The Games We Play

Chapter Two

CORINNE – Age 10

He's my religion because I worship every word he speaks. He's like an old soul, wise beyond his years. I soak up his knowledge every time I'm in his presence. I follow every word he says. Sometimes it gets me in trouble. If he tells me to jump in the mud, I do it. Actually, I did do it.

With both feet.

Without question.

Because it's fun. And what else would a ten-year-old be doing on a dreary day? Splashing the muddy water around makes me laugh. Something I haven't done in a while is laugh.

Ryan then kicks up a huge splash and gets it all over my clothes. I do it right back at him and we chase each other around trying to get it on the other. I love those moments I share with him. It's rare to see him smile or laugh, too.

***

"Now look at you. A goddamn mess," my mom scolds me, before jerking me to the bathroom. She angrily pulls my clothes off me while tears stream down my cheeks. "How many times do I have to tell you not to play in the mud?"

When you're ten there isn't much to do. Plus, I was old enough to know to keep myself scarce from my mom and stepdad. All I ever did was make her angry at me.

After my bath, I step out of the room and feel a slap across my face, curtesy of my stepdad. "Listen to your mother. Now go grab me a fucking beer." He shoves me.

I just want to curl up and die. It's not like they'd miss me or anything. They'd probably be happy to get rid of me. Retrieving a beer from the fridge, I hurry to hand it to Trace. I always smell alcohol on his breath.

"Now, get out of my sight," Mom says with a stern voice.

Gladly, I think to myself. I don't want to go outside and get dirty again. But I go out to sit on the porch because my mom hates me. She doesn't love me. I carefully sit on the porch swing, burying my face in my hands. It still stings from the hard slap. He hates the sight of me because I'm not his kid. When I hear footsteps approaching, I know it's Ryan Hensley from across the street without even looking. We've only been friends for about a month.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asks, standing in front of me. His dark hair is styled into a low mohawk.

Shrugging, I say, "I guess so," with my head bowing.

Once we get out of sight of the house we walk down to Haines pond, where I'm not allowed without an adult. But we go anyway.

Ryan picks up a handful of rocks and throws each one into the water and it makes a splash sound. "Your dad hit you again?"

"Yeah." Tears threaten to stream, but I blink them back. I don't want him to see me cry.

"Do you cry every time he hits you?" Ryan's eyes squint against the sun.

"Yeah. It's hurts so bad." I try to touch my cheek but it stings. Tears eventually do fall. I can't help it and wipe them away as they come down.

"You know what you need to do?"

I finally look up at him. "What?"

"Stop crying. Shut off your emotions and he won't feel so powerful."

"That's easier said than done." I hang my head, pulling my knees into my chest to bury my face.

Ryan is facing me now. "If you have to cry, let it out where no one will see you. Come here to the pond and no one will bother you."

It's worth a shot. "Okay, I'll try."

"Once you have that down, then you don't show fear. He thinks you're weak. Men like him prey on the weak. And you're not weak, are you?"

"Right."

Ryan shoves me. "You're weak."

I stand. "I'm not weak."

"Yes, you are." He shoves me again.

"I'm not weak." I shove him back.

"I can't hear you, Corinne."

My fists ball at my sides. "I'm not weak!"

"Exactly right. You're not weak."

I know he's only doing this to make me tougher. Even though I'm not old enough to stand against grown adults like my mom and stepdad. I know I have other mechanisms to use against them. Ry showed me, because this isn't the first time he's offering me one of his life lessons.

I'm not sure how Ryan knows as much as he does. I take Ryan's words to heart. As I lie in bed later that night, I recite what he told me. Mom's says he's a troublemaker, but what does she know?

All I know is he's my truest friend and he never sugarcoats anything. He's real and says exactly what he thinks. We've become pretty close since he moved in. I was the first to welcome him to the neighborhood and offered him half of my cookie I got from the neighbor lady.

His mom and dad fight a lot, like mine. So, we have that in common. He's also an only child like me, too. He's like the older brother I've always wanted.