“Detention tomorrow,” he says to me, then turns back to Brody. “Go get cleaned up. Your nose isn’t broken.”
Coach walks away, shaking his head as he goes.
Liam picks up the forgotten basketball and gives Brody a cold look.
“Leave Leighton alone. Enough is enough.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending her. She’s totally unstable.”
“Or maybe you just shouldn’t touch girls if they didn’t say you could.”
“Whatever, man.” Brody spits blood on the floor. “Enjoy fucking an ice queen.”
Liam lifts the basketball so it’s level with Brody’s face.
“Think fast!” he yells, shooting his arms out but releasing the ball as he does it, catching it with his forearms.
Brody throws his body backward before he realizes Liam never threw the ball, and the other guys laugh at him.
“Just leave her the fuck alone, Brody.”
Liam and I leave, grabbing our things and hurrying out into the cold. The car ride to my house is silent, but it’s the loudest kind—where every breath and turn-signal click and scratch of gravel under a tire is a reminder of the fact that we haven’t said a single word to each other. I’m embarrassed by what I did. I never respond to people like that. And I didn’t think I had that kind of violence in me. I wasn’t even angry in the moment. I just reacted on fear, or instinct.
Liam parks just before Mrs. Stieg’s house, because I asked him to. He’s the kind of guy who would insist on walking me to my door every night, if my door were the kind where that would be okay. My dad knows I have a boyfriend, but hardly any other details. I’m trying desperately to keep those worlds from colliding.
“I’m not like him,” I say. My voice is tight with the threat of tears.
“Like Brody? God, I know.”
“No, like him.” I shrug toward my house.
A few beats of silence pass between us.
“I know that, too,” he says, softer this time. “Brody’s always been an asshole to you. Part of me is surprised you didn’t throw something at him sooner.”
I laugh through the tears now falling down my face.
“I have detention.”
“Yeah. It’s okay. You are long overdue for some rebellion, Leighton.”
A few more beats in the quiet car. Leave it to Liam to have me laughing not twenty minutes after that whole thing.
“You really won’t take the phone?” he asks.
I turn to him in the dark, and I can see just the outline of his face, stark against the porch light on at Mrs. Stieg’s house behind him. I don’t want to tell him no again, but it’s the only answer I have.
“It’s dangerous, Liam. The last thing was over towels, and I’m not taking unnecessary risks with my mom and sisters there.”
“Just unnecessary risks for yourself, then.”
“Liam . . .”
He sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass. I’ll get over it by tomorrow.”
“You’re not an ass. It’s a really nice gesture.”
He laughs without a trace of humor.
“I hate that you don’t feel safe, Leighton.”
“Me too, Liam. I’m working on a plan. I promise.” I kiss him goodbye and climb out of the car. Liam always waits until I get into the house before driving away. It’s such a weird protective quirk when we both know I’m probably better off outside.
I stand in the front yard a moment longer, staring at the house. Most haunted houses are plagued by the dead, not the living.
Except this one. This one is possessed by all of us, even when we aren’t here. Like it’s taking little parts of us, storing us in its foundation and nails and the wood where it’s gone soft.
Run. I pause on the step.
Run, something deep down inside of me screams. It shakes the bars on its cage and tells me to turn around. No, not just something. I know what’s locked in there. What shouts my darkest worries at me as I’m trying to fall asleep. The thing that freezes when I talk back to him. And it’s still there on days when things are all right and the sun shines on my face; even when I’m safe, there’s a part of me always wondering when it’s going to start again. And it’s there in my chest—that thing.
It’s fear.
And I’ve locked it away, like the dangerous creature it is. Because fear makes me act stupid. It makes me weak. I’d run, I want to tell the fluttering thing inside of me, if there were anywhere to go. There’s no place. Noplaceintheworldtorun.
My chest is tight in the cold air, and my breath catches every time I breathe. It’s already too full, with that creature in there. Too full to make room for oxygen, for life.
I step into the house.
