Crashed, p.12
Crashed, page 12
The music came to a dead stop, the Black boy backing away from the keyboard and microphone while Aaron’s hand lowered from the strings of a pretty decent-looking Fender.
“Um, hi,” the Black kid said, clearly nervous.
“Hey, Travis.” Aaron didn’t look as nervous, but he didn’t look happy, either. “Guess you think the music is too loud.”
“Well, it’s loud,” Travis said with a shrug. “But I came over to listen for a minute or two ... if that’s okay.” A couple days ago, he would have said something far different—or he would shoved his head under his pillow and prayed for the noise to stop.
Aaron’s eyes widened.
The Black boy blinked, clearly surprised.
“Is that okay?”
The two kids looked at each other, then back at Aaron. It was the Black kid who said, “We’re not very good.”
“I’m not very good,” Aaron muttered, a dull flush coloring his narrow face. “You’re amazing.”
The other kid flashed a wide, warm smile at Aaron. “You’re getting better. It just takes practice.”
Aaron jerked a shoulder in a shrug, then darted another look at Travis. “If we’re not going to break your eardrums or anything, I guess you can listen. If you want.” He lifted a hand back to the guitar strings, then paused. “This is Booker.”
“Quite the name,” Travis commented.
The boy grinned, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Yeah. Hell of a namesake, huh? Booker Darius Howard Phillips, after Booker T. Washington, my dad, and my mom’s dad. I don’t know which one of them is going to be the hardest inspiration to live up to, either.”
Judging by the kindness and earnestness Travis had seen in the smile he’d given Aaron, he doubted the kid would have any trouble forging his own path there. “Something tells me you’re going to do just fine.”
Now the boy’s smile turned bashful and he jerked his gaze away and focused on Aaron. “Start from the beginning.”
The music started again.
Loud.
Booker definitely had skills, both the keyboard and singing, although Travis wasn’t certain what sort of music they were making—indie grunge? Was that a thing? He had no idea.
Every now and then, discordant twangs from the guitar would break the melody they were trying to attain and he studied Aaron’s hands on the guitar, remembered when he and Trey had been learning to play, determined to keep up with Zane back when his oldest brother had been doing the same.
He considered making a suggestion, but after a moment, reconsidered. He’d check on something first, then maybe.
Just as the chords started to die down, the door to the garage blew open and a tall, rangy boy with dark brown hair and intense brown eyes came storming in. Aaron still had his head bent intently over the guitar and Booker’s eyes were closed as he sang.
Travis shoved away from the frame of the garage door but didn’t get there in time to keep the kid from yanking the amp’s plug from the wall.
“Enough with that shit!”
Chapter 12
“So, let me guess.” Pulling Brooklyn onto her lap, Isabel stroked the child’s hair back from her face. “You decided to go and asked Travis if the two of us were going to go and make babies, huh?”
Brooklyn looked away, jerking a thin shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah.”
“That’s a pretty personal question, Brooklyn.”
The girl’s chin dipped and her shoulders, already slumped, hunched even more.
“Why is it so important for you to know?” There had to be a reason behind this, something more than Brooklyn’s incessant curiosity.
“Because,” Brooklyn whispered.
“I need a little more than that.” Cupping Brooklyn’s chin, she guided her face upward.
Brooklyn shoved her face into Isabel’s shoulder and mumbled.
Frowning, Isabel picked apart the words until she’d made sense of them, then repeated, “Babies are special? Is that what you said?”
“It’s true,” Brooklyn said. “That’s why my mama wanted to have Mariah. She thought if she had another baby—especially if the baby was a boy—our daddy would want to stay with us more. But he didn’t. He left, and not long after that...”
Asshole, Isabel thought.
Isabel knew exactly what had happened. Just a few short weeks after she’d given birth to Mariah, the girls’ mother had overdosed. Brooklyn had been the one to find her, had been the one to call 9-1-1. She rarely talked about it outside of the therapy Isabel had arranged, but Brooklyn had known her mother was dead before she even touched her. She’d picked the baby up, carried to the living room and made a pallet for her, then called emergency services, acting too much like the little grown-up she’d been forced to become.
