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OWTSYD
THE UNIVERSE AND my subconscious may be conspiring against me. I’m in the den
playing Fonetik with my mom. So far in tonight’s game I’ve gotten tiles to play OWTSYD,
FRIDUM, and SEEKRITS. That last one nets me a bonus for using all seven letters. She
frowns down at the board and I think she’s going to challenge my word, but she doesn’t.
She tallies the score and, for the first time ever, I’m actually winning. I’m ahead of her by
seven points.
I look down at the score and then back at her. “Are you sure you did that right?” I ask. I
don’t want to beat her on top of everything else.
I tally the score to find that she’s right.
Her eyes are on my face, but I keep staring at the scorecard. She’s been like this all
night, watchful, as if I’m a puzzle to be worked out. Or maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe
it’s the guilt I feel for being so selfish, for wanting to be with Olly even now. Every
moment I spend with him I learn something new. I become someone new.
She takes the scorecard from my hands and lifts my chin so that I have to meet her
eyes. “What’s going on, honey?”
I’m about to lie to her when there’s a sudden high scream from outside. Another
scream follows and then indistinct yelling and a loud slam. We both spin to stare at the
window. I start to rise, but my mom presses down on my shoulder, shakes her head. I let
her hold me in place, but another scream of “STOP” has both of us running to the
window.
The three of them—Olly, his mom, and his dad—are on the porch. Their bodies form a
triangle of misery, fear, and anger. Olly’s in fighter stance, fists clenched, feet planted
wide and firm. Even from here I can see veins bulging to the surface of his arms, his face.
His mom takes a step toward Olly, but he says something to her that makes her retreat.
Olly and his dad face off. His dad is holding a drink in his right hand. He doesn’t take
his eyes off Olly as he lifts and finishes it with deep gulps. He holds the empty glass out
for Olly’s mom to take. She starts to move, but, again, Olly says something to stop her.
His dad turns to look at her then, his hand still rigidly holding the glass. For a moment I
think that maybe she won’t go to him.
But her defiance doesn’t last. She takes a step toward him. He grabs at her, all anger
and menace. But Olly’s suddenly right there in between them. He swats his dad’s arm
away and pushes his mom off to the side.
Even angrier now, his dad lunges again. Olly shoves him backward. He bangs into the
wall, but doesn’t fall.
Olly begins dancing lightly on his feet, shaking out his arms and wrists like a boxer