“Talk about what?”
“Harper!” she yells into the phone. “Seriously, Kale, I’m dying here. How is she? Is she taller than me now? I’m going to kick her if she is.”
“She’s … Harper,” I say. “And yeah, she looks different. The last time I saw her, she was twelve.”
And her hair is a more golden than brown. Her eyes are bluer. And her smile is contagious, as always. I already want to see her again.
Libby is quiet on the other end. “Oh my gosh … you like her.”
I open my mouth to argue, like every other sane person would do. But I can’t. I don’t have the strength to.
Then she says, reading my silence, “And you aren’t denying it.”
“Because I can’t.”
“Does she know?” she asks. Not about me liking her, but about me. I know by the tone of her voice.
“Not … exactly.”
Libby sighs on the other end. “Kale, you have to tell her.”
“You sound like Miles.”
“That’s because me and Miles are wise.” Then she says, more serious, “I wish I was there.”
“I wish you were, too. I miss you.” I never thought I would say that to my younger sister. Siblings are supposed to hate each other, not miss each other. It feels odd saying it, and I realize I’m not sure if I’ve ever said it before.
“I miss you, too.” I hear her smile fade. “How have you been, though? For real.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me, Kale.”
Footsteps come down the stairs. I never heard the water shut off, and I lift my head to see him on his way down.
“I should go,” I say.
“Kale, wait—”
I reach up to the table and hang up the phone. He stands on the bottom step, staring down. The floor is cold beneath me.
“Still here then?” he asks, in a worse mood now than when I left.
I don’t answer.
“Who was on the phone?”
“Libby.”
Right on cue, it rings.
And rings.
And rings.
His jaw flexes and he takes the remaining steps to pick it up. “Hello?”
I can hear her voice on the other end.
“Hey, Lib.” Pause. “No, he can’t right now.”
I stand, but he holds up his hand so I wait. I just want to crawl into bed and take a nap. Even though I wouldn’t sleep, just lying there might be nice.
“No, she’s right,” he says, not talking to me. “I talked with her earlier.” Another pause. “I think it’s for the best.” Pause. “Well, you don’t have much of a choice at this point, Libby.”
I hear my name being said from the other end.
“I’ll tell him for you.”
He hangs up. I stare at the stairs.
“I called over to Jasper’s house, but he said you never showed up.”
“We decided to see Miles instead.”
“So you lied. Kale, how do you expect me to trust you when you don’t even tell me the truth?”
I almost lose it then, wanting to scream at him. I try to keep my voice in check and say, “Because lying is easier than telling you the truth.”
“Why would you think that?”
Then I shout before I can stop myself, “Because you don’t listen to me when I do tell the truth!”
He takes a step back, deflating with every second. His eyes flick between me and somewhere over my shoulder, like he doesn’t want to look at me. “I want to believe you, Kale, but I’m not sure if I can.”
All the courage I had just moments before is gone. Like it was never there at all.
“You can,” I whisper.
Dad just shakes his head, not ready to hear what I have to say. “Go wash the dishes. Since you don’t have a job, you can at least do that.”
He leaves me standing in the hallway.
After I load the dishwasher and scrub the pans in the sink, I stare out the window at the field behind our house. I miss playing baseball with Dad and Bryce, or catch with whoever was willing. I could go for hours. Not caring if the sun set or if the bugs were bad, or if my knees were scraped and bleeding from hitting the ground too much.
It’s one of the few things I’m good at besides shooting.
I brush hair from my eyes with my forearm, and when I bring it down, Dad is next to me. He leans against the counter, looking like he doesn’t want to be here.
“Your mother and I decided it was best if Libby live with her. Permanently. There are good schools out there, and—well, we think it’s best.” They don’t want me being a bad influence on her—that’s what he doesn’t say.
Just in case I’m contagious.
My hands go still under the lukewarm water. The information sinking in with realization. After a shiver runs through me, I’m freezing.
I can’t stay here any longer.
I can’t do it.
“Did you hear me?”
I’m too numb to answer him. His words still echo in my ears, trying to make sense of them because they seem impossible. Because she’s coming back. Libby is coming back at the end of summer, before school starts. She has to.
I’m glad he can’t see my hands shake.
“Yeah.”
I can’t leave in front of him, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold off. I feel like if I take a step in either direction, I’ll be gone. Everything in me screams to let go. If I close my eyes, I’ll see snow, so I keep them open. Try my hardest to delay it, because it’s all I can do.
With a long sigh, he walks away. Giving up. Down the hallway and into the living room. The television turns on.
I pull the stopper out to let the sink drain, drying my hands and slipping out the back door before he realizes I’m leaving.
I stumble around, trying to force my numb legs into a run. I breathe easier once I’m well into the woods, slowing to stop. Where it’s safe. My heart aches and tugs … and all I have to do is let it take me.
To make this place disappear. Make my life disappear.
My only regret is not telling Harper. But it isn’t enough to make me stay.
Not with Dad.
Not with Libby gone for good.
Not with my life amounting to nothing.
So I close my eyes and let go.
My body is tugged by the strings of time.
I feel snowflakes on my face before I reopen them.
18.
Harper
About an hour after I wake up, Uncle Jasper asks me come with him to the barn. He likes to call it his garage, but there’s no mistaking it for what it is. It used to have cows in it, so it’s a barn.
The morning dew sticks to the blades of grass, dampening my shoes as I walk behind him. A set of unfamiliar keys hang from his fingers, ones I’ve seen in the drawer with all his screwdrivers, old pens, lighters that might not work, and odd bolts that don’t have a home. Aunt Holly called it his “shit drawer,” always saying it with disdain.
After Uncle Jasper pushes open the big sliding door, I hesitate. The house is always so clean and organized, but his barn is the polar opposite.