The Way We Fall

by Crewe, Megan

  Finally, just before dinner, I looked up from the book I was trying to distract myself with and saw him climbing over the backyard fence. I caught him as he came in through the mudroom.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “Just getting a little fresh air,” he said, as if he’d only been hanging out in the yard. That must be his official story.

  “No,” I said. “Where are you going? You keep taking off. Don’t lie to me, Drew. I’ve seen you.”

  “It’s not important,” he said, looking away. “I just need to get out of the house sometimes, and I want see what’s going on around town. I’m careful.” He poked at the mask he had jammed in the pocket of his cargo pants.

  “If that’s all you’re doing, why don’t you tell Mom and take the car?” I asked. “I’ve been covering for you, you know. She and Dad are going to be so pissed if they—”

  “You can’t tell them!” he said before I could finish. “I need to do this, okay?”

  He sounded so desperate, so unlike the Drew I’m used to. “Okay,” I said. “I wasn’t going to anyway.”

  “Thanks,” he said, a little more calmly. “For covering for me and everything.”

  As he brushed past me, I got a whiff of salt and seaweed. He’d been down by the shoreline, somewhere.

  Whatever he’s up to, it’s obviously about more than stretching his legs. He’s doing something out there. Something that’s important to him. And I’m stuck in here playing board games with Meredith.

  The frustration ate at me all through dinner. And then Dad came home, looking weary, and I heard him say something to Mom about running out of one of their medications.

  I didn’t even think. I went up to my room and dialed Tessa’s number.

  “Hey,” I said when she picked up. “Let’s do it. Let’s check out those summer houses.”

  So it’s settled. We start tomorrow.

  Tessa Freedman and Kaelyn Weber, medical burglars at large. I bet you never could have imagined that, Leo.

  The story I gave Mom was that I was going over to check on Dad’s plants. By the time I parked in front of Tessa’s house, I was so jittery I had to take a few deep breaths before I got out, and my hands were sweaty from squeezing the steering wheel. But I reminded myself that the new Kaelyn wouldn’t let nerves stop her, wiped my palms on my jeans, and marched up to the door.

  It seemed like ten seconds later we were already in her parents’ car, the board of keys heavy on my lap. The wind picked up as we neared the ocean, hissing past the windows.

  You remember the time we snuck onto one of the private beaches, the first summer I came back to visit the island after I moved? Ten minutes of being battered by the ocean-side waves and we were never tempted to go back. But most of those “cottages” have their own pools, and the view of the ocean is nicer than looking across the strait, so I suppose it works out fine for the summer people.

  When we parked in the driveway of the first cottage, which looked about twice as big as my house, I got cold feet for real.

  “Are you sure no one will be home?” I said.

  “Most of the summer vacationers leave by Labor Day,” Tessa said. “Starts getting too cold for them. I asked my dad the last time he called, and he said no one told him they were staying late. The houses should all be empty.”

  She acted so cool. I wanted to see she was nervous too. To know there are a few chinks in her armor.

  “I guess it’s been a few days,” I said, “since you’ve been able to talk to him. They are trying to fix the long distance.”

  “I know,” she said. “I talked to someone at town hall. It hasn’t been that bad. I mean, I know they’re okay. It must be so much harder for them.” She shook her head, and then she said, “Well, let’s do this.”

  I felt so strange walking up to the door and unlocking it as if the place was ours. That first house had a big wraparound porch with a hot tub in the corner. Inside, the hall was wide and airy. We took off our shoes, and I could have skated across the floor in my socked feet, the wood was so polished.

  Can you imagine spending that much money on a place you’re only using as a vacation home? It’s crazy.

  “Where should we look?” I said.

  “Wherever people keep medicine, I guess,” Tessa said. “Bathroom, kitchen?”

  “The bedrooms too,” I suggested.

  “Okay,” she said. “So we’ll check all the bathrooms and bedrooms, and the kitchen, and then we move on.”

  We crept from room to room, opening cabinet doors and drawers, like a bizarre Easter egg hunt. Finding a bottle of Advil or a bag of throat lozenges started to give me a little thrill. Everything went into the paper bag Tessa had brought with her. Even if we couldn’t tell what something was for, if it looked medicinal, we tossed it in.

  “Better to have too much than too little,” Tessa said.

  After the first few houses I didn’t feel so odd anymore. You wouldn’t believe everything the summer people have—and this is just what they left behind! One house was a total jackpot: Tylenol 3, Xanax, Valium, Ambien, Ritalin, a couple of tubes of what Tessa thought was an antifungal cream, plus a whole bunch of nonprescription pills.

  We hit twenty houses, which gave us two big bags full. Tessa wrote A FRIENDLY DONATION on them with permanent marker and we dashed them up to the hospital doors. Tessa looked so serious hitting the gas as we took off that I started laughing.

  I imagined how weird we’d look to you, the two of us together, partners in crime, and then I thought that you’d be proud of Tessa for coming up with the idea, and my stomach dipped as if we’d gone over a pothole. The question just popped out:

  “How was Leo the last time you talked to him?”

