Carter
Lincoln is the first one to see me when I walk back inside.
“Hey,” he says, getting up from the table. “Are you okay?”
I look at him, feeling the familiar tight throat, the tears welling up.
I shake my head.
And I let the tears fall.
I let all of them fall.
Lincoln rushes over and puts his arms around me.
I can’t see, I’m crying so hard.
Then Mom is there too, and Dad, all of them, forming a circle around me.
And then Bodhi’s in there too, which is maybe embarrassing, for him to see me losing it like this, but he doesn’t seem to
care.
“I don’t want to forget everything again,” I say in between sobs. “I don’t want to go back to the beginning of sixteen.”
“We know,” Dad says. “We know.”
“I want you to tell me everything this time, okay? I know it might hurt, I know it might be confusing and painful and all
the things, but that’s what I want, all right?”
“We will,” Mom says. “We’ll tell you everything.”
“Promise,” Lincoln says.
“Okay,” I say, catching my breath. “That’s good.” I wipe my nose with my sleeve, run the palms of my hands down my face. “You
guys?”
“Yeah?” Dad says.
“This really is a horrible prank.”
“It’s just not our thing, Carter,” Mom says, smiling through her tears. “You know that.”