“That you’re leaving,” she says, the next blink of her eyelids sending tears spilling quietly down her cheeks. “Because I helped make you into someone too good for the person I am now?”
I suck in a breath, so close to crying with her I can barely breathe. “I don’t understand Sam. I don’t understand why this is happening, why we can’t just go back to California together and fix this.”
“Some things are too broken to be fixed, Danny,” she says softly before she turns and walks to the door.
She lingers with her hand on the knob but doesn’t turn around to look at me. “I’m going for a walk. If you decide you want to leave, please be gone before I get back. You can take the car to the airport and I’ll pay for your flight back to Maui. I’ll get online in the lobby tonight and have the ticket booked before you get to Auckland.”
“Sam, wait,” I say. “We’re not done. You can’t—”
I break off as she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone in the cabin where just this morning I was sure I’d woken up with everything I really needed in my arms.
But now my arms are empty and my heart hurts so bad I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the night.
Chapter Fifteen
Danny
Eight Years Ago
* * *
“Smiles form the channels
of a future tear.”
-Lord Byron
* * *
It’s raining on my second day at the new school in Maui, a pummeling rain that sounds like a million tiny fists slamming into the roof of the car. The sky is so dark it feels like nighttime and the palm trees are thrashing back and forth in the wind like they’re trying to pull up roots and fly away into the black sky.
It’s a depressing day, and all I wanted to do this morning was stay in bed.
Instead, I had to get up at six to give my little niece Emmie a bath while Caitlin changed her soaked sheets.
Ever since Caitlin’s boyfriend died this summer, Emmie’s been wetting the bed. I don’t think Emmie understands what happened to Gabe—she’s just a toddler—but she can sense how fucked up and sad Caitlin is. My big sister cries herself to sleep every night. She thinks we can’t hear, but the walls in our old house were thin and now she’s sleeping in the same room with me and Emmie until the bedroom furniture she ordered is delivered next weekend.
Last night Caitlin didn’t make a sound, but I could feel the bed shake when she started to cry. I’m on the top bunk; she’s on the bottom, but she’s not so far away I couldn’t feel her sadness pushing up through my mattress, seeping into my skin, making me feel like I wanted to jump out of bed and punch the wall a few hundred times.
I’m so fucking pissed off, but not at Caitlin, or Emmie, or even my brother Ray, though he’s been a pain in the ass know-it-all lately. I’m pissed off at everything, the entire stupid world that created people like my dad and the man who kidnapped Caitlin when we lived in South Carolina. I’m pissed at people who leave, people who lie, and people who die just when you’re starting to think they might be there for you and that you might end up having a normal family with two almost grown-ups in it you can count on.
Instead, I’ve got a big sister who’s falling apart, a baby niece who stinks up my room every night, and a new school filled with assholes who want to beat the shit out of me. Yesterday, I pegged the two guys who are going to try first. I saw them eyeing me during lunch, sizing me up over their luau pork, or whatever the hell the cafeteria slopped onto our trays. I had barely tasted mine or had a chance to enjoy the novelty of actually paying for lunch, instead of getting it for free because my family is so poor. I was too busy keeping watch on the rest of the lunchroom, wondering how I was going to earn my first trip to the principal’s office.
I’m going to end up there sooner or later. I don’t take shit from anyone, and when you refuse to take shit, you inevitably end up dishing it out.
“Be good today, okay?” Caitlin turns to look at me over her shoulder as she pulls up to the curb outside school, practically shouting to be heard over the rain. “You don’t have to make friends, but don’t make enemies, okay? Okay, Danny?”
“Okay! Jesus.” I roll my eyes as I reach for my belt, hating that my big sister can read my mind.
I’m sick of her being in my head. I’m sick of this family and all our stupid problems. I’m sick of bad luck, but I don’t trust the good luck that’s found us lately.
The mystery relative, the house in Hawaii, the grocery money that’s suddenly in abundant supply after years of scrimping to afford mac ’n’ cheese—it makes me so nervous I wake up in the middle of the night freaked out and can’t get back to sleep.
The only thing worse than being at rock bottom is wondering how long you’ll get to enjoy the easy life before it’s ripped away and you find yourself back where you started.
“Bye bye!” Emmie waves goodbye as I open the door and jump out into the rain, but I don’t stop to wave back the way I usually would. The second I step outside, I’m already half soaked. By the time I reach the overhang near building one, the pounding drops have finished the job.
I curse softly as I start down the concrete path, my tennis shoes squishing with every step. My clothes are glued to my skin and despite the warm temperature, I’m freezing by the time I get to the basketball courts where we’re all supposed to hang out like some big happy family until the first bell rings.
There’s a giant metal thing—almost like part of an airplane hangar—that covers the courts and blocks the wind from one side, but the wind is coming from the other direction today. When I find an abandoned place on the wall to lean against, I have to fight the urge to shiver. I cross my arms at my chest, grit my teeth, and narrow my eyes, refusing to let on that I’m cold. I know better than to show weakness on the second day of school.
I’m still new enough to attract attention by simply existing in the same space as these people who have known each other—and the social order of this group of losers—their entire lives. I can’t let my guard down until I’ve made my place in this eco-system clear. I may be a runt and one of the smallest kids in school, but I’m a predator.
I’m at the top of the food chain, and the best call any of these punks can make is to stay the hell out of my way.
“You’re in my English class, right?” The girl walking by stops, cocking her head as she glances my way. She’s got crazy, fuzzy, almost-black hair and her mouth is too big, but she’s pretty, not the kind of girl who usually talks to runts like me.
“I like your shoes,” she adds, nodding toward my one-stars.
She’s probably trying to be a Good Samaritan, or win “Most Liked” at the end of the school year and get her picture in the yearbook, or something lame like that. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. At least I know a girl in a fluffy black dress and combat boots probably isn’t going to try to kick my ass.
“Yours too.” I glance at her boots with the chain at the top. “Like the hardware.”