“You’re named after him, huh? What was his name?”
I laugh. “Nice try, sweetness. Still not telling you my real name.”
“Damn it. I thought that’d work.” She’s on her side, head propped on her hand, looking up at me from way too close. “Why won’t you tell?”
“Because my name belongs to him. And I don’t know a single goddamn thing about him. So I need—I decided in third grade that if I’m gonna be myself, with no help from his ass, then I might as well have my own name. So I chose Oz.”
“Why Oz?”
I shrug. “It’s a…derivative. And it fit. Also, I’d just seen The Wizard of Oz for the first time, and thought the wizard was cool. I mean, he wasn’t supposed to be, but he projected this huge image of himself when inside, in reality, he was totally different. And that’s how I felt, like to survive in the world I had to be totally different from the way I felt inside, different from who I wanted to be. I mean, I grew up rough, Ky. I did. What just happened? Not unusual. I’m a fighter, okay? I’ve been to juvie. I had to fight every day when I was in juvie. I had to fight at school, and I had to fight on the playground, and I had to fight in the neighborhoods where we lived. When kids have something to prove, shit gets rough. And in the ’hood, everybody’s got something to prove. But inside, I hated fighting. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to know who my dad was, where I came from. Why my mom was alone. Why we were alone. Why we moved so much.”
“You’ve moved a lot?”
I nod. “Yeah, you could say that. Like, every year or so, for most of my life. The longest I’ve lived in any one city or state was in Dallas, from the time I was like eleven until junior high. Just before seventh grade Mom moved us from Dallas to St. Louis. It was every year, year and a half before Dallas, and the same after St. Louis. A new school, new apartment, new city, new friends. Then, eventually, I stopped bothering with the whole friends thing, since I’d just leave ’em after a few months. Now, I just bide my time till the next move. Keep to myself, do my own thing…shit, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve always been lost. Like I’m just shuffling around the world, just me and my mom, and I know there’s a whole tragic story Mom won’t tell me. I’m not really anybody, you know? You know who you are, where you come from. You’re Nell and Colt’s daughter. You’re a musician. You know your parents, each of them. I mean, yeah, for sure they have stories and secrets you don’t know, but they’re both there. You don’t even know what a huge thing that is. Mom is…shut off. I don’t know how to explain it. She’s…present in my life, and she’s raised me to the best of her ability, and I’m thankful I’ve got her. But there’s a part of her that’s…gone. From me, at least. I’ve asked her about it, but she just gets mad.” I have to stop for a minute and grit my teeth and try to get past the renewed throbbing in my leg and my side.
Kylie lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “God, Oz. There’s so much I want to know, so much I want to say. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Nothing to say. It is what is.” My teeth are clenched against the pain, which is blazing with sudden intensity.
“You said you were in juvie?” She asks this hesitantly, not looking at me.
I shrug. “Yeah. Tenth grade. New Jersey.”
“What for? I mean, what happened that you ended up there?”
I sigh. “Nothing too exciting. I got jumped by some ass**les after school one day. Got the shit stomped out of me. So I got even. Of course, I might’ve gotten a little too even. Hunted all four of them down, one by one, and hospitalized ’em. Apparently, revenge isn’t an excuse for aggravated assault and battery.”
“Hos-hospitalized them?”
“Yeah, sweetness. Bash a kid in the back of the head with a brick, he needs more than a couple stitches.”
“God, Oz.”
I laugh, but it’s a bitter sound. “Yeah. Maybe you’re starting to see why I said I’m no good for you. They deserved it, sure. They’d been picking on me for weeks. Knocking me around, slugging me in the hallways, and then I get in trouble when I retaliate. See, they were the cool kids. The ones with both parents. Mommies on the PTO and daddies on the school board. Established members of the community, that kind of horseshit. And I was just the new guy from the shitty end of town.”
“They were bullying you, but you got sent to juvie? I mean, what happened to them after they jumped you?”
I laughed again. “Nothing, sweetness. Not a damned thing. I dragged my sorry carcass home and skipped school the next day.”
“You didn’t tell anyone?”
“Fuck no. Wouldn’t have done any good, and even if they would’ve gotten in trouble, they’d’ve just gotten suspended for a few days. No point.”
“You said you’ve been hurt worse than this. Was that what you were talking about?”
“God, the questions. No, Kylie. That was a couple busted ribs and a black eye. Cuts and bruises. Nothing I hadn’t dealt with a dozen times before.” I hate telling her this. I hate the pity I see in her face. “The one other time I’ve been really, truly hurt, like not just beat up, but hurt…it was junior year. First week of school. There was this kid, Greg Makowski. Big, I mean huge. Stupid as the day is long, but just massive. A bully, of course. What you gotta understand is, when you’re in juvie, the new guy is nothing but fresh meat. You get jumped soon as they close the door behind you. Especially the juvie I was in. Well, I learned real quick that to fend off the beatings, I had to make a point. Prove I wasn’t someone to f**k with. So I chose the biggest, nastiest kid on the block and kicked his teeth in. Nobody messed with me after that, unless they were new and wanted to try to prove that same point on me. Well, this kid, at the school last year. I started a fight with him. Won, too. Only, he had buddies. A lot of them. Big ones. They cornered me on a cul-de-sac. A high wall with the freeway on the other side, empty lots on either side. Nowhere to go. Must’ve been eight of ’em. Broke four ribs and my wrist, fractured my cheekbone, broke my nose, loosened a few teeth. Nearly choked on my own blood. Spent over a week in the hospital, and couldn’t move for another two weeks after that. Mom had to sell her car and pawn some jewelry to pay even part of the bill. Still owe, like, five grand on it, as a matter of fact. Mom worked back-to-back double shifts every day for almost a month to get enough money to buy another car so she didn’t have to walk three miles to work, one way. Almost got evicted, too. But we made it, and after I was released from the hospital, we moved again and I transferred schools.” I shift to try and ease the ache in my ribs, but only succeed in causing more pain. “So that’s the sordid story. Glad you asked, huh?”