Where We Used to Roam

by Jenn Bishop

  “She feels bad? Look, I get it, but I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  I left her there and jogged down the hall and stairs, almost tripping over them a few times.

  * * *

  As I walked back home after track, all I could think about was the RISD summer camp in July. Two whole weeks at Lucy’s grandma’s place with her and Kennedy. I didn’t think I could do it, but Mom and Dad had already sent in the deposit, and if I told them I didn’t want to go anymore, they’d want to know why, and then I’d have to tell them about everything that happened at Camp McSweeney, and everything before. And I couldn’t.

  They were already worried about Austin. They didn’t have any room left to worry about me.

  I was almost home when I heard footsteps behind me, like someone was closing in on me. I was used to that sound from track—I got passed a lot—but it didn’t usually happen when I was walking. I looked over my shoulder and was startled to see Becca there.

  “What?” she said as my eyes caught hers. “You going to meow at me too?”

  “Becca, I would never.”

  “You told her. Why would you do that?”

  “I’m sorry, Becs. It was an accident. I—”

  “An accident? How? How do you accidentally tell someone about that? It wasn’t and you know it. You might as well own it.” She crossed her arms.

  “Well, the whole thing wouldn’t have even happened if you’d just grow up like everyone else.”

  Her face right then, it looked like I’d hit her. And I guess I had, only with words.

  Becca, I didn’t mean it. But those words got lodged in my throat. Why did that keep happening to me? Why was it so, so hard to say the things I needed to say? There were so many other words stuck in there with them. Things I should’ve said to Mom, Dad, Austin, Kennedy. I was all clogged up.

  She marched away from me in her too-big T-shirt and those shorts that looked like something my dad would wear, too long and cargo. Sometimes it felt like she did it on purpose. Like every part of her was some revolt against middle school.

  It was my fault and it was her fault. And Kennedy’s. It was everyone’s fault. And I had no idea how to fix any of it.

  When I was finally safe in my own house, I heard Mom on the phone in the kitchen. “You really think this could work? Oh, Delia, you’re a lifesaver. Let me talk it over more with Tony tonight. I’ll—great—sounds good—I’ll be in touch.” She raised her voice. “E? Is that you?”

  Mom’s eyes lit up as she rounded the corner. “Oh, such an abundance of good news today. Finally. We found an abstinence-only rehab center that will take Austin and—” She stopped midsentence when she saw my face. “Everything okay, hon?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “Emma. You sure?”

  “Just a weird day,” I lied. “Saying goodbye to my C-day teachers and stuff.” I pasted on a smile. I had to, right? I was part of the team and the team was doing well today. I had to be on the same page as the rest of my teammates.

  “In any case, I made an appointment for that counselor in Cambridge for tomorrow right after school. That sound good to you?”

  “Sure.”

  I kept my happy face on for the next fifteen minutes, following Mom into the kitchen while she got out some cheese and crackers and cut vegetables for us to snack on. When Mom decided to go for a run, I grabbed my phone and flipped through the text messages, not sure how to respond to any of them.

  I wanted to be able to tell someone what was going on. Not some stranger I’d never met before, like that counselor I’d see tomorrow. A friend. But I couldn’t trust Kennedy and Lucy, not after what had happened at Camp McSweeney. They couldn’t keep a secret, and that’s what this was. At least, I thought so. Mom and Dad hadn’t said either way, but it felt like a secret.

  But Becca, she could keep a secret. And Becca loved Austin like a brother.

  But I couldn’t tell her now. No, I’d ruined what we used to have. Possibly forever.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The following afternoon, Mom sat across from me at the new Froyo place in Harvard Square. “I’d like to talk to you about an idea Dad and I had—for you, for this summer.”

  I stared into my melty froyo. Clearly I’d left my appetite back at Camp McSweeney. “For me?”

  “Delia and her husband, Chris, offered to have you come stay with them in Wyoming for the summer. They’re both really excited to host you, that is, if you’re up for it. It could be an adventure.”

