A moving van is pulled onto the lawn of the blue and white house, and there’s a bunch of empty boxes along the curb.
“When we’re done I want you to head back home and clean up for supper. Daddy should be home from his trip soon and I want you looking your best,” Momma informs. My eyes perk as a big grin spreads across my face.
“Tonight? He’s coming home tonight?” I ask excited. Daddy is a professional boxer, and has been away for a week for a fight. I love it when he comes home, he doesn’t press me to be someone I’m not.
Pink dresses. Stupid hair bows. Dolls. I may puke if I keep going.
Maybe he will spar with me! I’m getting good at the right, right, jab.
Momma rings the doorbell and runs her hand along the top of my head before pulling the hair ribbon from my hair.
“Hey!” I smack at her hands, glaring up at her.
The front door swings open and a tall woman with blonde hair with streaks of black stands there. She has on a white blouse, and green khaki shorts. Her makeup has ran as if she’s been sweating or working out, leaving streaks of black around her blue eyes.
“Well hello there,” she greets with a friendly tone.
“Hi, I’m Marlow Davis! This is Tatum. I’m married to Nicky Davis. We live next door.” Momma points to our red and white house.
“I’m Kelly Steel, my husband Andrew is around here somewhere.” She smiles.
“Mom, I did what you asked can I go play now?” A boy with blonde shaggy hair walks around Kelly and stares up at her before noticing my momma and I standing here.
“Camden, this is Marlow and her daughter Tatum. They’re our neighbors.” His eyes never leave mine, as he assesses me.
“Tate. You can call me Tate,” I inform. Mom shifts the pie in her hands, and nearly drops it.
“Here, let me show you inside so you can set down that delicious looking pie,” Kelly laughs, waving my momma in. She looks down at me, her eyes telling me she really doesn’t have time for this because she needs to get to church, but Kelly wouldn’t know that look.
“I’ll-I’ll be right back,” she whispers.
“Okay.”
After our moms enter the house Camden stares at me awkwardly.
“What kind of name is Tatum for a girl?” Camden sneers, his arms crossed as he glares at me.
I scowl. “A cool one. What kind of name is Camden?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever.”
Chewing on my nail like Daddy does, I wait for Momma. Camden looks around the neighborhood and sighs. “This place sucks.”
Spitting my nail out I say, “It’s not so bad. There are a lot of other kids you can play with this summer, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into.”
His gaze locks with mine and I notice for the first time that his eyes are so blue they look like an aqua crayon.
“What do you mean? Are you not into playing with other kids?”
I shrug. “I don’t really like to do what the other kids do.” They like playing house, or drawing with chalk a lot. You can only draw so many flowers and rainbows with dust before it gets old.
“Oh yeah, and what do you like to do?”
I smile, excited he asked. “Fight. I like to box, and wrestle others.” I ball my fist up showing him how big it is, waving it between us.
This seems to grab his attention because he fists his hand too.
“I bet I can hit harder,” he insults.
Scrunching my nose, I punch him in the arm as hard as I can, pushing him back a step.
“Hey!” he whines, rubbing his arm.
“My daddy is Knock Out Nicky, so the bet wasn’t very fair.”
“Your dad is Knock Out Nicky!” He nearly bounces on his feet with excitement.
I smile proud.
“Yup, and one day—” He slugs me right in the arm, catching me off guard. “Ouch, that hurt!” My nose wrinkles with anger, my cheeks suddenly warming.
“Told you I can hit harder,” he taunts.
Having enough, I shove him.
“No you don’t!”
“Hey, don’t shove me.” He pushes me back.
Pursing my lips, my nose wrinkled, and brows furrowed I charge him like I’ve seen Daddy do to his opponent in the ring. Locking my arm around his neck I bring him to the ground. Daddy doesn’t do that, that’s my move.
“Get off me!” he struggles in my hold.
“Take it back!”
“Never! You hit like a girl!” He did not just say that!
“Oh yeah, well you hit like a boy!” I insult before punching him in the mouth.
My hit doesn’t seem to faze him, which distracts me. Why didn’t he cry?
Taking the opportunity he slips his arm around my body and wrestles for control. My head scrapes along the cemented porch and I cry out with pain.
“You going to cry?” He laughs.
“I don’t cry!” I try and jab my fist into his gut, but miss.
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” My momma scolds from behind us.
Suddenly I’m ripped from Camden, just as his mother pulls him from me.
“I’m so sorry about this Kelly!” my mother apologizes. “Her daddy boxes, and we’ve been having a really hard time teaching Tate it’s not okay to hit.”