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- <title>Eights and Tens</title>
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- <h2>1. Jackson</h2>
- <p>The thing about going back home was that it was just uncanny how little had changed, even after spending basically an entire year away. Yeah, he and Claire had wanted to come home for Christmas, but they would’ve needed to find someone to come feed the cat and that was the problem with being a college student: everyone went home for Christmas.</p>
- <p>Sometimes, Jackson thought they should’ve just dormed like everyone else, but Claire’s daddy was willing to foot the cost of an apartment for them to share and all, and she really did love that cat. Its name was Atticus, after the main character in some book she loved, and she’d told him at least five times by now what that book was, but he never had been any good at retaining details like that. He was better with the bigger things, the ones that required his hands more than his memory; so when the drain clogged, he was all over that, but who that cat was named after? Hell, remembering that kind of detail wasn’t going to be the thing to make the cat stop peeing on the entry mat, so Jackson really didn’t get what the big deal was. It was just a story.</p>
- <p>His sister, Melly, was coming to pick them up at the airport. As soon as their suitcases were in hand, and the carrier that was carrying Atticus the Cat was securely placed on top of Claire’s still-mint black Samsonite, they headed out to find her—she was notoriously impatient, and was probably going to bitch a little about being sent to collect them later, but she’d be there. Melly was kind of a bitch, but ultimately reliable.</p>
- <p>When they stepped out of the terminal building, Jackson felt something unnamed and hard to describe settle inside of his chest. His entire body felt like the first day of spring, even though it was June; time didn’t matter, when it came to that kind of feeling. It came and went with Georgia, and the only place in New York that he ever really got that same feeling was when he was cocooned in a comforter on top of their squeaky old boxspring bed, with Claire pressing her face into his chest, telling him about her day in long, run-on sentences.</p>
- <p>He sucked in a lungful of the warm summer air—not peaking yet, but getting there—and then scanned around until he spotted a shiny new metallic gray Escalade idling in one of the parking spaces, and then gently hip-checked his girlfriend. “There she is.”</p>
- <p>“Wow. That’s—one mighty vehicle, Jack,” Claire said, a little stiltedly, and he laughed at the careful way she was trying not to say anything rude. Claire campaigned for one of those environmental organizations over in New York; he thought it was probably Greenpeace, but sometimes she maybe did things for some smaller local organization. Didn’t really matter. The point was, Claire cared about things like that, and yelled at him when he littered, hands locked at her sides and disappointed glare at ten.</p>
- <p>He didn’t have the heart to tell her she mostly just looked cute as hell like that, when she was so clearly trying to be serious and responsible… but he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t sometimes drop a wrapper on the New York sidewalks just for kicks, either.</p>
- <p>He could see Melly slumped back in the driver’s seat, and then looked at the car again. His dad had emailed him about the purchase a few weeks ago; saying it had been a steal in that dealership in south Atlanta, because it had been the showroom model. The ‘show’ part of that was right. The car was flash; would be flash in PC, for sure, but given that Jackson’s dad was deputy mayor, maybe it just made sense that his vehicle was easily identified.</p>
- <p>He couldn’t help but wonder what his mom thought about the car, though, as they started walking over to it and Melly finally recognized them. She hopped out, pulled down on her long t-shirt (and for one second, Jackson thought she wasn’t wearing pants at all, but the hemline of some crazy short shorts was visisble when she moved, so he probably was okay to not have a heart attack for now).</p>
- <p>He hadn’t really spoken to Melly since Thanksgiving, when she’d just broken up with her latest boyfriend—some tool named Todd, Todd-the-Tool in his mind—and had spent most of the break in her room crying. Claire had stayed in New York over Thanksgiving, with Atticus the Cat, because she’d been busy. It was the first time they’d been apart since moving to New York last August. That time apart had been rough, but not as rough as listening to Melly play Patsy Cline records for three days straight and sobbing on and off in her room.</p>
- <p>Melly looked better now, even if he did wish she was wearing pants, so that was something. Her hair was longer than he’d seen it in a while, and already sun-kissed to a lighter shade of blond than his own, and she was wearing her typical crazy-over-the-top make-up, which meant she was emotionally healthy according to his mom. Mostly, he thought his sister just liked people staring at her, no matter the reason, but a happy Melissa was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than a broken-down sad one.</p>
