The Quirky Tale of April Hale (Quirky Series #1)

13: Give and Take. Give and Take.

13: Give and Take. Give and Take.

‘My father has lung cancer, April. And he’s stopped fighting.’

The words rang clear inside my head as soon as I woke up. My air conditioner was a little bit too cold to my liking, and I had the feeling to pee so bad, and yet my whole body was glued onto the bed. 

The Blacks were fighting ten meters away from me.

“Why are you always so difficult? Why, Ryder, why?”

“Because clearly you dropped me when I was a baby, Dad!” other times, I would have been sure that it could be a good joke, but right now, Ryder was just being mean to his own father. “You’re not a good parent. You never were!”

“God, Ryder. Please!” Mrs. Black’s voice was wavering as she was about to cry. “Don’t push your father so hard. He never meant for any of that to happen. You know it’s not his fault.”

Other times, I would have thought that they were talking about Ryder’s father dropping him on the head when he was a baby. But after yesterday, I knew the truth. They were talking about the cancer.

Other times, I wouldn’t have cared at all and preferred to think about the protruding pimple on my nose, but today, my chest felt heavy just hearing them all shouting and stuff.

“Get out from the house!” I could imagine Mr. Black flailing his arm towards the door. “Get out, just get out! Go to school, be a little useful to yourself, Ryder.”

“I’m getting out!” Ryder shouted back even louder than before. “And I’m not going to school!”

As soon as I heard the door being slammed down, I forced myself to get out from the bed. I ran to the door, ran into my parents in the middle of hugging and looking red as soon as they saw me, ran into the door, and ignoring the sharp pains of peebles and rough pavement, ran into the streets.

Whenever Ryder and his father fought, he wasn’t given any access to the Black’s car. The Blacks family had two cars a few years ago, but presumably because of the cancer treatment, they had to sell one. Ryder did say that he wasn’t going to school, it was just empty threats, because I always found him at school, attending classes, acing the exams.

Beating people up. Selling pot. Hanging with old, married men. 

“Ryder,” I called him.

He stopped his track, and when he looked at me, I could have sworn his cheeks turned red. “Too loud?” he questioned.

I shrugged. “Too loud.”

He scratched the back of his head whilst trying to regain the composure on his countenance. “What do you want?”

He wasn’t in good mood, that much I knew. His face looked tired and alongside the black eye, he had a pair of eyebags, further emphasizing the roughness of his face. His hair was messy, but not in his usual ‘I-want-the-messy-look-intentionally’ kind of look. It really was the authentic bed head.

But I knew how much in a bad mood he was when I could hear his stomach growl.

I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even seven in the morning. The Blacks started their morning fight way too soon, and Ryder hadn’t gotten the chance to grab a bite.

“Um… breakfast in our house?” I asked him. “My mom’s making out with my dad now, but from the smell of it, I think she’s making pancake.”

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