“Yeah,” he blows out a breath, unbuttoning the first couple buttons on his shirt, “I had a meeting today, so they let us go early.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
He laughs humorlessly, grabbing a banana off the counter and ripping the peel off. “Only because it was too late in the day for us to get any work done.”
He devours the banana like he’s starved. “Have you eaten today?”
He shakes his head. “Let me order a pizza or something.” I grab my cellphone to look up places.
“That’d be amazing.” He leans on the counter, resting his head in his hands. “I think we should take a cooking class.”
I look up from my phone. “Sage, we can’t cook.”
“We have to learn.”
I shake my head. “How have we switched roles? We had this conversation and you shut me down because we’re likely to burn the whole building to the ground.”
“Well, I’m not expecting either of us to become the next Top Chef but we should be able to cook at least eggs. I can’t even do that right.”
I gag thinking about the gelatinous blob Sage tried to feed me this summer and called it scrambled eggs.
“How come you were against this before?”
He laughs. “Because we’re truly awful cooks. But I feel terrible that we’re living off takeout.” He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know I’m not your parent, but I am your guardian and I feel like I’m doing a piss poor job of it.”
“Sage,” I breathe. “You’re doing a great job.”
My heart breaks that my brother might think he’s not doing a proper job of providing for me. I know he’s doing the best he can and I appreciate everything he does. He didn’t have to take care of me, but he has.
His frown deepens. Sliding off the stool I walk around the counter and hug him.
His arms wrap around me and he exhales a shaky breath that stirs my hair. “I don’t want to fail you.”
“You couldn’t. Not ever. But don’t expect to be perfect. No one and nothing is.”
He releases me and I hop back onto the stool, taking a sip of the boba tea I got before Ansel dropped me off.
“Oh, you’ve been to Watchtower?” Sage asks, rolling up his sleeves.
“Yeah, Ansel took me this weekend and we stopped there before he brought me home.”
Sage stiffens, eyes narrowing.
“Ansel drove you home?”
I wipe condensation off the plastic cup. “He kind of insisted.”
“Mhmm.” His lips narrow.
“Sage,” I laugh, “seriously, you have nothing to worry about.”
“You’ve only known him a week and he’s already driving you home,” he grumbles turning to the fridge. He pulls out a can of Diet Coke and pops the top.
“He’s becoming my friend. Isn’t that what you want? For me to go to school? To make friends and be normal?”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can I at least meet this guy? If you’re going to be hanging out with him and he’s driving you home I’d like to know him.”
“I’m sure I can make that happen.”
Ansel doesn’t strike me as the type to care if he has to meet my brother.
“You couldn’t have made a friend that’s a girl?”
“Well, there’s Sasha,” I admit, picking up my phone. “I think we might be becoming friends too.”
“Thank God.”
“Can I order pizza now?”
He wiggles his fingers at me. “Yeah, get anything else you want too. I’m going to shower.”
He passes behind me and I call a random pizza place a couple blocks away that delivers. I wonder if Sage is actually serious about learning to cook. Maybe when I brought it up before it got him thinking. In my class at school we haven’t cooked yet, apparently we only do that once a quarter, and it’s mostly been bookwork.
Sage and I are both such horrible cooks I can’t imagine us actually being able to learn to make anything. But it could be worth a shot.
I finish my homework and when the pizza arrives I sign the receipt and take it. I also bought—well, technically Sage bought it—breadsticks and an order of chicken tenders.
I lay everything out and start making my plate. My stomach rumbles from the delicious aroma.
“I smell food!” Sage calls out from his room and I laugh to myself, because his words echo my thoughts. He might be seven years older than me, but we’re eerily similar despite the age difference. “Ooh, you got chicken tenders.” He rubs his hands together and grabs the plate I set out for him.
Sitting down on the couch, I curl my legs under me and dig into the pizza. It has arugula, prosciutto, and parmesan cheese layered on top.
“You pick the weirdest pizzas, D.” Sage eyes mine as he sits down with three slices of his meat lovers.
“You’re missing out. This is amazing.”
He looks doubtful. “Looks more like a salad than a pizza to me.”
He picks up the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through the channels before stopping on a rerun of Bones.
We don’t say anything as we eat, which allows my thoughts to drift.
That’s usually a dangerous thing, and tonight is no different.
I think about the fact that our mom isn’t here. I think we’ve both come to terms with our dad’s death since it’s been so many years and he was sick, but our mom? She was killed in a horrendous way, taken by force from this world, and it’s wrong. She should still be here, laughing. I should be back home with her in Oregon. But that’s not the reality we have to live with.