- <p>Claire carefully pulled her suitcase with Atticus the Cat up top upright again outside of the Escalade, and then hesitated before stepping into a spectacularly awkward-looking hug with Mel, who just sort of rolled her eyes at Jackson over Claire’s shoulder. Claire wasn’t super short or anything—he figured she was about 5′ 6″, and probably more like 5′ 8″ a lot of the time because of her dancing shoes—but she definitely didn’t have the Scandinavian genes that made Whitleys shoot up like trees, and Mel’s head stuck out above hers for the three or so seconds that they hugged.</p>
- <p>“You look great, Melissa,” Claire said, graciously.</p>
- <p>Jackson tried not to laugh as Mel mumbled, “You too, Claire; I like your hair like that,” and then turned to face him with a slight tilt to her head. “‘Sup, Spud?”</p>
- <p>He rolled his eyes at her, but their hug felt solid and fit well, even if they didn’t have the kind of brother/sister relationship that meant they shared everything and liked all the same shit. They liked basically none of the same things, now, but she smelled like Cool Water for Women and that Wrigley’s spearmint gum she chewed compulsively, and it hit him hard, how long it’d been since he’d even been near her.</p>
- <p>“Not much, Mel. How goes it?”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, all right,” Mel said, squeezing him tighter for a second and then stepping away. “I hope you know I had to move my spa appointment to come and get the both of y’all, so you better appreciate it.”</p>
- <p>Claire looked like she wanted to start apologizing and so Jackson just slung an arm around her shoulder and shook his head. “If you like, I can sling some mud on your face for you later, big sis.”</p>
- <p>Melly grinned in a flash and then looked at the cat carrier. “Did that fat lard survive the trip?”</p>
- <p>“I’ll have you know he’s exactly the weight he’s supposed to be,” Claire said, with a frown. “I feed him right, just as I do Jackson and myself.”</p>
- <p>“Oh, for crying—” Melly started saying, but then just pinched the bridge of her nose—her nails were painted this hideous shade of blue that made Jackson think of the smurfs—before tugging her yellow-rimmed plastic sunglasses back down over her eyes and flipping her hair over her shoulders. She looked like a groupie for a 70s rock band, or at least, how Jackson thought those girls would’ve looked.</p>
- <p>As Claire flushed and said, “Oh, that was a joke. Well, all right then, but to answer your actual question, Atticus is wonderful. He loves New York almost as much as we do, isn’t that right, Jack?” and Melly popped the trunk of the Escalade, he glanced down at his cargo shorts and Lacoste polo shirt, complete with boat shoes—Claire loved those, and loved styling herself to be the sailor girlfriend to his sailor—and then glanced at his girlfriend, in her little black and red checkered dress and her long, braided silvery blond hair, and wondered again how in the hell he’d ended up with a sister like Melly.</p>
- <p>Just like she probably wondered a lot how in the hell she’d ended up with a brother like him, he figured, and then smiled at her. “I’ll lift.”</p>
- <p>“You bet your ass you will,” she said, and headed back to the driver’s side.</p>
- <p>Claire watched her go, and then said, “Sometimes, I get the feeling she really doesn’t like me.”</p>
- <p>“She likes you just fine, baby. That’s just how she is,” Jackson assured her, and then pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. “Why don’t you go sit next to her for the drive back, and you can tell her about the city. I know she’s curious even if she won’t say that she is.”</p>
- <p>“You’re sure?” Claire asked, and he wanted to kiss that little frowning space between her eyes, and then kiss the tip of her nose, and then her lips—but her eyes were that pale blue they got when she was actually worried that she was mis-stepping, and so he just gave her his most serious nod.</p>
- <p>“Trust me,” he said, and Claire’s eyes crinkled up at him.</p>
- <p>“Don’t I always?” she said, before tugging on the hem of her dress and then opening up the passenger door.</p>
- <p>Jack lifted the cat carrier and placed it on the back seat first, ignoring Atticus’ yawn of protest, and then pulled their two brim-filled suitcases into the trunk; he could vaguely hear Claire’s tentative start to a conversation and Melly’s bored ‘uh-huh’s and smiled at those, and then closed the trunk again and just sucked some more of the cleanest air he’d breathed in months into his lungs.</p>
- <p>He couldn’t wait to get back to PC, and clean up his golf cart, and just spend some time driving around the paths without worrying about getting stuck in traffic, or lost, or dying an early death because of the smog.</p>
- <p>New York was great, but it had nothing on the trees and lakes and long-time friends that awaited him back in Peachtree City.</p>
- <hr />
- <p>The drive back home was at best thirty minutes, and he felt himself nodding off during it, even though Melly wasn’t the most reliable of drivers and swerved unpredictably from time to time. His head collided heavily with the window next to him, and he rubbed at hit before peering down into Atticus’ carrier. The cat looked completely fine with this adventure, which made sense—he’d flown out east before, and this must’ve just been more of the same for him. Cats probably didn’t have any real sense of geography beyond their direct environment, and Atticus wasn’t even the exploring kind. They’d only needed to keep him locked in the bathroom for three days upon arriving in their cramped little Brooklyn walk-up, back in August, and then he’d been just fine to sit and stare out the living room window, down past the fire-escape, all day long.</p>
