“You were seven. How can you not remember being abducted?”
“Lay off.”
“You.”
I clench my jaw, fuming silently. He can’t stand not having the last word. I let him have it. This time.
Mama and Dad’s arguing fades, and I fall into one of those hard sleeps where, when you wake up, you don’t know where you are.
In the morning they go to church, but Mama lets me stay home. “My head still hurts,” I say. That excuse won’t work much longer. But I’m worried. Worried they’re going to try to make me go to school tomorrow. I end up wandering the house, listening for where the floorboards creak.
It’s nice having the house to myself. I snoop around, looking at things without somebody watching me. I like that. I do. It’s the most at home I ever feel here. And it’s cool that they trust me not to take anything. I wouldn’t do that. Nothing like that.
After a while I get bored, so I go downstairs and picture where my bed will be once I get a new bedroom. There’s no way I’m staying with Blake. I’d rather sleep on the floor down here than do that.
When they get home from church, Dad tells me to get my coat. We’re going to the lumberyard to get wood for my new room. Way to go, Mama, or church, or whatever it was that convinced him. Probably church, since he wasn’t budging with Mama last night. Go, Jesus.
It’s sort of cool to be out with Dad, just him and me. I never had a dad. I mean, not that I can remember. We grab lunch first, and we talk. About sports and the news, which I know nothing about, and about what I want to be, what I want to do when I get out of high school.
That stops me. I haven’t spent much time thinking about what I want to be. More like who I am. I’m stuck in the past, trying to figure out who I am, what I came from, before I can know what I want to be. But Dad gets me thinking. We don’t discuss school, but I know that’s why he’s asking. And I realize I have no interests. I’m a chameleon, just blending in. No goals but survival.
We haul the lumber into the garage, move a ton of junk around in the basement to clear the space, and then we build the frame. I have no idea how to do this. But Dad teaches me. He makes Blake help us, too, which is actually okay, because Blake pretty much wants me out of his room too. Finally, we agree on something. And he seems to know a little bit about what he’s doing, so it goes faster.
It’s evening and I’m starving and sweaty when I hear the steps creak. I look, and there’s Cami, coming downstairs. My stomach twists and I grab my T-shirt, put it back on. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
Dad looks up. “Hi, Cami,” he says, and then he glances at his watch. “I’m going to go out for some burgers, guys. Back in twenty minutes, maybe thirty if the roads are really bad. Supposed to start blowing tonight. Blake, did you do your homework?”
“No,” Blake mumbles.
“Why don’t you get started on that?” Dad wipes his hands, and then heads up the steps.
“Bye, Mr. De Wilde,” Cami calls out.
“Nice to see you, Cami.” Dad closes the door at the top of the stairs and it’s quiet again. Blake doesn’t leave.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Cami again, not very nicely.
“I came to talk to you. I want to say I’m sorry for what happened.”
“Who let you in?”
“Gracie.”
“You manipulated a little kid?”
“She answered the door and said come in.”
Blake is smirking in the corner, enjoying this.
I turn to him. “Don’t you have homework to do? Or do I have to tell Dad you’re being a dickhead?”
Blake scowls, but then, after a moment, he saunters off upstairs.
“Look, Ethan,” Cami says. “The whole thing blew up. Jason didn’t—”
“Who’s Jason? You mean the J-Dog?” I can’t stop the sarcasm. But I’m embarrassed all over again, thinking about what happened. And I don’t want to talk about J-Dog.
“Yeah, that’s his name. You knew that.”
I shrug. Does it matter?
“Your mom said you want to quit school over this.”
“So?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because school sucks. And so does everybody who thinks it’s funny to humiliate me in public.”
“Ethan!” Cami wrings her hands. “That is so stupid. You are making this into something so much bigger than it is.”
This ticks me off. “I’m thinking maybe I don’t need to be anywhere near friends like you.”
Her jaw drops. She steps back. I can see the shock, the hurt, in her eyes. I went too far. Fuck.
I went too far and now I’m going to lose her. I press my lips together to stop the hysterics that threaten to bubble up. And then I do it.
I step in. Reach my fingers through her hair and pull her close and I’m kissing her. Hard and sweet. Her lips are so soft, so delicious. And she’s kissing me back, I think. For a second.
One second. And it’s over. Then she freezes and whispers, “What are you doing?” Whether to me or to herself, I don’t know. She pulls away and I can see her eyes wide, scared, and I let her go. I do. I just let her go.
She runs. Up the stairs, two at a time. Slams the door behind her. And my feet are glued to the floor.
God. She drives me insane. I hop up on the pool table, shove the balls aside, and lay back before they all bounce off the bumpers and come back to hit me. I stare up at the light fixture until I start seeing black spots everywhere. Knowing I messed it all up.