The bites of pizza I’ve eaten sit heavy in my stomach.
I get up and set my half-eaten plate of food on the counter.
“D?” Sage asks, concern clouding his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to go for a walk.”
“Dani—”
He starts to stand and I look over my shoulder at him. “Eat your dinner. I’m … I’ll be fine. I need some fresh air.”
“It’s dark out, let me go with you.”
“I’ll only go around the block. Promise.”
He opens his mouth to protest more, but I slip out the door.
He could follow me easily enough, but thankfully he doesn’t. Pushing the button for the elevators, I wait. It dings merrily when it reaches the floor and I get in, pushing the button for the lobby.
Honestly, living in a condo, feels a lot like living in a hotel.
I hope one day, when I’m married and have kids, that we live on a farm. With chickens, goats, cows, all the animals and wide-open space. City living, while convenient, isn’t for me.
I walk outside into the darkness. Thankfully, my phone is in my pocket if something should happen.
Inhaling the cold air into my lungs, I force myself to slow my steps. My thoughts are erratic and I need to calm them down along with the beating of my heart.
I should open up to Sage when my feelings overwhelm me, but I already feel like a big enough burden on him without adding more onto his shoulders.
The streets are bustling with activity, but no one pays me much attention. I turn the corner at the end of the long block, head bowed.
All I want, more than anything, is to feel normal but I know that’s a reality I’ll never live again. I have to learn to live this new existence. One where my mom is gone, my friends died, and evil people destroyed my feeling of safety. Nothing can give that back to me.
“Dani?”
My head shoots up so quickly I nearly get whiplash. “Mr. Taylor—oh my God is that a bear?!” I jump back in surprise.
Logically, my school counselor walking a bear on a leash makes no sense, but the dog is massive. The biggest I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t seem real.
The giant brown bear—dog—sniffs at my body.
“No,” Mr. Taylor chuckles, “he’s a Newfoundland.” He smiles down at the beast. “Zeppelin, say hi to Dani.”
The dog’s long
pink tongue flicks out to lick my fingers.
“Zeppelin? Like Led Zeppelin?”
He laughs and starts walking back the way I came, so I’m forced to join him. “I’ve always had a thing for English bands.”
“Interesting.” I tuck that tidbit of information in the back of my mind. Learning about him makes it easier to open up. It feels as if we’re on equal footing. I don’t want anyone to know more about me than I know about them.
“What are you doing out here walking in the dark?” He pauses, letting the dog smell the sidewalk.
“I … uh … needed air.”
“Air.” He presses his lips together fighting a smile. “There wasn’t enough oxygen inside?”
I shake my head, exhaling a breath. “No.”
He frowns. “Wanna talk about it?”
This is why I’ve decided I like Mr. Taylor. He doesn’t press me to talk.
I bend down to his massive dog, rubbing his head. I laugh when Zeppelin gives me a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek.
This is why dogs are wonderful. They don’t judge. They give love easily. If only everyone was so kind to each other.
“I was thinking about my mom,” I admit, my throat thick. I stare into the warm brown eyes of his dog. It’s easier to speak to him than to look at Mr. Taylor.
“She should be here. I should be back home in Oregon having dinner with her. She should be scolding me for something I did or said, or begging me to stay home instead of going out.”
I laugh humorlessly, and finally look up at him. “I regret that so much—that I didn’t spend time with her. I took everything for granted, naively—no, selfishly—believing there would always be more time.”
I stand up, my left side tingling all over as I do. I look Mr. Taylor in the eyes, putting my thoughts out there.
“She’ll never tell me goodnight again. She’ll never ask if I finished my homework. She won’t see me graduate. She won’t drop me off for my first day of college. She won’t tell me to think twice about my decisions. She won’t see me meet my future husband, or get married, or have kids. She won’t see me build a life. And Sage…”
My throat closes up, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“He’s twenty-five and he’s stuck taking care of his little sister instead of living his life. I’m a burden to him. I know he says I’m not, but I am. I have to be.”
I swallow thickly, wiping my tears away on the back of my hands. I feel Zeppelin nudge my legs.
“This shouldn’t be my reality, but it fucking is. Sometimes I think I should’ve died that day, the cafeteria ceiling my last vision of this goddamned world, but then I realize that day should’ve never happened at all and no one should’ve died. It makes me so sad and angry,” I blubber, probably making no sense at this point, “and the feelings … they’re going to choke me.”
