(Unedited, 4438 words)
Trigger Warnings: Some fighting, mentions/discussions of emotional and physical abuse, insults
As the first month of summer finally came to a close, the Radley family returned from their newly annual month-long trip to Texas to find that Clara had become pregnant. Cautiously, Olivia and Alexander invited the Afton family over for dinner in order to catch up. Their contact had been spotty at best since Amelia's birthday party, but now that Clara was expecting, Olivia wanted to rebuild their friendship— if it still existed— and give William a second chance. Alexander was less hopeful about the situation, but agreed to it because he knew Olivia was counting on it.
Alexander took off work that day to help his wife prepare the food and the house while Ben, Amelia, and Michael all ran off to the new soccer fields at the park across from their neighborhood. Mark met them there and they all played soccer for a while. Jeremy and the two Williams kids joined them about an hour after they arrived, and within twenty minutes, they had all teamed up against another group of kids that had arrived to the fields without a soccer ball. The terms of the game were that the winner got to take the soccer ball home, and Mark was determined to not let one of his only Christmas presents be taken from him.
Mark, being the oldest of the group (seven) and the most experienced at soccer (four years of playing), took charge and did the best on their team. He was on a real recreational team and apparently, some of the other kids were his teammates, though they all acted like they hated each other. Mark never really explained the rivalry between them, but it was not lost on the children that, while their team was composed of a few different races, all of the other kids were white.
Michael was also seven, but he wasn't as good as Mark in soccer. Not to mention that the other team, which was partially composed of his classmates, were oddly hostile towards him. He and Mark both bit back, and the moment they truly snapped, the other team shut up about it. At some point, someone on the other team mentioned that Mark should throw Michael out since he wasn't any good, and before Mark could even tell them he didn't care how good Michael was, Amelia stepped up told them to shut up.
The six-year-olds— Jeremy, Simon, and Benjamin— were all pretty good. Benjamin was the goalie, and he never let a single shot past him for as long as he stood there. The other team actually told Mark that Benjamin was the best player on Mark's team, though the seven-year-old retaliated by saying everyone on his team was better than the other team. Simon, though the other team called him a nerd at times, was quick and clever and he managed to trick the other team into believing he was going to do the opposite of what he actually did. Jeremy wasn't a soccer kid (he played hockey with Mark, but not soccer), but he held his own.
Since the incident after Amelia's party, Jeremy and Michael hadn't talked much. They shared short glances and wouldn't say each other's name outright, and Clara refused to hear any word about Jeremy from anyone— including people like Olivia or even Amelia when she was over visiting. But, whether they were on good terms or not— their friend group had become a pack, and much like a wolf pack, they always had each other's backs.
Amelia and Catherine were the youngest two. Amelia was still four, but Catherine had just turned five. Catherine was still pretty sour about having gotten into trouble for "being mean to Amelia, whether she pushed her into the pool or not", but just like Jeremy and Michael, she and Amelia had grown to protect each other. With Amelia starting at their elementary school come August, it was important to build back up their relationship. Even though they'd be in different grades, she and Amelia would be at recess together, and they needed each other then.
The teams were seven against eight, with the other team having eight. But within an hour of playing, Mark's team had gotten six points, and they were showing no sign of slowing down.
After their sixth goal, Mark and Jeremy celebrated with high-fives and loud shouts, but their celebrations were interrupted by a yell from the other side.
"We'd be winnin' too if Mark were over here," one of them snapped. He was breathing heavy, and the moment after he yelled, his team collected around him like a hive of bees protecting their leader. Simon, who had the ball at the time, quickly abandoned it on the sideline and ran to Mark, who was standing at the fifty-yard-line, near where the other team had come to rest. Amelia joined them quickly.
"Well, I'm not over there," Mark replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders before he wiped several beads of sweat off his forehead, "so stop complainin'."
"Says the Mexican," one of the older boys on the other team muttered. Within a second, Mark was shouting at the boy as Simon and Amelia frantically held him back, using their combined body weights to pull the boy backwards. Jeremy and Michael ran between the boy hissing out Spanish insults and the laughing soccer boys on the other side. But while Michael looked back to ensure everyone on his side of the fifty-yard-line was okay, Jeremy had his eyes set on the other side.
