My dad’s snort told me his thoughts on that suggestion. “What about back home? That’d be more beneficial, wouldn’t it?”
“You want to fly her back and forth the rest of summer? I don’t think that would be helpful. Besides, you can’t push her Arizona friends like that. I talked to Emily and Amanda.”
“Who are Emily and Amanda?”
“You know, Emily Christopherson and Amanda Green. Their daughters are Mackenzie’s friends in Arizona—”
“The ladies you had your wine walks with?”
I almost smiled as I imagined Mom bristling. Dad thought the wine walks were stupid. Mom thought they were the next best thing to going to church.
“Yes. Those ladies.” Her voice dipped low, almost a growl. “But I talked to them about Zoe and Gianna. They said they want to be there for Mackenzie, but you know how it is. Teenagers don’t know what to say, so they hold off.”
“Isn’t that the same with adults?” Dad griped. “We haven’t heard from Tony and Danielle since the funeral.”
Silence.
A sniffle. “Well, we’re talking about Mackenzie’s friends right now—”
“If they don’t want to support their friend, then that’s on them. We have to deal with the here and now, and getting her into some form of activity is the best idea. She needs to be busy. She needs to be . . .”
I leaned forward, my hand wrapping tight around one of the stair posts. What was he about to say?
“What?” More sniffling, but she sniped back. “She needs to be gone? Away from us?”
“Tell me who Nan is again.” He was resigned.
This was fight number I’d-lost-count. This was what they did. They thought Robbie and I were sleeping, so the checkered flag dropped, and off they raced. They couldn’t get to fighting fast enough.
They assumed too much.
While they made sure Robbie was tucked in bed with his lights off, I got only a gentle tap on the door and a “You in bed, honey?” The term of endearment was on a rotating schedule. Every fifth night was honey. Others were sweetheart, baby girl, my sweet daughter, and Kenzilicious, and to answer their question, I never was. My light was always on, but they left after I replied with a loud and clear yes.
I shouldn’t complain. We’d spent a week with Grams and Grandpa, and it was a week too long. Our parents had been busy while we were away.
I didn’t know the specifics, but they got a new house. Then there was the funeral. It was in Portland because they’d buried Willow where we could visit her. We flew back to Arizona for a memorial service, though. It was more for everyone there—Willow’s friends, my friends, our parents’ friends, and relatives.
When we came back, we’d gone straight to the new house. I called it the new-new house since it was the second one we’d had in this town. Everything was already there for us, which was weird. In the new-new house, I didn’t share a bathroom with anyone. There were four bedrooms. My and Robbie’s were upstairs, and we each had our own bathroom. Our parents’ room was on the main floor, and we had a guest room in the basement.
There was no room for Willow.
She’d been the only one who’d already decorated her room in the first new house. No one else had completely unpacked.
Willow . . .
An image of Willow in her casket flashed in my head—no, I wasn’t going there.
My phone beeped.
I grabbed for it, silencing it so my parents didn’t know I was eavesdropping. Again.
Unlocking the screen, I saw the text was from Ryan. A warm fluttery feeling spread in my chest.
Ryan: Going to the movies with friends tonight. Want to come?
Movies? I checked the time. It was after nine. I typed back.
Me: Late movie?
Ryan: Yes.
Me: What movie?
Ryan: It’s the new superhero one. You in?
I didn’t care about the movie.
Me: Yes.
I wanted to see Ryan, even if I had to sneak out.
We’d emailed at first. That had progressed to him calling our hotel room. Once I got a new phone, we texted daily.
He mostly asked how Robbie was. I asked how Warcraft was. He’d asked twice if I could sleep okay. I never answered. The answer was always no, but that was depressing. I didn’t want my conversations with Ryan to be sad. Everything else was steeped in sadness, but I didn’t want it to touch him. Not anything to do with him. We’d seen him and Peach once. They came to the hotel to go swimming, but that’d been it. Robbie and I had been holed up in the new-new house for weeks.
Ryan: Sweet. Pick you up in ten minutes.
Ten minutes? Wait.
Me: You know where I live?
Ryan: Yeah. My friend lives next door. Be there in ten.
For the first time in a month and one day, I hoped my parents would keep fighting. I sneaked back to my room and dressed. My light was off, but to be safe, I did the whole pillow-acting-like-a-human-body under my covers.
Slipping out, I didn’t need to worry about going to the back door. The fight was still fully engaged. My parents never saw me on the stairs, and I headed out the front door. I was waiting on the curb when a car pulled up in front of me.
“Hey!” Ryan rolled the passenger window down and gestured to the back seat.
Another guy was driving, bobbing his head up and down in rhythm with the bass blaring from the radio. He watched me where I stood, faint curiosity in his eyes.
“We gotta pick up one more. Then we’re good to go,” Ryan told me as I got in.
Once I’d settled, the driver started off, and Ryan twisted around. He pointed to the guy next to me, who held up a hand. “This is Tom Sanderson and Nick Lumoz.”
Nick was the driver, and he held up a hand but didn’t look back. “Yo.”
Tom nodded again, a friendly smile on his face. Both guys looked gangly. Each had their hair spiked like Ryan’s and wore Portside High School shirts.
“Is this the chick who—”
Ryan cut Tom off. “Yeah, so shut up.”
I caught the regret and sympathy that flashed in Tom’s eyes. They knew about my sister.
“Tom’s the guy Peach likes,” Ryan explained.
“Ah, man.” Tom groaned, slinking down in his seat. He’d been tapping his hands on his legs but moved to cross his arms. “It isn’t something that’s supposed to be acknowledged. It’s the thing no one talks about, you know? Why’d you have to say something?”
“Because it’s wrong. All sorts of wrong.”
Nick snorted. “You didn’t think that way when my sister liked you last year.”
Ryan turned sideways, facing the driver. “Because that was last year, and your sister’s hot.” His eyes flicked to mine, and he amended, “Not that I was interested in her.”
Tom snorted. “Right. Because that’s why.” He turned to me. “Nick’s parents split, and his sister went with her mom. He stayed with their dad because of basketball, and us.” He patted Nick’s seat. “Right? You couldn’t leave us. That’s why you didn’t go with your mom.”
Nick scowled in the rearview mirror. “Thanks for blasting my personal shit. No offense,” he added, looking at me.
Tom guffawed. “Whatever, man. And I said my thing because we know something personal about her. I felt it was fair.”