I just don’t know how to tell him that.

91

Lauren

My baby brother is not such a baby any longer. When I crouched down, arms open wide, heart open wider, Matthew toddled across the room until he was close enough for me to scoop him up and squeeze him tight. Cheek to cheek, we twirled around, our giggles the perfect music for the spontaneous dance. I stroked his hair, his face, and every little pudgy roll on his arms and legs. Oh, how my mother must miss him, I thought. Matthew and I played with balls and blocks, and I read him books as I bounced him on my knees. Aunt Erica and I got up before the birds last Saturday and drove the five hours so I could see him. Dwight said I could come and see him anytime I’d like. If only it weren’t such a long way from Willow to Seattle. Before we left, to head back home, I asked Erica if I could try calling my mom. Maybe she would see me. Maybe I could talk her into staying. Maybe with my help, our family could be together again. I dialed the number. It rang and rang and rang. Her voice startled me, I hadn’t heard it in so long. “I can’t take your call. Leave a message.” Beep. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Lauren. I was hoping to talk to you. Have you moved yet? Can you maybe call me? Thanks. Bye.” After all the kisses I could give my brother, we drove home. I pretended to sleep, guilt covering me like a blanket. I screwed it all up for us the night I called the cops. Now here it is, a week later, and everyone in Willow has football fever except me. They are happy to be winning while I’m sad about everything I’ve lost.

92

Colby

The party at Murphy’s Hill is going strong when I get there. There are so many cars parked along the old lumber road, it feels like half the school must have come out to celebrate.

It’s a clear night. Cool. The almost-full moon glows in the sky, giving out a fair amount of light.

Derek points me to the keg when I walk up to him and a bunch of other guys. “But if you drink, you have to hand over your keys,” he tells me. “We’ve got designated drivers tonight.”

“Great,” I tell him. “But I don’t feel like drinking.”

He nods, like he understands. But he doesn’t. Not really. Everyone’s laughing and having a good time, and I want to feel happy, like I did right after the game, but I don’t.

All I feel is pressure.

Pressure to win the game. Pressure to choose the right college. Pressure to play and make my dad happy. Pressure to do right by Benny. Pressure to be the person everyone expects me to be.

It’s like I’m at one end of an old, rickety bridge between two cliffs, way up high. The bridge sways back and forth in the wind, and as I look out, it seems pretty much impossible to make it across to the other side.

If I go, what happens?

If I stand my ground, what happens?

Everything’s so mixed up right now.

“Hey,” I hear from behind me as someone taps me on the shoulder.

I turn around, away from the small group of guys I’m standing with. “Hi,” I say to Lauren and Stasia.

“Great game last night,” Stasia says. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks.” I feel like I should say more, but I don’t.

Stasia looks past me and waves at someone. “There’s Sam,” she says, smiling. “Think I’ll go say hi.”

“You know,” I say to Lauren before Stasia leaves, “I think I might go for a drive. You girls want to come?”

Lauren looks at Stasia. “You two go,” Stasia says. “If you need a ride home, Lauren, just be back here by twelve.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Stasia squeezes Lauren’s hand before she takes off. “Be safe.”

Lauren and I head down the hill.

“I didn’t drink anything,” I tell her. “You know, in case you were wondering.”

“I figured,” she said. “I mean, I didn’t think you were the type to risk my life like that.” I can feel her looking at me. Studying me. Then quietly she says, “Don’t worry. I trust you.”

It feels good to hear her say that. To know that someone believes I’m doing the right thing.

We get to my truck, and I go to her side and unlock the door with the help of the flashlight app on my phone. She hops in, and as I start to close the door, she puts her arm out. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Honestly? Right this minute, I’m actually doing pretty good.”

“Me too,” she says with a little smile.

93

Lauren

The stars twinkle as we drive. We listen to music. Mumford & Sons. We don’t say anything. It’s not awkward. It’s nice. He drives farther and farther out into the country. Past farmhouses that have stood a hundred years. Past fields of horses and cows, goats and sheep. Past barns where owls hunt and tiny mice scurry about. When he finally comes to a stop sign, he makes a U-turn. “Do you know where you’re going?” I ask. He sounds almost sad when he says, “Not a clue.”