"Hey!" Jeremy shouted, throwing his arms up like he was pissed— and he was. "You wanna fight?"
"Not with you," one of the kids laughed.
"Then shut up!" Jeremy snapped, and the boys all turned to the one who had joked, whose face had flushed to a warm red color.
"I'll fight him," one of the boys offered, stepping forward towards the much smaller blonde boy. Michael immediately got between them, but the entire team had started closing in. The wolf pack had been triggered, and no one could stop it.
"Let him go," Simon told Amelia as soon as he saw what was happening, and the two stepped out of Mark's way.
In seconds, the rec soccer boys were stumbling away, holding their jaws and shoulders and noses as Michael, Mark, and Jeremy marched towards them, looming like predators over wounded prey.
"Hey!" Amelia snapped, knowing that what was happening shouldn't carry on. "Leave them alone now! You got them!"
"Nobody's gonna call me a Mexican," Mark barked back, his accent harsh as he added, "I'm American, and you ain't gonna tell me I'm something I ain't." Amelia ran to him, trying to grab his arm and pull him back. Jeremy and Michael had given up, but Mark was determined to march on.
The moment her hands grabbed onto his bare forearm, he whirled around to face her with fire in his eyes.
"That's enough," the four-year-old stated, her voice sharper than it ever had been before.
"They're gonna keep doin' it if I don't make 'em stop, Amy," Mark replied, trying to keep his voice calm. He didn't want to scare the girl, but he didn't want to give up on teaching his teammates to respect him.
"They don't need to be hit," Amelia responded, and Mark gritted his teeth.
"Let me go," he demanded.
"No," Amelia argued. At that point, the rest of her team had gathered behind her, but everyone had different thoughts about what to do next.
Mark was still determined to hit the other team some more, and in hindsight, he was correct in his assumption that he teasing wouldn't stop if he didn't stop it himself. Michael was willing to do what was necessary to protect his friends, even if that meant doing something he'd regret. Jeremy was always up for a fight, as shown by his track record. Simon was hesitant because he didn't want to get in trouble. Catherine would always hang back in situations like this. And Benny would do whatever kept Amelia safest.
"Yeah, listen to the Radley kid!" one of the others shouted. "Listen to the feminist!" The way he said it sent shivers down the spines of the Radley children, who had become all-too familiar with that word being used as an insult.
"Oye, shut up!" Mark yelled over his shoulder. "It ain't her fault your dad hits you!"
"Mark!" Amelia gasped, horrified at the way Mark had chosen to handle the situation.
"If we aren't meaner than them, they're just gonna keep coming back," Jeremy mumbled, and Mark glanced over at him. He had always seen Jeremy as an equal— which is just to say someone he wouldn't fight—, but now he saw him as more of a teammate. A team player. Someone willing to do what was needed.
Those other boys would never tease Jeremy. The only thing they had to tease him about was his abusive father, and everyone's father was a jerk. Not to mention that Jeremy could spit insults back while offering up punches for anyone who didn't like him. Those soccer kids would've never even tried to insult Jeremy.
But they had insulted Mark in a most disrespectful way, and Jeremy was willing to throw away whatever thin-ice acquaintanceship he had with those boys to keep it from happening again.
And Mark respected that.
"Then let's be meaner," Mark stated, and Jeremy nodded in agreement.
"No!" Amelia argued, looking at all the people in their group. "No! No, that's bad!"
"Are you with us or against us, Amy?" Mark asked, pulling against her slightly to snag her attention. Amelia looked up at him, unsure of what to say at first. "Pick."
Amelia stared up at the seven-year-old with a look that— at a distance— reminded Benjamin of the look she'd given their mother the day before when Olivia told her she couldn't have both options of drinks with her dinner. Benjamin knew Amelia always felt very strongly about making decisions, though he never really understood why. But right then, on that soccer field in June of 1977, Amelia was being forced to make a decision she knew— even at four years old— she'd regret no matter which way she went.
"With you," Amelia mumbled, knowing she couldn't make the other choice.
And so, even though they were outnumbered and without Catherine and Amelia's direct help, the team managed to fight and insult the other boys off of the soccer field.
