The thunder rumbles, shaking nearly the whole house.

I immediately run out of my bedroom and head for the windows in the living room and dining room that face the river. Fox is already there, scanning the skies.

“Did I miss it?” I ask him.

He nods. “It was fucking awesome.”

“Fox!” Jeanine yells from the kitchen. “You know the rules. No swearing in front of your brother.”

“Whatever,” Fox mutters under his breath, eyes trained to the dark clouds.

“And Shane, don’t go outside. It’s dangerous!” she quickly adds, knowing what I was going to do.

“I can’t hear you!” I yell back at her, and after I throw a smile at Fox, I run out of the house before either of them can stop me. Fox is fourteen and thinks he’s some kind of god now just because he can pick me up and throw me over his shoulder or put me in a headlock. I’m only nine years old, but give me a year or two and I’ll probably be taller than him. At least that’s what Delilah says to me when she’s trying to cheer me up.

The wind is picking up, blasting me right in the face.

I laugh into it. It’s such an odd sound that I laugh louder.

I can’t remember the last time I laughed.

That’s funny in itself so I laugh even more.

The rain is starting to pour over town, heading for us.

Come get me, I think.

That’s when the world cracks open with a flash of white gold light, fork lightning hitting the river.

“Wow!” I cry out just as the air goes BOOM.

This is so freaking cool! October storms are the absolute best. Too bad Halloween is still a few weeks away or it would be extra spooky.

“Shane!” Jeanine appears at the door, a mixing bowl in her arms, her red hair blowing around her face. “Get back inside before you get hurt.”

“The lightning won’t hurt me!” I tell her. I know it won’t. I feel like the lightning and I are one and the same. I can feel it in my bones.

“No, but you’re going to get rained on. Don’t forget, you want to make a good impression in front of the new police chief and his daughter.” She watches me for a moment before she turns back into the house. She put extra emphasis on the word daughter. I’m sure Delilah told her everything.

I grumble to myself, wishing I could stand outside and watch the storm get larger and fiercer, even though I know the horses in the barn are hating this right now. If I was nervous before, I’m more embarrassed now that she knows about my crush.

With a big sigh, I turn around and kick a stone. I watch it hop across the dry earth just as a drop of rain darkens the spot beside it.

“Shane!” Fox is now yelling from inside the house and I know if I don’t hurry he’s going to come out and drag me in.

I run inside before I make things worse. After all, I don’t want to ruin anyone’s Thanksgiving.

* * *

“They’re here!” Delilah says excitedly, and we watch as headlights come down through the darkness toward the house. Even in the pitch black I can tell when they’re going over the bridge that skirts over Cherry Creek (just a trickle of water these days), then around the crop of ponderosa pine that my grandpa refuses to cut down.

“Is your father ready?” Jeanine asks. She looks us all in the eyes so it’s hard to know who she’s talking to.

There’s me, sitting beside Del by the windows. Then there’s Fox, arms crossed in the middle of the room like he’s some hotshot. Maverick is hovering by the door like he’s ready to leave.

But since no one moves or says a word, Jeanine yells up the stairs of the big house. “Hank. Your guests are here!”

A pause. Then, “My guests?” he yells back from somewhere upstairs.

“Yes, your guests,” she says, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead and looking worn out despite having put on some makeup and a dress. “It wasn’t my idea to invite the new chief constable and his family over.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” my father shouts back. “It’s Thanksgiving. This is what the holiday means. And yes, I’m ready, everyone hold your horses.”

“Cool your jets,” Del adds.

“Calm your tits,” Maverick says with a smirk.

Jeanine seems too tired to even be mad at him. “Okay everyone, stand up straight and be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, all that too,” my father says, walking down the stairs.

Fox whistles. I always wished I could whistle.

“You’re looking dapper, Dad,” he says.

I’m not really sure what dapper means but I don’t think my dad is it. He’s wearing dark jeans and a jean shirt. The Canadian tuxedo, as Fox calls it. His belt has a huge shiny buckle—I think it’s one he won back from his rodeo days. His hair is slicked back off his face like some mobster in the Godfather movie we watched the other night.

My dad doesn’t seem to believe it either. “This is just what I look like when I’m not covered in cow shit.”

“Hank,” Jeanine warns.

He waves her off. “The boys have heard worse. Where’s your grandpa?”

We hear the toilet down the hall flush and I burst into giggles. “He’s been in there for like an hour.”