  She was shipping me off to Wyoming to spend the summer with strangers. “Mom, I don’t even know them.” I stabbed my spoon hard into my frozen yogurt and left it there. She wasn’t serious, was she?

  “That’s not true, Em.”

  “The last time I saw them I was wearing a diaper.” In the back office of Happy Feet, Mom had this framed picture up on the wall of me and Sadie, her best friend’s daughter, who’s around my age. We were holding hands and spinning in the grass. Sadie’s hair was dark brown and short, mine that shade of white blond that’s gone by kindergarten. If you looked close, you could spot the blueberry stains on our shirts and our mouths.

  But that picture was from a million years ago. We were just little kids. Mom and Delia, her best friend from college, used to get together more back then. Before our lives got so busy.

  “I know it’s been a while, but gosh, at this point Delia’s heard so many stories about you, she feels like she practically knows you, Em. And she’s so excited to have you. They all are. We always talked about a big summer road trip to Wyoming.…”

  A family road trip, I wanted to remind her. With all four of us. Not just me, heading out on a plane by myself across the country to spend my summer with three people I barely remembered while everything back home was falling apart. Could I really leave them? Be that far away? What if something bad happened?

  I slurped up some froyo, trying to think this all over. “But what about camp?”

  Mom’s shoulders shot up as she took in a deep breath. “About that, hon… The timing would be really tricky with everything going on with Austin. It’s smack in the middle of the summer. I know it’s something you and your friends have been looking forward to for so long, but I just…” She hesitated, probably waiting for me to flip my lid.

  Sure, it stung, thinking I would miss out on the two weeks at RISD I’d been looking forward to for months. But right now I couldn’t imagine two weeks of nonstop Kennedy. I could still barely look at her after what she did.

  This trip, though. It could be my excuse.

  “When would I leave?” I asked.

  “Ideally on Friday.” She grimaced.

  My eyes went wide. “This Friday?”

  “It’s sooner than I’d like too, Em, believe me. But the demand for these beds is so high right now. And we’ve got to get Austin in somewhere. If we can get you to Logan Friday morning, we’ll get Austin down to the Cape in time.”

  I wanted Austin to get help as soon as possible. “What can I tell Lucy and Kennedy, then? About Austin, I mean.”

  “Dad and I still have to figure that out. For now, how about you leave that to us. One of us will give their parents a call in a few days, once we’ve figured out what to say. Do you think you can keep quiet for now? Is that too much to ask?” She rubbed her eye, and for a minute I thought she was going to start crying in public.

  “Mom, it’s okay. It’s okay. I won’t say anything. It’s not that hard. Really.” And the truth was, it wouldn’t be. How hard could it be not to tell anyone when I wasn’t really talking to any of them?

  Mom’s face crumpled. “You’ve been such a champ the past few days, Em. I really don’t know what Dad and I would do without you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to her. A champ? If only she knew who I really was.

  * * *

  For the last day of school, all I could think about was Wyoming. And that was sort of weird because I didn’t know one thing about Wyoming. When I heard the w
ord, I only thought of cowboys and that big national park with the geysers—but was that Yellowstone or Yosemite? I always got them mixed up.

  The night before, Mom kept telling me what a blast it’d been when she lived there one summer in college, and it was funny because I couldn’t picture Mom in Wyoming at all. There was too much Boston in her. She’d survived a whole summer without Dunkin’ and the Red Sox and early-morning swims in Walden Pond? Really? If you say so.

  During lunch I spent most of the time in Mrs. Dwyer’s office before heading to the cafeteria at the very end of the period. For a second there I thought Kennedy was going to choke on her roll as I slid in across from her.

  “I can’t come to the camp anymore,” I said. Though my voice sounded almost robotic, I was surprised by the little pinch that came when I heard those words float out of my mouth. That thing I’d been looking forward to for months was gone. Over. Done.