So many ghosts this child had, so many shadows.
Cuddling Brooklyn on her lap, she stroked the girl’s soft, wispy hair. “And are you thinking if I have a baby of my own, maybe I won’t want you kids?”
“You wouldn’t,” Brooklyn said, sniffling. “If you and Travis make babies, why would you need us? You’d have your own babies to love.”
“Oh, honey.” She squeezed Brooklyn closer and kissed her temple. “Love is a funny thing, you know. Your heart can carry so much of it ... even when you give lots of it away, like I do with you, Mariah, Aaron, and Storm, there’s always more left over, because your heart can hold so many people.”
Brooklyn said nothing.
Cupping the girl’s chin in her hand, she pressed gently until Brooklyn finally met her eyes. “I’m not going to be having babies, Brooklyn.”
Not with Travis. Not with anybody. It was an old ache by now, but sometimes, it still stung. Now, though, there was barely a twinge, almost as if helping somebody with their hurt made that old pain fade into the background.
“You might,” Brooklyn said with a watery sniff. “You like him a whole lot. I can tell.”
Isabel wasn’t sure how to describe her feelings for Travis Barnes. Like didn’t even touch the surface.
“No, Brook. I mean, it’s true that I like him.” That didn’t even touch on how she felt about Travis, but that wasn’t the point. With a heavy sigh, she brushed Brooklyn’s hair back from her face again and held the girl’s eyes. “I can’t have babies. Ever.”
Brooklyn’s eyes widened while her face took on a puzzled look.
“Why can’t you?”
“I got sick,” Isabel said simply. “It’s not anything you have to worry about. It was a long time ago and I’m all better now, but there was a complication and by the time the doctors took care of it, the end result was that I’d never be able to have kids of my own.”
Brooklyn folded her mouth into a thoughtful frown, her too-canny mind turning this new information this way and that. After a minute, she squinted up at Isabel. “Is that why you take care of kids like us? Because you can’t have your own kids?”
“It started out that way, I guess.” With a one-sided shrug, Isabel said, “But it turns out, I’m pretty good at it. I know what it’s like to be in a bad place and need somebody who’ll take care of me, listen to me ... only I didn’t get it. If I can help kids like you and Aaron and Storm out, then all the bad things that happened to me when I was a kid ... well, maybe there was a reason.”
“And Mariah,” Brooklyn added. She considered a moment, then said, “And Jacob, although I don’t think I like him yet.”
“He’s a work in progress,” Isabel agreed.
The music coming from her house came to an abrupt halt, followed by a raised angry voice.
Silently, Isabel swore.
“I think he’s a d-bag,” Brooklyn said philosophically.
Swallowing her frustrated laughter, Isabel gave Brooklyn a stern look. “We’ve talked about that language.”
“I’m not saying it around teachers, strangers or Mariah!” Brooklyn gave her a defensive look as Isabel nudged her onto her feet. “And he is a d-bag!”
Aaron’s angry shout cut off whatever response Isabel had been about to make. “Later,” she told the girl. Taking off at a jog, she headed for the garage, arriving just as Booker backed out, an amazed look on his handsome young face.
“Damn, he fast,” the kid muttered under his breath. “I mean ... fast ... ”
Isabel swung into her garage just as Travis gave Jacob a warning look, his hand on the kid’s shoulder “Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands to yourself?”
“Get your fucking paws off me! This is child abuse!” Jacob’s lips peeled back from his teeth.
“Sure, kid. I’ll let go as soon as you calm down.” Turning his attention to the other kid, Travis asked, “You going to keep your cool, Aaron?”
“As long as that punk doesn’t touch me or my stuff again.” Aaron jerked his head in a nod and Travis released the skinnier kid, turning his focus back on Jacob.
“You ready to show some sense?”
