Get Out

Kylee jerked on the mailbox, angry when the lid jammed.

“Need help?”

“I got it.” She gritted her teeth and pried it open on the third pull.

“Hey, don’t be like that. I don’t pretend you don’t exist.”

She whirled to face Price, jaw tightening. “Yes, you do! As soon as your sister appears, you stop talking to me! I know she ignores me, which is rude enough, but you, too? Can’t you just tell her we’re friends?”

His face reddened, and Kylee interpreted his answer for him.

“No,” she said. “Okay. I get it. Fine.” She swiveled around.

“Wait, Kylee, please, listen.” Price paraded in front of her, holding his hands out with the palms facing her. “Don’t stop talking to me again.” He scratched at his eyebrow, keeping his gaze on her. “I’ve been wondering where you went. If I’d see you again.” He blurted the last line out like he was tossing a grenade and didn’t want to get caught in the explosion. His eyes darted to the ground, the blush rising all the way to his ear

“I don’t want to be treated like a nobody.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If we’re going to be friends, you have to acknowledge me in front of other people.”

He hesitated.

Kylee leaned closer. “Is it that hard? Is your reputation so fragile?”

“No, hey, it’s not like that. You—” He sighed. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me,” she said.

He lifted his face, those eyes flicking back and forth as he studied her. “Listen, I’m going to the beach tomorrow. The offer still stands. Want to come with me?”

Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. She hadn’t forgotten his mention last weekend, but she’d assumed he’d changed his mind. “You drive?”

“No.” Price grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I’m a quick study with city buses.”

The beach was twenty minutes away by car, but the public transportation system would take at least an hour. One hour each way of the two of them, with only each other for company. A full day away from Bill, away from the chores. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, do that.” One side of his lips turned upward.

“I mean, I want to,” Kylee amended. “But I have to ask Bill.”

He blinked, an expression of blank confusion on his face. “Really?”

“Yeah, duh. Don’t you have to get permission before you go places?” Maybe he didn’t. “I’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” Price said, though he sounded less sure of himself. “Then, uh, meet me at my house at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect,” Kylee breathed, unable to stop the smile pulling across her face. “See you tomorrow!”

***

Kylee once again ran over the scenario of getting permission to go to the beach.

She stepped into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch, her hands tapping her knees. She needed the right moment, the perfect opportunity. Otherwise, she knew Bill would say no just to be spiteful.

A commercial came on, and Bill picked up the remote, flipping through channels. Kylee exhaled, so intent on her thoughts she didn’t know what he was watching.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Kylee blurted out. Ugh. What a lame beginning.

Bill didn’t glance at her. He took a sip of his beer and changed the channel.

“Some kids from school are going to the beach,” Kylee continued. If all she got was silence, it wouldn’t be so bad. She could pretend it was a yes. “They invited me. Can I go?” Now she held her breath, waiting to see what Bill would say.

Nothing. The game came back on and Bill settled in his chair, dropping the remote on the end table with a loud belch.

“Okay, then,” she said, pushing herself to her feet with fake cheer. “Sounds great. I’ll be off in the morning, then.” She made a beeline for the kitchen, already envisioning herself locked in her room, out of Bill’s reach.

“Kylee!” Bill shouted, sitting up in his chair.

Kylee froze in the doorway, then slowly turned around. “I can go, right? You know, to the beach. We talked about it.” Kind of.

“Leave her alone,” Theresa said from where she stood by the couch.

“Always sticking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Her mother took a step toward them. “Kylee, go back to the kitchen.”

Bill rose to his feet, rolling his head and popping his neck. “Worthless, just like your mom.” He shoved Theresa aside and stepped toward Kylee.

“I just want to go out tomorrow,” she said, hating the pleading that entered her voice. “I’ll get my chores done when I get back. I promise. Let me go for a bit.”

“You got something to say, girl?” Bill backhanded her across the face, and Kylee caught herself before she crashed into the doorframe.

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way!” he hollered.

He was out of control. The skin on the back of Kylee’s neck prickled, warning her of danger.

“Go to your room, Kylee,” her mother said.

“Yeah, Kylee,” Bill sneered. “Go to your room so I can take care of your mom.”

“I’m not trying to be ungrateful.” Why couldn’t he let her go?

Bill’s fist lashed out again. This time Kylee ducked in time, and his fist propelled through the empty air.

Theresa grabbed Bill’s arm. He rammed his elbow back, smacking her in the face. “Kylee! Go. Now!” her mom said, one hand pressed against her cheekbone.

She’d watched this scene play out dozens of times, and she knew she couldn’t help her mom. If she didn’t leave now, Bill would just get angrier.

But as Kylee turned on her heel and raced for her room, she couldn’t shake the feeling of cowardice and guilt at leaving her mother behind.

She locked her door with shaking hands. Then she grabbed the chair from her desk and wedged it under the knob.

Get out, get out, get out.