- <p>Up in the front, Claire was still talking about the city, even though Melly had probably stopped listening after the first five minutes. He got it, though—how a simple explanation about what life there was like couldn’t just fit into a few sentences. If he’d been more of a talker himself, he’d have chimed in with a few details—like how nothing was as good as a pastrami sandwich from a New York deli, and that included Mom’s southern-style barbeque marinades—but there’d be plenty of time for those details to coast out slowly. They were back for three months, after all. Atticus the Cat was probably going to have to spend another few days in the bathroom once they finally went back to the city.</p>
- <p>He loved watching Claire talk. She did it with her entire body, which was probably why she was such a good actress—and she was good; he didn’t need Tisch to confirm him to that, because he’d known ever since the first time he’d seen her perform, in the freshman year school play, when she’d still worn glasses all the time and her hair had been longer than she kept it now. Even in the confines of the passenger seat of the admittedly spacious Escalade, every story about late-night trawling through SoHo and watching Broadway matinees was punctuated with hand gestures that had Melly looking over almost despite herself.</p>
- <p>He smiled, when Claire asked if she was making any sense at all, after another few minutes of rambling.</p>
- <p>“Oh, you’re fine,” Melly said. “Just remember to breathe.”</p>
- <p>Claire laughed a little nervously, and then glanced back at him in the side mirror. He smiled at her, and then looked out the window, soaking in all the green of the countryside that stretched out immediately past the Atlanta borders. Every part of what made him think of home was just different shades of green in the summer, and shades of green and brown in the fall. He didn’t mind New York as much as he thought he was going to; not that he’d actually thought he was going to hate it, and he’d sure had enough conversations with this parents about why he was going to New York at all, but… maybe there had been some doubts, there.</p>
- <p>If he was honest, he would’ve been fine staying in Georgia indefinitely, and playing for one of the local basketball teams if he couldn’t get onto a good college one, if it hadn’t been for Claire and her dreams of becoming an actress. Relationships were funny like that, though; the things that he thought mattered to him the most all the way throughout high school, like where Holden and Nicky were going, had all more or less faded away when he’d started seeing Claire.</p>
- <p>She was his future, and if she was in New York, he needed to be as well. And all in all, it was going well. College was actually turning out pretty okay even if he did get benched more than he liked… but that, too, was the kind of thing that time would fix if he was just patient. The seniors on the basketball team at Baruch couldn’t stay seniors forever and it’d be his time soon enough. While he was waiting, what mattered the most was that Claire was over the moon about their whole lives, obviously. She had the shoddy apartment she wanted, with her cat and her boyfriend right there, doing what she loved pretty much all the time. The other drama majors at Tisch seemed like a bunch of a-holes to Jackson, but Claire was really in her element there. She’d tried out for the spring play and was the only freshman to get a speaking part, which had been a huge relief, because it meant that Claire’s daddy would be pleased about where his money was going.</p>
- <p>“What about you, Spud? Are you happy over there?” Melly asked, when Claire finally paused to take a deep breath, turning in her seat a little to look at him with a small smile.</p>
- <p>“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It’s great. I really love our place, even though it’s kind of a shitheap—”</p>
- <p>“Jackson,” Claire said, making a face at him, and he laughed and said, “What, I love it but I’m not a liar.”</p>
- <p>Claire sighed and turned to Melly again. “He’s exaggerating. The hot water comes and goes every once in a while, but we’re in a safe neighborhood and our biggest problem is that Atticus keeps peeing in Jackson’s boat shoes.”</p>
- <p>“Sounds rough,” Melly said, dryly, and Jackson snorted before looking out the window again. Claire was pretty much on the money, there. The time they spent together holed up in their double bed were some of the best times he thought he’d ever had. He normally read <em>Sports Illustrated</em> or played a game on his PSP while Claire read novels, short stories, collections of poems and hordes of published and unpublished scripts, her too-long bangs scaling down over her reading glasses, which made her look damn sexy and damn adorable all at once.</p>
- <p>It occurred to him suddenly that he was going to say goodbye to those moments for the next three months, because his own parents didn’t mind if Claire spent the night but Claire’s parents were sticklers for rules on morals and things like that. It was fine for her to sleep over at Logan Crawford’s whenever she felt like it, but when he’d complained about the double standard, Claire had just looked at him with a small frown and said, “They think Logan’s queer, Jackson. That’s why they don’t mind.”</p>
