Twenty-one
Sprinting up the driveway, I force myself to acknowledge the setting sun and the chirping crickets. I’m at least two hours late. Though I had a surprisingly good time learning about seedlings and fluffing flower arrangements while Sam and his mom bickered, coming home late is inexcusable.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sam dropped me off a block away and I hit the sidewalk running—no kiss goodbye, no plans for tomorrow, no nothing. I’d been far too freaked out for any of that. Since my brother started at the mill a year ago, I’ve never missed his arrival home, never missed having his dinner at least cooking if not finished when he walked through the door. Of all days to screw up, his first day back at work after being utterly devastated over our mother’s death is hands down the worst.
At least our father’s truck isn’t in the driveway. Maybe he’s at Smoke Jumpers, Granite Falls’ only dive bar, schmoozing another woman already.
I barge into the foyer and glance at the clock.
6:46.
Make that almost three hours late.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
James isn’t in the kitchen or the dining room or the bathroom. Seeing our bedroom door open a crack, I creep closer. The lack of Godsmack blaring from inside is alarming. My brother is never this quiet. Maybe he’s sleeping?
When I slip inside, I find him lying on his back in my bed, hands resting on his chest, eyes locked on the ceiling. “You’re late,” is all he says.
“I’m sorry.” I slip my now-dusty, pink flip-flops off and kick them under his bed. If he’s ever paid attention to the reddish dirt on the ground around Leslie’s place, he’ll know I was in the woods for at least part of the day. “I lost track of time. Want me to fix dinner really quick? We’ve got mac n’ cheese, peanut butter and jelly, some of those pizza roll things—”
“Where were you?”
“At the mall. And then I went to the library for awhile.” In the mirrored closet door, I see James watching me. He’s on his elbows now, his expression dark. Keeping my face neutral, I slip one of my sleep shirts from a hanger and drape it over my arm. “What about you? How was work?”
“I drove to the mall. And the library. You weren’t there.”
Lying has never been my forte, but I’m desperate—especially when I notice a bit of dried moss in my hair. “Maybe we crossed paths in the middle someplace?” I say, casually brushing it away. “I stopped off at the gas station to pick up a pop on my way to the library. I might have been inside when you drove past.”
James doesn’t say anything. Hoping that’s the end of things, I grab a pair of a flannel pants from his drawer and a pair of nondescript white panties from mine and practically run to the bedroom door.
“What were you doing at the mall?”
Slow, even breaths, I tell myself. “I was looking for a job.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I push forward.
“If I had a job, we’d be able to save even more money. Plus, you wouldn’t have to worry about me being stuck at home with Dad—”
“No job.”
Taken aback by the force in his tone, I whirl around. “Why not? You have one.”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“Don’t you want to hang out with your friends this summer? What about the Armory? If I had something keeping me busy, you could work out whenever you want.”
“No.”
“We need the money, James!”
My brother pins me with a hard look. “If I’m at the Armory, who’s gonna drive you to work?”
Sam. “I could get my license—”
“No job, no license.”
Anger like molten metal churns in my chest. Rather than get into an argument about a ridiculous job or that I’m secretly dating his best friend, I redirect my irritation back to where it should be. “How is it fair that you get to have a life when I don’t?”
I flounce out of the room before he answers, then dash into the bathroom and lock the door behind me, checking and double-checking the lock like I always do. Closing my eyes, I sink to the floor.
Something dark and nasty sparked in my brother’s eyes when I lied about where I’d been—the same dark nastiness I’m used to seeing in our father. Anxiety crackles across my skin but I refuse to succumb to a panic attack.
James is not our father. I can trust him. He would never hurt me.
After what feels like an eternity of deep breathing, I climb to my feet and start the water. My shower’s going to be extra long tonight so James has time to cool off.
And then I’ll cook him dinner and lock us in our bedroom until we’re sure our father isn’t going to snap. Bed sharing will likely be involved. It always is if I let James get his way.
Maybe it’s just me, but the life I’ve been leading for years suddenly seems…off.