“Hey, Shane boy, constipation is no joke,” my father says sternly.

Which only makes me laugh more.

I’m so nervous.

And I shouldn’t be, right? Rachel Waters is the daughter of the town’s new cop. She’s sitting inside the car that’s just pulling up outside the house, next to our row of dusty trucks. She sits next to me in class, and she’s so quiet and so pretty. I really like her, even though she barely says anything. But she does speak to me and not to the other boys, so that counts for something.

My father told us a week ago that we were going to have them all over for dinner, I guess cuz they don’t know anyone in town yet. My dad has a reputation as a grump but my grandpa is like the town’s patriarch, whatever that means, and he said that it’s the right thing to do, to invite them over for Thanksgiving dinner. It must make no difference to Jeanine since she’s cooking for so many of us anyway. Plus, this way, we get to have ham and a turkey.

“Stand up straight, Shane,” my father says to me, patting me on the shoulder. I immediately put my shoulders back. He acts like posture is the end of the world. I mean, it’s not like having great posture makes you smart or rich.

By the time grandpa finally trundles out of the washroom, running his hands through his thin grey hair and pushing it back against his head like he’s trying to be in some Godfather movie too, there’s a knock at the door.

Maverick opens it. “Merry Christmas!” he exclaims.

Except it’s October, it’s Thanksgiving, and now Mav just looks like a big dork.

The man on the other side of the door pretends to find my brother funny but I know he’s lying because no one finds Mav funny.

I’ve seen the constable pick Rachel up from school once before in his car. He’s tall and balding with a moustache that looks like a caterpillar. He’s got a big smile and white teeth, but his eyes don’t seem to blink.

I don’t trust him. I don’t like him.

Rachel’s mom is behind him, short with a face that’s kinda pretty but also small, like a mouse.

Then there’s Rachel herself.

Rachel looks like an angel, especially tonight. Her hair is long and dark and super shiny. It reminds me of raven’s wings. But she looks totally nervous and I don’t blame her. There’s a lot of us here, and we’re all just staring at her like a bunch of turds.

The introductions are made quickly by my grandpa. He can be quick when he wants to be. Pretty soon all my brothers, my dad, Jeanine and Del know Rachel, her mom, and her dad.

Our dining room table is a big wooden thing, something my grandpa says was made from a huge oak tree when he was a young boy, but it’s not big enough for everyone so Jeanine takes out a folding table from the closet and sets it up in the corner of the room.

I know this is the “kids” table, she doesn’t even have to say it, but I don’t mind being the kid for once because there’s only one other kid here: Rachel.

“Shane, Rachel, you’ll have to sit here,” she says as she quickly puts down a red plastic tablecloth that we usually use on the picnic table. She glances at me briefly and gives me a small smile. I know what she’s doing, like she’s trying to put Rachel and I together on purpose, and my cheeks go red.

When the table is ready and set, Rachel and I sit down across from each other. She’s so pretty that my tongue feels like dirt in my mouth. I can’t speak. And she doesn’t speak either, so we just stare at each other. Funny that it feels like enough.

We should invent a secret language.

I try and convey this with my eyes but Rachel just looks at me like I’m weird. Okay, maybe I am being a bit weird right now. But how cool would that be? My brothers ignore me so I’ve never been able to do this with them.

The food is passed around, the adults start to talk, then my grandpa insists we say grace. He’s funny like that. He’s the only one of us who mentions God or prayer, but it’s important to him so we all do it.

As I’m saying grace, I open one eye to peek at Rachel.

She’s watching me, and when I catch her, she smiles.

Gosh, she’s pretty. I should be saying grace for her.

When it’s over, the adults go back to talking to each other. Sometimes Rachel’s mother will ask Fox or Mav what they like to do but the police chief doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he doesn’t seem to like it when she talks.

I’m not sure what to say to Rachel at first so I stuff my mouth with turkey and observe the room. I like to do that. Jeanine says I’m the strong, silent type, though I still don’t think I’ll get as strong as my brothers. But I like to watch people. Sometimes I pretend I’m watching a play and I narrate it all in my head.

There’s Maverick, always trying to make someone laugh even though his jokes are dumb. Fox just thinks he’s too cool for school, flexing his stupid muscles, trying to impress Del.

“So when did you two meet?” Rachel’s mom says to my dad and Jeanine.

My face goes red for no reason. I see my brothers stiffen. None of us like this question even though we’re not ashamed of it.

