CHAPTER 1 #2
“Daisy only gets to skip because she’s old,” Penn told her, readjusting her tie in the mirror on the back of the entryway closet door.
I had no fight left in me. “You only have one more week of school, and then it’s summer vacation,” I told them. “Hang in there.”
Theo, who kept kicking his shoes together to watch them light up, said nothing.
Addison Pier View was a combination elementary and middle school, and everyone wore a uniform except the kindergarteners.
Starting next year, though, he wouldn’t be able to wear his Spider-Man sneakers to school anymore, and I could already imagine how well that was going to go.
And I’d be here for it. I’d be here for another year of mornings with meltdowns and tantrums and screams. My stomach churned.
We stood in the entryway for maybe ninety seconds before the bus rolled up. Junie hurried out first, ponytail bouncing against her backpack, and Ivy was hot on her heels. Penn picked up Theo’s hand, moving toward the door without a word.
“Penn,” I called after her. She stopped on the threshold, shoulders slumping in annoyance as she peeked back at me through her curtain of semi-damp red hair. I pulled out the five-dollar bill I’d stuck in my pocket and held it out to her. “Get a cookie in the cafeteria today.”
She plucked it from my fingers, not looking at me while muttering a soft, “Thanks.” And then, just before she shut the door, she added, “Have a nice day skipping school, loser.” I caught a flash of a smile before she rushed off to the bus.
Our way of saying sorry for the rocky morning.
Out of all the kids, Penn felt the most normal to bicker with.
There was a time before Dad died when Penn and I were closer, when she was still the kid sister I could pick on.
Different than the others. Junie had been five when Dad died, Ivy had been three, and Theo had just turned one.
The age gap was too big with them, and they looked at me for authority and comfort.
Not as a big sister, but as a fill-in parent.
I shut the front door and leaned my forehead against it, dread turning my stomach again.
The house was now silent, and my thoughts were buzzing and loud, second-guessing everything.
I shouldn’t have thrown water on Penn, and I shouldn’t have threatened Junie and Ivy, and I shouldn’t have bribed Theo with my phone.
All the shouldn’ts really felt like failures, stacking up and pressing down on my shoulders to root me to the floor.
Weariness was there, too, and I half debated climbing back into bed, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. I’d just lay there, body tired but mind awake and running a mile a minute.
And besides, it was probably the best day of senior year.
Senior Skip Day.
And I wasn’t going to spend it in bed. I was going to make the most of it. How I wasn’t sure, but I would.
After putting on a bit of makeup and changing into a pair of denim shorts and a green tank top—because it was now early June, and Connecticut had been gifting us with absolutely beautiful weather lately—I left the house.
I sent Mom a quick text before I left, though, in case she checked my location at some point during the day and saw that I wasn’t at school.
I knew she wouldn’t.
Mom had gotten her dream job in New York City doing some sort of event planning for a big agency four years ago, so she had to be up every day at five to make it to the train by six, to get into the city by nine.
It was the kind of job that picked up the financial slack after Dad died, with a salary that, along with his life insurance, kept us at our private school and us in our house.
The only problem was that she was barely home.
Which meant I was responsible for getting the kids around in the morning, taking care of them after school while Mom was still at work, and getting them into bed at night when Mom was too tired for bedtime stories.
That was our system. Had been for years. And since I’d been waitlisted at my dream school, it would be our system for years to come.
That thought added to the weight on my shoulders, sinking me further.
In ten minutes, I was keying in the code to the gate of Biscayne Park.
The neighborhood was definitely a rich one, with heated driveways and interior marble floors.
Calm, like silence lived between the walls rather than actual people.
It was always funny to me that even though our houses were only a short walk away, they could be so drastically different.
I let myself into my best friend’s house, trying to be as quiet as possible in case Nellie’s dad was still sleeping. Their house was silent, and I padded my way up the staircase, opening the first door in the short hallway. Nellie’s bedroom.
Empty. Her bed was neatly made, and her lights were off. I looked to the corner where she normally kept her backpack, finding it missing.
“Goody two shoes,” I muttered under my breath, backing out of her room and crossing the hall to the first door on the left. Her twin brother’s room—my other best friend, Jamie.
And there he was, still in his bed, fast asleep.
Shutting the door behind me, I tiptoed deeper inside.
Jamie had left the curtains to his window open, and sunlight from the east-facing window streamed into his room, casting a spotlight on the floor.
His glasses were on the nightstand beside his bed, and he was on his back, lips parted in sleep.
His dark brown waves fell out of his face, tousled and tangled as if he’d spent the night tossing and turning.
I crouched down at the edge of his bed, fingers braced on the edge of his mattress, watching him sleep. It sounded creepier than it was, truly. I just had the sudden urge to see how long it’d take him to feel my stare.
Jamie and Nellie were twins, but sometimes it felt like I was their triplet.
Like we were all just one unit, and everything felt easy and normal.
We were all weird in our own ways—Nellie was a walking dictionary, Jamie had a borderline freakish obsession with literature, and I liked to draw people dying in the margins of my homework sheets—but I’d found a second home in them.
One that didn’t leave me feeling like I was losing my mind.
I counted down the seconds it took until Jamie would look over, and I’d startle him awake.
He was so boy when he was sleeping. His expression was relaxed, open, and he wasn’t wearing the scowl that seemed to always be wrinkling his brow.
He kind of reminded me of a sleeping Theo, just without the drool.
Peaceful. If I drew people I knew—which I did not—I’d draw Jamie just like this and title it Sleeping Bookworm.
In the end, it only took thirty seconds for him to sense my presence. Jamie drew in a deep breath and then rolled onto his side, facing me. His hand fell onto the mattress, narrowly missing my fingers, but his flexed as if he could sense them.
Jamie drew one breath, let it out, and then opened his eyes.
His eyes were a soft brown, with a darker ring around the iris and deeper flecks throughout.
Eyes artists would’ve loved to draw. They latched immediately onto mine, and I expected Jamie to jump at my surprise appearance, but he didn’t move.
He didn’t blink. I didn’t even think he breathed.
He stared at me long enough that I started to wonder if he was one of those people who slept with their eyes open.
“Am I dreaming?” Jamie asked finally, voice low and rough. He’d spoken softly, almost like the words were just for him to hear.
I rested my chin on my knuckles and tipped my head to the side. “Seeing me is like a dream?”
“More like a nightmare.” Jamie blinked, and the strangeness of his stare was gone. He rolled back onto his pillows, casting his gaze up at the ceiling. His chest rose sharply and fell slowly. “Because you crouched at the side of my bed is definitely giving horror movie.”
“Rude.” I planted my knees. “Where’s your sister?”