  “Emma, no.” Lucy started to tear up, and for a second I felt so bad I considered pulling her aside to tell her the truth: that it wasn’t up to me.

  “I’m going to Wyoming,” robot-me said.

  “Just you or your whole family?” Kennedy asked.

  “Just me,” I said, whipping that fake smile out of my back pocket. I’d gotten good at using it the past few days, so good I was starting to scare myself. Parroting Mom, I added, “It’s going to be an adventure.” But this time, when I said those words out loud, something strange happened. I almost believed them. “Isn’t that what real artists do? They don’t go to some kids art camp. They go somewhere new and explore, right? Anyway. Just wanted to let you know.”

  I got up from the seat, my heartbeat calming down with each step I took away from Kennedy and Lucy. I’d done the hard thing. I’d told them. The tiniest weight had been lifted from my shoulders. And now I was free.

  “Emma, wait,” Kennedy said, standing up, her mouth for once completely empty of rolls.

  But I was already on my way.

  * * *

  The very next day, Dad would take me to the airport for the flight to Denver. Turns out the tiny airports out west are hard to fly into at the last minute, so Delia and Sadie and maybe even Delia’s husband, Chris, were going to make the drive from their small town in northeastern Wyoming all the way into Denver for me. I wasn’t totally buying Mom’s “That’s how excited they are to see you.” More like, that was how bad they felt for my mom. Bad enough to spend ten hours round-trip in a car to pick me up.

  I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. The last thing Mom and Dad needed was a tantrum from Emma. Besides, ever since that moment in the cafeteria when I told Kennedy and Lucy my plan, I’d started to think maybe it could happen. Maybe Wyoming could be an adventure.

  Once Dad dropped me off at the airport, he and Mom would drive Austin down to Cape Cod, to the closest abstinence-based rehab facility they could find that had good ratings and an open bed. He’d be there for thirty days, and then, at the end, if everything went well, they’d let him come home.

  Home. That was the part Mom and Dad were most worried about. Austin would need to learn all over again how to have a real life, without any drugs.

  My suitcase was laid out on my bed, packed with shorts and T-shirts, a bathing suit—did people even go swimming in Wyoming? There aren’t any beaches, but there must be lakes, right? A pool? Plus jeans, my lucky sweatshirt, some long-sleeved shirts in case it got cold at night, and a dress in case we went somewhere fancy. Mom said we might go hiking, so I dug around in my closet for those hiking sneakers I’d gotten a few years ago when we went to New Hampshire for a week. Did they still fit?

  Knock-knock.

  I had them on both hands like mittens when I turned to see who it was.

  Austin stood in the doorway with a hand in his pocket. He didn’t look like a drug addict, at least not like the ones I’d seen around Harvard Square before, all spaced-out and skinny, dark circles under their eyes. Austin wasn’t as tan as he used to be from being outside all afternoon at track practice, but his arms were still muscular. His hair had gotten so long he could tuck it behind his ears.

  “Looks like you’re ready to go,” he said, stepping into my room.

  I glanced at my suitcase. “I don’t know if any of my clothes are cool for Wyoming.”

  “You probably need a cowboy hat. Or some boots.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I need. Cowboy boots.” I knew he was trying to be nice, but I couldn’t. The whole thing still smarted.

  He pulled his hand out of his pocket and handed me a piece of paper. When I unfolded it, I could see he’d scrawled out the address for the rehab center he’d be at. His handwriting had always been so bad, but I could still read it. At least, I was pretty sure.

  “I’m not allowed to have my phone with me, but they said you can write. If you want, I mean.”

  “Austin.”

  He shook his head. “I should have never—I’m sorry, Em. I’m really—”

  I didn’t know what to say back to him. If he was really sorry, he would have stopped. If he was really sorry, I wouldn’t be leaving for Wyoming tomorrow morning. If he was really sorry, he would have been there for me so I could have told him about what happened at Camp McSweeney and he would have helped me figure out how to make things right with Becca and what I was even supposed to do about Kennedy. Could I trust her again? Accept her apology?