  “Good,” Tessa said. “He’s excited about a new partner he’s working with. The school’s exactly what he thought it’d be, and he loves the city too. I’m so glad he’s not here in the middle of this.”

  And I felt guilty, as if it said something awful about me that I’d been going to interupt your happiness by telling you what’s happening here. I just think you have a right to know. I still want you to stay safe.

  I’m not sure what I said. Something vague like, “That’s good,” and then we were back at her house. She smiled at me, and my stomach untwisted a little.

  “I’ve got lots more keys,” she said. “Let me know when you want to go out again.”

  You know what? I think I’m looking forward to it. Now that’s strange.

  When I opened my eyes this morning, I just wanted to lie in bed until the sun went down again. Maybe I should have. It would probably have been a better day.

  But I got up. I was picturing another fifteen hours of watching depressing news reports and reading more and more ahead in my books for school, which may never open again for all we know. Then I saw Meredith huddled on her cot beside my bed, silently, with tears streaming down her face.

  How can I complain about my life when she has it so much worse? I’m lucky, really.

  I sat down beside her and hugged her, and when she stopped crying we went downstairs and I made breakfast for both of us. The whole time she looked so solemn. Every now and then her lower lip would wobble and I was afraid she’d start crying again.

  I didn’t want her to be sad. I wanted to make her feel better. But even I still feel torn up inside when I think about Uncle Emmett. The best idea I could come up with was getting her mind on something else, something happier.

  “You want to go outside for a bit?” I asked her. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I figured we’d stop by the grocery store and buy a treat. Most of the shops have been closed since the quarantine started, but it was still open the last time I drove past. And we’d only be going a couple blocks, so I figured we’d be safe enough walking, getting a little exercise. I made sure Meredith had her mask on tight, and we set out.

  “Where is everyone?” Meredith said after a minute. The streets were so dead, our footsteps pract
ically echoed.

  “They’re all staying home,” I told her. “Like we do most of the time. They want to keep safe, away from anyone who might be sick.”

  When we came around the corner onto Main Street, she perked up. “Look,” she said, pointing. “It’s not just us!”

  A delivery truck was parked in front of the grocery store, and a couple of guys were hanging out by its open back end. The store’s door was propped open with a rock.

  A little jolt of excitement shot through me, at the thought that maybe the ferry had come again and brought more food and medicine and the parts to fix the cables, and we just hadn’t known. But right away the feeling fizzled out. That didn’t make sense. Why would the government suddenly switch back from helicopters to boats; and if they had, why would a couple of teenage guys who didn’t even have masks on be bringing the food around? I stopped walking and grabbed Meredith’s hand.

  At the same moment, a couple more guys and a girl came out of the store. They were carrying cartons of food, and the girl was hefting a huge package of bottled water. They came around to shove their haul into the truck, and I realized they all looked familiar. One of them I knew for sure—it was Quentin.

  I eyed the others more closely. Gav wasn’t there, but I recognized the guys from his group. So he and his friends figure the right thing to do is hoard all the food left on the island for themselves? I can’t believe him! He goes off on the government for not helping us enough, and then turns around and does something ten times more selfish.

  “What are they doing?” Meredith whispered.

  “Just getting some food,” I said, and started to tug her away. “I don’t think they’ll want to share. Let’s go home. We’ve still got some ice cream.”

  Her fingers curled around mine. “They’re stealing!” she said.

  Then Quentin turned in our direction. I froze, hoping he wouldn’t see us there under the awning of Keith’s Fish Mart as long as we didn’t move. It seemed to work. He sauntered a little ways toward us, but didn’t look at us, only the storefronts. He stopped in front of Maritime Electronics, tapping a board he was carrying against his leg.

  “Hey, Vince,” he shouted. “There’s no reason we can’t have fun too, right? We could have the best sound systems on the island!”

  The guy named Vince looked skeptical. “I don’t know,” he said, heading back to the grocery store. “Gav said just to grab the food. I’m gonna stick with that.”

  “Wimp,” Quentin called after him. Then he raised the board and slammed it into the store window.

  Back in Toronto, nothing would have happened. The glass would be super-reinforced or fitted with bars. But you know the shops around here: most of the buildings were built before our grandparents were born, and still have the same glass. People just don’t go around breaking into places. At least they didn’t before.

  The window shattered. Meredith and I both flinched. Thankfully, Quentin was so busy ogling the merchandise we could have been tap-dancing and he wouldn’t have noticed. I was waiting for him to step inside so we could make a run for it, when Meredith yanked her hand away from mine and marched toward him.

  “You can’t do that!” she yelled, sounding way too fierce for a seven-year-old. “Nothing in there belongs to you! Leave that store alone!”

  I’d known she was sad, but that was the first time I realized she might be pissed off too.

  I caught up with her as Quentin spun around. For a second he looked uncertain, and then he sneered at us. I could almost see his hackles rising, like one of the ferrets when they’re startled.

  “You got a problem?” he said, waving the board. “You want to talk about it?”

  “No,” I said, clamping my hand around Meredith’s elbow and backing away. “Do whatever you want.”

  “Good,” he said. “’Cause otherwise I might have to smash a few more things.”

