AllFreeNovel
Share Us
’t have the energy to.
Out in the empty hall Sage shuffles through the papers, reading them over. His light brown hair is longer than normal. He hasn’t had time to get it cut because of me.
I’ve often wondered what he thought when he got the call I was in the hospital and our mom had been killed.
She died protecting me and other students, doing what she could to save lives. She was a teacher and in her final moments she went above and beyond what a teacher is supposed to do.
We lost our father when we were young to pancreatic cancer. I don’t remember him much, but Sage is older than me so I’m sure he does.
In less than eighteen years four has become two.
I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Sage too.
“Looks like your locker is this way.”
“I probably won’t use it.” I toe the dirtied white edge of my yellow Vans against the tile floor.
His exhale echoes through the hall. “Do you want to see where your classes are?”
“I can figure it out on Monday.”
His hazel eyes are tired when they meet mine—nearly the color of his, though mine are more green and his more gold.
“Dani, I’m trying here.”
I know he is. He’s trying hard. The problem is I hate him trying so much when I know he has a life.
He moved to Salt Lake City, Utah for college, stayed for a job and a girl. The girl didn’t work out, but he says he likes the job. I don’t believe him, not when he comes home looking weary and older than his years. We grew up in Portland, Oregon and I had plans to stay there, until someone else with a gun decided my fate for me.
Now I’m the girl who survived a school shooting. Who walks with a limp. Who barely speaks.
“I know you are, but you’re missing work.” I barely give breath to the words, my eyes reluctantly meeting his.
He softens, grasping a piece of my long light brown hair and giving it a playful tug. I used to get mad at him for pulling on my hair when we were little, but now I relish in the familiar gesture.
“I’m right where I want to be. Come on.”
As much as I want to protest, I know he wants to help in any small way he can.
My fingers twist in the bottom of my shirt as I follow Sage. He looks intently at the schedule, then the map, before heading off in whatever direction he thinks we need to go like some bloodhound.
I think this helps him feel in control.
While I was in the hospital there wasn’t much he could do to help me other than to encourage me not to give up.
God, I wanted to.
I often got angry, wondering why God took my mother but not me. Why did I have to endure the pain of getting shot and nearly being paralyzed?
I wasn’t sure I’d ever walk again.
The doctors, too, were doubtful.
But Sage … he was determined to see me walk again.
But running?
I think running is out of the question for me.
