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With a little effort, I lift myself off the covers and look at the little desk with my camera on top of it. I didn’t get as much nature footage as I wanted.
Then. a little thought comes to mind. I’m tired of people making me feel powerless in all aspects of my life. The Gordons and Dalton don’t deserve that pleasure.
I get up and walk over to the camera. With a little maneuvering, I position the camera so it is facing me and hit record.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Oliver
“Marc, keep your eye on the ball!” I call over the yard, giving him the same instructions I’d give any of my students.
Marc lets out a groan as he picks up the missed football. He throws the ball my way with a lackluster flair as the ball wobbles in the air.
The ball lands just short of my arms, giving me barely enough time to catch it before it plummets to the ground.
My eyes catch Marc’s for a second before he looks away, bored. He didn’t seem happy about us playing catch, but Mom suggested it, so we came out here.
“Marc, come here for a second.”
His head shoots up, and he winces before coming over. The kid is only ten, so his growth spurt hasn’t really started yet. Mom isn’t tall, and neither is George, so he might not get to my height. I got that gene from Pops.
“Do you like football?” I ask when Marc stands in front of me. “It doesn’t seem like you want to be out here at all.”
Marc looks toward the back porch and sliding glass door vacant of anyone but us out here. He lets out a deep sigh. “Not really.”
“Sweet, me neither.” I toss the ball away from us. “I much prefer surfing or skating.”
“You have a skateboard?” Marc exclaims, a gleam now present in his green eyes that are similar to mine.
I ruffle his short, blond hair. “I sure do. Maybe I can show you sometime. Just don’t tell Mom.”
Marc’s grin mirrors my own. It’s his first smile since we came outside. It’s weird to think I now have a brother to do this stuff with—someone that looks up to me the same way I wanted to look up to Pops.
We are similar in so many ways. It’s uncanny. I knew the minute I saw him that he was my brother. Our hair might be different shades, but we have similar eyes. The dead giveaway, though, is our smile. The wide, toothy grin screams our mother.
“Just don’t get discouraged if you fall a little bit at first.”
“Did you fall when you started?” he asks earnestly.
I let out a laugh at the memory. “Oh, I fell a shit-ton…wait, don’t repeat that to Mom.”
“Oliver, I’m not a kid. I know what a cuss word is.” That’s fair. I don’t know the first thing about what kids aren’t supposed to do.
Sally and I shouldn’t have been on the roof, but we did it anyway.
“Have you taught anyone before?” Marc asks slyly.
The first person to come to mind should be Casey. Skating was Jaxon’s main transport before he really got into motorbikes, and he taught me freshman year. That was the same year I met Casey, and she wanted to learn. But the only person that comes to mind is Sally nervously stepping on my board. How she watched my every move and held onto me for dear life. The girl who dances on rooftops and jumps off cliffs without a fear in the world was scared of being on a little board.
Eff, I miss her.
She never answered my text apologizing for pushing last time. I foolishly thought she would talk more if it were through texts, but my girl just doesn’t like talking. I just wish I was the exception to that rule.
“Best skater in Alliance, Michigan.” I embellish a little before taking out my phone. I’m not sure if Marc is old enough to call me on my bullshit, but it’s all I got. “Maybe we can convince Mom to let you come down to my neck of the woods.”
Sudden disappointment crosses his features. Did I already fuck up?
“I don’t think that will happen. Mom hates talking about Alliance. She always looks sad, especially when you go back.” Marc stops for a second, shifting awkwardly like he’s not supposed to be telling me this. “I heard her cry when you left. When I asked if she was okay, she just said she’s worried about you. Duties of being a mom and all that.”
