“Why can’t I go?” Caitlyn whined, and Travis balled up his paper napkin in his tight fist for the fifth time. It was so shredded, it barely even qualified as still being a napkin. Crumbs from his morning toast littered the table and he used the ragged remnant to scoop them into his hand and toss them into the sink.

“Because I have to work.”

“I bet Aunt Lucinda would let you have the day off. But no, you never do anything for me. You’re so selfish.”

“Right. I stayed in this shitty town. I never sleep. I work two jobs and have no social life. All for me.”

“Don’t fool yourself. It is still for you. So you can play the martyred big brother. Not because you actually care.”

Travis had no more words. He longed to catch the nearby trail and hike until his lungs burned and his legs turned to jelly and his mind was clear. But he couldn’t do that, because he couldn’t leave Caitlyn. Instead he closed himself in the bathroom and stood under a spray of near-scalding water and tried to collect the thoughts that pelted his insides like a game of emotional paintball.

It was just a high school graduation. Between the gym and the reception at the library, there wasn’t much trouble she could get into. But then his mind flashed back to the parallel red lines that had covered Caitlyn’s arms when she’d been forced to wear a hospital gown and could no longer conceal them, and Travis couldn’t take that risk again. He had to keep her in his sights at all times now.

“What are you two doing here? Why aren’t you at graduation?” Lucinda asked when they entered Molly’s back door, Caitlyn clomping and Travis trying his best to follow without strangling her.

“Saturdays are our busiest days. We can’t leave you here alone,” Travis said.

“Usually, but you know full well that there won’t be a soul here until after the ceremony and reception. And even then, they’ll already be stuffed with cake. Off you go. If you must, you can come back after the ceremony to help out.”

Caitlyn pressed a kiss to Aunt Lucinda’s cheek before fixing a look that was pure gloat at Travis.

“Thank you, Lucinda. We’ll be by later.”

A hand stopped Travis from following immediately after his sister.

“I know you’re worried about her,” Aunt Lucinda said in a low voice, “But she needs to re-experience the joys of life if she’s going to move past this. And no offense, but having her big brother hovering over her every move is not conducive to that.”

“I have to keep her safe.”

“The best way to do that is to remind her that life’s worth living. Not to turn her world into a padded prison.”

Travis scoffed and pushed past Aunt Lucinda’s hand. What did she know anyway? Lucinda had never had to deal with a sibling in crisis. She had no actual siblings, the closest thing being their mom, who had lived life to the fullest and was gone in the blink of an eye. A beautiful life snuffed out by a drunk driver along the winding road that circled around town and led further into the mountains before returning to the highway.

It was selfish to think of any part of that accident as a blessing, but the fact that it had been on a part of the road that Travis and Caitlyn so rarely took and could easily avoid meant that he could remember her as she was, and not be scarred by the visions of blood and bent metal that he knew had taken over a day to clean up. He had heard the low voices of the town’s single deputy as he reported on the progress to the county sheriff, when he sat outside the deputy’s office in the town hall, waiting for him to hand over his mom’s belongings recovered from the scene. He had told them to get rid of anything with blood on it. He couldn’t bear the sight, so all he was left with was a ring, her wallet, and the stamped leather keychain he had made for her at summer camp one year.

Travis followed behind Caitlyn at a distance, watching as friends tackled her with high-pitched screams once she got close to the gymnasium. He had almost forgotten how loud teenage girls could be when they got together. With Caitlyn caught in a flurry of friends, Travis was forgotten. He grabbed a program and found a seat near the back where he could keep an eye on her but hopefully avoid the knowing (and judging) gazes of the rest of the town.

The ceremony was about to start when a hand lightly touched his shoulder, startling him away from monitoring his sister.

“Is this seat taken?”

Whitman had given himself a pep talk to ask to sit next to Travis. But the longer he waited, the fewer options were left, until he had no choice but to ask or remain standing.

“No, please,” Travis answered and scooted back in his seat so that his knees no longer blocked the aisle.

