But even with that in mind, I peek at each shadow, searching for something. Anything. Anyone.
Nothing. I’m alone, just as always.
It is only me and the silhouette that sways outside my window.
Atticus
14
HUFFS OF HOT AIRleave me with each press, each strain of my biceps. The toes of my sneakers dig into the dirt, and my palms form scattered imprints.
Push-ups have always been a part of my standard workout routine. The only new part about it is the location, and today I’m out front, nestled next to the fountain that sits before our estate.
I’m twenty reps in with only twenty more to go, yet the tension in me is not dissipating. Maybe I should ask Father to finally call the contractor—to build that gym add-on he’s been offering for years.
Maybe then I’ll garner enough strain from my exercise to numb me. Maybe it’ll give me more structure, something to plan and organize.
Anythingat all to help relieve me of this torment. The torment of having no purpose, of being alone, of being empty.
As I switch from push-ups to sit-ups, the front door of the castle opens, and I can hear Abigail’s excited giggles and Julian’s calm nagging.
“No running on the steps, my friend,” he calls out, and as I sit up on the dirt, Abigail is standing before me.
“Hello, Atticus,” she greets, her smile blinding and infectious.
“Hello, little one. How are you?”
“Great! Julie and I are going to play hide and seek,” she tells me.
“Here.” Julian appears behind her, holding out a brand-new jump rope. “Atty said you needed one.”
Atty. I miss the days when Julian was still forced to call him Young Master Atlas. But that was before he committed suicide, sacrificing himself to unknown forces to save my brother.
I wish I could continue hatinghim, not just what he stands for. Unfortunately, that’s kind of impossible now.
“Thanks,” I mutter, accepting the new rope.
“Let’s play now!” Abigail insists.
“You go hide, and I’ll count to thirty,” Julian suggests. My sister immediately runs, disappearing around the side of the castle to undoubtedly hide in the blossoming gardens.
I return to my sit-ups, unwilling to further converse with Julian.
But he seems to have other plans, as he says, “Young Master Atticus, can we talk for a moment?”
I heave a heavy sigh, standing from the dirt and brushing off my joggers. “If we must.”
Julian just grins, as if my standoffish personality has grown on him and he’s having a grand time dealing with me. This makes me dislike his presence even more.
“Well, listen, Atlas’s birthday is on Monday, so we’re having a party in a few days. Your parents have already agreed,” Julian says. “It’ll be held here, and I invited some of my friends that Atlas wants to meet.”
“Didn’t he already meet your California friends?” I press, unhappy with the thought of them returning and taking up shop in my home.
I don’t know them. Not well enough.
Julian chuckles. “Not them. It was planned too quickly to ask them to buy plane tickets. I’m talking about my friends from town.”
My friends from town.