- <p>He’d felt a little stupid, because half the town thought Logan was queer, even though Claire repeatedly told him that they were just small-minded jerks who’d never seen a well-dressed man in their lives. There was a word for Logan that wasn’t the ever-popular ‘fag-spawn’; ‘subway-sexual’ or something. She’d shown him websites of men in Italy and France who dressed just like Logan, and apparently weren’t gay either.</p>
- <p>“If I start dressing like this, is your daddy going to let you stay at mine?” he’d finally asked.</p>
- <p>Claire had given him that look she gave him sometimes when he’d said something particularly dim, and then had just rolled her eyes and climbed onto his lap to kiss him. “We’re just going to have to start sneaking around again; it’ll be like old times,” she said, her lips brushing against his but barely.</p>
- <p>It wasn’t ideal, the way that Mr. and Mrs. Miller kept her on a leash even though they lived together in a different city, but it was also only for three months, and so he stretched out his legs the best he could and watched the town limit come up on the horizon.</p>
- <p>“Welcome home,” Melly sort of sing-songed at them.</p>
- <p>Claire turned to look at him again, and he cleared his throat and said, “Can we drop Claire off first? I think her folks are probably dying to see her by now.”</p>
- <p>“Sure thing,” Melly said, and at the first intersection, headed west of the lakes to hit up Glenloch Village.</p>
- <p>Claire pulled on the hem of her dress and then tightened the elastic at the edge of her braid again, and took a slow breath that had him leaning forward to put a hand on her shoulder.</p>
- <p>“It’ll be fine,” he said, quietly, because she was clearly worried about something; probably the interrogation her daddy would subject her to as soon as he got home from work, which was nothing to look forward to. His own fifth degree was only a few days off, because he was sure he was going to be invited over for dinner—not as fun as it sounded—and would have to prove all over again that he was good enough for Claire.</p>
- <p>It didn’t help that he wasn’t entirely sure if he was himself, really, though she always held his hand under the table and reminded him to just take his time and answer all the questions honestly and they’d be okay.</p>
- <p>That had worked out fine, so far.</p>
- <hr />
- <p>The white picket fence on the edges of Claire’s yard was looking a little worse for the wear, but of course the next thing Jackson spotted at Claire’s house was Mrs. Miller coming out of the garage with a bucket of paint and a brush clenched between her teeth. As soon as they rolled to a stop, Claire was buckling out and running up the driveway, yelling, “Hi, Mom, hi, I’m back!”, and then the brush went clattering into the bucket of paint, spraying both Claire and her mother with white dots.</p>
- <p>Jackson smiled at their antics—Claire’s mom didn’t mind him as much as Claire’s dad—and then unbuckled. “I’ll be right back; I need to say hello.”</p>
- <p>“Whatever,” Melly said, and started fiddling with the radio until they hit one of very few non-country stations they could reach; when he closed the door behind him, the bass of some popular rap song he didn’t know the name of was still clearly audible.</p>
- <p>The music swelled again when he pulled Claire’s bags out of the trunk, and then collected and put Atticus and his carrier back on top of it, and then pulled both of those onto the driveway, before moving over to Claire and her mom.</p>
- <p>He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his cargo shorts and silently stood next to them; the Miller women were loudly chattering at each other about—hell, he had no idea, but it was hard to find an opening, which was why he ended up doing what he always did—putting a hand on the small of Claire’s back until she remembered he was there.</p>
- <p>She instantly directed one of those show-stopping smiles in his direction before stepping into his side, tucking one of her hands into his back pocket.</p>
- <p>“Hi, Mrs. Miller,” he said, wiping his hand on his shorts really quickly and then sticking it out. “As you can see, I kept her safe just like you asked.”</p>
- <p>“Her daddy will be so pleased,” Mrs. Miller said, and shook his hand firmly, with the same kind smile that Claire had when she was at her most relaxed. “And how are you, Jackson?”</p>
- <p>“Fine, ma’am. I got a good average for my first year and I think I’m going to get more play time on the basketball team next year, so that’s something to look forward to,” he said, as seriously as he could. He’d rehearsed that exact line a few times in his head already for dinner, over the past week, but as always, it came out just fine around Claire’s mom and he’d choke on it around her dad.</p>
- <p>Claire squeezed with her pocketed hand, and he smiled at her briefly.</p>
- <p>She beamed back at him and then assured her mother with a quick, “He’s underplaying, Mom, you know how he is—he’s doing just great.”</p>
- <p>“Well, come over for dinner come Friday, Jackson, and we’ll be thrilled to hear all about it,” Mrs. Miller said.</p>
- <p>He knew a call goodbye when he heard it, and so he shook her hand again, and then kissed Claire on the cheek and murmured a quick, “I’ll call you later, okay?”</p>
- <p>“Don’t drink and drive,” she called out after him, before bending down and picking up her mother’s paint bucket and carrying it over to the fence.</p>
