Shades of Blue

CHAPTER ONE

Azure

The day I saw the bruises on Sam’s back, I knew his stepfather was beating him. I also knew somebody needed to kill the SOB for it. I just didn’t know who, when, or how.

Looking back on it now, I realize Sam had already been acting strange for a while that year. I thought it was just some kind of hormonal craziness he was going through from being fourteen. Then I saw the bruises.

Of course, I’d known Sam was different from other boys since the day he’d moved in next door, when he was just a little five-year-old blond kid staring at me through the fence. For one thing, he always seemed older than me, even though our birthdays were only two days apart. And how many five year olds can read books like The Wizard of Oz? Heck, I could barely struggle through The Cat in the Hat back then, and Sam already had a real library card.

Sam was my best friend from the first day we met, and I liked all the ways he was different. He was so smart he could make even a bonehead like me understand things like algebra and the Cold War. And he was always good at coming up with ways to help me control my temper when I got mad, which was all the time since I’m a redhead. Sam hardly ever got mad about anything, even when his stepfather yelled at him in front of me.

Speaking of his stepfather, Russell Hart made my skin crawl from the beginning. Something about the way he looked at me made me think of the Big Bad Wolf eyeing Little Red Riding Hood. Sam always said I needed to give Russ a chance because he’d taken care of Sam and his mom after his real dad ran off and left them when Sam was a baby. My mama and daddy were always saying how good it was of Russ to adopt Sam, but they’d never seen him when he was drinking. They’d never heard Russ call Sam names like faggot and Mama’s boy because he wouldn’t fight back whenever Russ picked on him.

When I asked Sam why he put up with that crap, he defended the jerk the way he always did and said Russ didn’t really mean any of it. He claimed it was just the drinking that made him act that way, and he made me swear I wouldn’t tell Mama and Daddy about it. I didn’t buy the drinking excuse for a second and didn’t want to keep quiet about it, but Sam had a way of talking me into things. I could never seem to tell him no when he really wanted something.

Anyway, I guess the changes in Sam started at the beginning of eighth grade, but I didn’t notice anything until Spring Break. Sam and I hadn’t seen much of each other for the couple of weeks before we got out of school because I’d been busy helping my mama plant her garden, then we went to my grandma’s house an hour away in Savannah for the first part of our break. As soon as we got back home on Wednesday, I called Sam to go swimming with me at the creek.

Everything was fine at first. A bunch of other kids from school were there too, and we were all having fun until that creep Chip Wiley snapped my bathing suit top and broke it. I’d worn a T-shirt over my suit on the way there, so I went behind a tree and took off my top to swim in my shirt. Chip started saying stupid stuff about how I needed to put some Band-Aids on the mosquito bites on my chest, and Sam told him to shut up.

What’s the matter, Sammy-boy? Chip asked. Don’t want nobody looking at her itty bitty titties?

I’m warning you, Wiley, Sam said. Knock it off right now.

Chip clutched his chest as if he were having a heart attack. "Oh no, guys. Sammy’s getting mad. We better run for our lives."

Sam’s eyes turned a strange dark-green shade, and he walked over to the rope swing where Chip and his two moron friends were taking turns. Without another word, Sam hauled off and punched Chip right in the stomach. I almost swallowed a minnow when he did it.

Chip’s eyes got real big and his mouth kept moving the way it always did, but for once nothing was coming out. Danny and Freddy did what morons do best—laughed like a couple of hyenas. Sam said something to Chip I couldn’t hear, then he dove into the water. When he came up next to me a few seconds later, I was still gawking at him for punching Chip.

Come on, JoJo. Let’s get outta here. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the bank. I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on, but he cut me off. Don’t say anything. We’ll talk about it later.

Any other time, I would never let him get away with telling me what to do like that, but I guess I was too shocked that he had punched Chip to do anything but go along with him.

Your ass is grass, Hart! Chip yelled at Sam from behind us. Just wait!

After we’d gone about halfway down the path through the woods, I came out of my coma and stopped. Wait! What the crap is going on, Sam?

He stopped walking but didn’t turn around. Chip Wiley’s got a big mouth.

Yeah, but he’s always had a big mouth. Why’d you suddenly decide to hit him for it?

I warned him, JoJo. I should’ve punched him when he broke your bathing suit. I bet he did it on purpose.

I walked in front of him, but he turned away to his right.

Sam, what’s with you all of a sudden? I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.

It’s nothing. Let’s just go home.

I grabbed his arm. Not until you tell me what’s going on.

He swept his bangs from his eyes three times—a habit he had when he was nervous. Why do you always have to be so obstreperous, JoJo?

That was another habit he had—throwing big words at me in an argument to confuse me. I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him.

"It won’t work, Sam. I don’t care what you just called me, I want to know what your problem is."

His gaze darted from my face to my chest and back again. You can’t swim in your shirt anymore. I can see right through it.

So? There’s nothing to see.

