by Kaila Glass
Rascal was silent.
“I know, right? Now what?”
* * *
The McCrackens rose early on Christmas morning. Rascal drowned Blake’s face in saliva and barked, his tail wagging.
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Blake said. He went downstairs, still in his pajamas, and followed the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls to the kitchen. His mother, dressed in a long, red dress, planted a kiss on his forehead.
“Merry Christmas, love,” she said before he helped himself to a baked sweet from a plate on the island.
His father, seated at the breakfast nook with his own cinnamon roll in hand and a coffee in the other, said the same.
Then, Phoenix entered. There were dark circles under his eyes and a grin on his face. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I wrote a song. Wanna here it?”
The family migrated to the living room, where Phoenix set up his keyboard and played. There weren’t any lyrics, but it was a beautiful song nonetheless. They clapped; Phoenix’s smile did not waver. Then, he and their mother filled two suitcases and loaded them into her car.
Blake approached his brother outside, his cheeks burning. “So…” he began, staring at his boots. “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” Phoenix asked.
“Why not? You haven’t seen Luno for seven months because of me!”
“But then I wouldn’t be here. I would’ve stayed in Rosewood, never started Seven Hills or formed the Phoenix Kings. And I don’t blame you, either,” he added, his hand on Blake’s shoulder, causing Blake to look up. “If you’d told me back then, I would’ve self-destructed. Now’s a way better time than any.”
Their mother climbed into the driver’s side and Phoenix sat in the passenger’s. Just as they were about to pull off, Blake called out, “Are you ready, for fatherhood, I mean?” He knew it was a stupid question, but he felt a burning desire to ask it nonetheless.
Phoenix smiled. “Of course not.”
Their father, who stood in the open doorway holding Cleo, lifted her tiny forearm, making her wave. They watched the car pull out of the driveway and drive down the street, tire tracks in its wake. Blake, feeling the heavy sadness shrivel up and fall off his shoulder, straightened his back.
About the Author
Hey, what’s up? My name’s Kaila. I’m from Decatur, Georgia, but I live in Atlanta. Everyone here swears up and down that Decatur is just a subsection of Atlanta. (Spoiler alert: it’s not). I’ve dreamed of writing a book since I learned how to speak in complete sentences. Mission accomplished!
When I’m not writing, I watch anime, read manga, look for new books to read on Kindle Unlimited, and binge YouTube videos until I fall asleep.
If you have any questions about me or Nerd Hunting Season, shoot me an email at my website. Look forward to hearing from you.
You can connect with me on:
http://kailaglass.com
