Page 43 of Mr. Edwards

I stepped out of the shadows, moving toward him.“No, I was waiting for you. I wanted to say thank you… you know, for all this.”I pointed to the bag that was now lying by his feet.

“It’s no big deal,”he replied, flicking his hand and trying to wave it off.

No big deal. Is he kidding? It was huge. Who continually shows up at a stranger’s house with food, expecting nothing in return? Nobody I know that’s for sure.

I thought carefully about my next words.“It’s…”I paused for a moment trying to get my emotions in check. I was worried I’d scare him off if I turned into a blubbering mess. I’d hate for that to happen. Even if the food stopped coming, I liked the fact that someone gave a shit about me.“It’s umm… it’s everything,”I finally managed to say, blinking away the tears.“It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck, and I knew I was making him feel uncomfortable.“I get it, kid,”he replied.“I’m just glad I’m in a position to help.”

“Are you rich?”

“No,”he chuckled.“I bounce between the strip club and the bar on O’Connell Street. The pay’s okay, but it’s not going to make me rich any day soon.”

I shrugged.“Who needs money right?”

“Me,”he said.“I’m saving up to buy my own gym.”I didn’t miss the way his face lit up as he spoke those words.“That’s my big dream, kid.”

“To own a gym?”My dream was to get out of this hellhole.

“Yeah. I’ll teach martial arts and self-defense classes… stuff like that. People need to know how to protect themselves, especially in this day and age.”

He suddenly looked really sad as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and dropped his gaze to the floor. I knew that look well, and it made me wonder if there was a reason why he wanted to teach people how to protect themselves. Had something bad happened to him?

“I bet it will be awesome,”I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, it will be,”he replied as the smile returned to his face.“You can come do some free classes when it’s up and running.”

“Really? I’d like that.”

And that’s how our friendship blossomed. He no longer drops food off at the trailer because I’m at the gym every afternoon after school, and again on weekends. Roxy never questions my whereabouts. She’s probably glad to see the back of me, to be honest.

Reece feeds me while I’m there, and teaches me lots of cool ninja stuff. Despite his protests, in return I helpout where I can, painting, sweeping, vacuuming, or cleaning windows. Sometimes I run errands for him. Nothing comes for free in this world. And this way I get to give back instead of feeling like a charity case. I’ve never questioned him as to why he’s so kind to me, although, I often wonder. I’m just grateful to have him in my life for as long as he wants me around.

I burst through the front door of the gym and fist pump Michelle, who mans the front desk on my way past. I don’t need to ask where Reece is, he’s usually finishing up one of his classes when I arrive straight from school.

“Killer,” he says, smiling the moment he spots me heading his way. That’s my new nickname since I brought one of Reece’s regulars to his knees in a sparring match a few weeks ago.“Watch this one,”he said to the rest of the class after the incident.“She may be scrappy but she has a lot of heart.”

“Hey, Reece,” I reply, bouncing on my feet as I come to a stop in front of him. I’m struggling to contain my excitement. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

“Today’s the big day.”

“I know. I can’t wait.”

“Good, good,” he says ruffling my hair as the smile on his face widens. “Come, I’ll make you a sandwich before he arrives.”

Reece lives in the apartment above the gym. It has a small kitchen and bathroom up there, as well as a sofa thatpulls out to a bed. The living area is huge. He doesn’t even own a television, saying it’ll rot your brain, which is total baloney, but I don’t call him out on it. He plans on making it into a real home when he can afford it, by putting up some internal walls, but I think it’s pretty cool just the way it is.

We head up the stairs and I follow him into the kitchen. “PB and J?” he asks, reaching for the loaf of bread.

“Please.” He makes me the same sandwich every day, peanut butter and jelly, because he knows it’s my favorite.

I sit on the barstool and watch him work. When he’s done, he slides the plate across the counter toward me. “Milk?”

“Thanks,” I answer.

“There’s some bananas over there if you’re still hungry when you’re done.”

I screw up my face making him chuckle. Reece is a health freak, and he’s always trying to add fruit and vegetables to my diet. Grape jelly counts as fruit, right?