Fragile by M. Leighton Page B

assignment to a girl from class,” Hardy said vaguely, hoping to avoid a confrontation while his father was in such a state.
    Wayne huffed, one brow rising knowingly.  “I hope you’re not giving that poor girl any false hope.”
    Hardy didn’t have to ask to whom his father was referring; he knew.
    “I’m not giving anybody anything, Dad.”
    “Good, because there’s only room for one girl in your future and you know as well as I do who she is.”
    Hardy wanted to argue, but the look on his father’s face gave him pause.
    “I know,” Hardy agreed docilely.  He had to pick his battles wisely and this was one best fought at a later time.
    Wayne narrowed his eyes on Hardy’s face, watching him silently, intently for several seconds before he relaxed somewhat, lowering himself back into his seat.  “Good,” he said, bowing his head dismissively as he turned his attention back to his work.
    Hardy let out a sigh of relief, turning to make his way up the stairs.  It irked him that his father could still intimidate him so quickly, so thoroughly.  Old habits die hard.
    When he reached the top of the steps, he was surprised to find Clay peeking around the corner.  Although he was a tall, fairly big kid for fourteen, the fear on his face made him look particularly small.
    “What are you doing?”
    Hardy took note of the alarm in Clay’s wide chocolate eyes.  “I heard him and Mom fussing about you earlier.  When I heard him yell for you, I thought…”
    An invisible fist squeezed Hardy’s heart.  With every bit of effort he could muster, he smiled, wrapping his arm around his brother’s neck and playfully scrubbing the top of his head.  Hardy put on his best everything-is-all-right tone.  “It’s all good, li’l man.”
    Clay said nothing, but Hardy knew by his failure to complain about both the nickname and the headlock that Clay had been pretty worried.
     “Did you and Cheyenne really break up?”
    Hardy could see the anxiety in Clay’s eyes.  He was a smart kid and old enough to know the ramifications. 
     “Since when did my love life become so interesting?  What about yours?  Last I heard, you were still breaking hearts left and right.”  Clay smiled reluctantly. “Who is it this time?  What’s her name?  Is she hot?  She’s hot, isn’t she?  Is there more than one?  There’s more than one, isn’t there?” Hardy teased.  Slowly, the twinkle that normally lit Clay’s eyes returned and Hardy grinned, offering his fist for a bump.  “Nice!”
    Clay playfully tapped his knuckles against Hardy’s.  “I can’t help it if they want me.”
    “Oh-ho-ho!  He’s a play-ah!”
    Clay’s cheeks pinked up and he smiled back at Hardy.  “Nah.  I remember what you told me about how to treat girls.”
    One face drifted through Hardy’s mind, but he pushed it aside. 
    “Good man.  But the question is: do you remember what I told you about how to dominate in Guitar Hero?”
    Clay’s gleeful expression and whoop of delight released a flood of guilt in Hardy.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken time to play video games with his brother.  It seemed there was always a game or a practice or a date or a party.  Something. 
    Hardy’s life was a series of things that ultimately made other people happy.  Today was the first day that he could remember just doing something he truly wanted to do, with someone he truly wanted to be with.  No pressure. No ulterior motive.  No expectations.  Just shooting film with a girl he liked then playing video games with his brother. 
    As Clay moved about the game room, excitedly readying the Xbox, Hardy couldn’t help but wonder at what cost the day might come.
    ********
    The only pretense of perfection that Hardy’s family had ever given up on was going to church.  When he was little, his mother would end up in tears within ten minutes of them finding their seat amongst the other worshippers on the pews.  Hardy could