Page 95 of Possibly Texas

His frown deepened and he began jotting on the pad again. Seconds later, he was shoving the notepad in my face again.

Why’d you ask about school? The Pueblo? If you weren’t planning to stay?

I rolled my eyes.

“What else was I supposed to do? What else could I do, man? Planning the next day is all anyone can do around here,” I grumbled. “Not like there’s much else.”

Jack’s mouth turned up in a snarl and he started to retract the notepad to write more. Angrily, I reached out, snatched the pad and tossed it towards the living room. Jack’s eyes grew wide in shock as I snarled across the table at him.

“It doesn’t freaking matter what you have to say, Jack!” I growled. “What can you say to explain why my own mother was happy to ditch my ass here? To leave me with someone I barely know in a town I can’t even really remember? She didn’t even ask you if you were okay with it! Does that not bother you, man? She didn’t give a shit what either one of us wanted. She just did what Mom always does! She’s—Mom’s a—I hate this place! I want to…I want to go home!”

Jack stared at me angrily for the longest of moments as I glared back across the table at him, my eyes threatening to spill over. Finally, his expression softened and he lifted his hand, shaking a finger at me as if admonishing me. But then he pulled his fingers together in his right hand and touched them to the corner of his mouth and then his cheek like a bird pecking.

Where’s home?

He glowered at me and repeated the signs.

Then a third time. A fourth.

“I don’t know, Jack!” I screamed, throwing my hands up in the air. “I’ve never had a home! But any place is better than this damn town! Stop freaking asking me!”

Punctuating my sentence, I banged a fist on the tabletop, making our plates and silverware clatter. Jack, aggravated by my display, snatched his plate off of the table, and chucked it across the kitchen. With an ear-splitting clatter, it shattered against the cabinet below the sink. I jumped in my seat, my spine stiffening at the sudden display of violence from Jack.

He never lost his cool like that.

Before the shards could even settle, Jack was out of his seat and marching through the kitchen to the stairs. I sat stock still, waiting as Jack stomped through the room and then up the stairs, his feet like clubs against each step.

Jack climbed the stairs angrily and I sat and listened as he entered the second-floor hallway. His angry footsteps marched down the hallway just as fierce as they had sounded on the stairs. Then the sound of his bedroom door slamming echoed through the house.

Happy by The Rolling Stones continued to play on the radio.

“Feeling any better?” Auggie smiled at me from his worktable when I slipped through the barn doors.

After cleaning up Jack’s plate and food from the kitchen floor and wiping the cabinet clean, I’d thrown all of the breakfast food and the shards of the plate away. I’d washed up the skillet and cups and put everything away. Angrily, I had turned off the radio so I didn’t have to hear The Rolling Stones anymore. It was apparent that Jack, like he often did when he was upset, had decided to retire to his bedroom for the rest of the day.

My options were limited.

Staying at Jack’s place and hiding in my own room on the top floor was the easiest of all of my choices. Walking around downtown Possibly to blow off steam was the second-best option. However, walking around downtown would guarantee that I would run into someone and my attitude was not conducive to friendly banter with anyone. Since I didn’t want to risk seeing Jack so soon after our fight, and I didn’t want to be rude to any other people in town, I had walked from Jack’s, past the graveyard, and down to Auggie’s barn.

The double doors had been thrown wide open so that the sun could get inside. Auggie was hammering away at something on his worktable, a smile on his face. Down with the Sickness, the Richard Cheese version, was playing loudly on his radio. It was a nice change after hearing Happy play during my walk across Possibly. As funny as the version of the song was, and the fact that it was a welcome change, it did nothing to fix my mood.

I was still angry.

I was pissed at my mom.

I felt abandoned and unloved.

Burden.

Mom had made me feel like I’d always been a burden to her. And Jack had blown a gasket when I simply tried to explain my feelings.

No. I wasn’t feeling any better.

Auggie stared at me, the hammer in his hand frozen in place above whatever he had been pounding on when I entered the barn.

“Jordan?”

“What?” I responded a little too sharply.