4. Then Eighteen Years Ago
Chapter 4
Then: Eighteen Years Ago
T he moving trucks pull away from the house next door when Nana shouts up the stairs, “Katie girl, come on! I don’t want to miss the funnel cake.”
I drag myself off the window seat after spending hours staring at a new family carrying boxes into the old Craftsman house next door. It was empty for one month before the sign read: SOLD. I glance over one last time before barreling down the banister, my long blonde hair flying behind me like a cape.
This elicits a scold from Mama. “Careful, Kate.”
“Are you coming with us?” I run into her arms for a hug.
She smiles down at me. “Not this time, sweetie. Go with Nana and Pop and be good.”
“I’m always good.” I squeeze before letting go.
Mama’s face wrinkles in disagreement, but she doesn’t argue.
Daddy’s already snoring in a kitchen chair. Mama hums to herself as she selects a large pan from the cabinet. The oven beeps after it preheats, but Daddy never stirs.
Nana opens the front door, which regains my attention. “Which ride are you most excited about, Katie girl?”
“The slide! Ooh and the spinney one!”
“Which spinney one?” Pop whispers to Nana.
She rolls her eyes and mumbles, “Gravitron.”
“Oh, yes, the Gravitron.” Pop grins. “I think you’re still a little small for that one, angel girl, but we could do the Tilt-A-Whirl if you want?”
I shrug. “Okay.”
The annual carnival falls on the second week of July without fail. It’s a few days before my birthday, and Nana and Pop come down from Nashville to make a week of it. It’s one of the only times I get to see them over the summer, but this year, the trips have been more frequent. Sometimes, they help Mama, or they talk to Daddy. If I’m lucky, they take me out for the day.
As we approach the church, the air is consumed with fresh, fried desserts that’ll be covered in layers of powdered sugar soon enough. The lights are blinding, almost like there’s a mini city in a parking lot begging for adventure in a way a small town doesn’t.
Despite the unbearable heat, the carnival hums to life with people folding balloons into animals, gathering by the pie stand, throwing at the dunk tank, and waiting in line for rides.
Nana gets a book of tickets and rubs her hands together. “Okay, what’s up first?”
I study the options. “Can we do the castle?”
Her gaze doesn’t meet mine. Stretching on my tiptoes, I glance around.
Pop’s in the funnel cake line. Nana gives him a look, and he smiles.
She laughs. “Sure … after dessert.”
The funnel cake is gone in a matter of minutes, and Pop and I are in the castle while Nana cheers for us on the ground. We make it past the silver bars and over the bridge before sliding down to the ball pit. A couple of kids are in the ball pit when we get there.
“Hey! I know you,” a girl says to me.
I look at the dark-haired, green-eyed beauty in front of me. She seems like she’s a couple of years older than me. I’m trying to place how I know her, but then I see him: the same copper skin, same dark hair, but green eyes a little more piercing. My stomach drops.
He smiles. “You’re the girl next door. I saw you—watching us at your window earlier.”
I retreat. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m positive it’s you,” he calls back.
I gulp and twist my head again. No.
Pop put his hand on my shoulder. “Katie girl, want to keep going?”
I nod, voiceless.
The girl lifts her hand to wave goodbye, and I wave back, looking past her to him.
We’re no sooner out of the castle when Pop asks me, “Where to next?”
“Tilt-A-Whirl?”
Pop’s eyes sparkle. “Race you there.”
We must spend hours riding rides, playing games, and eating junk food. I’m in a daze when we leave, holding hands with Pop and skipping the second half of the way home. Then, a scream from a few doors down breaks through our happiness.
Smash .
Shouting.
“Len,” Nana warns Pop.
“I know, Mags.” He rubs my hand as our skipping slows.
Three kids are running around playing tag, unaware of the chaos ensuing right next door.
Pop nudges my shoulder. “Hey, Katie girl, aren’t those the kids from the Castle?”
“Yeah, they just moved here.”
What is it like having siblings? People you can play with when the screams start or hide with when it gets scary. People who get you in a way your parents never could.
“Why don’t you go play with them?” Pop pokes.
“Really?” I don’t take my gaze off the scene in front of me.
He pushes me along.
I hug him before running next door.
