She smiled at Tommy as he stared at her. His inquisitive eyes traveled over her high cheekbones, and she could take a guess what sparked his interest.
“Do you hate your freckles?”
Questions like these made her day; an honest question with a genuine interest in her.
“When I was your age—definitely. I once took my Mom’s white paint and splashed it all over my face because I wanted to look like the other kids in my class.”
Tommy seemed sad and said, “You did?”
She nodded and filled the last bowl with fruit. Keenan took a seat on a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen counter and set a water bottle in front of Ryleigh. He took the bowl Ryleigh handed him and thanked her.
“Did you go to school with the paint on your face?” Tommy asked.
After a warm chuckle, Ryleigh shook her head. “No, my mom wouldn’t let me. She wiped it off and said I should be proud of my freckles. That they are special.”
“There sure are a lot of them…” Tommy inspected her cheekbones like he was trying to count freckle to freckle.
“There’s more of them in the summer, like now, when I sit out in the sun. But I don’t hate them anymore.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t?”
Ryleigh smiled. “No. I agree with my mom. It makes me different from others, but I think in a good way. Now that I’m older, I see a lot of people trying to look alike, you know? Dress the same, talk the same. And it’s okay if you do. People picked on me for being different so I would never judge someone else. But I like to spice things up a bit. And I’d rather stand out if it means I can be myself.”
For a moment, Ryleigh let her words sink in, more so for herself than Tommy. She’d really come a long way since high school.
Being a gangly, red-haired, freckled girl made her an easy target. The hand-me-down shirts from her sister Jessie were also a hoot for some of her classmates. Money had been tight since Ryleigh’s father lost the ability to walk in a car accident and lost his job as a construction worker.
Tommy didn’t need to know she’d not only been picked on but also lived with the memory of an incident so traumatic, it still messed with her head.
Taking self-defense classes from her cousin Devlin had helped her a lot to gain confidence. Devlin still trained with her once a week and he even let her fight on a few fight nights. It took a lot of whining and persuasion, but when she finally stood up there in the ring, nothing else mattered but her and her opponent. Being able to stand her own against some of the most aggressive female fighters had done wonders for her self-esteem.
Now and then thoughts of not being good enough, or the feeling of shame for being different reared its ugly head again. On those days, she would call her cousin and work up a sweat on the mat.
With his shoulders hunched, Tommy said, “I’m glad you’re not at school anymore. I think you’d be bullied in my class.”
It pained Ryleigh to hear this. She wanted to go to Tommy’s school and have a word with those little fuckers.
Keenan shifted on his bar stool and brought himself closer to Tommy. “Are there bullies in your class, son?”
Tommy shook his head but couldn’t meet his dad’s eyes. “No, Dad. Everything’s fine.”
Across the counter, Ryleigh caught Keenan’s pained expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.
“I can help you learn some moves—”
She stopped talking when Keenan clanked his fork on the kitchen counter. “No. You’re not teaching my son how to fight. Fighting isn’t the solution, Ryleigh.”
She liked hearing her name fall from his lips but suddenly was aware he waited for her response.
“I didn’t say he should beat the crap out of his bullies.”
“I want to do that! I hate them.” Tommy’s enthusiasm for beating kids up didn’t go well with his father. Oh, shit. Now she’d done it. This was it.
“Tommy! Ryleigh will not teach you how to fight, and that’s final.”
With a hard edge to his voice, Tommy said, “I don’t want to learn how to fight from a girl, anyway. Forget it.”
She stuck out her hand to caress his back, but Tommy dodged her hand and stepped away from her. He avoided eye contact at first, but when their eyes met, his stare lacked any warmth.