This Town Is Not All Right

by M. K. Krys

  “What happened to Flintstones gummies?” Beacon squeaked. “Isn’t there a pill we could take?”

  “The injection is much more effective,” the nurse said.

  She motioned for Everleigh to sit in the chair and then started flicking air bubbles out of the syringe. Beacon took a quick step back.

  He hated needles. Once, when he and Everleigh were eight and Jasper was twelve, their dad had taken them to a pharmacy to get free flu shots. It had taken their dad and three pharmacy techs to hold Beacon down. A startled shopper had even called the police, thinking that he was being abused. Yeah, it was just as embarrassing as it sounded.

  Beacon knew that it was unreasonable—that it only hurt for a second, and that he was too old to be scared of something so silly. But logic never seemed to matter when it came to needles.

  Tension grew in his face as his breathing became more rapid and shallow.

  “This will sting,” the nurse was saying as she wiped his sister’s shoulder with an alcohol swab. “Stay still.”

  Everleigh flinched as the nurse injected her with the syringe, but she quickly pasted on a smile that Beacon knew was for his benefit.

  “That was easy!” she said, rolling her T-shirt sleeve back down and jumping out of the chair. Her aggressive optimism only made him panic worse. If she was trying to hide how bad it was, it must have been really painful.

  “Your turn, Beacon,” the nurse said.

  He looked at the chair, still swiveling from how quickly Everleigh had vacated it. His sister gave him a supportive squeeze of the shoulder.

  “Relax,” Everleigh whispered.

  But Beacon couldn’t relax.

  He could see the nurse talking, could see Everleigh rubbing the crease between her eyebrows, but he couldn’t seem to make his body move toward the chair. Before he knew it, he was out of the office and running down the hall, the lockers flashing past in a blur of green. He didn’t stop running until he was outside.

  The cold air blasted his senses, clearing some of the fog from his brain. He sat on the base of the flagpole in the quad, gasping for breath as adrenaline pumped through his body like he’d just run a marathon.

  He was going to be in so much trouble. Why couldn’t he just take the shot like a normal person? As if he needed any more reasons for the kids here to think he was weird.

  Above him, the storm that had been threatening all morning blew in fast. The flag rippled, whipping and snapping tightly like the sail of a ship. Bloated, slate-gray clouds moved across the sky with unnatural speed.

  The double doors of the school burst open.

  Beacon stood up quickly, but it was just Everleigh who ran out.

  “There you are,” she said, jogging to catch up to him. “I looked everywhere for you.”

  “Is she coming?” Beacon asked, looking over her shoulder.

  “No. I told her you were feeling sick today. You’re off the hook for now.”

  Beacon sighed with relief and fell back to his perch like a limp jellyfish. Everleigh sat next to him.

  “Don’t tell Dad, okay?” Beacon said.

  “I’m not a snitch,” she said. After a long pause, she added, “But you’re going to have to do the shot tomorrow, or they’ll call home.”

  “I know,” he said.

  There would be no avoiding it. The thought made Beacon’s stomach lock up tight. He knew he wouldn’t feel better until it was over with, in the distant past. He wondered idly if his dad had known about the injection, and resentment burned in his belly, even though he wouldn’t have gone to school if he’d had any warning. He could think up any number of illnesses on short notice.

  “Ten thirty tomorrow,” Everleigh said. “She made me promise.”

  Beacon nodded numbly.

  “Come on,” Everleigh said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Let’s go inside before it starts pouring.”

  She got up, then sucked air through her teeth and grabbed her head.

  “You okay?” Beacon asked, squinting up at his sister.

  “Yeah, just a bit dizzy. Got up too fast, I guess.” She shook her head a few times. “Get back to class before that nurse comes looking for you.” Then she punched him in the shoulder so hard, he hissed and bounded away.

  7

  Beacon didn’t see Everleigh at lunch. He called and texted her, but she didn’t reply. He looked for her at her locker, in the caf, and outside of her classroom—he even asked a stranger to check for her inside the girls’ bathroom, just in case she was hiding in there. The girl looked at him as if he were nuts, which didn’t do wonders for his reputation. But his sister was nowhere to be found.

  Sure, they hadn’t made any concrete plans to meet up. Yes, Everleigh had cut too much class to keep track of, faked sick at least twice per week, and basically used every excuse in the book to not go to school. But Beacon had just assumed they would be spending the lunch hour together, since it was their first day and they didn’t know anyone except for Arthur, and Beacon hadn’t seen him in the caf either.

  For a minute, he panicked that something had happened to his sister, but then he realized that she’d obviously just gone back to the body shop to work on the car.

  Irritation bubbled inside his veins. He walked back to his locker and sank to the floor, peeling off the plastic wrap from the egg salad sandwich Donna had packed for him. At least out here, there wouldn’t be anyone to make fun of him about the smell.

  He lifted the sandwich to his mouth, when the bell rang. Lunch was over.

  Great. Thanks a lot, Everleigh.

  Beacon was still low-key angry when the final bell rang at the end of the day. He packed up his stuff and waited for Everleigh by the row of big orange school buses lined up in the gravel parking lot.