With bruised knuckles and mouths that spoke new curse words for the first time, the boys all sat around and laughed, knowing they had won the fight. Cathrine, who spat insults right alongside them, laughed with them. Amelia did not.
What Amelia believed almost a year earlier still stood true. She didn't believe people should be hit for the things they did wrong. Even though the boys had insulted Mark and her and even her mother, she didn't think they deserved to be punched and kicked and insulted and laughed at. No one did.
But she couldn't lose her friends.
Michael, Amelia, and Benjamin walked back to the Radley house together as the sun sunk low, brushing the top of the trees lining the streets. Jeremy had left with Mark, and the Williams were still waiting around for their mother to come pick them up when everyone else had gone.
When they arrived at the Radley house, they went in through the unlocked front door and were greeted by the strong scent of fried chicken and apple pie. Amelia raced for the kitchen and Alexander promptly scooped her up and spun her around, something the four-year-old always adored. Olivia watched the two with a glass of wine in her hand and a smile on her face. William and Clara were close by with William having one arm around Clara's shoulders, both adults leaned far back in their breakfast-bar chairs.
"How's my little pilot?" Alexander asked, practically holding Amelia upside down as she squealed and laughed.
"Good!" she replied, and Alexander flipped her upright and stood her up on the ground.
"Go wash your hands and we'll get to eating," he told her, and Amelia ran over to the little stepstool next to the kitchen sink. She washed her hands as Ben and Michael walked into the kitchen, both still a little roughed up and visibly disheveled.
"How were the soccer fields, Benny?" Olivia asked as she eyed her son with a bit of suspicion. She saw the grass-stained shirt and the scraped knees, but she also saw the bruises on his arms and the redness on his knuckles and even though she couldn't remember a time she had actually played soccer, she understood the sport enough to know he shouldn't have all those marks from a game.
"Good," the boy responded, his voice dull, "kind of rocky though."
"Most soccer fields around here are," Alexander admitted with a shrug. "Make sure you two wash your hands too." He had noticed the marks as well, as any good detective would, but he— unlike his wife— was used to young boys fist-fighting behind their parents' backs. He had done it when he was a kid, and he— for better or for worse— had turned out pretty good.
The boys both made their way to the sink, where Amelia was finishing. They traded places and Alexander scooped his daughter back up, swinging her around as Olivia started making their plates.
The kids were served and were sent to the back porch to eat so that the parents could continue their conversation from earlier. They all hesitate, not knowing where to pick back up. Eventually, after they had made their plates and found their own seats at the dining room table, Clara began.
"We'll treat them right," she confirmed, laying her right hand over her stomach beneath the table. "We'll raise them right. Just like we're doing with Elizabeth."
The two-year-old was fast asleep in the living room, still recovering from a small sickness she picked up from Michael, who had picked it up from his friends.
"That's not the problem, Clara," Olivia argued, just as she had earlier. Somehow, the issue seemed so clear to her. She couldn't understand why Clara and William didn't see it the same way. "You've raised both of your kids right. Both of your kids are absolutely lovely. They're pleasures to be around. And they're both very lovable. The problem is that you just don't know how to love Michael like you love Elizabeth."
"Yes, I do!" Clara snapped, offended that Olivia would even consider saying such a thing to her. "William and I love both of our children equally, Liv. And we will love this third child with just as much... just... we'll love them too."
Olivia let her gaze fall down to her plate, where she continued to pick at her fried chicken without ever taking an actual bite of it. She didn't know how to tell Clara that their favoritism was obvious. Elizabeth was already walking and blabbering and making friends with her young neighbors. She was happy all the time. She was everything the two parents probably ever wanted in a child. Michael wasn't. And the Afton parents weren't good at hiding that.
Alexander wouldn't put it past William to hit Michael for anything but never lay a hand on Elizabeth no matter what she did. Those types of concerns had been the topic of many late-night discussions between the Radley couple. Especially as they were discussing rebuilding their relationship with the Aftons. William's abuse, while Clara had not mentioned it, was still mildly obvious. Michael was still covered in bruises, and any questions brought forth by the Radleys about his father were always shut down with short responses. Even more noticeable, Clara was clearly scared to speak in contrast to her husband.
Most curiously, she had stopped doing so in any form. Even on topics Olivia knew she felt differently on, Clara would hold her tongue and even agree with William's opinions.
