I’m hot, I’m cold and my brain can’t process thought. My father is awake, and I’m not home. This is a real life nightmare.
Leo is passed out on the couch in the living room, and Nazareth is in the recliner watching TV. It’s weird how calm they are. How is that possible when my father is awake? Nazareth looks at me as I pass, nodding his head at me as if we’re friends. I nod back like a robot and randomly wonder if somehow tonight made us friends.
I walk out the door, and Veronica follows.
Confused I stop at the bottom of the trailer steps. “What are you doing?”
“Walking with you.” She offers me an adorable and disarming grin, yet I’m still full of anxiety.
“Thank you,” I say slowly because it’s a sweet offer, but I really don’t want the company. “But I can do this on my own.”
“I’m sure you can, but me and you need to talk.” And the kitten-grin is gone.
The light is on in my father’s study. The room right by the tree. I shiver so hard my teeth chatter.
“Are you going to be able to sneak back in?” Veronica asks. It’s nice how she sounds sympathetic to my plight.
“Yes.” I don’t have much of a choice. I start walking and she joins me.
“Did you find out what was wrong with Jesse?” she probes, and that catches my attention. And here I thought she and Jesse were the best of friends. I don’t answer, and she continues, “Unlike all the rumors, he doesn’t drink very often, and if he does drink, he doesn’t do it to get drunk. I brought you here, the least you could do is tell me what’s going on.”
Jesse didn’t open up to me either—at least not with why he is in pain. “Jesse’s private.”
“Yes, he is. If I asked you to stay away from him, would you?”
I glance over at her to see if she’s serious. Unfortunately, she is.
“No.”
“If I threatened you?” It’s strangely intimidating how she appears super cute as she flutters her eyelashes in a menacing way.
Being threatened by Veronica doesn’t sound like anything fun I’d choose to partake in, but she fails in comparison to my father’s wrath so I have a hard time fearing her. “No.”
She glowers at the ground.
“Why don’t you like me?” I ask.
“I never said I don’t like you.”
“You just asked me to stay away from Jesse.”
“Yes, I did. That has nothing to do with like. Anyway, you don’t like me.”
I straighten my shirt. “I never said I don’t like you.”
“I forgot. We’re best friends. You’re the girl who sits in the cafeteria at lunch, and I’m the girl who doesn’t. We have so much in common.”
“You can sit with me at lunch if you want,” I say.
That brings her up short, but then she brushes her hair away from her face and shrugs. “I don’t think your friends would be okay with that.”
My heart sinks because she’s probably right.
“Don’t take any of this personally,” Veronica says. “Life is what it is, right?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“I think you should stay away from Jesse because he’s going through a lot, and he doesn’t need anyone else making him hurt. You’re a wild card, and he doesn’t need surprises.”
I stop at the road and look her in the eye. “Why do you think I’ll hurt Jesse?”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“He calls you Tink and that book you’re holding is Peter Pan.”
I have no idea what that has to do with anything.
“Then to put it in those terms, if you’re Tink, and he’s Peter Pan, then Nazareth, Leo and I are the Lost Boys. What do those characters have in common?”
Not a clue. “What?”
“They felt abandoned at home, not wanted, that is until Peter Pan took them in and gave them a place to belong. Jesse is the ultimate Island of Misfit Toys. As in ‘all who enter here have been damaged.’ Even though you live in that big fancy house, I don’t believe you’re immune to broken. If you found your way here, then something or someone along the way has shattered you and that scares me.
“All of us are cracked, but Jesse takes damaged to another level. He doesn’t need whatever is wrong with you destroying whatever parts of him are still intact. You won’t mean to hurt him, but you might and I’m not okay with that. Jesse is my family, and it’s clear you’re more than a friend to him. Those types of feelings are dangerous. Especially when you’re both broken.”
“I’m not broken,” I say, the defiance clear in my voice. I’m empty. I hurt. There’s a difference, and someday, once I leave, I’m going to be okay.
“It’s all right,” she says, and holds out her hands, palms up. “My broken can’t be fixed either so you’re not alone in this. Broken doesn’t mean death. Well . . . at least for you.”
I’ve been reading the books Glory gave me, and the lines on her palm are hard to ignore. From the faint porch light from Jesse’s trailer, her health line is visible—very visible. Very deep. Healthy people aren’t supposed to have health lines, at least not one like hers. My stomach sinks in sympathy. But the psychic stuff isn’t real, right? “Are you sick?”
The answer is plain on her face—yes. “Haven’t you heard? I have the Black Death.”
Ha. Very funny.
“You made Jesse happy today so thanks for that. And for the record, it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just that I like Jesse more. Anyway, I hope you don’t get caught.”
Caught. The word vibrates through my body. She steps back, an indication our conversation is done, and I walk toward my house, toward the light in my father’s office. At the tree, I tuck Peter and Wendy into my jeans, at the small of my back, for safe keeping. The climb up the tree is long; each slight sound I make causes my heart to stutter.
I hold my breath as I slip through the window into my dark room. My pulse beats in my ears as my eyes adjust, and I quickly glance about to make sure Dad’s not in my room. Some shadow of a monster waiting in the dark to jump out at me in anger.
I peel off my clothes that smell of Jesse, put on my PJs and lie in bed. I should feel relief that I’m safe, but instead I’m confused and I’m empty. Does that mean Veronica is right and I’m broken? If I am broken, am I so broken that I can’t be repaired?
There’s footsteps on the stairs, down the hall, and they stop outside my room. Fear paralyzes me as the knob turns, and the hinges squeak. Dad opens my door, and I force myself to look at him. If he’s going to come in screaming then I want to see him coming.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought I heard something and wanted to check in on you.”
“I heard something, too, outside, but it went away,” I say. “Why are you awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to get some work done. Squirrels are probably getting into the attic. That tree is close to the house and gives them access. I should probably cut it down.”
“I like the tree.”
“Your mom does, too. Go back to sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay,” I say, grateful that I wasn’t busted. “Good night.”
Dad doesn’t leave like I expect. Instead he stands there like a statue. “I know you don’t believe me, but I promise you, I’m trying to change.”
I’m not sure what the proper response to this should be so I go for safe. “Okay.”
“Do you know that’s that longest conversation we’ve had without an argument in weeks?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then, just . . . have a good sleep.” And he shuts the door, but I don’t hear footsteps. He hasn’t left, and I don’t close my eyes.