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His comment about his shoes make sense. His beat-up old truck. It all makes sense now. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t fucking know.” He shrugs and then lies back on the dock, kicking his feet in the water. “Play baseball.”
I lay beside him, wishing I could kiss him. “You’re really good.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m good or not, Hads.” His hands find his hair and he tugs. I want to grab his hands and wrap them around me, tell him—and make him believe—he can have anything he wants, despite what his dad wants for him. “I’m never going to be able to play ball like I want. For one, I don’t have the grades to get into college, and two, I’m not good enough to play pro.”
My brow furrows and I roll to face him. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not. Sure, I could probably hang with the boys in college, but I’ll never be what they are in the majors.”
I’m angry almost instantly. It surges through me in a heat wave. I hate that he doesn’t believe in himself. “You’re right. You suck. You’re not going anywhere if you have a shit attitude like that.”
Yep. I cussed. In front of him. But dang it, he’s pissing me off.
“Yeah, okay.” Ender laughs, shaking his head, but his eyes are glowing. He looks beautiful in the sunlight with his tan skin, blue eyes, and dark hair. He’s absolutely perfect and he doesn’t see it. He believes there’s nothing out there better for him. “If you think I’m not good enough, why doesn’t your dad look me in the eye?”
“Because Justin Hayes doesn’t like anyone. Ask my mom.” I hate it, but sadness takes my words and softens them. I don’t talk much about my parents separating, because like it or not, I crave freedom and I get it now that my dad’s not home anymore. But part of me is sad that our family is broken up.
Ender sighs. “Is their divorce final?”
I shrug. “Not yet. Legally separated though.”
He bumps his shoulder into mine. “My dad fucks around on my mom.”
My eyes widen. “No way. Really?”
His lips flatten. “Yep. Not my problem. I got a year left in this hell hole and then I’m out.”
I’m out? My heart beats faster and fear tightens in my throat. It’s the first I’ve ever heard of him wanting to leave Georgia. “Like… you’re leaving?”
I’m not given an answer. He looks over at me, as if he wants to tell me a lie, and then Myles’s dog comes barreling down the dock and lunges into the water after a snake. I jump back when I see it, squealing.
“That fucking dog hates me,” Ender notes, standing up and watching Buddy eye us with the snake in his mouth. “I don’t know why they call him Buddy either. He’s nobody’s buddy. I hope that snake bites him.”
“He’s not that bad.” I laugh, climbing onto Ender’s back. There’s no way I’m walking around with a snake near us. Behind us, I can see Arya coming down the grass with Walker and Roman, so I climb down. Ender steps back away from me. Though we aren’t hiding anything from anyone; any relationship we have isn’t public knowledge.
“Bullshit.” Ender backs away from the dog and his pet snake as he runs by us. “The fucking dog ate through the wall last night, and Myles tried to tell Dad a mouse did it. Kid needs to grow some balls. So he brought home a stray dog that turned out to be Cujo. Big deal.”
Myles is on Walker’s back as they approach us, laughing and trying to take him down before they make it to the boat. He isn’t strong enough and Walker easily throws him into the water.
“Your brother is sweet.”
Ender laughs, watching Myles frantically swim from the snake Cujo drops in the water. “If only he was as smart as he was sweet.”
I squint into the sun, his tall figure only a shadow now. “What do you mean?”
“When he was seven, he thought if he ate dry rice and then drank boiling water it would cook in his stomach.”
“Was he planning on serving it or something?”
“Fuck if I know.” Ender scratches the back of his head. “Fuckin’ idiot had third degree burns in his throat.”
* * *
After spending mostof the day on the boat, Aunt Leslie agrees to let me stay with Arya tonight. That leads to me sneaking down the hall to Ender’s room once Arya is asleep.
Knocking softly on his door, he opens it and pulls me in by the hand. The lights are off, the only light coming in through a part in his curtains from the moon peeking in. There’s music playing softly, and I smile. He knows they’re one of my favorite bands. “You’re playing The White Stripes.”