Before Jacob could answer, Isabel stepped into the garage. “What on earth is going on?”
Neither boy spoke.
Travis eyed the one he still had a grip on. “What’s the matter? You had plenty to say a minute ago.”
Jacob curled his lip in a sneer and jerked against Travis’s hold. “Let me go, dumbass.”
“Watch how you address adults,” Isabel said.
Jacob’s cheeks went a blistering red but he jerked his shoulders up. “The fucker put his hands on me.”
“And what inspired him to do such a thing?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and pinning him with a flat look. She’d address the language after the bigger problems were dealt with. One thing she’d learned after a couple of years of doing this was to pick her battles.
“Maybe he’s a prick,” Jacob suggested.
“Don’t you say that about Mr. Travis!” Brooklyn said, fury in her voice. Then she looked up at Isabel. “What’s a prick?”
“A bad word for a jerk,” she said with a quick look at the child. She smoothed her hand over Brooklyn’s hair. “Let me handle this.”
“But we’re supposed to stand up for our friends.” Brooklyn puts her hands on her hips and gave Jacob a defiant look.
“In general, that’s a good rule of thumb,” Isabel allowed. “But I think Travis is pretty good at standing up for himself ... and I’m also here.”
Brooklyn seemed to consider that and then she smiled sweetly, first at Isabel, then at Jacob. “Okay, Ms. Bella. You can stand up for Mr. Travis. You’re meaner than me anyway.”
“Mean? You’re just a runty little girl,” Jacob said with a snort.
Isabel winced inwardly. That boy was going to regret that.
Brooklyn’s heart-shaped face remained sweet, that deceptively innocent smile in place. “Ms. Bella is a girl,” she said with a shrug. “And you got put with her because nobody else would take you. Girls are tough.”
Isabel grimaced. She had no idea where Brooklyn had picked that up.
Jacob’s mouth went tight and Brooklyn smiled sunnily at him before skipping past him, right on into the house. “I’m gonna make some Kool-Aid, okay, Ms. Bella?”
Not certain whether she should be relieved or wary, Isabel nodded. Getting Brooklyn away from Jacob was a good idea, though, so she nodded and said, “Be sure to clean your mess up, sweetheart.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
As the door closed, Isabel gave Jacob one more quiet look. “You going to offer an explanation?”
“What the fuck does it matter?” He jerked a skinny shoulder and moved over to the window, his tone resigned. “I’m sure you’re ready to get rid of me no matter what.”
It’s not going to be that easy, kid, she thought. Turning to Aaron, she lifted a brow.
Aaron gave her an irritated look. “He came barging in and unplugged my amp in the middle of practice, Miss B. I yelled at him, and he yelled back. Then he called me a fucking girl and I shoved him. He shoved me back and I tackled him and ... ” Face red, he looked away. “I’m not a fucking girl. He knows that. We all told him. He’s already done it a couple of times and I’m having a shit day with my dysphoria anyway and hearing it ... ” He sniffed and dragged a hand under his nose, his dark eyes filling with tears. “I fucking hate this body and I don’t need some asshole kid reminding me of just how much I hate it, how much I don’t belong in it!”
“Hey, hey ... ” She approached Aaron and gingerly touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. And you’re right.” She shot Jacob a hard look. “You shouldn’t have to put up with anybody being cruel and reminding you of things that cause you pain.”
Jacob glared right back, but after a few seconds, his eyes flickered to Aaron then fell away.
Since her newest charge had nothing to say at the moment, she focused on Aaron. “I can’t tell you it’s okay to haul off and attack another kid when they’re being transphobic bigots. You know it can cause problems—for you, for me, for the other kids in the house. But I understand it can be hard. No more music practice today and no video games. You and Booker can still hang out until his moms can pick him up. We’ll talk about the rest later ... and if you need to just ... talk, or vent, whatever, come find me.”
Aaron’s shoulders slumped and he nodded but before he turned to go, he darted a look at Travis. “All Travis did was grab us both before we started swinging. He didn’t do anything else.”