Just as Whitman took his seat, a short man with wavy brown hair, wearing a brown suit with an orange tie that made Whitman shudder, stepped to the podium and asked everyone to stand. He felt a little like a jack-in-the-box, but he rose and waited for what he assumed would be the national anthem. Instead, there was a boom that he resonated deep inside him, followed by a single male voice, singing in a way that sounded nothing like a song that he was used to. Whitman had heard drumming and singing like this in the British Columbia museums that he went to as a child, the ones that focused on the lives and culture of the people indigenous to the area, but never in real life.

Another drum beat and more singing, this time additional voices joined the song.

Whitman slowly shifted to watch the reaction in the crowd, but everyone stood at attention, focused solely on the drummers, except for a few parents trying to wrangle small children that had no desire to stay still and wanted to dance.

When he first arrived in Slat Creek, it was apparent that the town and the tribe were connected, but exactly how and the extent weren’t clear. Then, in the rush of trying to learn the ropes around the library and come up with his own stamp on the summer with evening activities, he forgot. But now, listening to the drummers and feeling the beat with every fiber of his being, Whitman understood that the connection went a lot deeper than he first realized.

Much of the rest of the ceremony went as expected at a high school graduation. Pomp and Circumstance. Boring speeches where graduates were told “the future was theirs.” But there were aspects unique to Slat Creek as well. The drummers performed what the program called an honor song. And because there were so few graduates, each student was called up to the front of the stage, where they read aloud their accomplishments and future goals while pictures of their childhood played on a video screen behind them. Then the student briefly left the stage to give a rose to the person that had meant the most to them in their life to that point. A poignant gesture that had Whitman blinking rapidly to keep his eyes dry. He clapped extra hard when it was Alyssa up on stage.

At one point, a girl that he recognized from the library took a rose to an even more familiar girl out in the audience. Travis tensed beside him, then with a scraping of the metal chair feet against the gymnasium floor, he abruptly left. Whitman returned his gaze to Travis’s sister and wondered at the reaction, but he had no one to ask.

Whitman also left early, although he stayed to see the graduates move their tassels, because he was sentimental like that. He had already dropped the cake off at the library, but he wanted to get there early to help prepare before the rush. Mrs. Clemens had recommended he stay for the whole thing, since it was his first real town event, but now Whitman was even more anxious for the reception. There was a difference between being told what something meant to people and witnessing it for yourself. In this case, it was obvious that Slat Creek took great pride in their graduates.

Whitman hadn’t set one foot in the door when Mrs. Clemens was assigning him cake cutting duties. “Roy couldn’t make even slices if we gave him a ruler,” she said, tugging at Whitman’s salmon pink shirt sleeve, which he had worn as an homage to their mascot, but instead made him stick out like a gay sore thumb.

Whitman greeted each guest with a smile and a perfectly square slice of cake. He was reintroduced to the mayor, the other members of the town council, and the members of the tribal council. He was never going to remember all of the teachers’ names, but he remembered Principal Samwell – mostly because it was unique and repeated in the graduation program.

There, behind the library desk, covered with cake and orange and gold balloons, Mrs. Leake snuck behind to gossip with Whitman. Or to. Whitman merely smiled and nodded as he handed over slice after slice, trying to feign interest in Mrs. Leake’s stories.

It wasn’t until Travis and his sister arrived that Whitman found a more satisfying target for his interest.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Leake noticed.

“Rumor has it, she tried to overdose,” Mrs. Leake whispered in his ear, and Whitman tried to dismiss the sudden need to scrub his ears clean. “That’s why her brother won’t let her out of his sight. Took her out of school and everything. Poor thing had to become her guardian after their mother passed. Drunk driver. Awful business.”

Whitman excused himself from the counter. The rush for cake had slowed, and he needed to get away from Mrs. Leake before he said something he would regret.

Whitman was sure there was more to the story than what she had said, but even if that much were true, it more than accounted for the weariness that seemed to follow Travis like a shroud. If only there was a way that Whitman could help. He didn’t realize he had stopped in the middle of the room, ensnared by the sight of Travis and his sister bickering quietly in the corner, until Alyssa stepped in front of his view.

“Next week will be my last week. Mrs. Clemens told you, right?”