- <p>“She does know that a golf cart only goes like 5 miles an hour, right?” Melly asked, when he settled in the front next to her. She offered him a stick of Wrigley’s and he took it just because.</p>
- <p>“Hey, just because you wouldn’t mind seeing me off-road and total my cart doesn’t mean that other people don’t care about my wellbeing,” he said, turning the radio down.</p>
- <p>Melly smiled at him; her first genuine smile of the day. “I might’ve missed you a little, over Christmas. But only because I got dragged into city hall karaoke with you absent and there wasn’t nearly enough spike in the punch to make that bearable.”</p>
- <p>He laughed and said, “Sorry, but at least I’m back in time for the town fair, huh?”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, that only compensates so much,” she said, putting the car back into drive. They both stuck up hands at Claire and their mother when they drove by, and then Melly relaxed into the seat more fully and looked at him, her dark brown eyes—so much like his own—a little more serious.</p>
- <p>“What?”</p>
- <p>“You actually okay over there in that city?”</p>
- <p>He rubbed at his cheek for a moment and then shrugged. “It’s different, but not bad different.”</p>
- <p>Melly shook her head after a moment and said, “You and Claire Miller. I have lost so much money on you two in the last two years.”</p>
- <p>“What, you were betting we wouldn’t make it?” he asked, frowning at her and then shoving at her side; the car swerved abruptly, and she stuck her middle finger up at him before steading it again.</p>
- <p>She shot him a look. “You think that was just me and my friends? Holden’s the one who started the pool, Jack.”</p>
- <p>“Of course he is,” Jackson muttered, and shook his head. He dug his phone out of his pocket and sent off an ‘UR an asshole’ without context, which would probably just make Holden laugh, but it’d also let him know that they would be hanging out later tonight.</p>
- <p>“I’m happy for you, though. That it’s not a total catastrophe, living with her,” Melly said, as kindly as she got, and Jack rolled his eyes at her before looking out the side window again and soaking in his home town.</p>
- <p>Claire lived in Glenloch Village, over on the east side of the city, and far away from Lake Peachtree. There wasn’t much between either of the original villages that had been built at the start of the Peachtree City project—a topic he knew much about just because his father, as a life-long member of the city council, talked about it regularly whenever they had guests over—and so just as in Aberdeen Village, the further you went away from the lake, the more affordable—and less splendorous—the housing got. Claire lived about three blocks out from the Glenloch Recreation Center, which put her at the heart of the village, and that was something of a sore spot with her daddy, who always found a way to rub in the fact that Jackson’s family lived lakeside over in Aberdeen Village, ‘cross the lake.</p>
- <p>He could just about see the lake itself everytime they hit an intersection, if he craned his head, until they passed the Aberdeen Village Shopping Center and were almost home. His dad had probably taken half the day off, if he was guessing right, and his own golf cart would have been put out in front of the garage for him to clean and get ready for three months of heavy use.</p>
- <p>“What are we going to be doing this summer?” he asked, when Melly hit up Hiltop Drive and he could see the Pinecrest Ramps to his left. He’d help his dad get the boat ready soon, and couldn’t wait to get out on the water in the early morning before their internships at the City Hall kicked off and they’d have to suit up and probably do a bunch of really boring crap he didn’t want to think about too much.</p>
- <p>Melly smirked at him. “You are going to be doing boring crap at City Hall; I have a placement with Panasonic.”</p>
- <p>“No joke,” Jackson said, raising his eyebrows.</p>
- <p>Melly swung the Escalade onto the drive way, only barely missing his golf cart, and then shook her head. “Nope. I’m not planning on going into government, so Dad agreed I was better off looking for some kind of customer service type job so I’d be able to make ends meet while searching for a real job.”</p>
- <p>“Lucky you,” he said, remembering the insane tedium of last summer, when he’d figured out sixty-five different ways to organize a cabinet full of folders just because there had been fuck-all to do in City Hall after a month of people renewing their golf cart and boating permits.</p>
- <p>Melly just winked at him, and said, “One day you’ll be my age, and you’ll be able to do what you want.”</p>
- <p>He laughed, and then got out of the car and pulled out his suitcase before wheeling it up to the front door and ringing that for posterity.</p>
- <p>He could hear his mother holler, “Joe, the kids are back!” and laughed quietly before the door burst open, and his mother threw herself into his arms, like she hadn’t actually believed he’d survived a year in New York until right this very moment.</p>
- <p>He didn’t mind so much, he found. She smelled like she’d spent an hour in the kitchen just now, and had the exact same hairstyle she’d always had, and that was the nicest welcome he could imagine right now.</p>
- <hr />