Chapter Forty-One
MY SISTERS AND I ARE WRAPPED in a cocoon of blankets on my bed. We made it through Thanksgiving without anything happening, and he is going away for another out-of-town job this weekend, so we are up late planning our two perfect days. Our long hair hangs in triple waterfalls off the edge of the mattress.
“We need a movie marathon tomorrow,” Campbell says, snuggled beside me. “It’s the perfect time of year for it. Cozy blankets. Lots of junk food.”
“Great idea,” I tell her. “What’ll it be?”
Juniper starts suggesting movies, her voice muffled by the blanket half covering her face.
It’s freezing in here. Money has been tight again the last few weeks, and we see the evidence in less frequent grocery trips and the fact that the heat is off. I’m tempted to use the lantern, but I resist. It generates a good amount of heat for its size, but the oil won’t last forever, and we should save it for a night less peaceful than this one. It’s getting too cold for construction, and between being trapped in the house and being low on income, it’s going to be a stressful winter.
So we are enjoying this weekend while we have it.
“Oh, I’ve got it,” Cam says. “Lord of the Rings: Fellowship, Towers, Return of the King. We can fit them all in if we start in the afternoon.”
“Snacks?” I prompt now that movies are determined, and the girls begin a list that is perfectly balanced in that it has an equal ratio of salty treats to sweet ones.
I’m dozing off to the sound of their happy little voices when I hear a familiar name.
“What was that?”
“I asked if Liam can come for our movie day,” Campbell says.
“Oh, well.” I am stumbling, trying to think of a good reason to not invite Liam. “Our movie-thons are kind of sacred. We can’t have any boys there.”
“A boooooy,” Junie sings next to me.
I tickle her until she threatens to pee on my bed.
“I want to meet him,” Cam insists a few minutes later. “You know we have to hang out with him eventually. If we don’t like him, what’s the point?”
The girls giggle more, but Campbell isn’t wrong. If my mom or sisters don’t like him—or if Liam can’t look past the bad things here and see how much love we have coiled up inside—then I probably am wasting my time with him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll ask Mom,” I tell them.
If I do invite Liam over, it will mean my worlds colliding. It’s a terrifying thought, but it is a good weekend for it. Quiet, with him away at work.
I fall asleep to the sound of Campbell and Juniper whispering, and I don’t think of the crawl space once.
Chapter Forty-Two
IT SNOWS OVERNIGHT. I WAKE UP to a room glowing with sunlight bouncing off the snow outside. I am still snuggled in bed with Campbell and Juniper, all of us tucked under the dragonfly quilt. I carefully extract myself, not ready to wake the girls and disturb the strange and welcome quiet in the house. It’s freezing, so I pull a throw blanket off my chair and wrap it around my body. My breath comes in puffs of air.
My window is foggy, and I use the blanket to wipe away the condensation. The snow outside is crisp and clean. It’s almost as though the crow
s recognize its perfection, because they haven’t touched the yard.
But then I look around and realize that the crows aren’t filling the yard or the tree like I’ve gotten used to. I tilt my head and look up at the roof. Empty.
Across the street, crows cover the snowy outlines of Mrs. Stieg’s rosebushes. They line her gutters and have demolished her yard with feathers and droppings.
Then again, the clock is ticking on our pristine yard. A force of nature known as Juniper Mae will see to it shortly.
I sneak out of the room, squeezing my body through the narrow opening of the door so that I don’t make it creak and wake the girls. This stupid door causes me more trouble than a door ever should. I’ve tried putting grease on the hinges, but nothing stops that creak.
Mom is in the kitchen holding a cup of tea, standing at the sink. Steam rises off the mug and forms a little cloud around and above her. She looks calm and collected, and the moment I see her, I know it’s going to be a good day. Mom is here. Really here.
I steal some of the hot water from the kettle on the stove and join her at the counter. She smiles in greeting, but we stand together quietly. An unspoken agreement to savor the moment. It doesn’t last long. Creak. Footsteps on the staircase. Two sleepy faces come around the banister.