  But no. He wasn’t around then, or the months before. Not really. He wasn’t depressed—or maybe he was. He was high. He was on drugs. He didn’t care about me or Mom and Dad. Just himself.

  I reached down for my backpack and slipped the paper into the front pouch.

  “Look, I know I’ve ruined your summer plans. What’s Becca even going to do with you gone for the whole summer?”

  Just hearing her name gave me another pang of guilt. But Austin didn’t seem to notice that it took me a second to say, “She’ll survive.” I hoped that was true. At least now that school was out, she wouldn’t have to listen to other kids taunting her with meows.

  “Hey, I bet you’ll find your people in Wyoming. They might wear cowboy hats and hang out with prairie dogs on the weekend, but they’re there.” He cracked a smile, trying to get me to follow. “Okay, guess I’d better pack. You’re way better at it than I am, and if I don’t finish soon, Dad’s going to breathe down my neck even more.”

  Once he was back in his room, I zipped up my suitcase and set it on the floor. I wasn’t sure Austin got what I was doing for him. Traveling across the country to stay with strangers for the entire summer so Mom and Dad could focus on him. Didn’t he wonder why I wasn’t more upset, more resistant? But then, he hadn’t really been thinking about me or anyone else in this family for a while now, had he?

  Maybe it’d finally occur to him while he’s at rehab. He didn’t just do this to himself. He did this to all of us.

  From my desk I grabbed the sheet of paper Nisha had handed me when I passed by the art room right before lunch. She’d told me to share it with Kennedy and Lucy, but I couldn’t. It was hard enough telling them I’d canceled on the camp.

  The local arts council was running a contest for anyone ages twelve to eighteen, with a deadline of September 1. I’d have the whole summer to come up with something. What I’d said to Kennedy and Lucy in the cafeteria, I’d made up on the spot. I didn’t exactly believe it. But maybe I was right. Maybe an artist really did need to get away to come up with something new.

  I folded the sheet of paper into thirds and tucked it into my backpack pocket, where it sat with Austin’s address.

  “How you making out, A?”

  Austin wasn’t kidding. Dad never took time off from the station unless it was a holiday or we were on vacation, but Mom didn’t trust Austin unattended and she had some work to do at the store, so Dad was on duty. He must’ve set a timer on his phone, reminding him to check on Austin every fifteen minutes.

  Was that how they’d be when the rehab center discharged Austin? Check
ing on him every fifteen minutes, watching him like he was a toddler? Would it be like that forever? Would we ever go back to normal?

  Maybe it was okay that I was going to be in Wyoming and not here when Austin came back.

  “All packed up?” Dad peeked his head in my room.

  “Pretty much.”

  He half closed the door behind him. “I’m really impressed by how you’ve handled everything, E. You’re really taking one for the team.”

  The team, again. So I was on the team. The best player, even. Then how come I felt like such a failure? I’d failed Austin and Becca. And now I was running away from all of it. All the way to Wyoming.

  “You’re going to have so much fun out west. I just wish we could be with you. Maybe next summer. Promise to scout out all the good spots and report back?”

  “Sure,” I said, beaming back at Dad.

  He kissed the top of my head. “That’s my girl.” He ran his hands through his hair. “All right, back to check on that brother of yours.”

  As he left, I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and started typing a message to Becca. I’m so sorry about everything. I’m leaving for Wyoming tomorrow. There’s something I have to tell you. It’s about Austin. Can we talk? Please.

  But like all the other ones from the past few days, I deleted it instead of hitting send.

  NOW

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  We hit the ground with a big bump, the airplane’s brakes squealing as we careen down the runway. Immediately I turn off airplane mode on my phone and text Dad. Landed.

  From beneath the seat in front of me, I pull out my backpack and slide in the sketchbook with my failed attempt at a letter to Becca. As if a letter could somehow fix things. As if a letter could ever be enough.