Everything Has Changed

Prologue

“Gwen! Have you seen my sweater?”

“No, Kennedy! I already told you three times.”

I let the screen door slam closed between us, the banging noise drowning out my sister moaning about how I always steal her stuff. She wasn’t necessarily wrong about that, but I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t have her sweater. This time.

I make my way into the treeline quickly, hoping Kennedy didn’t see me head out here and follow me for further interrogation. Hand over hand, I ascend the wooden slats my dad nailed into the tree to help us get up to our treehouse.

It was the last thing he built for us years ago, only a few weeks before the accident.

I don’t think I would ever climb these stairs and not think about my parents.

Though, my memories felt more like stories passed down from family members at this point.

The image of them are mere flashes of the same photographs my grandmother keeps in her house.

Ophelia said that’s normal when you lose someone at such a young age.

Still didn’t seem right to me.

Anytime I was able to climb up to the treehouse, I took it. But today was different.

I had been watching out of the window in my room, pretending to do my math homework when I saw a flash of dark fabric heading up the tree.

There were only four people that would be in there and three of us were in the house right now.

It could only be one person and I needed to make sure they were okay.

I was down the stairs and out the door—my sister’s accusations the least of my worries right now—without another thought.

Quickly, I tug myself up, skipping the fourth slat that was starting to be too wobbly to hold any weight, cresting over the edge of the floor in no time.

“Logan?”

A mess of dark brown hair pokes up from the bean bag covered in blankets in the corner as I shuffle into the house. His eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks wet.

“What are you doing here, Gwen?” Logan’s voice wobbles as he wipes at his face.

“I saw you from my window.” I say, pointing toward the house. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles. Folding his arms over his chest, he angles himself to stare at the wall.

I take a seat in the middle of the room, fiddling with the edge of my sweatshirt.

“I said I’m fine, Gwen. You can go.”

“You don’t look fine.”

He tosses his head back and sighs.

“Is it your dad again?”

Mr. Spencer was always hard on Logan, which was one of the reasons our friendship had grown. A couple of years ago, I was sitting in the same spot he is now, probably hiding from my siblings, when his head popped up from below and scared the life out of me.

I knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew the Spencer family. He was only a grade ahead of me, but he was also our grandmother’s neighbor. Well, by then he was my neighbor, too. I just wasn’t expecting this boy to show up in my treehouse.

He told me then he was hiding from his dad, and usually when he came up here, I wasn’t there. Logan offered to leave, but I asked him to stay. We have been sharing the treehouse ever since.

“Something like that,” he mutters now, turning back toward me. “Things are just so different now. His expectations are high.”

I scrunch my face. “Expectations? What, like, your grades?”

Logan chuckles a little. “Yeah, that’s one thing.”

My eyes roll dramatically. It was so silly how seriously his dad takes his school work. As if he’s in high school and not seventh grade. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like at that point if this is how it is for him currently.

“He’s changed.” Logan’s voice is soft. His words hushed while he kept his head down, focused on picking at his nails in his lap.

I tilt my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Ever since…” He trails off, swiping at one more tear that starts to escape his eye.

He doesn’t have to explain, because I know what he means. More than anyone, probably. Instead of waiting for him to say anything else, I slide over the rug we keep on the floor to move in front of him. Taking one of his hands in mine, I hold on tightly.

“Can I show you something?” I ask.

Logan nods, and I don’t wait for more as I reach into the hidden compartment under the floor, pulling out an old shoebox that was more tape than anything at this point. He sits up taller, eyeing the box.

“What’s that?”

“This,” I grin up at him, “is my keepsake box.”

“You’ve never shown it to me before.”

I shrug. “It’s special to me.” Looking back at him before lifting the lid.

“You’re special to me, too.” My cheeks instantly heat up as the words escape my mouth, something I had not planned, though I know they are true.

I focus back on the box on my lap now as I gently remove a couple photos. “These are my parents.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen their pictures up in your grandma’s house.”

I nod. “They passed away a few years ago. A car crash. That’s why we live with our grandmother.”

“My mom told me about that. She told me to never bring it up so I didn’t upset you.”

I smile softly. “I like your mom. She’s nice.”

“What’s this?” He reaches into the box, removing a gold watch with a crack along the face.

“That was my dad’s. He was wearing it when…”

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Logan places it back in the box gently.

“It’s okay.” This time, I take it out, sliding it over my hand. It hangs too low on my wrist to wear it right now. “One day, I’ll wear it every day. I think he would have wanted that.”

“Why are you showing me all this now?”

“I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, someone that understands a bit of what you’re going through, I'm here. Even if you don’t want to talk, I’ll be whatever you need.

I know how lonely it can be.” I sift through the rest of the box, not really seeing anything but wanting to keep my hand busy so he wouldn’t see it shake from nerves. “I’m your girl.”

Logan is quiet, and I give into the temptation of wanting to look up and see what he’s thinking. I don’t expect to find his wide hazel eyes staring back at me, with emotion I don’t understand sitting behind them. He opens his mouth to say something when we hear his name being called.

“That’s my mom,” he sighs. I scoot back from where I was on my knees beside him to allow him space to leave. “I should go so she doesn’t come looking for me up here.” He looks back at me one more time before descending down. “Thank you, Gwen.”

One small wave and he disappears from view.

“You’re welcome, Logan,” I whisper into the empty room.