  “But, Kaelyn,” Meredith said, and I squeezed her arm so tight it must have hurt. I dragged her around the corner and halfway down the next block before she started walking fast enough to keep up.

  “If you meet someone bigger and stronger than you who starts looking mean,” I said, “you get away as fast as you can. Understand?” Every animal knows that rule of survival. We’ve got to start thinking like that. About surviving.

  “But they’re not supposed to steal,” Meredith said. “Isn’t it wrong to just let them?”

  “If there are still police around, they’ll take care of it,” I told her. “It would be way more wrong if you got hurt because you tried to do their job.”

  “Were those people sick?” she asked a couple minutes later, as we reached the house. “Is that why they were acting so mean?”

  I didn’t know what to tell her. I went to school with Quentin all the years we lived on the island, and he might have been a jerk, but he never seemed dangerous. You remember fifth grade, Leo, when I said I was going to punch him if he kept teasing you about your dancing? He got all scared and ran to tell the teacher. I can hardly believe that’s the same guy we saw today.

  So I said to Meredith, “It’s not just sick people you have to watch out for. My mom and dad and Drew and me, you’re safe with us. Anyone else you shouldn’t trust.”

  I wish I could have blamed the virus. I wish the virus hadn’t put us in a position where I needed to explain any of this to her in the first place.

  Mom came over while I was making lunch today and gave me a hug, out of nowhere. I hadn’t realized how wound up I’d been until I let myself relax into her.

  “You’ve been doing a really good job looking after Meredith,” she said.

  I thought about the trouble I almost got us into yesterday, and my chest went tight.

  “I don’t really know what to do,” I said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

  “I hope so,” she said. “I think Emmett would be really pleased to see how you’ve been there for her.” She paused for a moment, blinking hard, and swallowed audibly. Then she said, “I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you.”

  They were only words, but I’ve felt lighter all afternoon.

  I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe if I write it down I can get it out of my head.

  Tessa called this afternoon and said some of Dad’s seeds had sprouted, so maybe she should bring a couple by and then we could check out more of the summer houses. I said sure. After seeing Quentin the other day, I had trouble feeling any guilt about taking medications from rich people who aren’t even living here and giving them to the hospital. At least we were stealing to help.

  The plants she brought were just little tufts of leaves, but they’re a start. We left them on the porch and headed out.

  It was kind of calming, going into those “cottages” with their gauzy curtains and shiny appliances, everything clean and tidy. Like no one had ever been sick there. They felt safe.

  The third house we pulled up to had a satellite dish mounted on the front lawn. As soon as I saw it, I didn’t care so much what medicine we might find. I was hoping I could get on the internet, to finally write to Mackenzie and find out what’s been happening in L.A. She must be wondering why I haven’t e-mailed her for so long.

  If I hadn’t been so focused on that, maybe I’d have noticed something was off right away. There were a few dishes sitting on the kitchen counter. Someone had left a sweater slung over the banister. But I assumed these owners just weren’t as tidy as the others.

  Tessa headed for the downstairs bathroom while I hurried upstairs. I opened one door and found the master bedroom, which was about the size of our entire second floor and had a big flat-screen TV, but no computer. There was a crumpled tissue on the floor. If nothing else, that should have warned me. I should have gotten Tessa and left.

  But I didn’t. I opened the next door.

  The first thing I saw was the blood.

  It had seeped across the carpet almost all the way to the hall from where the woman was lying. She was curled on the floor by
the foot of the bed, facing toward me. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was pulled back in this grimace like she’d been snarling when she died. Her arms were wrapped around a toddler, who was staring at nothing, his face pale and blue. His pajamas were soaked red. It looked like she’d sliced herself open from wrists to elbows and held him while she bled out.

  It couldn’t have happened that long ago. There wasn’t even any smell yet.

  All I could do was turn around, and then I was throwing up all over the polished hardwood. My legs gave out. I crouched there for a minute or two, heaving. Then somehow I made it to the top of the stairs. Tessa was there. She must have heard me.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  I blinked and blinked to keep the tears from leaking out. My throat was burning. Tessa looked at me and then down the hall, and started to go to see, but I grabbed her arm. I don’t know if I managed to say anything intelligible. I remember shaking my head a lot.

  But she went anyway. Then she came back and sat beside me, close enough that our sides touched, and waited until I got a hold of myself.

  “Let’s go,” she said. I thought she meant go home. It wasn’t until we’d been back in the car for a minute that I realized she was heading for another cottage.

  “Can you take me back?” I asked. “To my house?” I can’t remember what she said, but she did. I thanked her when I got out. Then I went upstairs and lay down and pulled the blanket over me, and hoped Meredith wouldn’t come in and ask how I was.

  I’ve tried to tell myself that what happened is obvious. The little boy got sick and died, and the mom killed herself out of grief. But if he was that sick, why wouldn’t she have taken him to the hospital?

  What if she was the one who got sick, with no one there to tell her to see a doctor, no one nearby to hear her if she went crazy? It could have happened like that. The hallucinations taking over, her imagining someone or something was after her, the kid started crying and making a fuss, and she hit him or grabbed him around the neck, and