“Yes, she did. You’re going to camp?”

“I’m going to be a counselor for a camp up in Washington. Kids with disabilities come to different sessions so I’ll be there all summer long. The camp makes all sorts of accessibility modifications, so the kids get a typical camp experience that they might otherwise miss. It’s really cool. And I got a scholarship at OSU for it too, so it’s kind of a big deal.” Alyssa beamed with pride and Whitman couldn’t help but beam back at her.

“That’s wonderful. I’m going to miss having you around, but I suppose it’s only right to share you with the rest of the world.”

“I’ll be back to visit.” Alyssa’s smile was distracted by a tall, blond boy, but quickly replaced. “OSU is so close. I’ll probably be back a lot.”

Given that she was looking at the boy the entire time she said the words to Whitman, he was certain she was right.

Without Mrs. Clemens or Alyssa, it was going to be hard coordinating all of the summer programs. Mrs. Clemens had suggested he hire an intern, a high school student who wanted to pad their resume and didn’t mind that the library couldn’t pay. He hadn’t done anything about it, but now that felt like a misstep as the week loomed large ahead of him.

Whitman’s eyes scanned the crowd again, first checking the corner where Travis and his sister had previously been arguing, but although he saw the sister hanging out with her friend and sneaking a second piece of cake, he didn’t see any sign of Travis.

That was okay. Travis didn’t need to be here for Whitman to make his job offer to the sister. He would have to give his permission, of course, if he really was her legal guardian. Whitman certainly wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to be near the man, but he surprised himself as he realized that wasn’t his focus in doing this. He had watched the sister before, now heard the gossip, and wanted to help.

Plus, he really did need a replacement for Alyssa. Little kids were great in small doses, but he couldn’t imagine another thing would get done all summer long without help.

Satisfied in his plan, Whitman grabbed one of the only remaining slices of chocolate cake and went in search of a future intern.

“No way.”

“The job or the dog?”

“Both.”

Caitlyn stomped her foot in protest as Travis shut the front door behind all three of them. They had picked up a literal stray, a scrawny thing with no tags or collar but a pitiful whine, on the walk home. The neighborhood did not need to hear their argument. “You haven’t even let me explain. Mr. Todd said–”

“I don’t care what Mr. Todd said. He should have been asking me, not you.”

“Right. Because it’s typical for an employer to offer a job to the person’s brother. What was he thinking?” Caitlyn buried her nose in matted fur. “Huh boy? What was he thinking?”

The dog didn’t have an answer, but his tail thumped in delight at the attention.

Travis hung his keys in the same spot on a wooden owl by the doorway that his mother had. Everything in the house was exactly as it had been when she was alive, and sometimes he felt like he was just going through the motions, pretending to be her, instead of living his own life. She had never allowed dogs in the house before, because she was allergic.

Big, brown, hopeful eyes surrounded by dirty fur plead Caitlyn’s case for her. Travis tried to only see vet bills and dollar signs and to stand firm.

“I said no, and that’s–”

“I’ll get school credit. It will allow me to graduate on time, with everyone else next year.”

Travis cursed Caitlyn for knowing just what to say to make him rethink his position. Knowing she had him hooked, she pressed on.

“I’ll never be left alone in the library, but Mr. Todd said he needed an extra hand now that both Alyssa and Mrs. Clemens will be gone. Roy only works on weekends, so that leaves him there alone all week. There’s the kid’s program, you know, and he’s going to be running after the special guests and corralling kids and not able to man the front desk or shelve books or whatever it is that librarians do.”

Caitlyn kept talking as she carried the dog to the bathroom, leaving the door open so Travis could follow.

“See? You don’t even know. Why on earth would he ask you?” Travis loudly made a last-ditch effort, trying to speak over the running bath water, but he recognized it for what it was. Caitlyn had him on both, and he couldn’t deny that the thought of her spending hours at the library, under close supervision, had visions of relaxing hikes and fishing trips with a dog yapping at his side dancing through his imagination, tempting him to relent.

“He could have me corral the kids while he does librarian things. I told him I had lots of experience babysitting. He’s already worked out the credit with the school from when Alyssa did her internship there.”