The chief clears his throat. “Vernalee,” he says sharply, and the look that he gives her is like he’s trying to fry her alive on the spot. He’s kind of scary.

But Vernalee just looks at Jeanine in surprise. Because she doesn’t know.

“I’m actually the nanny,” Jeanine says calmly with a nice smile on her face. “Hank’s wife, Emily, died when Shane was just six months old.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Vernalee exclaims loudly, hand at her throat.

“Okay, enough,” the police chief says. “They clearly don’t want to talk about it and you made a fool of yourself bringing it up.”

I look over at Rachel and she seems to shrink before my eyes, her shoulders curling in, staring down at her plate like she wants to disappear.

“It’s quite alright,” my father says quickly. “Honestly. It’s been a long time. We’re just all so lucky that Jeanine was here for us and still is.”

Jeanine and him exchange a pleasant look.

My father has had to say that so many times. So have I. But living in a small town, unless someone is new, everyone knows so we don’t have to say it often anymore.

It’s weird for me because to me Jeanine feels like a mother, my mother, but I also know she’s not. Even when I was really young, I called her Jeanine because that’s what my father would call her. I don’t know what it’s like to have a real mother. I think if there is a God, like the one that grandpa believes in, he thinks I don’t deserve one.

The truth is, I’m the reason my mother is dead. I’ve heard it put that way more than once.

“So,” Rachel says in a small voice.

I look at her in surprise. The adults have gone back to talking about other things. My grandpa was quick to change the subject to the ranch.

But then Rachel doesn’t say anything else so I say, “Do you like the food?”

She smiles, nodding. “It’s very good. We usually have ham, but I like turkey better because of the gravy. Did you know, in America they do Thanksgiving at the end of November? That’s so close to Christmas. I’d hate to be a turkey there in the winter.”

“We used to have turkeys,” I tell her. “But we ate them.”

Rachel scrunches up her nose.

“I’m not sure where this turkey came from.” I point at the plate, talking fast. “But we just have chickens now, out in the coop. We only eat their eggs.”

“Do you have any dogs?” she asks.

“We do. All my brothers have one. Me too. Mine’s called Blue cuz he’s a Blue Heeler. But Fox’s is called Red and Maverick’s is Yellow. So maybe that’s not why he’s called Blue.” I stop talking because I sound like a moron.

“I’d love to meet them all,” she says. “Especially your Blue.”

I smile at her. Suddenly I don’t feel so dumb anymore.

“They’re all in the barn right now, maybe sleeping in the hay. Or out and about. Jeanine wanted the dogs out of the house for dinner.” I suck in a breath and summon courage. “Maybe you could come over one day after school. We have lots of horses too. Do you like horses?”

“I love horses,” she says, eyes bright. They’re so blue, bluer than the summer sky. “I’ll ask my parents later.” Her eyes dart to them and she watches for a moment, almost fearfully.

I try to give her a smile of encouragement but just like that, her eyes stop shining and she grows quiet again. I decide to make it my mission to get her over riding one day. Maybe Jeanine or my dad or grandpa can call up Rachel’s parents and ask. After this, they’d have to let us be friends.

After dinner is over and dessert is served (homemade pumpkin pie, my favorite!), Jeanine comes back over to our little table and crouches down between us. She holds out a wishbone.

“This is the turkey’s wishbone,” she says. “I dried it in the oven while we were eating so it’s easier to break. Have you done this before, Rachel?”

Rachel shakes her head, staring at the wishbone curiously. I’ve done it a few times, but usually my brothers fight for it first and I’ve never had the bigger part, which means my wishes have never come true.

“The wishbone,” Jeanine explains kindly, “is magic. What happens is you think of a wish in your head, something your heart really, really wants, then you both grasp one end of the bone and pull toward yourself until it breaks. Whoever has the bigger piece, their wish will come true. If it breaks evenly, both your wishes will come true. But you must never tell anyone your wish until after it comes true. Okay?”

We both nod and Jeanine leaves, squeezing my shoulder as she goes.

Rachel and I both take one end of the bone.

I close my eyes briefly and I listen to my heart and what it’s saying and I hope and pray and wish with all my might.

I pull.

She pulls.

I open my eyes.

I have the bigger half.

For a second I feel like laughing with joy, then I see how sad and disappointed Rachel looks. She was really counting on that wish.

I want to tell her that it’s her wish that counts more than anything, that if I could give her mine and still have it come true, I would.

But the thing is…my wish would help us both.

I just have to wait for it to come true.