The Kindest Lie(92)

“Money for what?”

“Money to move somewhere other than where Granny wants to send me. Or money to help Daddy get a new place for just the two of us.” Saying those words and hearing them carried by the early-morning wind made them seem truer than when he just thought about the idea of moving.

Corey rocked back and forth on the ground with his hands shoved in his coat pockets. “That’s nuts. Just talk to your granny. I bet you won’t have to go.”

Easy for Corey to say. He lived on Hill Top, where people didn’t worry about money like they did in Pratt. Whenever he spent his allowance and wanted more money for salt and vinegar chips, the Cunninghams just gave it to him.

Corey pulled out his cell phone and got that panicky look he always did when he thought he was breaking somebody’s rules. “I got to go. My mom and dad are gonna be really mad this time. They’ll probably ground me for a week.” He looped the straps of his backpack around his arms and struggled to pull it up around his bulky down jacket. “Look, if you need money, I can just ask them to give you some.”

“I don’t want your mom and dad’s money.” If only Corey knew they weren’t his real mom and dad. Midnight considered telling him so but decided to keep his mouth shut. For now.

“Then why are you complaining all the time? Go on and move if that’s what you want.”

In that smug way of his, Corey always let you know he had more than you did and probably always would. Midnight unzipped his backpack and pulled out his airsoft pellet gun, the one he’d taken from Daddy’s truck. Corey was good at a lot of things, but he wasn’t the best at everything. Definitely not the best at this.

Corey’s eyes got big. For a second, the shock of seeing the gun must have stolen his voice. His mouth hung open, but he didn’t say anything. At least he’d stopped whining about his mom and dad and getting in trouble.

“What the hell, Patrick? Where did you get that?” Corey leaned back, falling to his elbows and looking from the gun to Midnight.

He’d called him Patrick, the name nobody used except Daddy, Granny, and his teachers.

The weight of the gun in Midnight’s good hand bent his wrist.

“It’s mine.”

“Did you steal your dad’s gun?”

“No. It’s my new pellet gun. Not a real one. Duh. My dad did show me how to shoot a real gun before, though.”

Corey inched backward as Midnight waved the gun in zigzag lines, aiming it nowhere and everywhere.

“Guns are supposed to be locked up. That’s what my dad said.”

“I told you it’s not real, dodo. We’re hiding our real ones from the government ’cause Daddy said Obama’s gonna take away everybody’s guns.”

“Obama didn’t say that.”

“You don’t know.”

“Neither do you.”

The wind had settled to a dull whisper. Midnight let the airsoft rest on his knee.

Corey fumbled with his phone and said, “I’m calling my mom.”

“My mom. My mom,” Midnight repeated in a singsong voice, and waved the gun to match the melody. He should tell him about Miss Ruth, let him know the truth. Tell him his parents weren’t really his parents. Make him wonder for once what it felt like to not be sure who really loved you.

“Shut up,” Corey muttered.

“I bet you can’t shoot this.” Midnight knew Corey had never fired a gun before, real or fake. The Cunninghams wouldn’t even buy him a water gun when they were little.

“Maybe I don’t want to. Guns are stupid anyway.”

“I dare you.” He held the airsoft out to his friend, who kept his head down but eyes on the gun. “Only if you’re not scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Prove it.”

“Give it to me.” Corey snatched it by the barrel and right away crossed his thumbs on the pistol grip and pointed his index finger toward an imaginary target.

“You’re not holding it right.” Kneeling next to him, Midnight heard Daddy’s instructions in his ear. He wrapped his good hand around one of Corey’s, positioning his friend’s fingers on the pellet gun. Don’t pull the trigger, squeeze. You should squeeze it like you’re making a fist.

Corey got the hang of it fast, like he did everything else, and now clutched the gun with the same confidence he did a baseball bat, as if he’d done it a million times before.

Then Corey hopped to his feet and aimed it at the icy ground, the trees, the sky, everywhere. Pow. Pow. A wildly alive look came over his face and he moved like he had firecrackers in his pants.

A grin spread across Midnight’s face and he momentarily forgot his anger, forgot that he knew the truth about Miss Ruth. Whenever you watched somebody do something for the first time, it felt good. Especially if it was something you’d done before. Like you were doing it again for the first time, too.

But he reminded himself of what Corey had taken from him, how he had ruined everything in his life, from his bum arm to Miss Ruth. He didn’t know for sure, but Miss Ruth didn’t seem to be the kind of lady who liked guns very much. He bet that when she saw her son shooting a gun, she would be pretty upset. He took out his phone and texted her. He knew she would come.

But as he watched Corey run along the river’s edge firing the airsoft, he got the urge to do something even bigger.