Page 4 of Run to Me
Jace
Sixteen years old
Today is my birthday and Nate’s made sure to remind me all week. Mom gave me the option of either a party or fancy dinner. I chose dinner. In order to have a party, you need friends to invite, and the only one I have is my brother. The title’s become easier to use the more we’ve spent time together. I’ve defended him at school and he’s defended me at home, constantly coming to my rescue. Nate’s made it easier to be here. Easier to breathe. I’m never too quiet for him, too awkward or weird. He doesn’t see me for all the mistakes I’ve made.
Last year, when Nate handed me a cupcake, I crushed it between my fingers without thinking, going from smiling to fuming with anger in an instant. Instead of getting mad, he rested a hand on my shoulder and said, “You don’t like cupcakes for your birthday.” It was a statement, not a question. He automatically added to my “don’t like” list whenever I reacted badly to something, and waited until I was ready to tell him why instead of forcing the answers out of me like everyone else. Unlike my mom, Nate took the time to understand me and help me understand myself.
“I think you’re going to love this gift better than last year’s,” Nate says, interrupting my thoughts as he makes himself comfortable on my bed. Leaning against my dresser, I smirk his way. “Oh yeah?”
“Yup. But I’ve decided to give it to you later instead of at dinner.”
Growing more curious, I approach the bed. “Is it something embarrassing?”
He shakes his head, his brown curls bouncing. “Nope. Just something I don’t think anyone would understand but me and you.”
“Hmm. Well now I want to open it before dinner.” I sit down beside him and he bumps me with his leg. Small rips cover his dark jeans, and as he lifts himself higher on his elbows, his stomach becomes fully exposed below his pink crop top. He’s been wearing them a lot more lately. His style has drastically changed over the last year and I find it more fitting. His dad, on the other hand, keeps hoping it’ll be a phase that ends soon.
“Too bad.” He sticks out his pink tongue. “You’ll have to be patient.”
I thought I was good at waiting until Nate made me eager for everything—to see my first movie in theaters, play at the arcade, go on rides at the carnival, and for something as simple as a birthday gift.
“Fine,” I breathe out, shooting him a glare. “We’re still going to ride the Ferris wheel later, right?”
“Yup.” His face lights up. Whenever I wake up from a bad nightmare, I think of moments like this, replacing the angry and scared faces with his. If only I could stop seeing them. They continue to haunt me and I worry they always will. Especially the last man my dad took. His tears, bloody face, and convulsing body are still fresh in my mind, almost as if they happened yesterday.
“Need a major distraction?” he asks, almost as if he can read my mind.
I nod. “Always.” He bounces on the bed and grabs the pillow.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you need with a pillow fight.” He whacks me on the shoulder, laughing.
My heart warms at the wonderful sound and I grab another pillow. We knock each other around the bed, laughing, and end up on the floor with me on top of his smaller body.
“Get off me. I can’t breathe.” He laughs harder and I tickle his sides before rolling onto the space beside him.
“Who’ll be at the dinner?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.
“Mom, Dad, me, you, and the grandparents. Oh, and Aunt Tracy. Not sure whether she’s bringing her killjoy of a husband, but Rachel and Andy are most likely coming. Hopefully they’ll actually sit down and eat this time instead of playing tag around the restaurant.”
I blow out a longer breath. “Will you sit next to me?” I turn my face toward him.
He smiles and grabs my hand. “Duh. If you don’t want to go, we can always make something up. Say you’re sick.”
I shake my head, looking back at the ceiling. “No. I’ll go. What could be so bad about having dinner with my family on my birthday? Besides, I’m mostly going for the lobster.”
“Me too, and I guess I can also help you celebrate turning sixteen while I’m there.” He grins from ear to ear.
We’re all at the restaurant enjoying dinner in between small talk until our evening goes from decent to bad in a matter of minutes. One of my little cousins chooses to sit beside me and show me his game. We’re having fun, collecting mushrooms, until my aunt yanks him away from me, pointing a finger in my face to stay away from her son. She was so focused on her wine and arguing with her husband that it took her a while to notice her son had switched seats.
