Junie made a softhumphnoise, coming around the kitchen chair, gripping it and sinking into it. “I’ve been thinking,” Junie began, immediately rocking the chair back on two legs, holding the table for support. “And I think it’s a pretty good idea.”
“Feet on the ground, Juniper.”
The front chair legs slammed to the floor, and it rattled the glass of water I had in front of me. “Do you want to know what I was thinking?”
Knowing Junie, it was probably some sort of attempt to let her stay up later. Or to watch a horror movie. Or to play her shooting game. I could see through her, and the way she lilted her little voice. I started to draw the outline of Jamie’s face. “Tell me.”
“I think Mom should quit her job to stay home with us every day, and you work instead.”
My pencil stopped on the point of Jamie’s nose. I lifted my eyes, finding Junie rocking back on her chair legs again, watching me with a cheerful smile. The kind of smile only kids could get away with after saying something that’d rip your heart out. “What?”
“You could work instead, and Mom could be home to watch us every day.” Junie rocked back further. “Summer would be so much more fun!”
I stared at my little sister, the buzzing from the house melting in my ears.
“Junie,” Penn snapped. She’d paused her game, glaring from the couch. “Why would you say that?”
“What?” Junie’s voice pitched up. “Itwouldbe more fun. We do the same thing every day with Daisy. We just sit around at home, and it’sboring. Ivy, wouldn’t you have more fun if Mom was around more?”
Ivy perked up. “Yeah!”
Junie’s words weren’t painful in the sense that it hurt that she wanted Mom more than me. Of course she did. She was ten. She idolized Mom in the same way she idolized Jamie. But her words were still heavy in the way a weighted blanket might be, forcing me down to a nap I didn’t want to take.
“You’re such a selfish brat,” Penn told Junie, raising her voice. “Would you say that to Dad if he were still here?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Penelope.”
The chair legs slammed against the ground again as Junie sat up. “Daisy isn’t Dad! Dad was fun!”
And Daisy is not, I finished in my head, another blow straight to the chest. I lowered my pencil, hand shaking.
“You’re such a bad sister,” Penn threw at Junie, turning back to the TV. “All of you say things to Daisy that are so mean.”
“As if you’re any better!” Ivy shouted, her words slurring a little through the gaps of her missing teeth. “You’re mean to Daisy all the time.”
“I am not!”
Junie threw back, “You are too! All the dirty looks you give her?—”
“At least I don’t give herblack eyes!”
“Well, maybe if she were gone?—”
“Oh no,” Theo mumbled, as if afraid to draw attention to himself. “My slime. It’s… stuck.”
We all fell quiet. Theo hadn’t just been idly twirling his fingers—he’d been playing with a glob of orange slime. He tried to scrape up the goo that he’d melded with the fabric material of the cushion he sat on. His little eyebrows were pulled together, lips pursed in concentration.
I looked down at the sketch in front of me, at Jamie’s downturned head. Not Kit in the slightest, but I had the strongest urge to slash through the drawing like a knife, taking the scene that’d been filling my head and exchanging it for the darkness that seemed to live there.
Daisy isn’t Dad. Dad was fun.
Wordlessly, I stood from the table and walked into the living room to where Theo sat. “How many times have you been told not to play with slime on the couch?” I asked him quietly as I crouched down.
Theo ducked his chin. “More than once.”
“More than once.” There were spots and marks all over the couch, though, from pop spills and food stains, and Theo’s slime could’ve blended right in. The couch was lived-in, worn-down, and no one probably would’ve noticed a new mark on it. I stared at the stain, the weight on my chest pressing down harder. Quieter, I echoed, “More than once.”
I don’t want to do this. The words felt so loud in my mind.I don’t want to do this anymore.
