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I force a smile at the three of them. “I’m here, aren’t I? Just as complicit in this cover up as the lot of you. That’ll have to do for now.”
59
MANUSCRIPT
CHAPTER 9
I’m sad.
My scar is neatly healed, my heart working as it should. By all accounts, I should be able to return to normal activity levels.
Except my father won’t let me play hockey. That was the firmestnoI’ve ever heard, and one that shook me so completely, I didn’t have the wherewithal to formulate an argument. Besideswantingit, which I did. But, you know. That counts for nothing when there are other things to consider.
Miles has been keeping me company lately. Beth got weird after the surgery. She keeps eyeing the ring on my finger and shaking her head, seeming to not understand thewhy. I told her the why, which might’ve been a blanket lie about caring about him. Mainly because I’m not sure if this qualifies as insurance fraud, and I don’t want to find out.
I see Beth in class, and sometimes we hang out after school. But once Miles gets home from hockey practice, we go for walks through the neighborhood. Sometimes he humors me and we’ll jog a block or two, until my muscles scream at me to slow down.
We both miss Knox.
It’s weird, being the oldest in our high school. Top dogs, kind of, although the lowerclassmen are terrible. Maybe all senior classes think that about the younger teens, watching with disdain as they make the same mistakes we did.
Miles doesn’t really fill the void of Knox, but we relate to the experience of being hollow. For him, though, I think it’s a relief. Like stretching. Painful but necessary.
For me… I don’t know. It’s not like stretching. It’s like ripping.
He teaches me how to play stupid racing video games. Dad gets our living room television all hooked up with a new game system, trying to keep me up here instead of at the Whiteshaws. There’s some unspoken agreement about it being our turn to keep Miles busy, lest he turn to more destructive habits in his brother’s absence.
Not that I think he’d do that.
So anyway. My parents have cut down on their hours, Mom quit her second job. They’re home more often, and there’s a relief as they get financially caught up. They’re not being chased by the bills anymore, or picking and choosing what to pay and what to stave off.
The weeks turn into months. Knox doesn’t come home for Thanksgiving, but then it’s only two and a half more weeks until winter break.
We wait with breathless excitement.
Okay, Miles isn’t breathless. He’s happy to see his brother, though. I’ve learned to read him, and I know that he missed him. Even if he’d never admit it.
Knox comes over two days after he gets home. While I am restless with the urge to knock down his door, my parents urge patience. He has family to see, things to do.
The moment I see him walking across the lawn between our houses, my heart goes to my throat. It used to worry me when I’d feel that sensation, but I’m chalking it up to nervous excitement. I burst out of the door and meet him halfway.
He catches me and swings me around, my feet coming off the ground.
“Aurora,” he says. “Wow, you look good.”
We talked while he was gone, of course. Texted and stuff. Even talked on the phone. But it’s really not the same as seeing him in person. I don’t even notice that he calls me Aurora instead of Sunny.
“I am good,” I tell him. “Especially now that you’re back.”
Good is how winter break goes.Goodis how I would describe our attitudes.
Butgoodis not how things end.
I could describe every moment of that winter break. Having Knox back. Sneaking out of the house to kiss him in the snow, drinking hot chocolate in front of the fire. Celebrating the holidays with an ugly sweater party at Beth’s house, and counting down to New Year’s in the driveway with our other neighbors. Blowing kazoos and wearing party hats, and sharing a kiss that should’ve been toe-tingling but instead seemedoff. Or maybe it was only hindsight that gave me that impression.
Little did I know it would be our last kiss.
I want to tell him I love him. Like, actually. Fully.
