Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-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 of character.
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 farther.
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.
One thing Ethan and I had in common was our stubbornness, so rather than apologize, we figured out how to do everything one handed or together. We even played video games while sharing a controller.
Over time, we started to like spending time together. We didn’t need a shirt to bind us. We were already joined at the hip.
Ethan was a good brother.
I miss him.
I miss the sound of his footsteps down the hall.
I miss the way he’d knock on the bathroom door to remind me not to use all the hot water.
I miss his annoying victory dance every time he won a game.
I miss the way I could walk into his room unannounced, and he’d listen to me rant.
I miss when he brought me chocolate on a bad day.
I miss the way he stole my baseball caps in summer.
I miss reminding him to replace the toilet paper.
I miss the music he played too loudly.
I miss it all. The little things. The big things. Everything.
I just miss him.
My heart tightens like someone is squeezing it with their fist, choking the life out of it. Tears sting my eyes and dig my nails into my skin, trying to avoid the urge to run back inside.
It isn’t fair that I’m expected to move on with my life as if he wasn’t the very center of it. I wish it were me instead of him. I’m the problematic child. He was the angel.
It should’ve been me.
There’s a faint tug on my jacket.
Jordy stands next to me, bangs plastered to his forehead from the rain. “Are you okay?”
I straighten my back and rapidly blink the tears away. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”
“You look sad,” he says. “Your eyes are all red and everything.”
I love how little kids state the obvious—the things everyone else pretends not to notice. It’s not done in a mean way, but they don’t realize it’s like holding up a mirror and bringing attention to one’s flaws.
I could give a million excuses, but I doubt he’d buy any of them. I’d only be wasting my breath. Kids are usually way smarter than anyone gives them credit for. “You’re right. I am sad.”
I expect him to release his grip on my sweatshirt, but he doesn’t. If anything, he hangs on a little tighter. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes.”
“You think?”
“I get sad sometimes too,” he says. The gap from his missing tooth stands out with every word he says. “You don’t have to be sad alone. I’m right here.”
His little hand stays firmly in place, and I’m surprised how such little contact could be so comforting. It’s his version of a hug.
“Thank you,” I say with a sniffle. “You’re a smart kid.”
He smiles. “That’s what I’ve been telling people.”
I laugh. “I like you. You’re a good kid, Jordy.”
“You aren’t that bad either.”
The corner of my lip turns up.
“So,” he says, bringing his hands up to his face, framing his smile.
“Will you drop me off at school? Because I hate taking the bus. They’re loud and cold, not to mention Lilly rides that bus.
She keeps trying to talk to me, and I don’t know how to get her to leave me alone.
One day at school, she talked to me all through lunch about sharks.
I mean, I like sharks, but not that much.
I just know she’ll try and sit by me on the bus.
” He waves his arms in front of him. “And, I swear, I won’t tell my mom.
” He pretends to zip his lips and throw away the key.
My smile cracks into a full-blown grin. He reminds me so much of myself. “Yes, you can come with us.”
Caleb comes jogging into the garage. He brushes his bangs back, but they’re just as unruly as ever.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long,” he says. “Where’s the keys?”
I peer at Jordy and his reassuring smile, then back at Caleb. “I think I’m going to try driving today.”
Caleb crosses the garage and lets his hand brush my arm in question. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I think it’s time.”
“Okay, but if you need a break, just say the word.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I will,” I say.
He dips down to leave a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers.
Butterflies fill my stomach from his touch.
Part of me wishes we didn’t have to go to school.
I would much rather stay home, hang out with Caleb, and spend the day wrapped up in his arms, but I know better.
I need to graduate, which unfortunately—as so many people have reminded me—means I can’t miss any more school.
Jordy pulls his sleeve down over his hand before touching the car handle. “And you’re positive that this car will get us to school in one piece?”
I slap my hand on the hood. Dust blows up around it. “I promise it’ll be fine.”
He cringes as he gets in. “I hope you’re right.”
While I fully intended on driving the entire way to school, driving at five miles an hour all the way there wasn’t realistic. I did make it to the end of the street, though.
That’s progress.
Neither one of the boys said a word, but I could sense the worry radiating off them. They wanted to be supportive but knew I was going to make us all late. It didn’t matter that I switched with Caleb, I was proud of myself.
“Can I hold your hand?” Caleb asks on our way into school.
I tuck a rogue lock of hair behind my ear as my cheeks flush. Then, I slip my hand into his, interlacing our fingers. He smiles, looking down at our hands. Then, he lifts them to his mouth and plants a kiss on my knuckles. My skin tingles from his soft lips.
“Is this worth no car?” I ask.
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t you miss the heated seats?”
“I’d choose you over them any day,” he says.
Right as we reach Caleb’s locker, Sadie shrieks behind us. She runs up, wrapping her arms around both of us, squishing us into a forced and awkward hug. “You guys are too cute!”
“Hello to you too.” I laugh.
“Did you love the dress?” she asks Caleb. “I mean, of course you did. Becca looked more dazzling than the Eiffel Tower itself in that dress.”
“It’s perfect,” he says.
She lets go of us but is still bouncing while she talks—a human version of a pogo stick. “I don’t have much time to talk because I have to go see Mrs. Williams, but we should sit together at lunch.” She looks back and forth between Caleb and me. “I have lots of questions.”
“Like what?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Like how long did Caleb like you? Is that why he dipped your hair in paint back in sixth grade? What should we use for your ship name? You know, the important stuff.”
I wave her along. “Okay, okay. You can interrogate us later.”
She smiles and tilts her head. “Oh, I will.” She starts to turn but then spins back. “And my big math test is this Monday. You’ll help me study this weekend, right? I really need it to go well.”
“I’ll come over this weekend,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says. “Because if I don’t pass it, I’m pretty much screwed.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you pass.”
She folds her hands into each other, holding them up by her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re a majestic lifesaver. I’ll owe you one.”
I wave her away. “No problem. Now, go, before you’re late.”
“Okay, Mom. Bye.” She scurries off.
Caleb laughs as he opens his locker.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just good to see you two getting along again. You’ve always been glued together. It was kind of weird seeing you guys apart.”
The urge to shake off the comment with a snarky reply is strong. I hold it in because I agree. “Yeah, I’m glad things are better between Sadie and me. She’s one of the few people that tolerates me.”
He pulls a book out, tucking it under his arm, and closes his locker. “Well, now you have me too.”
I try to keep my face from cracking into a smile, but I can’t help it. “You’re right. I do, and I don’t plan on that changing anytime soon.”
He takes my hand again in his. “Ditto.”
His touch still sends goosebumps up my arm. When we part for class, I find myself wishing I could hold on to him longer.