I felt him before I heard him. His presence as familiar as my own. “Leave me alone.”
“Me? I’m just going for a walk.”
I rounded on him, and the retort died on my lips. Travis stood before me, bundled in his down jacket, a fuzzy scarf and the ridiculous turkey hat.
“Pretty hot out here, though.” He slipped my hood off and stuffed the hat on my head. The wings hung like earflaps, instantly warming me. He tugged my hood back up and wrapped the scarf around my neck. “Hmmmm. Still too hot.”
He stripped out of his jacket, dressed me in it and zipped me up. Next came the mittens. When he finished, he threw an arm over my shoulder and started walking in the direction of my house. “Great day for a stroll. Mind if I join you?”
I walked, unable to face the irrational feelings threatening to tear me apart. Travis was the kindest soul I knew—not all that hard considering how messed up my parents were. He was also more devoted to me than even Granny had been. Yet, something held me back from accepting his affections. Something deeper than my dad’s continuous reminders that I was unlovable. It was a bone-deep fear of being left behind. If I attached my heart to anyone, it would most assuredly get broken.
Travis kept pace with me as I pushed through the snow. He didn’t talk, though his teeth chattered uncontrollably. Guilt slapped me in the face. “Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“Just making sure you get home okay.” His answer held no accusation. Just pure, selfless Travis. No wonder Granny adored him.
“Fine.”
“Okay then.” A shiver wracked his body.
The fight went out of me. I would have enough to deal with at home and couldn’t waste my energy bickering with Travis. Besides, my war wasn’t with him. I turned on my heel, and we ran back through the slush to his house. At his front step, I faced him. “Just for the record, I came back so you wouldn’t freeze.”
“For the record, that hat looks cute on you.” His dimpled grin made my stomach quiver. I couldn’t tell if it was the eggs or something more. Something I shouldn’t be feeling for my best friend, something that made me want to pull him close and kiss him. As if sensing my need, Travis cradled my face in his hands and ran his thumbs along my cheekbones. He lifted the belly of the turkey hat and kissed my forehead, sending a cascade of stars across my vision.
My body vibrated under his touch, and the pounding in my head intensified. If I didn’t move, I’d be ripped apart. I stilled his hands, and the pain lessened.
Travis held my gaze. “It’s okay, Gem. I understand.”
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t understand why wanting him hurt so much.
Chapter 4
I got home to an empty house. Mom’s writing scrawled across the message board inside the door. “Be back after dinner on Sunday.”
Typical. Every time my dad saw his mom, he hit the casino, as if losing money to the blackjack dealer could erase the dysfunction of their relationship. It didn’t matter that Granny had just died. It didn’t matter to anyone but me. And maybe the Dozen—my only real friends besides Travis. Never mind that I’d never met them.
I shoved a pile of trash and dirty dishes off the mouse pad and booted up the computer. After logging on to the Dozen’s private community, I scrolled through the latest messages.
One popped up from Luna:
We need to talk.
A quick check showed that nobody was online and available to chat. Not wanting to leave a series of messages outlining my Saturday at the hospital, I opened another window to work on my psych paper. Not that I believed in utopia. Far from it. In B.F. Skinner’s perfect world, Granny wouldn’t have died, my parents would be normal, and I would love Travis like I should.
But I didn’t, and just thinking about him the way Karen Webber did made my head hurt. I closed out of my psych notes and hoped my partner, Collin, would forgive me for slacking on our project.
Rubbing my temple, I typed in a search word. Headaches.
A quick scan through the medical websites diagnosed me as pregnant or a brain tumor victim. Dismissing the first as impossible and the second as unlikely, I followed up with a search for blackouts. According to the symptom checkers, I was an alcoholic with a brain tumor. Or not.
I’d rather die than drink, and I refused to think about tumors.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. The image of Travis in his tight jeans and bare feet wheedled its way into my thoughts. I opened my pictures folder. Travis was the only person I ever photographed, and I had more than a few pics of him posing at the state park where we loved to hike. I ran my finger along his pixelated jaw, mimicking his caress from earlier. My stomach quivered in response. I closed my eyes and imagined his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His hot breath on my cheek, my eyes, my lips.
My head fell forward and smacked into the computer.
The screen saver bounced around the darkened monitor.
2:47
I’d lost five hours.
Panic swelled. I’d never been out this long before. Not even close.
It was a nap.
Just a nap.
After the last two days, nobody could blame me for an impromptu nap.
I rubbed my forehead, clicked on the screen and checked my messages from the Dozen. I desperately needed a sounding board right now, yet only James was logged on. Disappointment surged through me when I realized some of them had talked while I slumbered. And as much as I loved everyone from my dream study group, James scared me a little with his tendency to fluctuate rapidly between emotions, going from soft and fuzzy one minute to passionate anger the next. Forcing back tears, I logged off and made my way to the kitchen through the maze of junk stacked chest-high.
My house was one giant, unfinished remodeling project. My dad had grand ideas of new floors, new walls, and new woodwork while Mom rescued antiques like some people saved coins, always with the thought of turning our farmhouse into a luxurious home. The problem was that neither she nor my dad could stay sober long enough to actually finish something they started. The kitchen was the only space that had escaped their attention. It was worn out, but whole.
A message blinked on the answering machine. The funeral home had called with questions about Granny’s funeral. I searched among the unrinsed dishes lining the counters for a pen and paper to leave a note. In the process, I knocked over a half-eaten pot of stew. Thick, gloppy chunks ran down the cupboard doors and onto the floor. With a sigh, I cleaned it up. By the time my dad’s car sputtered down the driveway, the kitchen sparkled.
