Unknown (Unknown Series Book 1) (4 page)

“I make fried plantain,” Abuela said, standing. “For Rylen. When he come back.”

Somehow, I didn’t think Ry’s favorite food was going to fix this.

Ry didn’t do football that fall or baseball in the spring. He cut his school load down to the bare minimum core classes and signed up for work study to get out early. Eventually, CAP had to be let go too. Rylen went from being a happy athlete with good grades to being stressed and barely scraping by with Ds. Each day he would come over at 5:30 on the dot for dinner, scarf it down to rush home, and be back at 8:30 when it got too dark to work. He took over paying his family’s bills, communicating with produce buyers and workmen. It was like watching a grown man caught in a teen’s lanky body. It seemed that overnight his voice abruptly lowered into somewhat of a rumble, like his dad’s. Hearing him talk on the phone with them, spouting off numbers and being a hardass negotiator, blew my mind.

Tater stayed quiet, watching with ire in his eyes as his best friend came and went, conducting business, Roscoe dutifully on his heel. Mom bought a dog bed for our covered porch. Tater stopped asking Ry to hang out, or if he was coming to watch the games. The answer was always the same. They didn’t joke around or laugh anymore. The tension was awful, and even Remy stopped trying to goad Tater into arguments when she visited.

The boys turned sixteen that spring, and Rylen started missing dinners. We’d wait until six and then put his plate in the fridge and reluctantly eat without him. I hated those nights. Nobody talked. It was like we’d lost him, or like he’d lost an irreplaceable part of his youth.

One of those warm evenings after dinner, I slid my feet into a pair of flip-flops and told everyone, “I’ll be back. Just taking a walk.”

The sun had dipped behind the mountains, turning the sky into a peach. I knew where my feet would take me, and I didn’t bother to stop them. All these years and I’d never gone on Fite property. At first it had been out of fear, and then out of respect for Rylen’s privacy. But lately I’d been missing him too much. I needed to see him and know he was okay. A perfectly straight row of sprouting potato vines led the way. How many of them had been planted by Rylen’s own strong hands?

As I got closer to the house, I heard the clucking chatter of chickens, and saw lots of hens and one rooster, all free roaming, pecking at the dirt. Details of the house’s dilapidation became apparent now; paint flecking off, missing siding and roof tiles, drooping drain pipes, tilted half-porch with rotted stairs. Stone slabs had been stacked to use as steps instead. Three old cars sat to the side with long weeds growing up around them. Further down was farm equipment in front of the barn. I felt nervous, like a trespasser. Roscoe came out from between two of the cars and gave a deep howl, making me jump. Then his tail wagged and he trotted over, ears swinging. He’d gone gray in the muzzle. I patted his head, and he rubbed his giant face against me, sliming my upper thigh and the top of my shorts.

I laughed, and a clank came from near the barn. A familiar figure pushed out from under the tractor, causing my belly to swoop.

“Roscoe, no.” Rylen’s deep voice made me shake. He stood up and cocked his head at me from afar, taking off his work gloves and tossing them next to the tire. “Amber?” The muscles in his arms flexed. Ry was nearly as tall as his dad now.

“Ye—” It came out squeaky, so I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Hey.”

He walked over, and it felt like I was seeing him for the first time, this new, grown-up version of Rylen Fite. He seemed so much . . . bigger, standing in front of me, appearing worried, smelling of motor oil and dirt with a hint of his familiar soap.

“What are you doing here?” He glanced toward his house and all around, shifting his feet as if embarrassed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. I was just checking on you. You missed dinner.” Again.

Why did I feel so nervous and stupid? Rylen’s eyes slid down to my chest in the tank top. His gaze became like my personal sun, heating me. He blinked and jerked his head toward the fields. I crossed my arms. I was still getting used to the whole boobs and bra thing. Certain bras lifted them up and made them look bigger. Lots of boys stared at school, which always made me uncomfortable, but to have Rylen look made me feel scorched in a satisfying way.

“I had to drive my mom to the store,” he said quietly.

“You . . . drove her?” I was so confused. “Is she not able to drive anymore?”

“She tried to, but ran into the mailbox.”

Oh. She’d been too drunk. I kicked a rock, still keeping my arms crossed. “But you don’t have your license yet.”

“You gonna tell on me, Pepper?” His mouth lifted in a small grin, and I couldn’t help but smile a little in return.

“Just be careful, ‘kay? I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

“It’s all good. I’m signed up for driving school this summer, so I’ll have my permit and license soon.”

“Don’t get too big for your britches,” I teased.

“No need to worry about that. A hick always knows his place.”

I frowned at his self-deprecation. “You’re not a hick.”

“Sure I am. It’s all right, though. Someday I’ll get the hell out of this town.”

He gave me an easy grin and reached around to pull my ponytail. I slapped at his hand and tried to smile back, but all I could think about was Rylen leaving town someday, and how much I hated that idea.

“So.” He gave my arm a slow-motion punch. “You’re finishing middle-school, huh? You’ll be at the high school with us next year.”

My shoulders rose and fell in a ‘no-big-deal’ shrug, though I was beyond excited. “You gonna let me ride to school with you guys or make me take the bus?”

“Me and you get the back seat. Tater can be our chauffeur.”

I laughed, imagining what Tater would have to say about that. Though Tater had different girlfriends every week, so he probably wouldn’t be alone in front. I imagined being in the back seat with Rylen, and I had to tighten my arms over my chest.

“Sun’s gone down,” Rylen said. “You cold?”

Nevada was funny like that. Hot as heck when the sun was out, then suddenly cold when it went down.

