“All My Life”—K-Ci & JoJo
Rae West
Over the next few weeks, things are strained, but Lennox keeps his promise. He treats me with nothing but respect, never pushing my limits or even reminding me that he’s waiting for my answer. Do I want to be his girlfriend?
The night we came back from the quarry, Maddox had waited up, watching some old western on TV. When we walked in, he took one look at us and stalked off to his room. But Lennox must have told him enough to satisfy him because they didn’t fight about it like they did on the morning of my birthday. Maddox watches us closely, though, even pulling me to the Crows’ table at lunch.
Lennox gives nothing away.
When Maddox goes to work out, though, Lennox steals a few sweet kisses or holds my hand while we watch TV. One evening I leave my room on my way to run, and smack into Maddox, who’s stepping out of his room, also dressed in running shorts and a loose tank.
“Where are your jean shorts, little girl?” he asks with a smirk.
“Very funny, Jerk Face,” I shoot back.
The corner of his lip twitches, and he reaches out and adjusts the ballcap I’m wearing with my ponytail out the back to keep it off my neck.
We step out the front door and pause.
“I go that way,” he says, nodding toward Sullivan Street. “Think you can keep up?”
“Not a chance,” I say honestly. He’s an entire foot taller than me, and there’s no way my legs can keep up with his long stride.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s see what you got.”
We take off, not saying anything else. But then, we don’t need to. Our shoes hitting the pavement sets a comfortable rhythm, and there’s no need for words. I know he could run faster, but he doesn’t leave me in the dust or complain that my pace is holding him back. That makes me feel bad, and I push myself harder than I would if he’d given me shit about being slow.
After that, I run with Maddox nearly every evening, since we both run already, and it would be awkward to avoid each other and go in opposite directions. He never goes ahead, even when I tell him to. I arrive home completely wrung out after our runs, while he’s barely winded, since I’m pushing myself hard while he holds back. Lennox doesn’t seem too happy about our time together, but he doesn’t say much, just retreats to his room and works out his feelings in his sketchbook.
One evening we arrive back after one of our runs and find the driveway empty. When Maddox turns the knob of the front door, we find it locked.
“Did he seriously lock us out?” I ask, distracted by the harsh sound of crows in the oak in our backyard next door.
Maddox shrugs, but a frown darkens his brow as he surveys the empty driveway. “He must have gone somewhere on crew business.”
“Doesn’t that usually happen somewhere closer to midnight?” I ask, since I hear them come and go on the regular, mostly after their mom is asleep. Clearly Faulkner’s city curfew hasn’t stopped the gangs from running around all hours of the night.
“There’s no schedule for when people need help,” Maddox says, looking annoyed at me, which he does pretty much always. I try not to take it personally, since that’s his normal expression around everyone else too. And I did just make light of his gang, which they take very seriously.
“Are all the windows locked?” I ask. “We could pop out a screen.”
“They’re all locked,” he says, glowering at me like I’m the reason we’re locked out.
“We could break a window,” I offer. “There’s the little bathroom window on the back of the house that wouldn’t cost as much to replace. I could crawl through and unlock the door for you.”
“We’re not breaking a window,” he snaps.
“Okay,” I say, holding up both hands. “We’ll just have to hang out until he gets back. Good thing we’re both so good at this conversation thing.”
Maddox stares at me a second and then rattles the doorknob desperately, like it’ll suddenly pop open with the force of his need to get away from me. I laugh, and he turns to glower at me again. “You think this is funny?”
I shrug. “Maybe a little.”
“It’s not funny.”
“If you’re worried about your brother, we should just break a window and you can check your voicemail or recent calls to see where he might have gone. They can’t cost that much to replace. I’ll pay for it with my newspaper money.”
“I’m not breaking a fucking window.” He lets his forehead thump to the door and mutters, “Mom would kill me.”