I watched through the windows as Mom tumbled from the car, slipping on the ice. My dad pulled their overnight bag from the backseat and helped her to the door, his hand on the back of her neck. My stomach clenched. Their mutual affection appeared sporadically, and only under favorable conditions. Namely, a bottle of booze and a good run at the casino.
They slopped into the kitchen—muddy snow melting off their shoes—and dumped their belongings on the floor. Mom tottered over and landed against me in a bear hug, the stench of whiskey thick on her breath.
I leaned away from her embrace. “Let me guess. You won?”
“Oh, Gemini, it was the best.” Mom’s eyes glowed.
“Five hundred bucks, kiddo.” My dad clumsily planted a wet kiss on my ear. His stubble scraped against my cheek.
My guts twisted, and I stepped away from his reach. “But how much did you lose to win?”
“Just two fifty, honey,” Mom slurred.
Quick math had them breaking even after the hotel stay and a few elaborate meals. Usually they returned from their weekend splurges in the hole, and I had to work twice as hard at the nursing home to help keep the bills current. Welfare checks didn’t go far.
“The funeral home called today.”
My dad stiffened, but didn’t answer. He pawed through the refrigerator until he found a beer. The silence stretched.
I clenched my fists to keep from grabbing the bottle from his hands and smashing it onto the kitchen tile. I fought to keep my tears from falling. “They want to know what plans you have for the…for Granny.”
Mom laid a careful hand on my dad’s shoulder. He shrugged it off, his eyes burning. Mom flinched before turning back to me. “We, uh, thought maybe you would make those decisions. You were so close to her and all.”
Mom, peacekeeping. My dad, dominating and rigid. Neither of them caring about Granny or me. An ache burned in my chest, making it hard to breathe. The edges of the room darkened and an unfamiliar desire to pound someone, something, nearly overwhelmed me. Words I’d never dared to speak spilled from my mouth. “Is it too much to ask that you would actually take care of something this significant? This important? She’s dead, Dad. Your mom is dead.”
A vein zigzagged across his temple, and his bellow filled the kitchen. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. I’m your father.”
“Then act like one.” The challenge broke free on a wave of anger.
He struck out, fast and hard, and smacked the side of my face where he had kissed me moments before. I fell backward, grabbing at the counter, pulling the dish drainer with me. A plate fell to the floor and shattered.
Mom hiccupped. A pathetic sound in response to the explosive pain in my head. Her voice, accusing. “Why, Gemini? Why can’t you just leave him alone?”
A scream ripped from my throat at her familiar words. Why couldn’t she see it wasn’t me? It was him. He was the one who didn’t care. I grabbed a plate and threw it against the wall. The pieces skittered across the floor. I had never done anything like this before, but it felt good. Released something inside me, a part of my genetic code I didn’t know existed.
Even as I staggered to my feet, a voice in my head begged me to stop. To be better than my dad. Ignoring it, I chucked a plate and another, and another.
He ran forward, screaming at me to stop.
But I couldn’t. I wasn’t Gemi. I was someone dark and angry. A puppet on the end of someone’s string. Blackness consumed me, and I watched the events unfold with a mixture of horror and pride.
“Stop it, or what?” I cocked my arm back, aiming for my father. He froze in his tracks.
Mom snatched the phone from the wall and cowered behind the table. “I’ll call the cops.”
“And say what?” I threw the plate in her direction. It smashed into the refrigerator and rained glass down next to her. “That you’re worthless, drunken parents? That you left your kid home alone the night her grandmother died? That this isn’t the first time you’ve abandoned me?”
The phone dropped from her hand. “I…you…that’s not true.”
“It is true.”
My chest heaved, and I sucked in air. The glass I held slipped from my fingers and bounced off the floor with a dull thud. Mom sobbed uncontrollably.
“You’ve gone too far, Gemini,” my dad shouted. The threat in his voice matched the malice on his face. He ushered Mom from the room. They disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone to survey the kitchen from my own eyes. My life as shattered as the dish remnants littering the floor.
Chapter 5
My dad and Mom were still sleeping off their hangovers when Travis picked me up the next morning. I envied his status as a college freshman and the freedom it gave him. While I’d had enough credits after my junior year, I’d taken advantage of the post secondary education option that allowed me to earn college credit at Prairie Flats’s expense. It was a decision I sorely regretted at the moment. If I had it to do over, I would have graduated early and moved out regardless of the cost.
Then, I’d be on my own, not on my way to the high school.
I flipped down the visor and inspected my reflection. Black smudges ringed my eyes. A purple bruise tinted my cheekbone despite the foundation I’d applied.
“He do that to you?”
I pushed against the discoloration to feel the pain beneath. “I slipped doing dishes. The counter hit my cheek on the way down.”
Travis sighed. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Was there anything to tell? I replayed the night in my head. My dad and Mom returning drunk. Hollering in the kitchen. I slipped on a water spot, pulling the dish drainer with me. The mess was still there. “Sorry to disappoint you, Oh Knight In Shining Armor, but I only need rescuing from my clumsy self.”
Travis traced the bruise, down my cheek, to the curve of my lips. His eyes pierced into mine. “I suppose I can’t save you from yourself, can I?”
I nipped his finger. “Nope. Only I can do that.”
He pulled his eyes back to the road. “Then let’s get you to school before you’re late.”
But the closer we got, the more knotted my stomach became. I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through classes for the next week. Not with granny’s funeral tomorrow and the ever-present headache since Friday night. I forged a note excusing me from high school until after the New Year. With the university already on winter break, I now had a two week hiatus from all my classes.
After gathering my make-up assignments, I talked with my supervisor at the nursing home and took the upcoming week off from work, as well. I had until next Monday—the day after Christmas—to get my life back in order.