- <p>It wasn’t until an hour later, when he’d excused himself saying that he could really do with a shower, that he finally got a chance to sit down and relax for a moment. His mom had put his favorite sheets—black and white check, and really soft, because they’d been washed so often—on and had seemingly dusted his entire room as well, and so everything looked like he’d left it: with holes all over the place, from video game consoles and clothes and posters that had gone with him to New York, but still mostly like home.</p>
- <p>He’d finally managed his escape after extensive commentary on his weight—“Is Claire putting you on that ridiculous rabbit diet of hers?” his mother had asked him, pinching him hard in the ribs and then mumbling some complaint about lifestyles that ignored the benefits of meat—and the best overview of New York he could give in a nutshell. It was hard to explain the city to two people who had only ever been there for a few hours, dropping him off about eight months ago when he and Claire had first moved, in mid-August.</p>
- <p>Jackson’s dad mostly seemed to remember the traffic—“a nightmare; a real nightmare” he’d said again, today, nodding to himself before slapping Jack on the back and jovially declaring that it was good to have him back—and his mother appeared to be hung up on the fact that everything had been dirty and square. Square buildings, square street layouts, and—well, the people who lived in New York City were really the opposite of square, but she wouldn’t know that.</p>
- <p>He loved his parents; they were good, kind-hearted people, but they didn’t know their ass from their elbow outside of Georgia, and the entire charade of family (with Melly loudly eating an apple in the background, leaning over the breakfast bar and flicking through a copy of <em>Life & Style</em> at a glacial pace) had been tiring, somehow. It had felt like they’d all been trying too hard to make things exactly how they used to be, but they obviously weren’t exactly like that anymore. The holes in his room spoke for that.</p>
- <p>As it was, it was kind of a relief to just get a moment to lie down on his back and look at his phone, where there was already one message from Claire declaring that she missed him—and he sent back a quick ‘U2’, because he did—and a few from Holden, asking when he was coming over.</p>
- <p>‘Later’, he texted, which was more than enough information, and then folded his hands under his head and looked at the ceiling.</p>
- <p>Tomorrow, he’d get up early, clean up his fishing pole, and head out to the lake with Holden to see if they could bait anything decent before the crowds came; and if they did, he’d text home and they’d grill his catch later that night. His folks loved Claire, so she could come over if she wanted to—and if it was all right with her dad—and that’d be the start of a pretty good summer in which he planned to do very little work, and spend as much time with his friends and his girlfriend as possible, and—</p>
- <p>A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts, and he sat up a little and called out, “Yeah?”, wearily.</p>
- <p>Melly slipped inside after a moment and walked past the edge of his bed before sitting down on his couch, under the window he used to climb out of when he was younger and still had a curfew, and then gave him a look.</p>
- <p>“It’s weird,” he said. “Being back. Not bad weird, but just weird.”</p>
- <p>“Told you,” she said, and it was true; it was one of the last things she said before he’d left, last summer—that even if he did come back, it wouldn’t ever be the same again.</p>
- <p>He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “I got a bottle of Jack from the liquor store on our block before leaving. If you can get some cokes from downstairs—”</p>
- <p>Melly smiled and said, “It’s not even five in the afternoon yet, Jackson.”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, and?”</p>
- <p>She laughed and said, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”</p>
- <hr />
- <p>“It’s because I’m tall,” he told her, stretching out his legs until he could swing them up on the bed, and then tilting down his head until it hit the window sill behind the couch. “Like, everyone in the city thinks I must be at least twenty three because I’m tall. They’d probably just throw alcohol at Holden, given that he’s got two inches on my 6′ 2″ easy.”</p>
- <p>Melly pulled her legs up to her chest and took another sip of her drink. “That’s not so bad.”</p>
- <p>“No. Nothing about it is, really,” he said, and then glanced over at her. “Sorry that cost you money.”</p>
- <p>“Pretty sure I had that coming, betting against you,” she said, with a shrug, and then took another careful drink, before leveling him with a serious look. “I ran into Patrick Everett the other day at the gas station.”</p>
- <p>Jackson felt his expression freeze for a moment and then just looked away, to the Donnie Darko poster that lined the side of his closet. That rabbit still scared the ever-loving crap out of him, sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night and caught sight of it, and he ran his tongue past his lips and said, “Did he say anything, or—”</p>
- <p>“He was fine. I’m not the one who dumped his kid sister,” Melly said, the ice cubes in her glass clinking as she brought it back to her mouth. “He did mention that he was looking forward to seeing Nicky again, though, so I reckon that means she’s coming back for the summer.”</p>
- <p>Jackson said nothing for a long moment, and then pounded back the rest of his drink and said, “Of course she is. Where else would she go?”</p>