“I kinda already figured that, but thank you.” She ruffled Aaron’s hair and wished she could hug him, but he was intensely guarded. She’d learned that he’d let her know when he needed or wanted anything but the barest physical contact. “You two go on. You can put your gear away in about twenty minutes.”
After he and Booker left, she turned and looked at Jacob.
“I want to help you, Jacob. I’m willing to work with you and help you find a home here—but I will not tolerate bigotry or hate directed at another kid in this house. Aaron is a boy. Period.”
“Science says otherwise,” Jacob said with a sneer.
“Oh, really?” Amused now, she folded her arms over her chest. “And just where did you get your degree in ... science? When did you have a chance to look at his chromosomes?”
“She’s got tits so that means her chromosomes are the same as yours, XX.” Jacob smirked at her.
“Ah, but you haven’t seen my chromosomes, either, have you? For that matter, you probably haven’t seen yours. And there’s more to chromosomes than just XX and XY. You mention science, but the fact is, actual science supports transgender biology. That is the reality. Both the medical and scientific communities agree. There are numerous studies and articles on it. If you look into the real research being done in genetics, hormones and neurobiology, you’d see what I’m talking about.” Isabel paused, waiting to see what Jacob would say. He just glared at her. “And that’s just the focus on transgender individuals. What about intersex people, those who fit in between the binary? Those who are born with both testes and ovaries, for example. You could have the external genitalia of a female but undescended testes, which are part of the male reproductive system. And there’s vice versa.”
The boy’s face shot to fire-engine red and he jerked his eyes away.
“Oh, is this making you uncomfortable?” Isabel smiled sweetly. “You’re the one who felt perfectly comfortable referring to someone’s ... tits—they aren’t your tits, though, are they? Neither Aaron’s body, nor his body parts concern you, so why is this discussion bothering you? You’re so grown up, and you know so much. So, let’s continue. And yes, intersex is a thing. One to two out of every one hundred births, across the world, are born intersex. That means there are literally millions of intersex people in the US alone.”
He opened his mouth, hesitated then snapped it closed.
Isabel wasn’t done.
“If you’re not too up to date on the facts of intersex people, it’s going to stun you to learn that there are chromosome pairings like XXY, XYY, XXYY.” She frowned and paused to consider. “I believe there might be another couple in there. Then there are babies born with ambiguous genitalia and atypical genitalia. There is androgen insensitivity, conditions like güevedoces, Swyer syndrome—that’s when a baby is born with the XY chromosomes and has the gonads of a male, but also has the external genitalia of a female and some female reproductive organs ... they are usually unable to get pregnant naturally, but there have been a few rare cases.” She arched a brow as Jacob’s mouth dropped open. “What ... didn’t you read about these conditions and cases when you were reading up on ... science?”
He stood with rigid shoulders now, gaze locked on the ground.
“People are complicated, Jacob. The human body is complicated. Sex and gender aren’t synonymous. More and more biologists and scientists in general argue that sex and gender aren’t binary. You have various genetic components that come into play and current research seems to point to a genetic component to being transgender. So if you want to argue science, perhaps you should actually read up and see what science has to say.” Lifting a shoulder, Isabel said, “Basically, you can’t get by using a poor understanding of science to justify you being a bigot.”
That made him look up, eyes narrowed and gaze hot. “I’m not a bigot. It’s just that all that shit is made up.”
“Are you going to tell me the earth is flat, too?”
She thought she heard Travis laugh, but the sound was cut off so quickly, she couldn’t be sure.
“No!” Aaron’s face was hotly red now but he was looking at her again, hands balled into fists. “I’m not one of those crazy quacks. But all that made up is shit about XYZ and guvo-whatever ... that’s not for real.”
She propped a hand on her hip. “Okay, so ... I just told you there are numerous studies that support what I’ve said. You are telling me you believe in real science?”
“Yeah.” He curled his lip at her. “If it’s real, with facts and shit. That kind of real science.”