Yes there is, and Chip was getting his eyes full too.

I looked down at myself. For real? You think I’m getting some boobs?

"Jeez, JoJo. He threw back his head and walked away. What a thing to ask me."

I followed him down the path, happily considering the possibility of actually wearing the Bestform bra I’d talked my mama into buying me the previous summer. When we came out of the woods at the edge of my back yard, I said, Hey, you want to come over and watch a movie tonight, Rocky?

Sam stopped and looked at me. Don’t say anything like that in front of my dad. I don’t want him to know I was fighting.

Why not? It’d probably make the jerk proud.

Sam shook his head. He’d give me a hard time about it, plus he’d want to know why I did it.

"Why did you do it, Sam? You never answered me."

Never mind. Just stay away from Chip Wiley.

I shoved him. Don’t tell me what to do, jerkface. You’re not the boss of me.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and did a really bad Rocky impression. Yo, youse want I should punch youse too, hothead?

I snickered. One lucky punch and you think you’re a tough guy? How many times have I kicked your butt, Sambo?

Yeah, well, a lot of things are changing.

You mean like your voice, squeaky?

He pushed me until I was backed up against the fence, then he tickled me until I squealed. Who’s squeaking now, JoJo? Huh?

I laughed and struggled to get away, but he seemed a lot stronger than he used to be. He had me pinned against the fence with one of his knees between mine, then he let go abruptly and walked away.

I gotta get home. See you later, JoJo.

I stared in confusion at his departing figure and noticed how broad his shoulders were getting. When had that happened?

Yeah, you better run home, chicken! I called after him.

He waved at me over his shoulder without turning around.

Hey, what about the movie? I yelled.

I’ll let you know!

I went in our back door, peeling off my shirt as I walked through the utility room.

Joanna Lynn Houston! Mama called from the kitchen. Don’t leave your wet clothes on the floor in there. Put them in the washing machine.

I picked up my shirt and wondered how the heck she did that. When I got to my room, I closed the door and stood in front of the mirror to inspect my chest. Sure enough, I thought I detected some noticeable growth since the last time I’d looked. Not a lot, but enough to fill the cups of that Bestform bra for sure.

I took it out of my underwear drawer and wrestled with it for fifteen minutes before I got it adjusted right, then I put on some jeans and a tank top and sat at my dresser to comb the tangles out of my hair. Something on my forehead caught my eye, so I leaned closer to the mirror.

"Oh, crap. A zit."

Aw, that’s so sweet, my sister said as she came in. Little JoJo is growing up.

Sarah’s teasing never really bothered me, and she was a lot nicer than most seventeen-year-old sisters. Still, I glared at her in the mirror. Cute, Sarah. Got anything I can put on it?

Sure, but I want to ask you something first. She fell across my bed and propped her chin on her hands. Leave it alone or you’ll make it worse.

I sat down and stuck my comb into one of the biggest tangles. What do you want to know?

Why didn’t you tell me Sam’s going out for football next year?

I stopped fighting with the comb to turn and look at her. He’s not. Where’d you hear that?

She got up and took the comb from me to work it through my damp hair. Frankie and Sean were talking about it last night when we doubled with Sean and Karen. Some of the players went to Greenbrier last week with Coach Morton to recruit eighth graders for next year, and Frankie thinks Sam’s arm is good enough for him to make JV.

Are you sure they didn’t mean another Sam?

Sarah nodded. Yeah, because they called him ‘the tramp’s kid brother.’

I frowned at the mention of Sam’s stepsister. In the three weeks since Britney had come to live with the Harts from her mother’s house in Florida, she had already managed to earn the nickname Backseat Britney. We’d hated each other at first sight.

Sarah went to get her Clearasil after she finished combing the snarls out of my hair. While she was gone, I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, more confused than ever about Sam. I couldn’t believe he would decide to do something as big as playing football without even mentioning it to me. We had always told each other everything, and I couldn’t help feeling hurt about being left out of something like that.

Cheer up, JoJo, Sarah said when she came back. Sam probably didn’t tell you because he’s afraid he won’t make the team and doesn't want you to tease him about it.

He’s never cared if I teased him before.

She pushed my bangs out of my eyes. You’re both growing up, kiddo. Puberty changes everything.

After Sarah left, I sat at my dresser to dab some Clearasil on my forehead. I hoped she was right and Sam was only acting funny because he was under attack from his hormones—the way Mrs. Murdock had described puberty to us in seventh grade health class. Sam had laughed when I told him Attack of the Killer Hormones sounded like a good title for a horror movie, but it didn’t seem funny to me anymore. If puberty meant zits and Sam keeping secrets from me, I didn’t want any part of it.

CHAPTER TWO

Denim

Since Mama and Daddy were getting ready to go out for dinner, Sarah and I split a frozen pizza, then Mama let us drive up to Star Video to rent some dollar movies. They were all moldy-oldies that Sam and I had already seen, so I settled for Halloween, our all-time favorite scary movie. Sarah got Dirty Dancing so she and her friend Karen could drool over Patrick Swayze’s butt one more time.

