gold flecks in them, and I kind of like that they’re different from anyone else’s. A little like I am.

The only thing not tiny is my bust. Now I know what you’re going to say, ‘Lucky her’. No. Not at all. When I turned twelve it was like they popped out all at once. BAM! One day I was flat as a pancake, the next they were just out there. Loud and proud for everyone to see. Now I sport a pair of D-cup’s that hurt my back if I don’t wear the right bra, and a sports one on top when we run track at school. If that’s not bad enough, the looks I started getting from boys when I was about thirteen were just down right creepy. I started getting asked on dates, slipped notes in class, and openly ogled when I walked between classes. At this point I had no interest in boys, so it only added to my discomfort, and self-consciousness when they did that kind of stuff.

Needless to say, my dad threatened a whole heap of boys with his eyes, and nasty looks after dropping me off at school wearing his cut on his bike for a month straight. Dec didn’t like it much either. Over the course of that term when I turned thirteen he got in to a whole heap of fights. At the time I had no idea what they were over. Now I know that he overheard some of the guys in the locker room talking about what my breasts would feel like. Apparently Dec didn’t like what he heard very much shutting them up with his fist. Dad, or uncle Pipe came to school on those days to speak with the principal when they were called in. While I thought they would be angry with Dec, and he’d be grounded or something like that I saw them exiting the office patting him on the back telling him he’d done good. I asked Dec about what had happened. Why he wasn’t in trouble. He never offered an answer. He just ruffled my hair, kissed the top of my head, and told me it was nothing for me to worry about. It had been taken care of. I dropped it after that, and allowed him to keep his secrets. I’m sure he would have told me if it was really important anyway.

Like everything else time went on, and more interesting things happened leaving my bust size in the dust gathering cobwebs. These interesting things as they related to our friendship group began in our sophomore year.

Dec and Billy had heaps of girlfriends over the years. Starting from when we were about fifteen they were never short of company of the female persuasion. Swim team girls, cheerleaders, it didn’t matter they all wanted a piece of the boys that were family to me. At first I felt a little cast aside. Ignored. Maybe even a little worthless. That was until my mom sat me down, and explained the birds and the bees, and a little about what men’s needs were. It wasn’t like I didn’t know about sex already because I did. Hell, Louisa and I know how to spell YouTube. The internet is a wonderful thing for curious young girls. Unless you click on the wrong link then that is NOT so wonderful.

What my mom explained to me that day was different than the talks in school during health class, or the awkward sex talk from your average parents. It made me begin to accept the goings on for the men in my life. I began to look at things in a whole new light. Acceptance was the right word for it too. I didn’t have to like it, but it was the way of my, and their world.

“Now Kenny why do you look so sad? Tell mom what’s going on.”

My mom is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and I’m sitting beside her, rolling my Snapple between my hands. I’m in a bad mood, and it all boils down to one person. Dec. It isn’t like I’m angry with Dec, but I am something with him. My chest is tight, and I feel like I’m going to cry for no real reason. I can’t put my finger on the exact emotion, and I’m sure I want to.

“I’m not sad mom. I’m, I’m, I don’t know. Angry I think.”

“What’s made you angry honey? Are you alright?” I hate seeing my mom look worried. Mom being worried is something that upsets, and unsettles me so much that I try never to do it unnecessarily. She has enough to worry about with my dad, the club, and her mom being sick without me adding to her list of concerns. Especially over something that’s minor in comparison.

“Dec always has all these girls all over him. I don’t care most of the time, but when they look at me with nasty faces pushing me away when I try and talk to him, I don’t know. It makes me angry I suppose.” Dec being my best friend, and Billy the runner up for that title makes me immediately one of the most hated girls in school. Girls hate me because I’m so close to Dec, and he doesn’t give them the time of day. Guys don’t like me because Dec, and Billy warn them all away from me. That definitely doesn’t add to my popularity. School is a really lonely place sometimes. For all the kids in it I still feel utterly lonely at times.

My mom takes a deep breath, and sighs.

“I knew this day was coming baby girl it was only a matter of time.” I must look at her strangely because she starts stroking my hair looking at me with pity in her eyes. “Boys attached to the club, and men in it have something about them honey. They attract a lot of girls. Most of the time its only fun the boys are looking for with them. You know about the birds and the bees, so I’m not going to bother going over that again. Instead I’ll explain the other side. The side that most people that don’t live with an MC never hear.” She continues with this. “These men love hard baby, but in order to find that love they go through a whole heap of women.” At my very un-lady like snort she shushes me with her finger, waggling it in my face. “Hush now know-it-all. I know it sounds disgusting. Trust me it is even from where I’m sitting. Even though we think it’s disgusting for them to go through women like underwear it’s just their way. I’m not saying its right. It sure as hell isn’t, and I wish they didn’t do some of the things they do, but there’s no changing men like this, and the people that try are fools.” Sighing again she goes on. “You might not want to hear this. Actually I know you won’t, but your dad was no different.” My gagging must have made her crack her serious façade because she laughed at me. “Look, I’m not going to go into details, but let’s just leave it at, I am very well aware that these men are dogs in that arena and leave it at that. You aren’t stupid honey. You’ve been raised around these men, and the women that hang around the club. You know what goes on there, and you damn well know that the men that spend time with these women aren’t serious about any of them. They are place savers until the real thing comes along knocking them off their feet.”

“What if that never happens? What then mom?” A tear escapes my eye, and I curse my teenage hormones for making me look so weak. As much as this probably wasn’t a crying moment, I probably should have been disgusted not sitting here with tears running down my cheeks. I’m not sad for me though. I’m sad for men like uncle Pipe. What if they never find the woman they’re supposed to be with? It’s the thought that he may have to be alone the rest of his life that makes me the saddest.

Hugging me close, my mom does what she always does best. She makes me feel better immediately.