“Nah, I’m—”

“C’mere.” Rylen reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest, resting his chin on my head as he ran his hands up and down my upper arms to warm me. Through his shirt I could smell his soap stronger now. The same smell that always wafted from the bathroom after he showered. I freaking loved that smell. Not to sound creepy, but I sometimes used his gel-soap too, just to smell him throughout the day.

The way Rylen held me, turning his face to put his cheek against my forehead now, made me feel like this was about more than just keeping me warm. Like he’d needed a loving touch. How long had it been since I’d hugged him? Since
anyone
hugged him? I slowly released my arms and let them slide around to his back. I tried to keep a little space between us, but Rylen pulled me to him and my boobs pressed against his chest. I held my breath at first, afraid I might hyperventilate at the sensation. I let my fingers splay out against his back, and then I scratched the spot right in the middle.

He gave a groan and kicked a leg, making me laugh.

“Ew!” came a kid’s voice from the doorway. “Are y’all gonna do it?”

Rylen broke away so fast I stumbled back a step. A round boy stood behind the screen door. Heat burst into my cheeks as I registered what the boy had said. I’d heard in school that Rylen’s aunt got her three kids back. This must be the fifth grader, Marcus.

“Don’t be disrespectful, Marc. This is my friend Amber.”

“Aaaamberrrr,” Marcus said, making kissing sounds and grotesquely circling his tongue.

A younger boy and a toddler girl pushed beside Marcus, staring out from the behind the screen. Man . . . they looked like they really needed baths. It hurt my heart.

Rylen made a move forward, like he wanted to teach his cousin a lesson, but I grabbed his arm. A man in a ratty T-shirt with long hair came to the door and pushed his way through the kids. He shuffled out and past us, ignoring us, boots kicking up dirt, and went to the side of the house. Then proceeded to stop and pee on the wall. Rylen turned away and closed his eyes, his jaw locking. The tiny girl came out in her bare feet, dirty nightgown dragging the ground. She came straight to Rylen, and he picked her up. She laid her head on his shoulder and stared at me through stringy locks of blond hair.

“Macy, this is Amber,” Rylen said. Macy stared at me silently. “How ‘bout I give you a bath tonight, Mace.” Still, she said nothing. Just clung to Ry and watched me carefully.

In that moment I had a flash of the future, of Rylen as a man holding our child in his arms. A flush of surprise and embarrassment ran through me. Were these the kind of thoughts other thirteen-year-old girls had when they looked at boys? Is this what Mom meant when she told me hormones would make me feel strange and confused sometimes?

“Who’s out there?” came a woman’s scratchy voice from inside.

Rylen locked his jaw and set down Macy. “Go on in. I’ll be there soon.”

“You should go,” Rylen whispered to me, but it was too late. His mom swung the screen door wide and let it clatter shut behind her. She sauntered down the cinder block steps with a red plastic cup in her hand, eyeing me. Mayella was curvy and probably killer-gorgeous in her prime. She swished bleached hair from her eyes and looked me up and down.

“Well, look at you. You’re growin’ up real nice, aren’t you Autumn?”

“Amber,” Rylen corrected.

“Hi, ma’am,” I said quietly.

“Don’t
ma’am
me. I ain’t that old.” She watched me over the rim of the cup as she drank.

Sir
and
Ma’am
had nothing to do with age in our household. Military personnel and their families were just sort of conditioned to call everyone that.

She looked at Rylen. “You be careful, boy. Remember what I told you. Girls who think they’re better than you . . . they’ll eat you up and spit you out. You might be a catch right now . . .” She raised her cup and it sloshed. “Mr. Good-Looking Star Quarterback. But that ain’t gonna last.”

Rylen’s face tightened. “Yeah, Mama. Got it. And I’m not the quarter back no more.” He turned his head to look at me with blank eyes and said again, “You should go. I’ll be over once I get Macy to sleep.”

A huge, ratty knot formed in my stomach. I wanted to drag him away with me, but instead I nodded and gave his mom a nod good-bye too. Then I turned and jogged back into the potato field, all the way home to our manicured lawn, which looked and smelled more pristine than ever. Everything was wrong. I sat on the porch steps—the perfectly shaped and painted wood steps that I suddenly felt guilty to have. Mom peeked out the door at me.

“Why are you sitting out here in the dark? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, jumbled up inside. Behind me, I barely registered Mom tossing out my jacket and me sliding my arms in. An hour and a half passed before I saw Rylen’s shadowy figure trudging through the field toward me. When he got closer, he stopped and surveyed me a few seconds, then came and joined me, sitting by my side in silence.

“I don’t think I’m better than you,” I finally whispered. “I would never think that.”

He pulled his earlobe, a nervous gesture. “She wasn’t talking about you.”

She clearly had been. Hadn’t she? If not me, then what other girls was she talking about? Rylen didn’t have a girlfriend. Never had, that I knew of. There were always girls flanking him. Maybe she was talking about all girls, in general. I wanted to tell him she was wrong, but I didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable.

“Who was that man?” I asked.

“Don’t know. There’s always men in and out of the house.” He turned his head away and I couldn’t see his expression. Rylen always seemed strong, but he had to be hurting inside. I slid my hand into the crook of his arm and leaned against him.

A
whoosh
began in the distance, getting louder. Rylen looked up into the starlit sky. My grip on his arm tightened as a fighter jet zoomed over head, shaking the ground beneath us. Two more followed, filling my ears with their blasts of sound. Fighter jets flying low over our county was a normal occurrence, living so close to Nellis Air Force Base.

Rylen stared wistfully upward until it was silent again. He pulled his arm closer to his body, thereby pulling me closer too, and put his hand on top of mine. Together, we stayed like that a long time until Mom told us to come inside for bed.