“Go sit with your dad, sweetie.” She shoves my cousin to the other end of the table before looking back at me with her whole face tensing. “You stay away from my son. Who’s to say you can be trusted around children. Don’t think I haven’t heard about you trying to drug Nate.”
“Tracy, not here,” my mom warns.
“I think you need to leave before things get further out of hand than they already have,” Terry says and he gets up to whisper in Nate’s ear, sliding something into his hand before signaling to our waiter.
My mom and Tracy end up in a full-blown argument and people from nearby tables start staring our way. I bury my face in my hands, wishing the floor would swallow me whole, and then a hand squeezes my arm. “I think there’s a roller coaster calling your name not far from here. How about we answer it?”
I open my eyes and Nate pulls my face toward his so I don’t see anything else but him. “What do you say?”
“Just the two of us?”
He smiles softly. “Just the two of us.”
We rise from our chairs and I don’t look at anything but him as we make our way out of the restaurant. My mom’s and aunt’s voices disappear behind us the closer we get to the exit. Once outside, I relax a little, breathing in the night’s fresh air before following Nate to our parents’ car.
“What are we doing?” I ask, my hand freezing on the passenger door handle.
“Getting out of here. Dad gave me his keys and said they’d find another way home.” He gets into the car and I follow him, strapping into my seat belt once I’m sitting comfortably beside him.
Nate starts the car and quickly pulls out of the parking lot. I hold on to the side of the door, closing my eyes as he speeds up then swerves a little as he takes the first turn. He got his license recently, and riding with him makes me nervous because he’s got a lot more learning to do. At least he’s driving; I’m still trying to get used to riding in cars. My stomach hasn’t stopped feeling uneasy since the first time, because when I said I never left the house with my dad, I meant it. I took the bus to school the one year I went, but it was so long ago it remains a blur. The bus doesn’t bother me, though. My dad didn’t make deliveries by bus. My breaths quicken and I squeeze my legs together.
“Am I going too fast?”
I don’t say anything and look down at the floorboard. He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, brother. I’ll slow down.”
He gives me a sense of importance when he calls me that. For a little while, I feel like I belong. The car slows and my shoulders drop, my stomach settling a little when I see lit-up rides ahead. “We’re getting close.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling into the cramped parking lot.
There are a lot of people here. My throat goes dry when the car stops. “It’s a bit crowded.”
“Don’t worry about them. We’re here for you, remember?”
“Yeah.” I wait for him to walk over to open my door before getting out.
“Shall we go straight to the Ferris wheel?”
“Sure,” I say, glancing around, feeling a little overwhelmed.
“Or we can go back to the car.” He loops his arm in mine, leaning into my body.
I shake my head. “I’d rather be here than at home. My mind is spinning out of control and I need to keep busy or else it’ll take over.”
“Then let’s find something that’ll make you focus on the world spinning instead.” He drags me to the ticket booth and purchases two bracelets. Laughter and excited screams surround us as he drags me to a short line of people. They all enter a gate leading to purple pod-looking things.
“What is this?”
“You’ll see.” We walk forward and he grabs my hand to hold up my wrist. A man who was collecting tickets before nods at us and gestures for us to keep moving. We stop when we finally come across an empty ride. I slide in first and Nate squeezes in beside me, placing his hands on a black wheel in the center. I put my hands next to his and he crosses our arms bumping shoulders with me. “When the ride starts, we have to spin the wheel as hard and fast as we can.”
We move slowly at first and speed up as we loop around. Going faster and faster, we crash against each other, struggling to sit up straight. Metal scraping metal mixes with loud wind and our laughter. Our hands occasionally land on each other as we spin the wheel. He’s right. I’m too focused on my racing heart and jump in my stomach to think about anything else. His face lands in my neck and he leaves it there, his hands staying on mine until the ride ends.
“Sorry, got a little dizzy and you make a good headrest.”
“Can we go again?” I ask, staying exactly where I am while everyone else exits the ride.
“We can go as many times as you want.”
