Drawn

  “The for-sale sign is gone. The house stays in our family, forever.”

  I sketched in the outline of the roof and walls, but even that didn’t work right.

  I turned to Damon and felt my chin start to tremble. “This isn’t what our house looks like!”

  He tried to grab my hands, but I pulled them away. “Quit it!”

  Another sheet of paper.

  “Nothing’s changing. Mom and Dad love each other. They love me. They’re staying together.”

  My hand shook as I tried to do their profiles, like I did Miss Downey’s and Mr. Tollin’s.

  “Please! Please, let this work!” I begged.

  The inside of my head, my thoughts, where all the pictures live, went fuzzy as snow. I couldn’t see my parents, or my house.

  I grabbed my head with both hands. “I’m losing everything!”

  Damon took hold of the seat of my chair and turned me to face him.

  “Why isn’t this working?” I cried.

  “Because it isn’t yours to fix.”

  “This is my life!”

  He took the pencil away and laid it on the desk. Then he took both my hands and held them still. “It’s their decision. It’s their marriage.”

  “They’re destroying everything!”

  “But you can’t change it. No matter how wrong they are.”

  Ragged breaths choked out of my chest. “It’s not fair!”

  He shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”

  I stared at him and searched for something to say, something to make him understand. Then I remembered. If anyone knew about unfairness, he did.

  “Come here,” he said. He stood and pulled me up from the chair. He wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest.

  The tears started again, and my throat hurt from all the crying.

  “You’re going to get through this. I promise.”

  Night came in through the windows, and I knew as sure as the moon rose in the sky that I wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer. I’d have to go back, whether I wanted to or not.

  I crossed my wrists around Damon’s back and clenched his shirt in my fists.

  I need him. I need him forever.

  Between exhaled sobs I breathed in Damon, filled every empty crevice inside me with him.

  His hand rubbed my back. I pictured it beside mine, gripping the handlebar. Writing upside down in my algebra notebook. Holding my hand.

  I sighed and closed my eyes.

  Damon is mine.

  I will get through this. I will be okay.

  As long as I have him.

  My eyes fluttered open and I reached back for one of Damon’s hands. I brought it around to my face, and rested my cheek against his palm.

  He looked down into my eyes, with an expression so sweet, so mine, every trace of anger and fear inside me melted away.

  He brings me peace. He makes everything okay.

  I tipped my head back, just enough to align his mouth with mine. I had no fear of him, of this, and no anxiety over what was about to happen. I wanted it, wanted him to kiss me, to be completely his.

  My heart beat faster, and the tears trickled away. I took in a breath through my mouth, and arched up on my toes. I lifted my hand to twine my fingers through the hair behind his ear.

  Damon breathed faster, too, and he bent closer to me, our faces inches apart.

  I put my other arm over his shoulder and stretched to close the distance.

  “Julie,” he whispered, and caught my hand with his.

  I love you. I love you. I love you.

  He closed his eyes.

  So did I.

  Any second now, his lips will touch mine. I shivered.

  His fingers, so warm, laced through mine.

  Kiss me. Make me really yours.

  He moaned, low in his throat. “No. Not like this.”

  When he pulled back, I wrapped my arm around his neck to stop him. “What’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t how it should happen.”

  My heart plummeted into my stomach.

  “You’re in a really bad place,” he whispered.

  Yeah. I’m going to be in a really bad place for a really long time. Like, forever.

  He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “This isn’t right.” His breath and words came ragged.

  I let go of him and stepped down onto my heels.

  My stomach shriveled.

  He didn’t want to kiss me.

  He didn’t want me at all.

  I’m an idiot.

  Tears sprang up again, but I wouldn’t let him see them. I turned and left the room.

  “Julie!”

  I flew down the stairs with him close behind.

  “Spooky!” Adam called from the kitchen. “You guys eating or not?”

  “Julie, wait!”

  I flew through the front door and tried to slam it behind me, but Damon caught it. I picked up my bike, threw my leg over it and started down the snow-slushed road.

  He got beside me before I could build up enough speed to get away, grabbed the back of my seat and one handlebar and jerked me to a stop.

  My left foot slammed to the ground and I tried to push away from him. “Let go!”

  “No.” He twisted the handlebars to a ninety-degree angle and stepped over the front wheel. “Don’t run away from me.”

  “You don’t care about me!” I yelled at him.

  I could feel him shaking through the frame of my bike.

  “Just let me go.”

  He stared down at me.

  “I have to go,” I whispered.

  Damon closed his eyes. He sighed hard, then opened them. “Stay here,” he told me. “I’m getting my bike and going with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  He shook his head and exhaled really hard. “I do have to. Because I do care about you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Yeah. It’s kind of too late.

  We rode side by side through the dark, for mile after mile, and never said a word. When we got to my driveway, I continued over the gravel up to the garage. I put down my kickstand and turned to Damon, still not sure what to say.

  But he’d already gone.

  * * * * *

  “Your dad’s got an apartment by the college.”