- <p>“She didn’t come back for Christmas—”</p>
- <p>“I know, and neither did we, but it’s the summer. It’s months. I—” he said, and then just shook his head. “Whatever. I figured she was coming back. I’ll deal with it when it becomes something to deal with, okay?”</p>
- <p>Melly was quiet for a moment and then said, “I really wish you’d just done it in a better way, Jack. She and I were friends. Maybe even like sisters, with how much she was over here, and now—”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, well. Can’t undo a done thing, now can I?” he said, finishing the rest of his drink and then leaning over the side of the couch to turn on his iPod dock.</p>
- <p>There wasn’t anything else to say. Senior year had been a rough one, for all of them, and it was over now. He didn’t want to spend time dwelling on it anymore, and in fact just wanted to get into his cart and drive over to Holden’s and actually get drunk, because this was how shit always turned out with Melly: they’d be having a nice time, and then one of them would bring up something that dug right underneath the other’s skin.</p>
- <p>“Sorry,” she said, with a deep sigh, and handed him her empty glass. “I just thought you’d like to be forewarned.”</p>
- <p>He didn’t respond to that, and watched as she slunk back out of his room before bringing both of his hands up to his face and rubbing at it, hard. Soundgarden was singing something about bad days, which—goddamnit, he really didn’t want this to turn into one, but bringing up Nicky was bound to do that.</p>
- <p>What was the point in dwelling on it, anyway?</p>
- <p>High school was high school.</p>
- <p>They’d all left it by now, and that was that.</p>
- <hr />
- <p>Holden was washing his own cart when Jackson pulled up at his house a few hours later, having washed the exterior of his own cart with a bucket of soap and a sponge and then finally deciding it could dry on the drive over. It was a golf cart; no point in polishing it to a shine.</p>
- <p>As he turned off the engine, Holden lowered the hose, and then turned it off before grinning at him.</p>
- <p>“‘Sup, man,” Jackson said, stepping out of the cart.</p>
- <p>Holden flipped his Wayfarers up on his forehead, sticking his already messy brown hair up into further strange directions, and directed an appraising look at him. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”</p>
- <p>“That’s no way to talk about my girlfriend, man,” Jackson said, stepping out of the cart and walking over to clasp Holden’s hand tightly, and then hugging him in close.</p>
- <p>Holden smelled like he always did; hand-rolled American Spirits and sunscreen, and even though it was barely June, he already had the kind of tan that Jackson would be lucky to get without burning to a lobster-like crisp by August.</p>
- <p>“You’re right, I’m an a-hole,” Holden said, knuckling the top of Jackson’s head and then shoving him off.</p>
- <p>“How’s Savannah?” Jackson asked.</p>
- <p>“City’s a city,” Holden said, rubbing at his cheek; it was late afternoon and the stubble there was more than a shadow already, but it just made his best friend look rakish where he looked—safe.</p>
- <p>Jackson himself looked safe, even if he didn’t look as safe as Logan Crawford did. It was why Claire’s daddy had ultimately let him live with Claire, where he would’ve just taken down one of his shotguns if Holden had ever tried anything of the sort. “Better the devil you know,” he’d said, right before ultimately agreeing. Jackson had felt like throwing up, at the time, but it had gotten him a home with Claire.</p>
- <p>“Yeah, okay, but I mean, are you losing your mind there or what?” he pushed.</p>
- <p>Holden shrugged. “It’s pretty good. It’s a little quaint and Mary Sunshine, but Savannah Tech was a good fit. I’m learning a truckload, and the girls are actually good sport, if you can believe that…”</p>
- <p>Holden trailed off with a distant smile and then wrapped his arm around Jackson’s shoulder, pulling him over to the porch and climbing it two steps at the time, and swinging around a cooler with his foot.</p>
- <p>“I’ve got a half bottle of Jack in the cart,” Jackson said, but accepted the chilled Bud that Holden handed to him anyway. “Part of the perks of city living. Lot easier to buy shit because not everyone knows you’re the deputy mayor’s underage son.”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, it’s like that in Savannah,” Holden agreed, necking his bottle for a long moment and then sitting down on one side of the porch swing, gesturing the other side.</p>
- <p>Jackson settled, before pushing his legs out with a sigh and took his first long, grateful sip of beer.</p>
- <p>“Really though,” Holden said, slowly, tipping his sunglasses back down. “How’s everything with you and Miz Miller?”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, I hear you’re running a pool on us splitting up. Thanks a lot for that, you jackhole,” Jackson said, shooting him a look.</p>
- <p>Holden laughed, but didn’t apologize—and after a moment Jackson just licked his lips and shrugged.</p>
- <p>“It’s easy. It’s easy because it’s right,” Jackson said. The sun creeped along his calves and gleamed sharply off the newly-washed hubcaps on the Holden’s cart. “I know that sounds crazy, but I would’ve never even moved out there if—”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, I know,” Holden said, quickly, before clearing his throat. “Well. Good on the both of y’all then.”</p>
