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Chapter Six
Niko
Age Thirteen
Using my ring finger, I smudge the charcoal beneath her left eye, producing a shadow on the sketch I’ve been working on for weeks. I’m not any good. The only skill I have I learned from art class. My teacher, Ms. Pierce, is really talented, and she said I have potential. I don’t know if that potential will amount to anything, but I keep trying. I want to get this drawing of Aislin just right so I can give it to her for her birthday in a couple of weeks. Even if I don’t finish, drawing gives me a nice distraction from my life.
I bolt upright and hide my blackened hands beneath my desk as my bedroom door creaks open. When I see Aislin, I release a deep sigh of relief.
“Hey.” My voice is somber. That’s all I say before I let my gaze drift back down to the pad of paper in front of me. She closes the door and starts to cross the room, so I reach up and flip it closed.
“What are you doing?”
I don’t look at her, but I know she’s cocked her head and stuck her hip out a little. She’s probably crossed her arms, too. I know everything about Aislin, which means I also know she is here to check on me. Even though I told her not to.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“No, you couldn’t,” she tosses back defiantly. “You know why I’m here.”
I sigh. “You shouldn’t have come. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”
Her muted footsteps pad across the floor before she shoves her hip against mine to perch with me in my desk chair. “I needed to make sure you were okay. I’m really sorry about your grandpa.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Thanks. Anyway, he was old.”
“Doesn’t mean you’ll miss him any less.”
She’s trying to do the right thing by comforting me, and it feels good. Nobody else has been paying much mind to my feelings. Grandpa was Mom’s dad, so she’s been quietly sad, and Dad has been working extra so he could attend the funeral. And when he’s not at work, he’s with Mom. Reece and Tori are both older than I am and have been with their friends a lot since Grandad died. We didn’t see him much, but he was still family.
“You’re going to be okay, you know.”
“Aislin, stop. I’m not going to cry or anything.”
“Well, if you wanted to, you could.” Her shoulder brushes mine as she shrugs. “I wouldn’t laugh.”
And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so good for her to comfort me. My cheeks warm with embarrassment. Of course, I’m going to be okay. I’m always okay. I comfort her. She needs me. Not the other way around. I clench my fists. “I’m not going to so drop it.”
“Are you mad?”
I feel her turn toward me, but I don’t look at her. I don’t want her to see how upset I am. Daddy always said I was a loose cannon when I was angry, but I never really understood what that meant until this moment. I can feel something building beneath the surface. The problem is, if she doesn’t stop pushing me, I don’t know what’s going to come out. I just know I’m going to explode. “Please leave,” I mumble desperately as water gathers in my lower eyelids.
The chair we’re sharing creaks as she leans forward. “What was that?” Her hand lands gently on my shoulder.
I spring from my seat so fast she has to grab my desk to keep from toppling over. The shaking in my hands gets so bad that I shove them into my pockets. As I look down, I notice my wrinkled dress shirt has come untucked.
A knock sounds on the door right before it swings open. My mother’s eyes are rimmed with redness, and she circles her gaze around the room, not looking at anything in particular but taking everything in. Softly, she announces, “It’s time to go, Niko.”
I just nod and brush past her to get into the hallway. Once my back is to Aislin, I dash the heel of my hand beneath my eyes.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Mom tells Aislin, something she tells her every time we leave the house when she’s over. And just like every other time, Aislin declines.
“Thank you for offering, Mrs. James. I’ll go home.”
Mom, too emotionally drained to argue, nods her head. “You’re always welcome, dear.”
“I know.”
The three of us walk down the dark hall into the sunlit kitchen. I pause by the rest of my family who’re donning coats and shoes to leave, and Mom hands me my jacket as she pulls on her own.