“Morning,” Mom says. “Did you see the snow?” Juniper’s eyes are wide with delight as she nods. Campbell yawns.
“Still tired?” I ask her.
“Junie woke me up,” she says. Campbell has never been a morning person.
“She’s good like that,” Mom says, sitting at the kitchen table and pulling Juniper onto her lap.
“Breakfast?” I ask them. Juniper shakes her head.
“Snow?” She nods emphatically, and I laugh. “Okay. I’ll go find snow pants.”
There is a pull-down ladder to get into our attic, and I climb into the coldest part of the house. I’m just glad our winter things aren’t stored in the basement.
It takes a little while to find the right box. The attic flooring is patchy, and some parts are just soft insulation, so I step carefully. Finally, I see the word winter and reach, tugging a cardboard box down.
But when I open it, it’s not snow stuff. It’s Mom’s stuff from high school.
I sit down on the dusty attic floor, letting the dingy lightbulb swing overhead. Yearbooks and letters, mostly. I dig a little deeper.
The next book has a soft cover and is decorated in a collage of art and drawings. Amethyst. It’s Auburn High School’s literary magazine, but from twenty years ago. I open it to the credits page. Editor in Chief: Erin Davis. Mom.
There’s a note from her in the beginning, and when I flip through the pages, I find so many of her poems. I knew she loved poetry because she still reads it sometimes, but I didn’t know she used to write it.
I put the rest of the box back the way I found it, but I keep the magazine. I finally find the winter clothes and tug the box downstairs with me. From my room, I grab an extra notebook I have and a sticky note off my desk.
These are amazing. You should write more. —L
I stick the note to the magazine and tuck it into the notebook.
I walk into a kitchen filled with laughter. I set the winter box on the floor, and Juniper springs from her chair, digging for extra hats and matching mittens.
I set the notebook and magazine next to Mom’s tea mug, so she’s sure to see it.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah, Leighton?”
“Do you mind if Liam comes over today?”
She looks up from the table. “Yeah, sure. Tell him to drive safe. Roads aren’t all plowed.”
She turns back to Campbell, just like that. Like everything is normal. And it kind of is, without him here. No eggshells in sight.
Liam answers his cell after half a ring.
“Meeting your family?” Liam says. “Big step, Barnes.”
“It’s time.”
“Past time,” he tells me. “I’ll be over in a bit.”
“Drive safe,” I tell him, and Mom nods. “Bring gloves.”
“Gloves?”
“It is officially snowball fight season, McNamara. Be prepared.”
“Me versus the Barnes sisters? Give a guy a chance.”
His automatic inclusion of my little sisters makes me smile, and I can’t think of a good response that acknowledges how sweet it is without sounding smitten.
“You’re smiling, aren’t you, Barnes? I can hear it.”
“No, you can’t.” I frown in response to his correct guess.
“Totally can. I have special powers. Someday I’ll reveal them to you. Maybe. No promises. Aaaand, you’re smiling again, aren’t you?”
“Like I’d give you the satisfaction of saying yes. Maybe I’ll tell you later. No promises.” I use his own words against him. But he was right: I was smiling again. And I still am when I hang up the phone.
The truth is that I like that he can hear it in my voice: my happiness. I like that he’s the kind of person that cares to listen for it.
Chapter Forty-Three
WHEN LIAM ARRIVES, I WATCH FROM the porch as he parks as best as he can on the snow-filled street. The plows haven’t come around yet. His car is at least a foot from the curb, but so few cars are out on the roads, it doesn’t matter. I greet him at the driver-side door and catch his smile when he sees me standing there. My stomach is weighted with nervous excitement. When he steps out, I turn my face up to him, and I’m blinded by the brightness of the winter sun, and I’m dumbfounded by the thought that this good day belongs to me. I catch my breath on the notion that it could all go wrong.