Travis sighed. “Did he mention what your hours would be?”

Caitlyn leaned to put the struggling mat of dirt and fur into the tub. Travis grabbed the gentle shampoo, the one leftover from Caitlyn’s disastrous perm sophomore year. When he handed it to her, he could see the victory on her face. “Monday through Friday, starting at ten. He said four hours a day, for now to see how it goes, but mentioned something about evening events that he might need help with? But I don’t remember the library ever doing something like that, so I’m not sure. I told him I could be flexible.”

Caitlyn scrubbed the squirming mutt and Travis held out a towel to catch him when he jumped from the tub as soon as Caitlyn poured water over his head to wash away the suds.

“What are you going to name him?” Travis rubbed the dog with the towel then held the damp bundle to his chest and carried him into the living room. The lightly floral scent when Travis nuzzled the dog before realizing Caitlyn was watching was a definite improvement from before.

“Do you mean it? I promise I’ll take care of him. You won’t have to do a thing,” Caitlyn said, watching the dog as it jumped from Travis’s arms to the ground. A fine spray of water covered them both, along with the couch and coffee table.

“Caitlyn,” Travis warned, and she grabbed the towel, trying to dry the dog again despite its attempts to dodge her grasp.

“Got him,” she said, catching him for two seconds before he wriggled free again, with another wet shake. “We could call him Mr. Wiggles.” The grimace she gave Travis made him forgive her and the dog completely.

“Wiggly McWigglton.”

“Mr. Wigglesworth.”

“I like that one, actually.”

The refrigerator held a pitcher of dollar store powdered lemonade, and Travis poured himself a glass after dabbing at all his wet spots with a paper towel. He watched Caitlyn roll around on the floor with Mr. Wigglesworth, amazed at how much her demeanor had changed in one day. A few hours out with friends, a purpose for the summer, and a puppy to put a smile on her face. Maybe Aunt Lucinda was right, not that he would tell her.

“I guess we can go in on Monday to fill out whatever paperwork Mr. Todd needs so you can help him out.”

“Yes!” Caitlyn threw her arms around Travis’ neck, her first show of affection toward him in months. “Thank you.”

She ran to her room and slammed the door, out of excitement and not anger for once, and Travis sunk into the couch, still clutching his glass of lemonade. Mr. Wigglesworth jumped up next to him and laid his head on Travis’s leg. So much for Caitlyn taking care of him.

Travis warred with himself for hours over the decision. Had he said yes because it was the right thing to do, or because he selfishly longed for some time alone? Was it really the best thing for Caitlyn?

God, he had never imagined himself as a parent growing up. Since he’d always known he was gay, his dreams had revolved less around families and picket fences and more around finding places he would finally fit in. His biggest goal had been getting out of Slat Creek and moving to a city that was big enough for him to get lost in. He wanted to blend in instead of stick out for once.

For one brief semester, four months that now seemed like a dream designed to taunt him, Travis had had that. After two years at the local community college, he was accepted to the University of Oregon. He moved into a student apartment and left Slat Creek for good, or so he fiercely proclaimed at the time. He notified his mother that she should plan to bring Caitlyn to him for the holidays, because he wasn’t returning, not even for Christmas.

He didn’t even last that long.

His mom had warned him, prophetically now it seemed, that places could seep into your bones and your very being and be unwilling to let you go. She reminded him that he belonged to the land, not the town, and that his soul would be restless if he didn’t return. He didn’t buy it, and he told her so, throwing it in her face. If the land wanted him here, then it needed to reject the other assholes that it kept here too. Otherwise, the land was equally to blame for his departure.

“Eject the narrow-minded asshats that can’t think for themselves,” Travis had yelled out the window, to his mother’s horror.

And wouldn’t you know, the land didn’t eject any of them. Instead, a week before Christmas, it had chosen his mother over slippery roads, slick ice, and a drunken asshole who was allowed to live.

Travis fucking hated this town.

And the land – who fucking cared if it calmed his soul and quieted his mind? He fucking hated it too.

A wet nose dug under his arm with a whimper.