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I wrap my arms around her, my heart feeling fuzzy and full. We all stay in the fort for a while, until the sun starts to hide behind the horizon, dimming our light. Theo rests on his belly, his legs kicking back and forth through the air as he reads comic book after comic book. We tell stories to each other and create elaborate schemes to reenact after school the next day. We laugh and tease and joke, our imaginations as bright as the sun-kissed sky. And by the time Mr. Bailey comes home from work and ushers us inside for supper, June has fallen asleep in my lap, her fine wisps of hair tickling my chin and a dollop of drool dampening my T-shirt.
I place a kiss to her temple before waking her up then heading inside. “I love you, too, Junebug.”
The following day, I have my weekly appointment with Dr. Shelby.
She’s a kind woman, with a voice that sounds like a pillowy cloud. Dr. Shelby isn’t like a regular doctor. She doesn’t poke me with metal sticks, or shine lights into my eyeballs, or press on my belly with cold fingers.
She just talks to me. She plays with me. Sometimes she draws with me.
I glance up at her from my perch on the bright-orange area rug, aimlessly dallying with one of those colorful bead mazes. Dr. Shelby is watching me with one leg crossed over the other and a pad of paper on her lap. A pencil taps against the notepad, a friendly smile drawn onto her lips.
“You like that bead maze,” she notes, bobbing her chin at the toy in front of me. “It’s always the first thing you play with.”
Sliding an assortment of colored beads along the thin metal bar, I nod. “It’s June’s favorite toy. It reminds me of her.”
We talk about June a lot. My first meeting with Dr. Shelby was shortly after the incident at my old house—the night I took June and cut my hand so badly I needed stitches. I still have a scar etched into my palm.
Dr. Shelby asked me questions about that night, about why I did the things I did. She wanted to know my thoughts. But mostly she asked me why I took June. She asked me that question a whole lot of times, and I wonder if she thought I’d give her a different answer one day.
I never did.
“Because I told her I’d always protect her,” I replied.
According to Dr. Shelby, I had actually put June in more danger that night.
I feel sorry for that. I never meant to hurt her or make her scared.
Dr. Shelby situates herself on the couch across from me, jotting down some notes. “How is June? Did she learn anything new this week?”
“Yes!” My excitement flares; I love talking about June and all the fun things she learns. “She learned how to pedal on her trike. It took a long time to get her feet going in the right directions, but she was so happy when she figured it out. She’s the smartest girl I know.”
“She’s very lucky to have two big brothers she can look up to as she grows older.”
I stop fiddling with the beads and glance up again. “I’m not her brother. I’m an only child,” I explain. “Mom didn’t bring home any more babies.”
Dr. Shelby is quiet for a moment, then she writes something in the notepad. “The Baileys adopted you, so that would make you the adopted sibling of Theo and June.”
“No, I don’t have any siblings. I’m an only child.”
More silence. More notes.
“Okay, Brant, let’s talk about some things that make you happy. How does that sound?”
“That sounds okay,” I tell her, shrugging, then leaning back on my palms. “Like June?”
“Sure. What else?”
I chew on my lip. “Video games with Theo. Sweet things like muffins and cake. Bubbles, even though he’s gone. But mostly June.”
“That’s great,” she says through a smile. “Maybe you can think of some more things and tell me about them at the next meeting.”
When I left to go home that day, I was still thinking about those things. I thought about happy things all through dinner, and when I took a bath, and when Mr. Bailey helped me with my math homework, and when I tucked June into her new toddler bed, and when my own head hit the pillow.
Mrs. Bailey sits beside me on the mattress, and it squeaks beneath her weight. “Did you have a good day today, Brant?”
She always asks me that. I stare at the pens stuck inside her blond bun, noting that one of them is Theo’s Mario pen. It makes me smile.
It makes me happy.