The girls are already out back, so I lead Liam past the front door and around the side of the house. We stand in the backyard for a moment, suddenly unsure of ourselves. And each other. The snow is only calf-deep, but Campbell and Juniper are practically diving into it. It dawns on me that Liam might have thought I was joking about playing in the snow, and that the scene unfolding in front of him might not be at the top of every seventeen-year-old guy’s checklist. I turn to ask Liam if he would rather—
A snowball hits my sweatshirt, disintegrating on impact.
“Not the best packing snow,” Liam says, shaking his head. “Way too soft to really sting.”
“I’m feeling a sudden kinship with Fiona.”
“Ha,” Liam says. “Okay, we need shelter, and we need teams.”
Campbell and Juniper scream in delight as they join us.
“Captain!” Liam yells, and looks around fiercely, like he’s daring anyone to challenge him. Even Cam cracks a smile. “And who will be my mortal enemy?”
“Oh, that’s me,” Campbell says, and I laugh. She is taking her role as protective little sister to heart.
“Okay . . . my first choice . . .” Liam looks back and forth from Juniper to me. He looks really torn.
“Juniper!”
“Seriously?” I ask. “I’m last pick?”
“It’s okay, Leighton, we’re gonna do great,” Campbell says, scoping the yard. She’s clearly working out a strategy here.
Liam leans down and whispers something in Juniper’s ear. She giggles and shakes her head. He whispers again. Nudges her.
“You’re going down!” Junie yells, and then lets out a shriek so loud Liam covers his ears.
“It ain’t over till it’s over,” I tell her. It’s the best smack talk I’ve got. Liam grins.
“Be careful, you don’t want to unleash Juniper ‘the Beast’ Barnes,” he says.
In twenty minutes, we’ve made walls in the snow and a tiny but impressive hoard of snowballs.
I peek over the wall.
“Hey, uh. What’s the objective?”
“Destroy the enemy’s fort!” Liam calls from a much-sturdier-looking wall. There’s some mumbling behind it.
“Take no prisoners!” Juniper yells. Oh man, what is he teaching her over there?
Twenty minutes of prep is followed by four minu
tes of action. Liam’s strategy is to hit Cam and me with as many snowballs as possible to cover Junie “the Beast” as she runs straight at our wall. She is like a nine-year-old-shaped missile, and we don’t stand a chance. Campbell and I realize our mistake too late and run back to protect our wall, but it’s a lost cause. By the time we get there, Juniper is laughing, making a snow angel in the heap of snow that was our fortress. Campbell and I shrug: we got beat. Campbell laughs and plops down in the snow beside June Bug. Two angels.
“Gonna join them?” Liam asks.
“Nah, I’m already frozen,” I say. I’ve had enough days like this with the girls to be able to picture my own face right now: cherry-red nose and cheeks. Tears in my eyes from the cold. I mentally add “cold” to the unending list of things that make me cry.
“I’ll warm you up,” Liam says, and he leans over and kisses me. His lips are shockingly warm for having been outside this long.
“Leighton and Liam, sitting in a—” Junie starts, but Cam shushes her.
“Don’t tease them, Junie, we like him,” she whispers, but we hear her.
I grin and press my face into Liam’s shoulder to hide it.
“This way,” I tell him, and lead him past the girls, still giggling in the snow, to the pine tree out back. When I turn to Liam, I’m facing our garage—an old, dilapidated thing that we don’t really trust enough to spend any time inside. But a single crow flies over, lands on the roof. The crow steps onto the slope of the roof, and begins to slide, down, down, until he reaches the edge and flutters back to the top.
He does it again. Slides down, flutters back up. And again.
He’s doing it on purpose.
Just like the birds hanging off that tree in the rain.
He’s playing.
“You okay?” Liam asks.
I shake my head. “Just overthinking things.”
“Well, that’s a fun change from your usual.”
“Thanks for playing with them,” I say, changing the subject, and distract him with a kiss.
Liam catches my face in his gloved hands and leans down for another.
And then one more.
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