  He scanned the quad for Everleigh’s swishy ponytail and busted overalls, but he didn’t see her anywhere. He didn’t really want to walk onto the bus by himself, but soon, the engines rumbled and he got worried they were going to leave without him.

  Beacon got on and took a seat at the front. He stared out the window, red in the face, his fingers clenched into fists. He hardly saw the ocean as it passed in a hazy blur, the windows rattling with every small bump in the rutted pavement.

  As soon as the bus rolled to a stop in front of the inn, he stormed down the steps and up the driveway.

  He was all set to tell his dad that Everleigh was at the junkyard, that she’d ditched him at lunch, and that she’d ruined his first day at school. But when he walked through the front door of Blackwater Lookout, he was shocked to see Everleigh sitting at the kitchen table with their dad, calmly unfolding a napkin into her lap. Donna bustled around, making some type of fish dinner, based on the smell.

  “Hi, Beacon! How was your day?” Everleigh asked cheerily.

  For a moment, he was too baffled to speak.

  “Beacon, your sister is asking you a question,” his dad said.

  “Where were you?” Beacon finally managed.

  “I got a ride home,” Everleigh said, completely unperturbed by Beacon’s obvious anger.

  “A ride home? With who?” he snapped. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have let you know. I feel terrible for making you worry.”

  “Don’t be a jerk,” Beacon said.

  “I wasn’t. I apologized.” She smiled politely. Sometimes she could be so sarcastic.

  “And what about lunch?” Beacon said. “Where were you then? Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

  “All right, that’s enough,” their dad said. “Beacon, go wash up and join us. Donna was kind enough to offer making an early dinner because Victor wants me back at work for a late shift.”

  Donna grunted.

  Beacon was so stunned, he didn’t even have the brain space to complain about his
dad working in the evening. His sister had royally screwed him over, and she was going to get away with it.

  He stormed out of the room to wash his hands.

  A few minutes later, he was sitting around the table with Donna and his family, steam wafting up from the plates of noodles covered in shrimp.

  “So, how was your first day at school?” their dad asked.

  “It was great!” Everleigh said. “I met a lot of really nice kids, and the teachers were so helpful with the transition. I think I’m going to like this place after all.”

  Beacon’s fork paused midbite. His sister might have gotten away with being sarcastic with him, but there was no way his dad was going to let it fly.

  But when he looked at his sister, she was twisting pasta around her fork with a contented smile on her face.

  The sound of Donna’s fork stabbing her plate came into hyperfocus.

  “That’s fantastic,” their dad said. “And, you, Beacon?”

  “It was just awesome,” he said, taking a note out of his sister’s playbook. “Really, such a treat.”

  “Beacon, don’t you think you should tell Dad about the incident in the nurse’s office today?” Everleigh said.

  Beacon’s mouth fell open in outrage. She’d promised! She’d said she wasn’t a snitch!

  Beacon had covered for Everleigh too many times to count. He couldn’t believe she was ratting him out now.

  “What happened in the nurse’s office?” their dad asked.

  “Nothing,” Beacon gritted out through his teeth, making “shut up” eyes at his sister. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was nothing,” Everleigh said, tilting her head at Beacon in admonishment.

  “Everleigh!” Beacon cried.

  “What? I think it’s important to tell the truth.” She turned to their dad. “Beacon refused his mandatory vitamin injection today. He ran out of the office, and the nurse was quite upset.”

  “Beacon, is this true?” their dad said.

  He shrunk in his chair. There was a beat of silence where the only sound was the scrape of utensils on china as Donna twirled her pasta.

  “You know how much I hate needles,” Beacon said finally.

  “Beacon.” Their dad stretched out the word like it had about ten syllables. Donna sighed heavily.

  “Well, did Everleigh tell you she skipped school at lunch to go to the junkyard?” Beacon asked.

  Their dad looked at her. Beacon smiled smugly, but Everleigh didn’t look the least bit nervous.

  “That’s not true,” she said. “I had lunch at Jane Middleton’s house.”

  “Jane?” Beacon said. “As in, Jane from the Gold Stars?”

  “Yes. She lives near the school. Her moms made us soup and sandwiches.”

  “How nice!” their dad said. “It’s great to see you making friends.”

  “How nice?” Beacon stuttered on the words. It was as if he was in some sort of alternate reality where nothing made sense. “She ditched me on our first day. I looked for her everywhere and ate lunch alone!”

  “Everleigh, you really should have told your brother where you were going,” their dad said.

  “I know. I’m sorry about that, Beacon,” Everleigh said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Well, that was a very nice apology,” their dad said. “Right, Beaks?”

  “Whatever happened to Jane being a freak?” he answered.

  “Beacon!” their dad said.

  “What? She said it!” He pointed an accusing finger at his sister.

  “I regret that,” Everleigh said primly. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t denigrate her character. Jane is a nice girl. You need to consider how your words can be harmful to others.”

  “That’s very well said,” their dad said, as if this wasn’t totally and completely out of character.

  Everleigh glowed with pride at the compliment.

  Beacon ground his jaw. He didn’t know what kind of game his sister was playing. He also didn’t know what denigrate meant. But there was no way she was being sincere. He didn’t understand how his dad couldn’t see right through it.

