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Jude, eight years old
The yelling was followed by a crash and the tinkle of broken glass hitting the tiles. My mother cried out, and I wanted to go to her, but I couldn’t. I raced upstairs to make sure Jasmine was safe.
Not only had my mom told me that I was responsible for her if things got “loud,” but Ogun had told me I must always watch her when my father drank his alcohol. He wouldn’t say why, but I believed him. After all, he was my best friend—he didn’t lie to me and he was crazy smart.
“Jude?” she asked from her doorway. Her dark curls framed her little face.
“Come on, Jazzy. Let’s play a game,” I said in a voice brighter than I really was. Partly because I’d barely gotten over being sicker than a dog and I was still not feeling great.
“What game we gonna play?” She was three years younger than my wise eight and easily distracted. Thank God.
“Put your shoes on,” I told her. She slid her little light-up shoes on and closed the Velcro. I grabbed her jacket and helped her put it on. Then we slipped down the back stairwell, ignoring the shouts.
Quiet as I could, I turned the doorknob, and we went into the backyard. Skirting along the bushes that lined the fence, we made our way through the dark to the gate at the back. It was locked, but only from the inside.
When it creaked as I swung it open, I glanced over my shoulder toward the house. Fear had my blood pounding in my ears as I scanned the illuminated windows for a sign of someone looking out. When no one sounded the alarm, we rushed through the gate and across the golf course.
The full moon lit our way.
“Jude!” Jasmine whined. “I’m tired!”
“Shhh! It’s only a little bit further. You’ll love it,” I whispered.
Then we went through another gate and into the backyard of a house bigger than ours. No one had lived there since before school started. Taking advantage of it, Ogun and I would sneak in to play in the treehouse. It had become our very own secret fort.
“Go on up!” I hadn’t ever brought Jasmine, because it was for boys only, but that night my father scared me more than others. Not only had he been drinking, he’d been drinking before he got home. He started out by yelling at me for leaving the remote on the couch, then he shoved me, and I fell to my butt on the floor. He’d never pushed or hit me before.
When my mom came down the stairs, he turned on her. The shouting had gotten louder.
I’d known right away to go get Jasmine. She was young enough that while the yelling frightened her, at least she didn’t understand the ugly things our dad said to me and our mom. At least I hoped she didn’t.
Not realizing the true situation, she eagerly climbed the ladder that led up to the mystical fortress my friend and I had claimed.
If I’d been paying attention better, I would’ve noticed there was a faint glow from behind the curtains. Jasmine gasped, and I stared wide-eyed at the intruder in my castle.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my treehouse?” the girl demanded. Though she tried to sound tough, I could see her hands shake as she pulled her coloring book to her chest.
“This is my treehouse,” I announced, full of self-importance. After all, she was trespassing, not me.
Her green eyes narrowed, and her chin jutted out. “It is not. I live here, and my daddy said it’s my special place.”
It was then that I looked around and saw that a ridiculous transformation had happened to my hideout. It was painted pale pink.Pink.
“Uh,” I stuttered, not sure what else to say. I was sure the little interloper had to be mistaken. Yet, my hands gripped Jasmine’s shoulders as I held her protectively in front of me.
The girl studied me for a moment, then she smiled. My heart tripped.
“If you want, you can stay. But you have to promise to slay the dragons if they try to get in. Can you be a knight?”
“Um, okay.” I didn’t want to play with a girl who wasn’t my sister, but if it meant we were safe for a while, I’d promise almost anything.
“What’s your name?” Jasmine asked curiously.
“Korrie. Who are you?” the girl asked.
“I’m Jasmine. He’s my brother. Jude.” She nudged me. “I wanna color,” she whispered.
The girl beckoned her over. When she sat down at the small table, they became immediate friends. While they colored, I tried to act busy reading one of her mystery books. Except my eyes kept straying to her dark hair that glowed deep red when the little Christmas lights hit it right.
