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I jump back toward the stairs. “I’m heading up to change!” I yell, pausing halfway up. I lift the dress again. “Do you actually like the shoes?” I ask.
“I think they’re the best part,” he says.
“You’re not just saying that because I like them?”
“I promise you, I like them. In fact, I like them so much, I might get my own pair for the dance.”
I roll my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
He smirks. “Is that a dare?”
“No.”
“Well, it should be.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’d look snatched,” he says with a wink.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Caleb:
I may or may not have had my keys taken away.
No way :/
Yes way.
What about school?
…I’m supposed to take the bus.
I groan.Me yelling at Mrs. Park yesterday, combined with Caleb ignoring her calls while he was having dinner with us, clearly didn’t go over well.
Outside, rain is pouring and ricocheting off our roof while the wind howls. I shudder. Getting drenched in a tsunami isn’t what I had on my agenda today.
Well, it’s a good thing your girlfriend has a car.
Since when?
Since last spring.
Be there in five.
To be fair, it’s hardly made it out of the garage since the day Ethan gave it to me. It was his first car. He bought it as a fixer upper, and while he fixed it a lot, it still has a lot ofcharacter. As soon as he saved enough to afford a nicer one, he gave me his old one. I preferred to tag along with him instead of driving anywhere myself, so this one sat mostly forgotten.
On my way out the door, I drag an overflowing laundry hamper behind me. After picking up all my clothes this morning, it was immediately easier to breathe. I hadn’t truly noticed the way the clutter suffocated me.
I pass Ethan’s room, but this time, I glance over at it on purpose with the smallest inkling of curiosity. I can’t help but wonder how it looks after Mom and Dad packed it, but I’m too afraid to see for myself.
A shirt falls off the heap, and I pick it up before dragging the hamper further. It bounces on each step, and I try my best to keep it from exploding on the stairs by shielding it with my free hand. I leave it leaning against the wall and grab my keys off the hook in the entryway. The cool metal imprints on my palm as I close my fingers around it.
I step into the garage, pressing the button on the side of the wall to open the large door. Light seeps in, illuminating a small green car with a blue door. There’s a thin layer of dust coating it from months of neglect.
I breathe in deeply, picturing myself in the passenger seat, Ethan in the driver’s, and Sadie in the back complaining about how I always hog the front. Ethan would just laugh at us as we argued.
He was a good brother. We were closer than most siblings. Sure, we didn’t always get along. When we were little, we fought all of the time —to the point Mom made us share one of Dad’s shirts. We each got a sleeve, but we had to share the middle. She didn’t let us take it off until we both apologized.