  “May I be excused?” Everleigh said. “Jane invited me to a Gold Stars meeting, and I’d like to check it out. It starts in fifteen minutes.”

  Okay, this had to be a joke.

  Everleigh used to be a master prankster, back before, when anything seemed funny. They would get into epic prank wars with Jasper—covering Jasper’s entire car in Post-it notes, replacing the filling in the doughnuts in the fridge with mayo, signing each other up for weird newsletters using each other’s e-mail addresses. Everleigh always came out on top. This had to be what was going on.

  Only something was missing. Instead of a mischievous glint in her eye, Everleigh stared blankly as she waited for their dad’s response. She seemed . . . vacant, somehow. Like the lights were on but nobody was home.

  “Yes, you may be excused,” their dad said. “Just be back by eight.”

  “Thank you, Dad. Donna, this was a wonderful meal.” Everleigh pushed back her chair and stood up, folding her napkin onto the table. Beacon’s mouth dropped open.

  Everleigh was wearing a skirt. She still sported the plain white T-shirt she’d worn to school that morning, but now, instead of the overalls, she wore it under a dark pink dress with a ballerina skirt that skimmed her knees.

  For a solid ten seconds, Beacon just stared.

  “Are you . . . wearing a dress?” he finally managed.

  In all his twelve years, he’d seen his sister in a dress exactly once. They were seven years old, and their dad had taken all three of the kids shopping for something to wear to their great uncle Larry’s funeral. After some serious complaining, Everleigh had marched into the changing room with the black dress the saleswoman had picked out and slammed the door so hard, it almost rattled off the hinges. When she came out a few minutes later, she was sweating, her ponytail was slumped next to her ear like ice cream dripping off a cone, and she was huffing with her hands balled into fists. She looked like a demonic linebacker going to prom.

  “I would rather be dead than wear this dress,” she’d announced. Then she slammed back into the changing room.

  She never wore a dress again.

  “Jane lent it to me,” Everleigh said now.

  “Okay, what does Jane have on you?” Beacon said. “Did you hide a body together?”

  “That’s not funny,” Everleigh said.

  “I think it looks very nice,” their dad said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Don’t you agree, Donna?”

  “Very pretty,” she grumbled without looking up from her plate. She looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else but here. Beacon could relate.

  “This is going too far,” Beacon said. “You’re freaking me out. You win. You’re the prank master. Just stop it.”

  “Prank?” Everleigh quirked her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “This is a joke,” he said.

  Everleigh looked at Beacon as if he were a complicated math equation she couldn’t figure out. She shook her head.

  “Anyway, I’m going to head to the meeting now,” Everleigh said to their dad.

  “Have fun,” he said.

  She took her dirty dishes to the sink, and then whisked out of the kitchen. In the other room, they could hear the front door thump closed behind her.

  Beacon looked from his dad to Donna, who were both pointedly looking away from him.

  “Seriously?” Beacon said. “No one’s going to say anything about that?”

  “Beacon, you’re not being very kind,” his dad said.

  “You don’t think any of that was weird?” Beacon gestured at the vacated spot where his sister had been sitting.

  “It was different,”
his dad conceded. “But I’m glad she’s making an effort to make this place home. And I think it’s nice she’s making friends.”

  As if Everleigh had ever gone out of her way to do that before. Even when Jasper was still alive, she’d been the farthest thing from a social butterfly. She’d had one friend, Anna, and she’d had Jasper and Beacon. She hadn’t needed anyone else, or so she’d said. Afterward, it was as if she were specifically trying to repel people. Anna had tried for a while—calling, texting, dropping by, and trying pathetically to lure her out to do this or that—but there was only so much she could do before even she had to take the hint. Everleigh had said she wanted to be alone, but Beacon knew the full truth: She just didn’t want to let anyone get close again, in case she lost them, too.

  “When has Everleigh shown even the slightest interest in volunteer work?” Beacon asked, changing tack. He could tell he wasn’t getting anywhere talking about Jane.

  “Sure, she hasn’t been particularly interested in philanthropy in the past, but it’s never too late to start. You should think about it, too. It sounds like a very nice group.”

  There it was again. That nice word.

  “What about the dress?” Beacon said, floundering.

  “I thought it looked—”

  “Nice?” Beacon said.

  His dad nodded.

  “It looked weird!” Beacon cried. “Everleigh wears jeans. Old jeans. With holes. And when did she even have time to borrow clothes from Jane anyway?”

  “She probably got it at lunch,” his dad said. “Look, I know this must seem unusual, Beaks, but remember that this is what we were hoping for by moving here. That the change in scenery would make a difference for our family. Everleigh has had a hard time making connections ever since . . . ever since,” he said simply. “It’s great that she’s opening up. Let’s not make her feel uncomfortable about it.”

  A strange, distancing feeling overcame Beacon’s body. It was as if he were watching actors pretending to be his family instead of having dinner with his real dad and sister.

  “I’m happy if she wants to open up,” Beacon said, “but this is all so sudden. It doesn’t make any sense.”