“Oh, hey!” the girl from the ball pit calls me over, still dressed in a T-shirt and jean shorts. She pulls her braids over her right shoulder. “Do you want to play tag with us?”
“Sure,” I reply.
“Oh good, the boys like to gang up on me, but I don’t think they will with another girl here. I’m Jade.”
“I’m Kate.”
“That’s Jack.” She points to her younger brother. “Jase is over there.” She shifts her attention to her youngest brother. Both boys are wearing basketball shorts and matching soccer jerseys.
“ You. ” Jase approaches me.
You, I think back, but answer, “Hi.”
“Jase, leave her alone.” Jade rolls her eyes. “Ignore him. He forgot how to make friends when we moved.”
“It’s … okay.” My feet awkwardly shift from side to side.
“How old are you?” Jade studies my face.
“I’ll be six next week.”
“Jase turned six last month, too. Jack’s seven, and I’m ten-and-a-half.”
Jack stomps his foot. “Can we play already?”
Jade transfers her hand to her hip and flips around, giving her younger brother a look. Turning back to me, she explains, “Okay, so, the boys are ‘it.’ Our base is the treehouse out back.”
“Treehouse?”
“Go!” Jase shouts, and we all take off.
Jade is faster than I am, and she scales the ladder with ease. I’m close to the steps when there’s a push on my left shoulder, almost knocking me over.
“Tag, you’re it.”
I turn around, out of breath, and come face-to-face with Jase.
He has a wide grin and is missing his top right tooth. “You’re it,” he repeats.
“Go, Kate!” Jade screams. “Go get him.”
I bolt but miss the branch sticking out of the ground from the Magnolia tree in the side yard, right between our houses. Given it’s the one I can see outside my bedroom window that I’ve spent enough time looking at, I should know where it is by heart. I trip and fall, letting out a huff as I grab hold of my red knee.
“Kate!” Jase comes running over. “Are you okay?”
“Ow!” A sting comes from a small cut on my left knee.
“Jade! Jack!” Jase calls.
Jade comes running from the treehouse and Jack from the front yard.
Jade crouches down. “What happened?”
“She tripped,” Jase says.
“Did you push her?” Jade counters.
“What? No. She fell.”
“I think he pushed her,” Jack interjects.
“No, I didn’t,” Jase cries.
I sniffle. “He didn’t do it. I fell, but I’m okay.”
“Maybe we should get you home.” Jade helps me stand.
But instead of walking home, I squint in the distance. “Are there … ?”
“Fireflies.” Jase’s smile widens.
“I’ll go get the jars.” Jade runs indoors.
Jack doesn’t wait for her to get back before he takes off and catches them one by one in his hands before letting them go.
“Come on.” Jase takes my hand.
“Where are we going?” I follow him back toward the treehouse and beyond the house into the woods before I realize how late it must be. Mama’s probably worried. “I should go home.”
“Kay, wait—look.”
“Kate.” I correct, but as my eyes trace his arm and pointer finger, I smile. Fireflies. Everywhere.
The light above the kitchen side door blinks three times in a row. It’s the last call to come home . “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.” I spin toward home.
“Kay, wait, you didn’t get any fireflies,” Jase objects.
“Next time,” I call back, surprising myself with the promise.
I hustle inside and see Mama, Nana, and Pop enjoying a glass of Mama’s sweet tea at the kitchen table.
Mama yawns. “Have fun, sweetie?”
“They were cool.” I wash my hands in the sink.
There’s a light knock on the side door followed by a quiet, “Ex-cuse me?”
We all turn around, facing the little voice. Mama stands.
Jase.
“Hello, and who do we have here?” Mama leans down.
“This is for Kay.” Jase pulls a jar out from behind his back. He sets it on the kitchen floor and backs away.
Four dandelions stick out from the top of the jar with several holes in it, like Daddy taught me to do. His daddy must have taught him, too. The jar lights up. Fireflies.
Mama shakes her head. “Oh man, not even six years old and she’s already got a boyfriend. I’m in trouble, huh?”
Nan and Pop laugh as Mama lifts the container onto the countertop.
As she tucks me into bed, her word echoes in my mind:
Flowers.
Fireflies.
Jase.
Trouble.