I went to Sam’s house when I got home, and Britney answered the door.

Is Sam here? I asked as politely as I could manage.

He’s busy right now. Britney flipped her long black hair off her shoulder and leaned in the doorway, blocking my path.

Just tell him I’m here, okay? I felt my temper rising and started counting backward from a hundred—Sam’s latest anger-management suggestion.

"I said he’s busy, little girl, Britney said. Go play with your dolls or something."

I stopped counting and gave her an ugly smile. Hey, I hear Ford wants to hire you for their commercials to say their back seats are better than Chevy’s. Maybe they’ll pay you enough to buy yourself a brain.

She flushed and tried to shut the door, but I managed to get my foot in before she could slam it. I yelled for Sam, and he appeared behind Britney a second later and pushed the door open.

What’s going on? he said.

This tramp tried to slam the door in my face! I took a step toward Britney, and she pushed me in the chest.

Better tell this little bitch to watch her mouth, or I’ll slam more than the door!

Sam stepped between us and picked me up around the waist. Come on, JoJo. Let’s go watch the movie.

He set me down on the steps but didn’t let go of my arm. I looked over my shoulder at Britney as he pulled me away. Guess he wasn’t too busy for me after all. Huh, BB?

She gave me the finger and slammed the door.

Sam stopped at the fence between our yards. What did I tell you about letting her get to you, JoJo?

I can’t help it, I said. She makes me want to puke.

Why didn’t you just call me?

Sarah was talking to Frankie and wouldn’t get off the phone.

He sighed as we started walking again. Well, just use the signal next time.

I couldn’t. I kicked a rock in my path and wished it was Britney’s head. I ran the batteries down in the flashlight reading that stupid Hobbit book you got me hooked on.

A smile lit up his whole face. It’s good, huh? And there are three more books after that one that are even better.

Now this was the Sam I knew.

It’s not bad, I said with a deliberately casual shrug. Kinda weird. Like you, Sambo.

He bumped me with his hip as we walked up my back steps, and I bumped him back as we went through the door.

Hello, Sam, Mama said when we went in the kitchen. Have you gotten taller since the last time I saw you?

Sam blushed the way he did practically every time Mama spoke to him. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and said, Maybe a quarter inch or so, Ms. Debra.

I turned to scoff at him, but damned if he didn’t look taller.

I thought so. Mama smiled as she put on her earrings. JoJo, I made you some popcorn, and there are can drinks in the refrigerator. Try not to drink them all in one night, okay?

Okay, Mama.

She kissed me on the cheek. You and Sam have fun, and don’t give Sarah a hard time. We should be home by eleven.

Sam and I got a couple of Cokes from the fridge and took the popcorn to the family room. Sarah hung up the phone when we came in, then she and Karen got up to leave.

Aren’t y’all gonna watch the movie with us? I asked.

No thanks, Sarah said. I don’t know what you and Sam see in that creepy old thing anyway. We’ll watch ours in my room.

Hey there, Sam, Karen said, a little too sweetly for my taste. Good luck with football tryouts.

Thanks, Sam muttered to his shoes.

I gave her a dirty look and waited until she and Sarah were gone, then I punched Sam in the arm as hard as I could. That’s for not telling me about your big football plans, jerkface. I had to hear about it through the grapevine, so thanks a lot.

He rubbed his arm and didn’t look at me. Sorry, JoJo. Guess I just forgot.

Yeah, sure you did. I sat on the couch and he sat beside me with the bowl of popcorn between us. Why do you want to play football anyway?

I don’t know. Just something to do. He paused a second and added, Don’t you like football?

I shrugged. It’s okay. I went with Sarah a couple of times to watch Frankie play.

Sam seemed to be studying the popcorn. Will you come watch me play if I make the team?

"Sure, but why’d you say if? Frankie says you’re the next Dan Marino, and Frankie’s really good. He knows what he’s talking about."

Sam pulled the tab completely off his Coke when he opened it. Since when are you president of Frankie’s fan club?

Where the crap did that come from? I asked.

Just forget it. Start the movie, okay?

I sighed at the return of Bizarro Sam, but I forgot about it after we got into the movie and started talking about our favorite parts. By the time we paused it to get another drink, we were laughing and joking around like usual.

I got a couple of throw pillows to lie on the floor for the rest of the movie, and Sam stretched out on the couch. After ten minutes, I realized I should have gone to the bathroom while we had the movie paused, but I decided I could hold it until the end because the scariest part of the whole movie was coming up. Just as Michael Myers eerily materialized from the darkness behind Jamie Lee Curtis, I felt something grab my ankle and screamed before I could stop myself.

Sam let go of my foot after I kicked him, then he fell over from laughing so hard. I pounded him with both the pillows, but he managed to take one of them from me and started hitting me back with it. I timed it just right and