AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She sets her coffee mug down, half empty. “I need to go,” she whispers. “I’m already late.”
My heart sinks as she walks past me. I know I should stop her. I should say something. Apologize, maybe. But my body stays put. I’m too numb to move.
Part of me needed to remind her that things will never be the same. Our happiness will always be shadowed by a piece of sorrow. Acting like everything is okay is nothing but a worthless distraction.
The screen door rattles as it closes behind her, sending a shiver down my spine.
I got my wish.
She’s gone.
But it doesn’t make me feel any better.
* * *
I don’t really feellike being around anyone. At the same time, though, I hate having the house to myself. It makes it too easy to imagine how our family used to be. The way we would sit in front of the TV while we ate dinner. The way we would chase Buddy up and down the stairs, laughing so hard we almost cried. Or even the times when we would fight. Our fights were different then. They were silly—meaningless—nothing that would cause lasting damage.
I hide away in my room most days, but it’s beginning to suffocate me. I don’t have the motivation to clean it, and even though I’ve never been a clean freak, it makes me cringe every time I step inside.
Every surface is cluttered with books I haven’t read and wrappers I should throw away. In the corner behind my door is a never ending pile of dirty clothes that need to be washed. On the easel next to my desk, there’s a half finished canvas, paints and brushes scattered below it. I haven’t even pushed the drawers closed on my dresser. There are so many things out of place that I don’t see the point.
The only thing in my room that isn’t in a state of mayhem are the movie posters that line my walls. I love sci-fi movies, especially old ones. I don’t know why. There’s just something about the old special effects that make me smile. Most of my posters are of movies from the fifties—when giant bugs invading the world were all the rage.
For the majority of the day, I ignore the atrocious state of my room and huddle under a mountain of blankets on my bed, watching movies to distract myself. Despite the heat being set to a comfortable sixty-nine degrees, the cold winter air finds its way into my room.
The winters here aren’t terrible. We rarely get any snow, only cold rain, but I’ve never enjoyed the cold. I like to joke that my heart is cold enough on its own. I don’t like the heat, either. In a perfect world, the weather would make up its mind and stay at a consistent medium temperature. But obviously, this world is anything but perfect.
Before I know it, it’s almost three-thirty, and I shed my cocoon to head downstairs.
I hold my hand up to my face as I speed past Ethan’s room to mimic the blinders that horses wear in races. I refuse to look at it again.
Caleb will be here any minute, and if I try to ignore him, he’ll come back over when he sees Mom’s car pull into the driveway. I learned that the hard way . . . multiple times. I also learned that Mom will invite him inside every single time and talk for a minimum of an eternity.
When Ethan died, the school stopped expecting me to show up. It was as if my brother’s death was a free pass to skip class. After a while, my teachers started having my parents pick up packets of homework assignments—until my Mom had a light bulb moment and started asking Caleb to do it. She rarely does it anymore, to my disappointment.
She should know better. Ever since we were young Caleb and I have gotten into fights. I’d be minding my own business, and he’d do everything he could to disturb the peace. He craves attention. When we were six, he stole my soda, and I jumped him in the cafeteria, sending us both to the principal's office. At age thirteen, he pushed me into the pool even though he knew I couldn’t swim. The only reason I didn’t kill him is because he’s the one who pulled me out. He made a big deal about it too, saying he saved me. On top of it all, he smiles too much and must be delusional because, despite my constant lack of natural human affection, he still talks to me.
I’m still in my pajamas, but I don’t care. If anything, maybe one day my unruly appearance will scare him off. Before he has a chance to knock, I open the door, letting the cold air smack me in the face.
Caleb stands there like a skyscraper. I swear he grows taller every time I see him. If he doesn’t stop growing, soon enough I’ll have to crane my neck to make eye contact. His hair is dark, almost black, and his bangs kiss the fringe of his eyebrows no matter how many times I’ve seen him brush them back with his hand.
He holds out my newest packet of homework and smiles, his dimples popping out on either side of his mouth. “How are you today?”
I answer his question with a blank expression, yanking on the papers.
He doesn’t let go. “Bright and cheery, as always, I see,” he says.
I roll my eyes.
“Wait,” he says with a smirk. “Aren’t you headed out? You’re clearly dressed for town.”
I blink a couple of times, meeting his gaze. “Ha-ha.” I yank harder, successfully tugging the papers out of his hand.
I move to close the door.
He shoves his foot in the door to stop it from closing. “Usually, when someone goes out of their way to bring someone else their homework for the hundredth time, they expect a thank you.”
I smile sarcastically. “Thank you.” My smile dissolves. “Now, move your foot before I slam this door and break it.”