  Mark stretched his arm out on the back of the couch, tipped his head back, and propped his feet on the coffee table, like he was about to watch a movie. Or take a nap. “What about you?” he asked Mom.

  She sat straight up in the armchair and picked at the fringe of the afghan on her lap. Nonnie’s afghan, from their wedding. “I’ll stay here until the house sells, then get an apartment, too. I’ll be closer to town, and to your dad’s place. That’ll be easier for you kids.”

  Easier for us. I wanted to rip the afghan out of her hands, tell her she didn’t deserve to keep it.

  “I’ve got a couple of new clients, and they’re both in that area of the city.”

  Mark stood up. “I’m outta here.”

  “Sit down,” Dad ordered.

  “Why? There’s more?”

  Dad rubbed his hand over his eyes. “You kids need to decide who you want to live with.”

  “Right now?” Mark asked.

  “Soon. Houses are only staying on the market around here a matter of weeks.”

  Weeks? “This sucks!”

  “Calm down, Juliet.” Dad leaned back and laced his fingers over his stomach.

  “She’s right. This totally sucks.”

  Mom reached for Mark’s hand, but he pulled it away. “Mark, you’re going to college in less than a year. This will hardly affect you at all.”

  “Are you kidding?” Mark snorted. “And what about Juliet?”

  “She’ll have two homes instead of one. Two peaceful homes without fighting. Tell me that’s not better.”

  I stared at her. Was she serious?

  “And your dad’s place is in a great location. You can w
alk to the university, and to your school.”

  “I can’t walk to Parnell or Vinton from the university,” I told her.

  Mom and Dad looked at each other for the first time that evening.

  “You won’t be going to Parnell anymore.” Mark folded his arms over his chest and turned to Dad. “Will she?”

  My stomach spun. If I’d eaten any of Adam’s hash browns, they’d have been all over the living room floor. I stood up. “I’m not changing schools!”

  “Don’t make such a big deal out of it, Juliet,” Dad said. “The schools over there are very good. You’ll make new friends in no time.”

  The Academic Olympics in January. Chicago, with Damon.

  I stood up. “No!”

  “This isn’t a discussion or a democracy,” Dad barked. “I know it’s caught you by surprise, and I’m sorry about that. But your mother and I have made this decision, and this is what’s going to happen. It’s best for everyone.”

  Best for everyone? “How?” I asked. “You’re throwing everything away!”

  Mom heaved a big sigh. “Must you be so melodramatic, Juliet?”

  “You’re selling Nonnie’s house! Our home!”

  “It’s a house, Juliet,” Dad said. “An old house that needs work. Neither one of us wants to buy the other out, or can even afford to. Selling it makes the most sense.”

  “Nothing about this makes sense!”

  “We’ll split the profits and both be in a better situation financially.”

  “Are you splitting it with us, too?” I asked.

  Dad pointed his finger at me and his volume went up about a hundred decibels. “Considering that we pay for your food and your clothes and everything else you need and want, you’ve got no business asking for anything more than you already have, young lady!”

  I stood there and stared down at him. My chest shuddered, but I’d cried so much that day I didn’t have any more tears inside me.

  Mark grabbed my elbow. “Come on, J. Let’s go to a movie.”

  “It’s a school night,” Mom said.

  “Screw that.” Mark looked at her and snorted.

  “Mark Jacob Brynn!”

  Mark led me to the door. “Save your righteous outrage.”

  We got in his car and just drove around for a while. Neither one of us said anything for a long time, but pretty soon we circled back to the lake’s access road.

  Mark pulled off onto the shoulder and parked. “This okay?”

  I nodded. “It’s kind of cold, though. I didn’t bring a jacket.”

  “I’ve got a blanket in the trunk.”

  We went out to the raft and sat down. He wrapped the blanket around both of us. When he put his arm around my shoulder I put my head on his and started to cry again.

  “It’s okay, J. It’s going to be okay.”

  “I don’t see how,” I hiccupped.

  I wouldn’t even have the lake anymore. The summers when Mark and I swam. This raft, where Damon and I spent hours together. Someone else would have everything that belonged to me. The tears turned into a flood of wails and my stomach felt like someone kicked a hole through it.

  “Hey, come on. We’ve still got each other.”

  “We don’t even like each other, do we?”

  He grinned. “You’ve ticked me off a little lately.”

  “You, too.” I wiped my cheek with a corner of the blanket. “And Mom’s right, you’re going away to college next year.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay here.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He shrugged. “Take care of stuff. You.”

  “You don’t have to take care of me.”

  “Then who will?”

  Not Mom or Dad. Wouldn’t be Damon. Not after today. “Me, I guess.”

  We sat a while and listened to the wind crackle the tops of the trees.

  “This isn’t fair.”

  He ruffled my hair up and I pushed his hand away.

  “So,” he said and pulled the blanket tighter against a sudden breeze. “Who do you want to live with?”

  I only had to think about it for half a second. “Neither one of them.”

  “That’s probably not an option.”

  “What about you?”

  He sighed. “Same thing.”

