(Hudson)
I turn my head to make sure Jasper is still under the tree at the edge of the practice field. He is. The second my eyes land on him, he looks up like he somehow felt me staring and gives me a small smile before going back to his book.
Football practice started last week, and he's been getting up early with me every day so we can bike down together. He sits out here for hours in the heat just to be close, and I feel bad about it, but I can't make myself tell him not to come. I hate not knowing where he is. Winter is hard enough when school separates us all day — there's no way I'm spending summer without him, too.
He looks up again, and I point toward the small cooler I brought. He nods and smiles a little wider before pulling out a bottle of water.
"Rutherford! Get your head in practice!" the coach yells.
A few guys snickers, but the second I look their way they shut up. I'm the biggest guy on the field — even bigger than most seniors — and they know better.
Conner jogs beside me as we do laps. "So what's the deal with you and the nerd?"
I should tell him not to call Jasper a nerd, except I like that Jasper's a nerd. "His name's Jasper. You met him at my birthday party, remember?"
"Yeah, I know. It's just weird you've got this little kid tagging along at practice."
I like Conner, but he's seconds away from pissing me off. "He's not a little kid, dumbass. He's our age. And he's my best friend."
"Whoa, chill. Didn't mean it like that. I just meant… it must suck being that small."
"Just be nice to him, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. I will."
When practice ends and I shower in the locker room, Jasper is still sitting under the same tree.
"How was practice?" he asks, tucking his book into my backpack.
"Hot," I mutter, taking the bag from him and shoving the cooler in. "Some of the guys are pricks."
He swings onto his bike, grinning. "In all the books I've read, most jocks are pricks."
I flick the bill of his hat. "Let's go get ice cream."
We bike across town and sit at a picnic table outside the shop with our chocolate cones.
But Jasper suddenly freezes, staring past my shoulder. His ice cream starts melting down one side.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"My mom… she's over there. With some guy."
I turn and see Mrs. Matthews leaning against a car at the park. The guy with her is standing too close, laughing at something she said.
I turn back to Jasper and lean over to lick the melting side of his cone before it drips.
He looks at me with this strange expression, and I point at the other side starting to drip. "Do you know who that guy is?"
He licks his cone and looks back across the park. "No. She's been leaving a lot but never says where she's going. I don't think Dad knows she leaves every day."
"Are you going to tell him?"
He shakes his head hard. "No way. If he loses his temper, it'll somehow end up on me. Maybe that guy just needed help and Mom was being nice."
He doesn't believe that — and neither do I. But what scares me more is how terrified he is of his dad.
"Is your dad still hurting you?" I ask quietly.
He focuses on his cone but shakes his head. "I'm fine. I'm barely home anymore."
That part is true — he's at my house more than his own — but something about the way he says it makes my stomach twist.
"You'd tell me if he was hurting you, right?"
Before he can answer, his eyes widen. "She's kissing him."
I turn, and yep — his mom is kissing the guy, and it's definitely not a polite kiss.
"Oh, shit…"
"I don't understand," he whispers, voice breaking. "They preach the Bible at me and act so holy… and she's cheating on my dad?"
I reach across the table and take his hand.
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing. I'm going to pretend I don't know." His eyes fill with tears. "If she leaves… I'll be stuck with Dad alone."
That hits me like a punch. I stand, grab both our cones, toss them in the trash, and pull him around the table. He sits on my lap and I rub his back while he shakes.
People stare, but I don't care. Jasper is the most important person in my life. Nothing else matters.
When he finally calms down, I put on the backpack and we bike to the tree house. We lie on the sleeping bags with him under my arm, his head on my chest, and I read to him until he falls asleep.
He looks exhausted all the time, and it scares me. I know he has nightmares when he stays over — but the second I hold him, he sleeps peacefully.
What are his nights like at home?
I let him sleep a couple of hours before waking him to come home with me. There's no way I'm letting him stay at his house tonight. Not after what he saw.
Not ever, if I can help it.
Things went on as normal after that. Jasper pretended he never saw his mom, and I didn't push him to talk about it. I hated when summer ended because it meant I couldn't watch over him. What made it worse was now that I was on the football team, we had even less time together.
Jasper still came to every game with my parents. I knew he hated sports, but he sat in the same spot every time, and I loved seeing him there. It gave me comfort during the games. Sometimes he even rode along to away games and stayed overnight with us.
Summer brought sweet relief. We were both fifteen now, and Jasper had finally grown a few inches. Things should have been perfect, but I noticed him looking more and more withdrawn. He would stare off into space, lost in his own world. Even when he was with me, he seemed lonely. The more I watched him, the more I worried. When I asked if anything was wrong, he always said no.
Finally, I broke down and decided to talk to my parents about him. I picked a Sunday morning, knowing Jasper was at church with his parents. All I had to do was sit on the couch and look at them to get their attention.
Dad turned off the show they were watching. "What's wrong?"
I shrugged and brought up Jasper. "I'm worried about Jasper. He's not been himself lately, and I don't know what's wrong."
"I've noticed too," Mom said, worry clear in her voice. "Something is troubling him."
"Yeah, but what is it?"
Dad leaned forward, serious. "Sometimes people have to work things out themselves. Maybe he's going through something personal and isn't ready to talk yet. All you can do is be there for him, and when he's ready, let him know it's okay to open up."
I felt like he was trying to tell me something without saying it. "I'll always be there for him, Dad. You know how much he means to me."
He nodded. "I do, Son. You two have a special friendship, and everyone around you can see it. We love Jasper like he's our own. If you ever find out something is wrong, come to us so we can help."
I wanted to tell them I worried his dad might still hurt him, but I held it back. Jasper hadn't acted like he was being hurt, and I didn't want to make things worse.
"Do you think we could get Jasper a cell phone on our family plan? I'll pay for it with my allowance or do extra chores… please?"
They both nodded right away. "I think that's a good idea," Dad said. "But you don't need to pay for it. I'll handle it tomorrow."
Later that night, Jasper crawled into bed with me. I tried to talk to him. "Buddy, you know you can tell me anything, right?"
He rolled away from me, but I held him close. "I'm fine, Hudson… just tired. Nothing to worry about."
I could hear the catch in his voice. I knew he was lying, even if he didn't want to admit it. "Okay," I whispered, kissing the back of his head. What else could I say? He was my best friend, and I felt like I was losing him.
Football practice was brutal in the mornings, and I passed out as soon as I shut my eyes.
Later, a noise woke me. My arms felt empty. I sat up, scanning the room, and didn't see him. Another sound came from the bathroom — muffled crying. I rushed in.
Jasper was huddled in the corner, face buried in his hands, sobbing quietly. My heart tore in two.
I sank down next to him, reaching out to pull him into my lap, but he jerked away.
"Nooo," he cried. "I don't want you to see me like this."