- <p>They clinked their bottles together a moment later, and then Jackson sighed and looked at the roof of the porch. Some rot was setting in at the edges, and he knew without asking that Holden would be spending most of the summer fixing that right up.</p>
- <p>“You hear about the party at Maddy’s next weekend?” Holden asked, after a long moment of just being.</p>
- <p>Jackson shook his head. “Haven’t checked my Facebook messages in a while.”</p>
- <p>“She and Paige aren’t back from California until next week and then Maddy’s parents are off to that trip to Maui or wherever it is they’re going, so the house is all hers for two weeks after that. It’s going to be a rager, I’m damn sure.”</p>
- <p>Jackson grinned despite himself. “Good ol’ Madison.”</p>
- <p>“Right?” Holden agreed.</p>
- <p>“How’s that all been—I mean, since graduation?”</p>
- <p>Holden fell silent, and Jackson watched as he scratched at the label on the bottle. Holden had this thing about beer from cans; said it didn’t taste right, the way the brewer intended it to, but glass kept it pure. Maybe that’s what he was doing: making it purer, the way his nails dug into the edges of the label and peeled it off piece by piece when the glass had condensed enough.</p>
- <p>“Yeah, we talk sometimes,” Holden finally said; the last of the label let go, and he balled it up and shoved it into the pocket of his shorts. “Just ‘cause they’re on the other side of the country now doesn’t mean they’re not my girls anymore. And anyway, it’s just been some texting with Mads. Paige has a boyfriend, or so I hear, so…” He trailed off with a shrug.</p>
- <p>Jackson watched him carefully, and then said, “You all right with that?”</p>
- <p>Paige and Holden had had this on-again, off-again ‘thing’ that really defied explanation throughout most of high school; any time it had looked like it was going to get serious, he’d bet with Nicky that this time was the time, but she’d always just looked at him a little pityingly and said, “Don’t lose money on something you don’t understand, Jack.”</p>
- <p>Holden nodded after a long moment. “S’for the best. It’s gonna be interesting, not hooking up with her when we’re both around, but the way I figure, we all have to grow up and get over high school shit eventually, right?”</p>
- <p>Jackson let the bottle dangle from his left hand, off the side of the swing where he and Holden had carved their initials many moons ago, and then sighed. “Easier said then done when everyone’s up in everyone’s business the way we all are.”</p>
- <p>Holden set the swing in motion with a deliberate push of his feet, and then slowly finished off his beer, before running his hand past his mouth and saying, “Maybe we’re done with that, now, too.”</p>
- <p>“Well, you can start by just ending that bet on my goddamned relationship,” Jackson said, kicking at Holden’s ankle.</p>
- <p>They both grinned at each other, and then Holden looked out over his front yard; in desperate need of some gardening, and it was weird—Jackson honestly didn’t know if he should expect to find Paige and Madison and Nicky there in some short shorts over the next few weeks, drinking sweet tea and playing music and helping him clean up around the house, or not. Would’ve been a given a year ago. Now, he wasn’t so sure.</p>
- <p>“Do you think she’ll come to the party?” he finally asked.</p>
- <p>Holden looked at him, and looked like he was considering playing dumb, but Jackson just made a face at him and Holden ultimately looked off into the distance again. “No telling. I mean, is she even back?”</p>
- <p>“Not yet, but I hear she will be,” Jackson said, with a sigh.</p>
- <p>Holden shrugged after a moment. “Then I’m sure she got the invite, but there’s no telling what she’ll do with it.”</p>
- <p>Nicky hadn’t been to a single basketball party since the break-up, even though she’d stayed captain of the girls’ team throughout senior year as well. She’d dragged those girls all the way through divisional championships, but she’d never celebrated a single victory with them, and on some level, Jack couldn’t help but feel that that, too, was on him.</p>
- <p>Holden necked the rest of his beer and put his empty bottle down on the porch. Then, he folded his hands together on his lap. “It’s been a long time.”</p>
- <p>“Yeah, it has,” Jackson said, and squeezes his eyes shut for a few long seconds.</p>
- <p>He wasn’t even sure why this suddenly felt like a thing again; maybe just because in the last eight months, in a different city, Claire had finally stopped looking guilty all the time, and he’d finally stopped feeling it.</p>
- <p>It figured, though, that as soon as he’d stepped back into the city, all of that washed away again like it had never happened. New York was like a different universe to Peachtree City, and as if on cue, Holden slapped him on the thigh and said, “Want to go shoot some hoops out in Pebblepocket?”</p>
- <p>Jackson finished the rest of his beer, and then put it down on the porch as well, and slowly pulled up to his feet. “Yeah, we’ve got enough light for a few games of one on one. I’ll race ya.”</p>
- <p>Holden grinned, and hopped over the porch rail to mount his cart. It was fine, if he got the head start. Jackson always had managed tighter corners, when it came down to it, and he figured that was one of the things that hadn’t changed with time.</p>
- </body>
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