AFTER AN AWKWARD RIDE back from the hospital, in which the only people talking were Mom and Ruby, home feels like relief. As soon as we get in the house, I motion for Charlie to follow me upstairs.
I need to ask him why he did this for me.
But before we get far, Dad stops him at the bottom of the steps.
“We need to talk.”
“Can’t it wait until dinner?” Charlie asks.
“Now.”
Charlie lets out a heavy sigh and turns, reluctantly, to follow Dad.
I freeze on the steps, unsure of what to do.
This is on me.
Charlie is in trouble for something he didn’t even do because of me, for me.
But as if he can sense my hesitation, he looks over his shoulder, gives me a brief shake of the head.
As soon as they’re out of eyesight, I sit on the top step, where they can’t see me, pulling my knees close. It reminds me of the year Charlie and I tried to stay up to see Santa, hanging out at the top of the steps until our parents caught us there, half asleep and confused, and made us go to bed.
I hear Mom say, “Have a seat, Charlie.”
He clears his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry. It was a one-time thing. I won’t do it again—”
Dad interrupts him. “You sure won’t do it again. Because you’re grounded. No cell phone. No car. No computer.”
“Come on,” Charlie says. “That seems kind of extreme. I’m eighteen.”
“And still living in our house!” Dad snaps.
“Listen,” Charlie starts.
“No, you listen. If you can’t take care of your new health, the health we have all worked so hard for—”
Mom cuts them both off. “Charlie, we just don’t understand why you’d be so irresponsible. I really thought that with remission and the strides you were making with therapy, things were better. But I’m with Dad on this. If you can’t act like an adult, we can’t treat you like one.”
“But how will I see Ruby?” he asks, desperation making his voice break.
I can’t listen to this anymore.
Guilt moves over me in a cold sweat, and I stand, hugging myself hard, and go to my room, carefully shutting the door.
Oblivious to the family drama, Mustard hops down from the window, letting out a sassy chirp, and jumps up on my lap. I grab my laptop and reread the e-mail sitting in my in-box, the one I’ve left unanswered for the past five days.
Park, where are you? I miss you and I’m so sorry again.
oxo, em
I wonder how this summer would have unfolded if Em were in town, if I hadn’t quit the internship, if I’d never discovered Carla’s, if I hadn’t become friends with Ruby, if I hadn’t let myself trust Finn, if Charlie hadn’t just sacrificed his new happiness to keep my secret for me.
I wonder what would happen if I let the secret free.
I don’t know what to do.
I miss Em so much right now, it’s a physical ache. I wish she were sitting next to me on the bed, a bag of M&M’s between us, and I could tell her everything. She’d know what to do.
But then I hear a voice: You have to tell them.
I swallow hard, digging my nails into my palms.
It’s not Em’s voice. It’s mine.
Yeah, Em and Ruby have been telling me it the whole summer. But I realize, sitting there, that in light of Charlie’s sacrifice, of Finn’s secrets, I’m finally discovering a voice of my own, the words I want to say.
I need to tell my parents.
And I’m going to have to tell them everything.
The realization makes me feel a little nauseated, and I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do it just yet, so instead I pick up my phone and text my best friend.
Remember when you told me to call if I needed you? I need you. Can I call you? I’ll get the charges.
Immediately, the three dots appear.
Yes, sitting by the Seine, so timing is perfect. But even if the timing wasn’t perfect, you can call me anytime, Park.
“Em?” I ask tentatively as she picks up.
“Park.” I can hear the sound of laughter behind her, the gentle lilt of French accents. “Oh, I have missed you so much. You have no idea,” she says.
Relief floods through me at hearing her voice, and I stretch back on my bed, letting my feet dangle over the edge. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend she’s right there next to me, her curls spread wild on the bedspread, both of us talking so much we forget to stop.
“Me too. How’s Paris?”
“I could talk about the cheese sandwich I had this morning for about five hours. It’s beautiful here, and I’m probably going to gain at least ten pounds before I leave. But that’s not why you called. Park, what’s going on?”
I close my eyes. “You were right.”
“Right about what?”
“About being a doctor. I don’t want to be a doctor. I don’t want to go to Harvard.”
She lets out a low whistle. “Wow, that’s no joke, Park.”
“And, Em, I was mad at you. But only because you were right. I just wasn’t ready to hear it. I’m really sorry.”
“You were going through a lot. I get it,” she says.
“You always get it before I do,” I say. “How do you do that?”
She laughs.
“I’m serious. For all these years, you’ve gotten me better than I’ve gotten myself. It’s like you translate me to the world, you know?”
“It sounds like you have a pretty good sense of yourself right now all on your own, Park.”
“I need to thank you,” I say. “You did a hard, hard thing by calling me on the internship and the doctor stuff. You said something I didn’t want to hear because you love me, and then you gave me the space to listen, to finally get it on my own. Thank you.”
I’m pretty sure I hear Em sniff on the other end.
“Also, I have to apologize. I was being a total . . .” I scramble for the right Ruby-esque phrase. “I was being a total, full-fledged, one hundred percent certified asshat.”
She sniffs and giggles again. “Wow. That’s one way to put it.”
“Are we okay?”
“We’re always okay, no matter how much of a certified asshat you’re being.”
I want to hug her so badly right then.
“Just a second. Matty is hollering at me that we’re going to miss our nighttime Paris canal tour. Let me tell him I’ll skip it.”
“No, it’s okay. We can catch up on e-mail.”
“You promise to tell me everything?”
“I do.”
“I mean it. Everything.”
“I promise. Love you, Em. Tell Matty I say hi.”
“Love you too, Park.”
I hang up but keep the phone in my hands.
I realize what a gift Em’s given me, telling me I shouldn’t keep my internship decision a secret, but also letting me make my own way through it, nudging me to the edge but never pushing me over, letting me figure out myself when I was ready to test my wings.
And weirdly enough, even though it seemed like blackmail at the time, Charlie did too: He never told.
I don’t know how I can ever pay them back, but with Charlie, at least, I have an idea.
There’s still time to make things right.
For a second I wonder if I should do that with Finn, too, if I should keep his secrets about his brother like he asked.
But for the first time in my life, I can see the difference. I should have tried to have an honest conversation with Charlie after the party this summer instead of just going straight to our parents. I shouldn’t have taken that choice away from him so quickly, not when he’s already had so many choices taken from him. But now I know that there are times to nudge and trust and hope, and then there are times when someone’s holding so many heavy things inside them—bruised skin and splintered ribs and broken wings—they can’t fly on their own yet.
They need someone else to be brave for them.
I swallow hard, scrolling through my contacts, then hit dial.
Carla picks up right away, the sound of the art fair still buzzing in the background.
“Parker, what’s going on? How’s Charlie?” she asks.
“He’s good. He’s safe. But, Carla, it wasn’t Charlie who was hurt.”
I pause, knowing not only that what I say next will scare Carla, but that it will make Finn furious, that even though I kept his superhero secret, this secret is one I can’t keep.