The Radleys both knew something was off, but they both held their tongues as well.
There was no use in losing what they had spent the last hour rebuilding.
"How is Jeremy doing?" Clara asked suddenly. William glanced over at her, mild annoyance evident on his face. Olivia, on the other hand, was taken aback. Clara had never asked about Jeremy, nor had she ever received any information about him without yelling that she didn't want to hear about him. This was perhaps the first time since she had kicked him out that she had even said his name.
It took Olivia a second to collect herself, but when she did, she didn't hold back. "We wouldn't know," she admitted, unable to face her friend directly as she spoke. "He's been spending time with the Alvarez family, not us."
"That's the punk Hispanic kid, is it not?" William questioned, and Olivia passed the response off to her husband before she snapped at the man across the table.
"Mark, yes," Alexander confirmed, doing his best to keep the conversation moving in a positive direction rather than dwelling on William's distasteful description of Mark. "He comes around here a lot. Sometimes he brings Jeremy with him. They're good friends with Ben and Amy."
"Are they?" William mumbled, his words only serving to fill the momentary silence.
"So, he's good?" Clara pressed. Alexander's mind was still stuck on Mark, and he was about to respond what Clara meant by that when Olivia cut him off.
"I don't know, Clara," Olivia practically hissed, lifting her gaze so she could stare directly at the woman ahead of her. "He comes here covered in bruises and it seems like he's learned a new curse word every other week. His father hops in and out of jail every day and Jeremy either goes home to a drunk man or an empty home every night. The only saving grace he has is a punk Hispanic kid and that kid's amazing parents."
The dining room fell silent as Olivia's words settled in the air. Nobody was ready to follow up Olivia's statement. Her anger still warmed the dining room, and for a while as the Aftons sat staring at their plates, they expected her to continue on with a statement preceded by, 'And another thing...'
Instead, William was the first to speak. What he said was simple and honest, but it held unfathomable amounts of power. "Have more respect when you speak to my wife."
Clara's eyes lit up when William demanded respect for her, but the Radleys saw straight through it. William never even looked up from his plate, and he never would. Not really.
"Isn't it about time your kids start sports?" Clara asked, newly boosted by confidence from William's demands. She questioned Olivia with a condescending tone. Even though her son didn't play sports, she knew most of the other kids in Benjamin's grade did.
"Benjamin's starting soccer in the fall and Amelia really wants to try hockey," Olivia replied, keeping her cool against Clara's harsh tone.
"Hockey?" William laughed. "Olivia, tell her no."
"I'm signing her up the first moment I can," Olivia snapped back, and William glared at her with an unamused look. "I'm not gonna tell her no. If she wants to play hockey, she'll play hockey. End of story."
"The boys will never let her," William said with a sigh, shaking his head.
"They said the same thing about my radio show," Olivia mumbled as she stared directly at William. "Look where that got me."
"Clearly no one's ever told you no," Clara said, laughing as if it were a good joke. William chuckled, but the Radleys both stared at the ginger woman with livid expressions and a new sense of hatred burning in their chests.
"You will not speak to me like that in my own house," Olivia stated plainly, snagging Clara's gaze as the British woman looked at her in confusion. "Hold your tongue next time, Clara."
"Miss Radley, I pray you find some respect in that small body of yours before I find it for you," William warned, and Alexander glanced over at his wife, his arms crossed over his chest. Anger radiated off of him in waves, brushing against Olivia's skin as she forced herself to maintain eye contact with William. She knew that if she looked away from William, he'd win. But if she looked to Alexander for help, her husband was liable to turn this into a brawl.
"Clara," Olivia said, drawing herself up to her full height as she sat properly, "your husband is no longer allowed in my home."
"Very well then," Clara hissed, politely pushing her chair back as she stood. "We're leaving. Come on, William."
But the man did not take his eyes away from Olivia's. Neither one of them wanted to back down. Neither one of them were willing to admit defeat.
"William," Clara stated harshly.
"Amelia!" Olivia said loudly. "Come here please!" She had only one plan to win.
Amelia ran inside and Olivia smiled as she turned to her daughter, plainly saying, "You want to play hockey, right?"