My stomach flutters, and I don’t understand what this feeling is but I’m not ready to walk away from it. I realize it’s not the ride taking me away from everything bad that happened today—it’s him.
We ride the spinning saucers five more times before finally making our way to the Ferris wheel. Being so high above the ground feels better than I thought it would. I’m far away from other people’s judgment and don’t have to worry whether anyone will recognize me. I’m far away from my aunt and the restaurant. Far away from my dad and our basement. It’s only me and Nate.
I don’t enjoy the carousel as much as the flying swings. I also worry I’m consuming way too much sugar between all the rides with the copious amounts of stuffed Oreos, cotton candy, and funnel cake I consume.
“I think my stomach is going to combust if I eat any more.”
Nate laughs, squeezing his new pink bear that I won him. He looks so small holding it, with it being half his size. A quick breeze blows his hair away from his face and I notice the light pink scar there for the very first time. He could have a million of them on his face and still be beautiful.
“What happened there?” I sweep my fingers over the scar.
“Fell off my cousin’s bunk beds when I was six. Hit the bottom bed frame pretty hard and had to get stitches.”
Him telling me something about himself makes me want to suddenly give him something in return. “I hate chamomile tea.” My dad made it for every guy he brought home when they wouldn’t stop making too much noise. I had to carry it down to the basement, the leafy scent wafting into my nose.
His eyes widen. He usually has to learn what I don’t like through experimentation and not from my own words. He smiles and playfully bumps my shoulder. “Then I’ll remember to get rid of every bag mom has in the kitchen when we get home.”
We walk around a little longer and people-watch before heading back to the house. The car is filled with old Britney Spears songs and Nate’s off-pitch singing the whole ride there. He never lets the car go silent for long and sings even louder when we’re walking to the front door, his voice going quiet when we walk inside.
My mom is standing behind the center island in the kitchen with a birthday cake resting in front of her. “Happy Birthday, Jace,” is written in blue words on top of white icing.
“I’m glad you boys made it home safely. Have a good time?” Her red-rimmed eyes are hard to miss when Nate flips the main kitchen light on. Now I know why she was standing in the dark with only the stove light on.
“Yeah. I ate way too much, though.” I rub my stomach and she smiles.
“What are you doing in here alone?” Nate asks, inching closer to the cake.
“I didn’t want to miss y’all coming in. We didn’t get a chance to sing you happy birthday. I’ve already missed so many birthdays . . .” Her words trail off and her eyes water. “I don’t want to miss any more.”
My throat clogs with emotion and I stand beside her, holding her hand. “It’s a really great cake, Mom,” I say, feeling like I’m still trying the name out for size and it doesn’t exactly fit yet.
“It really is,” Nate agrees. “Let me grab the candles.”
We light the candles, and they both sing happy birthday. Smoke rises in the air as I blow them out without making a wish. I never believed in that sort of thing. It never helped me before—not wishes or prayers. No matter how much I shouted at the sky, no one ever heard me or came to my rescue. No one made Dad’s anger settle or his hands feel any lighter when he used them against me. In the end I helped myself without realizing what I was doing.
No matter how full Nate and I are, we take a slice of cake from my mom, and it’s not until our plates are empty that she hugs us both goodnight. While she’s handling the mess, Nate drags me to his room and pulls out something wrapped in snowman wrapping paper. “I forgot to grab a birthday bag from the store and didn’t have time to get one today.”
I take it from his hand and we both sit on the bed. The paper rips beneath my hands and I can’t help but smile big when I see what’s underneath. A blue notebook that says All the Things That Make Jace a Good Person on the front.
We open it together and he points to the first one. “He always holds the door open for others.”
“That’s not a big deal,” I huff out.
He turns the page and says, “Shares his candy with me.”
“I can’t eat all that sugar alone,” I smirk.
The next page says, “Always lets me have the last soda and ice cream.”
They’re all little acts of kindness, but Nate makes a big deal out of each one, and all I see right now is what he sees—he’s happy with me exactly the way I am. Who cares if the rest of the world keeps their distance from me when Nate never lets anyone stop him from running toward me.