  “You’re almost eighteen.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can support myself. No job.”

  “You could get one.”

  He nodded. “I could. But I’d like to do college.”

  “They’ll still pay for it, right?”

  “Probably. It’s a big deal to Dad. But that means four more years of putting up with him.”

  “Eight for me.”

  The wind picked up and became a constant cold breath across our faces. We pulled the blanket up to our chins and huddled down into it.

  “You’re probably better off with Mom,” he said.

  “How do you figure?”

  He stared off across the surface of the water. “Dad’s kind of clueless about you.”

  “So’s Mom.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve both got the girl thing. She can get that.”

  “But she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get anything about me.” I stuck my finger out the top of the blanket and chewed on a ragged nail edge. “And other stuff’s more important to her now.”

  Mark shook his head. “She’ll need her job. Be glad she’s getting clients.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  He looked down at me. “Then what?”

  “Jack.”

  “Who?”

  “Jack Pierson.”

  I told him everything. The day at the house. The diner. How Mom had been so hush-hush with me about it.

  “No way.”

  I nodded. “I think they’re, like, having an affair.”

  “Well, duh.” His face looked a lot like it did that time I watched him and Ginger from the roof.

  “You’re mad?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  His knee bounced under the blanket. “Does Dad know?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “If he did that could really hose her in the settlement.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Joe’s parents divorced because his dad was messing around. His mom found out, and she and her lawyer took him to the cleaners.”

  I chewed on my lip. “That’s why she looked so scared when she saw me at the diner.”

  Mark laughed, in kind of a sinister way.

  “What?”

  “Just don’t let on that you know, to either of them.”

  “Mom already knows I know. Or thinks I know. Or knows I think.”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “Just pretend to let it go. It might be good, you know? If we need some pull.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Right now they’ve got all the power. They make all the decisions. We’re just baggage.”

  I laid my head back on his shoulder. “But now we have something over Mom.”

  “You’re catching on.”

  Yeah. I’m catching on to a lot of things.

  * * * * *

  When the night got too cold for us we headed back through the woods to the car.

  “I’m going over to Missy’s. I’ll drop you off at home first.”

  “Great.”

  Just as I opened my door the sound of a growly engine and a single headlight threaded out of the distance. My heart skipped several beats as it approached.

  I recognized the black and chrome motorcycle as it turned the corner toward us. I also recognized the driver when he pulled up beside our car.

  “Sheppard?” Mark asked. He turned on the headlights and lit up the woods.

  “Hey, Brynn. Spooky.”

  “What are you doing here, Adam?” I asked.

  “Looking for you. Again.”

  I shook my head. “Forget it. I’m not going back.”


  “You don’t have to go back. Just wanted to talk.”

  “You’re not taking my sister anywhere.” Mark looked across the hood of the car at me. “You’re not going with him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve ridden with him before. He’s a perfectly safe driver,” I lied.

  Mark shook his head. “What the heck?”

  Despite how little I liked the idea of another illegal ride with Adam, I totally didn’t want to go back to the house, either. “It’s him, or Mom and Dad.”

  Mark opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again and shrugged. “What do you want me to tell them?”

  I closed the door and walked around the front of the car. The headlights turned my jeans bright white. “Don’t tell them anything. Just go to Missy’s. They think I’m at the movies with you, anyway.”

  “You got a coat?” Adam asked.

  “Huh-uh. Left without it.”

  He took his jacket off and handed it to me.

  “It’s colder in front. You should wear it.”

  Mark stared like I’d grown an extra head.

  “Nah,” Adam said. “Got to take care of you like Damon would.”

  “You mean lead me on then stab me through the heart?” I muttered.

  “Holy crap, Spooky.”

  I thrust my arms through his sleeves and rolled the cuffs up. “Stop calling me that.”

  Mark leaned on the door and knocked on the hood with his fist. “Have you got Missy’s number? You can call me there if you need me to pick you up.”

  Adam handed me the helmet and I slipped it over my head. “No. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  “At least call Mom and Dad if you need a ride.”

  “Not. I’ll sleep in a ditch first.”

  “I won’t let her sleep in a ditch. Promise,” Adam said.

  I climbed on behind Adam and wrapped my arms around his waist. He revved the engine a couple of times and pulled away. No wheelie this time, and I appreciated that.

  With the visor pushed up I yelled, “So where are we going?”

  “Party?”

  “On a Wednesday?”

  “There’s always a party somewhere. And if you can’t find one, you can always start one.”

  A party. With Adam. “Why are you taking me with you?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m kind of going with your brother.”

  “Kind of?”

  After this afternoon, I wasn’t sure if we’d broken up or not. “Does Damon know you came to get me?”

  “No.”

  “So why did you?”

  Adam swerved to the edge of the road and pulled off next to the ditch. He cut the engine and turned around. Cows moaned like lost spirits in the dark fields around us. “Because your life kind of sucks right now. And I might know something about how you feel.”

  “Why do you even care?”

  “I thought we discussed this already.”