I laugh and shake my head, starting back up the stairs.
“Hey, wait a minute.” I look down at him from over the banister. He’s got his thinking face on again, the same one I saw in the barn a few minutes ago. “Did something happen between you and Kale?”
“Why would you say that?” Admitting something like that to Uncle Jasper would be as hard as admitting to Dad if he was still alive. It’s just not something that can be done easily. I can’t say, “Yeah, we kissed and we’re both pretending it never happened.” Yeah, right.
“Because you both are acting like—” He looks away, shaking his head. “You know what, I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“You don’t mind me going with him tonight, do you?” I ask. “I probably should’ve asked first.”
“When it comes to Kale, you don’t have to ask me anything.”
Uncle Jasper walks into the kitchen and I hear the pattering of rain outside. I find my phone where I left it and delete the new missed call from Mom.
At this point, the kiss between me and Kale is a welcome distraction. Aunt Holly would be the only person I could talk to, but just thinking about her makes my throat close up.
I almost decide to text Libby, but what happened between us feels like it should stay there. What we have is … well, I don’t know what we have.
But either way, six o’clock feels so far away.
25.
Kale
I don’t go downstairs until it’s time to leave.
It’s been oddly quiet all day. Something that makes me uncomfortable.
Bryce has been in his room, and the television is on low downstairs. The rain outside darkened the day early, and I stand in front of my mirror with the desk lamp glowing dimly behind me.
I don’t look any different from earlier this morning. Except now I have a clean T-shirt on. One that’s void of oil stains or holes. I look for the cut over my eyebrow, but it’s hidden beneath my hair.
I don’t know what I’m looking for, but it’s not here.
I put on my baseball cap and head downstairs. Dad sits on the couch. Not even glancing once at me. He’s different tonight.
I’m halfway to the door, but unable to go any farther without saying something. “Dad?”
“What do you want, Kale?” His voice comes out tired. Worn out, like he’s already giving up on me. Maybe he has. He takes a drink from his beer—something he stopped doing a long time ago.
“I’m going into the city tonight with Harper. I wanted to let you know I’ll probably be back pretty late.”
I don’t even know why I’m telling him this. I haven’t told him where I’m going for years.
He glances from the television to look at me, no expression at all. “All right,” he says. “Be safe.”
I can only stand there and stare.
Something isn’t right. He’s watching a basketball game, and Mom told me he used to have a gambling problem over sports. It started small then got too big too fast. He promised to stop after Bryce was born.
“Still standing there?” he asks. But it doesn’t come out angry or annoyed, just curious.
“No. Sorry. I’ll see you later.”
I step out into the wet evening and close the door. Something heavy is on his mind tonight, and I should be thankful it doesn’t have to do with me. Maybe it’s because I’m still here, and he’s waiting for me to leave.
Ignoring whatever my thoughts are whispering to me, I duck my head into the rain and get in my car. Harper is waiting for me and we have to meet up with Miles and Grace.
I start up my car and pray I’ll be able to stay through the night.
I picked up Harper a half hour ago and I don’t know how to start a conversation. I had to stop for gas before getting on the highway using the money Uncle Jasper slipped me when she wasn’t looking—somehow he always knows when I need it. I ran inside the store to get us a few car snacks, remembering how much she used to like Twizzlers, and received a smiling thanks in return. Now she stares out the window as the dark night settles in. The lights of the city are in the distance. The white lines of road blink by beneath the headlights.
When I glance at her again, she catches my eye. “What is it?” she asks.
I shake my head and mumble, “Nothing.”
More silence passes between us.
Harper messes with the radio for a little while, but finds nothing good and turns it off. “So where is this place we’re going?”
“It’s somewhere downtown. I wrote the address down before I left.” I dig two fingers down into my pocket and pull out the piece of crumpled paper. I hand it to her and she silently reads it.
“I haven’t been to a show in a long time,” she says. “I hope they’re good.”
I shrug one shoulder. “I’ve never been to a show, so I don’t have high expectations.”
“Never?” Harper laughs and shakes her head. “That’s hard to believe.”
“I don’t get out much,” I say. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not.”
“But you also get out more than anyone,” she points out.
“It sounds like the making of a riddle.”
Harper laughs again, and I wish I could make her laugh more often. It feels like I’ve accomplished something when she laughs, even if it’s something small and unimportant.
When we pass through the city limits, I follow the signs for downtown. I can feel her eyes on me every few minutes. It’s not helping calm my heart.
She breaks the silence with, “Can I ask you something about that?”
“Yeah,” I glance over. “Of course.”
“You only mentioned places you’ve been to in the past,” she says. “So, does that mean that you don’t travel to the future at all?”
Whenever I start thinking of the future, it’s this uncertain blackness that scares me.
It scares me so much I try not to think of it.
I put on a smile and say, “Nope, it’s just the past.”
“Why do you think that is? Since you have the ability to time travel, don’t you think you could go backward and forward?”
“Well, it’s simple, really. I can’t travel to the future because it hasn’t happened yet.” I smile again when she gives me a confused look. “It’s not as complicated as you think it might be.”
The exit comes up and I pull off the freeway. The rain stops. The windshield wipers shriek in protest until I turn them off.
“But what about all those theories about different paradoxes and alternate timelines?” she asks. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll mess up the present with something you do in the past?”
“You really need to stop thinking like this is Doctor Who or Back to the Future,” I say. “Time travel is the simplest thing to understand if you take a moment and really think about it.” When I pull up to a stop light, I turn to her. “What’s the definition of past?”
“I feel like I’m in school.”
“Just humor me.”
She sighs. “The past is history. Time that has already happened.”
“And what about future?”
“Time that hasn’t happened yet.”