“I don’t know,” I said.
I didn’t react when I saw his tears well up like a summer storm. Not until they spilled over, ran down his cheeks, and mixed with his snot. Then I got scared and felt a desperate lump build in my own throat. I didn’t want to have to comfort him. I didn’t know how.
“God, Drew, just—just don’t do anything like that again. Come to me if you’re sad, all right? Or angry. I love you, I can’t watch you hurt yourself.”
I crept forward and laid my head on his shoulder. I felt horrible. Black guilt pinched my flesh. Everywhere. Hard.
Keith said, “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I was the one who felt sorry. Not in the apology kind of way. In the I-hate-myself-and-deserve-to-suffer kind of way.
“Come on,” he directed. “Let’s go for a walk.”
*
The muscles in my gut tightened as Keith and I left the bedroom and walked down the hall. I half expected my grandmother to jump out and hit me again. But she didn’t. We stepped outside without incident.
The sky was brilliantly clear, a turquoise template of summer. The surface of a nearby lake sparkled at us through the trees.
I breathed deeply, inhaling mountain air and sweet, sweet relief. I’d escaped punishment. For now.
Keith read my mind. “Everyone’s down at the water. Grandpa got a new boat or something, and I said I’d stay with you. I don’t get why Phoebe decided to stick around.”
She wants to spy on us, I thought, but said nothing. I looked back and gaped at the cabin. Actually, cabin wasn’t a big enough word. The place loomed like a castle, all stone and glass, reminding me of the photographs my mom had shown me of Ireland, the lush mountains where she’d grown up, ones that looked like a different world. I turned and followed my brother. He led us into the woods, away from the water.
“You know,” Keith said as we walked, “I haven’t done right by you, Drew. I’m sorry for that.”
I thought of him and Charlie, all their sneaking around. I nodded. Around us, trees closed in. Everything grew darker. Colder.
“A long time ago, when you were just a little kid, I promised myself I would always take care of you. Siobhan, too. It’s like, I was put here to protect you two, because Mom won’t. Or can’t. Or isn’t strong enough or whatever.”
I nodded again, not wanting to think about our mom, who could be cold and distant in ways that made me feel empty. Instead I pictured Siobhan, with her pigtails and her laughter and her eternal smile. But even that image stung, burning some tender part of me. I remembered how I liked my sister so much more than Phoebe, because Phoebe was rude and never listened to anything I said.
I glanced up. Keith was staring right at me.
“I’m hungry,” I said. The words came out whinier than I intended.
He reached into the pocket of his nylon shorts and handed me a package of orange crackers and orange cheese. I tore the plastic too hard and the flat red spoon went flying. I didn’t see where it landed, so I used my finger to get at the cheese.
“Don’t you worry about her?” Keith asked softly.
“Yes,” I said, although I wasn’t sure who he was talking about anymore. Siobhan? Phoebe? The only girl who worried me was Charlie. She’d single-handedly ruined my brother. Ruined this entire crummy summer. But I couldn’t say that. I needed Keith back on my side, and to get him, I had to agree with him. I had to show him I could be cooler than some long-legged girl whose butt wiggled when she walked.
We pressed through an alder thicket. And beyond. More dark. More cold. Above and on every side. Vines and branches grabbed at my shirt and bare legs. The eggy stink of a peat bog hit me. I pinched my nose tight.
“I should have told you he was coming. I know that. Seeing him like that wasn’t fair to you. But I’ve been … preoccupied. So I’m sorry. Really sorry. This morning, I guess I didn’t think about how upset you’d be to see him.”
Why did Keith sound so shrill? I put all my attention into watching the way his mouth moved as he spoke. His thin lips. That mole between his nose and cheek. The sun backlit him in such a way that if I blurred my focus, he reminded me of a talking moose.
Keith swallowed hard. Gasped for air. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for so long. It’s the reason I arranged for you to come away with me this summer. But it’s not easy. It’s not. It’s the kind of thing that eats away at you. Secrets are toxic, you know? But it’s not you, Drew. I need you to know that. It’s not your fault. I tried so hard to protect you. But I couldn’t. And last summer when—”
The grunting of the bullfrogs drowned out the rest of his words. That was unfortunate. Keith had asked a question or said something important. I was sure of it.
“Did you even hear what I said?” Keith hissed.