Amelia, assuming that the Aftons had asked, turned to them with a smile and stated, "I really love hockey, and I really want to play on a team with Jeremy and Mark. They want me to play hockey with them."
"Amy, we've decided to sign you up for hockey," Olivia confirmed, and her daughter's eyes lit up with excitement as she turned back to her mom.
"Really?" the little girl asked.
"Yes, we'll sign you up for it as soon as we can," Olivia told her, and Amelia instantly began squealing with joy. "Now head back outside and tell your brother that. Tell Mark and Jeremy too. Let everyone know."
"Thank you!" Amelia cheered, running to her parents and hopping up and down until they both accepted a hug from her. Then she ran back outside, already yelling, "Ben! Ben! I get to play hockey!"
The back door slammed shut and Olivia and William found each other's gazes in an instant. Silence settled in, but Olivia refused to let it sit and simmer.
"My kids can do whatever they want, William," she stated, still at her full sitting height with her hands folded politely in her lap. "More importantly, they feel like they whatever they want. And most importantly, they know what's right." She let the words sink in before continuing. "Benjamin and Amelia were raised right. They're being raised right. They're being raised to be proud of who they are."
"Michael is proud of who he is," Clara attempted to argue.
"Michael is scared to speak his mind," Olivia responded.
"He's just shy," William muttered, "he'll grow out of it."
"He laughs and plays with Amy and Ben and all the kids," Olivia replied.
"Yes, but he knows them," Clara laughed, her voice edging on nervousness.
"Better than he knows you?" Olivia asked, and the Afton parents fell silent. Clara stared down at her plate while William looked directly at Alexander. The detective sat with his arms folded over his chest. It wasn't a position of relaxation anymore. It was an act of restraint.
Not letting the silence settle for long, Olivia adds, "You're going to hurt him if you idolize Elizabeth and this new baby. I know you don't understand it. I know you don't see it that way, but please... please listen to me." Clara kept her eyes down, but William found Olivia's gaze. "Don't do this to him. Don't alienate him. Love him how he is. Love the little boy who isn't the best at making friends. The little boy who doesn't speak a lot. The little boy who isn't what you wanted him to be. Love that little boy. Not the boy you want him to be."
"The more you define before and after you began parenting your kids a certain way, the more separate they will be," Alexander pointed out, adding onto his wife's argument. "Treat them all right. Love them all. Don't say one's a lost cause because he's different than you wanted."
"Please," Olivia begged, holding eye contact with William. "You have a lot on your plate. A business, your marriage, a toddler, a baby on the way. But don't let those things take the love and attention away from the commitment you both made. You're still Michael's parents, and you need to start acting like it."
"Whatever happens behind your closed bedroom door, we have no power over," Alexander mumbled, his eyes downcast. "But the next time Michael comes into my home with bruises on him, I'll arrest you both on suspicion of child abuse and you'll both face the consequences. I don't care who actually hit him."
"We're trying to help you," Olivia closed, her tone almost desperate. "We're trying to save you from making a huge mistake. Don't turn your son away from you, and more importantly, don't turn him away from his siblings." Olivia took a breath, reset, and added, "I know you don't see it the way we do, but look at our kids. Look at our life. Look at us. We might not have any idea what we're doing, but we're obviously doing it right."
"No need to brag," William said, but his voice sounded flimsy; like it could be cut by the butterknife that sat next to the stovetop. He had no strength. No power. Someway, somehow, Alexander and Olivia had taken all that power away from him.
And that terrified Clara.
Because if the Radleys— the perfect, perfect, perfect Radleys— could take his power away, what was his power to her? Was it worthless? Did it really mean anything? Did he really mean anything? Did she? Olivia sat in her chair talking like an angel with a voice of silk, but all Clara heard was her life shattering like glass all around her. The faith the had put in William, the trust she had placed in his hands, all of it was in jeopardy. All of it was in danger. Was it even real? Was any of this?
On the outside, Clara was calm. She nodded. She smiled. She said she understood. But beneath the surface, her mind buzzed like a maddened beehive and her gut twisted into knots the likes of which she had never felt before.
William had power over her. That was something she had always known.
But who had power over William?
The answer to that question had once firmly been no one.
But now, Clara wasn't so sure.