Mr. Taylor’s blue eyes are soft, tender. “I don’t have words to take all that away from you. I wish I did, but that isn’t how it works. But you letting this out, letting yourself feel, this is what you need. Let yourself embrace the pain. It might not make much sense, but pain can heal you.”
“I don’t think there’s healing from something like this.”
He studies me, not like I’m broken, but as if I’m merely fascinating to him. “I promise there is.”
I sniffle from my dreadful tears. “Pinky promise?”
He cracks the tiniest smile. “Pinky promise.”
Holding out my pinky, I wait for him to twine his larger one around it, sealing the promise like a signature on a contract. Our fingers release, and for the second time ever, I hug Mr. Taylor.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel safe, comfortable, but it’s something I haven’t felt in a very long time.
I let him go and laugh a little. “God, I’m always snotting all over you. Why don’t you tell me to take a hike?”
He smiles softly. “Somehow, I imagine that wouldn’t work on you. You do what you want.”
He sees so much about me without me ever saying a word.
“Let me walk you back.”
I don’t argue with him.
Instead, I let my school counselor walk me back to the building.
We get on the same elevator together.
I press 11.
He pushes 12.
I don’t tell him, that one year ago, that was the day my whole life changed forever.
A coincidence, I tell myself, but in the back of my mind I think it’s more.
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t understand why you eat in the library.”
Sasha drops into the chair beside Ansel.
I stare across at her. It’s been a full month at Aspen Lake High and my short-lived quiet lunch has grown to include not only Ansel, but his friend Seth, and Sasha.
I know Sasha plays tennis on the school team and has plenty of friends from that, but like Ansel, she’s taken me under her wing.
Neither of them treats me like some sort of charity project considering they don’t know what happened to me, but it still makes no sense why they’re friends with me.
I’ve finally accepted that that’s what they are to me.
Friends.
Although, I’m closer to Ansel than Sasha.
Sasha is a bit loud and obnoxious at times whereas Ansel is more easy-going. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without them.
“You don’t have to eat lunch in here,” I remind her, munching on a chip.
She rolls her eyes, setting down her lunch. “Like I would make you eat with these losers.” She nods her head at Ansel beside her and Seth at the end of the table between Ansel and me.
“Losers, huh?” Ansel raises a brow.
“Oh, shut up.” She opens a ketchup packet and squirts some on her burger from the cafeteria. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. I hate ketchup. “We should do something this weekend.”
Seth looks up and around at all of us before his eyes dart back down to his lunch. I don’t know much about the guy beyond the fact that he’s extremely shy and an artist like Ansel.
“Like what?” I ask when no one else says anything.
I’m not the queen of socialization by far, but it might be nice to do something as a group. For the most part, if I do spend time with someone outside of school it’s Ansel.
“I don’t know.” She chews and swallows a bite of her food. “See a movie or something? Surely there’s a Marvel movie we could see. Doesn’t a new one come out every week?”
Ansel leans back in his chair, pointing at her with a pencil. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the superhero movie lover.”
“I’m not. But there are plenty of hot guys in them.”
Ansel rolls his eyes and looks at me while Seth lets out a quiet chuckle that turns into a cough like he didn’t mean to find Sasha funny.
“What do you think, Meadows? Should we go see a mainstream superhero movie or do something else?”
I bite my lip, thinking of the dark, closed off room I’d be trapped in to see a movie and I know it would send me straight into a panic attack.
None of them know that side of me and I like it that way. As long as they don’t know it means I can pretend I’m normal for a short amount of time.
“No.” I shake my head. “Let’s do something else.”
“What about a hike?” Ansel suggests. To Sasha he adds, “Meadows hasn’t seen some of the fucking incredible views around here. She has no idea what she’s missing out on.”
Sasha purses her lips as she thinks. “Hmm, yeah, that could be fun. It’ll be getting too cold for hiking soon enough.”
Ansel grins. “The cold means skiing, which is even better.”
Sasha nods in agreement. “Can’t argue with you there.”
“Wow, what a surprise.”
She starts to retort but I snap my fingers, getting both of their attention.
“Why are we even talking about skiing? I thought we were going on a hike?”
&
nbsp; “Have you ever skied?” Ansel tilts his head, appraising me.
Beside me Seth sinks down in his seat like he’s trying to hide.
“No.”
“Seriously?” His brows rise. “It’s like a religion around here. I’m getting you on some skis soon, Meadows.”
I’m sure soon isn’t an exaggeration. We’re a little less than a week away from October and already the weather has significantly cooled. Most days start in the 40s and might creep up to 65 degrees at the warmest. I’m used to this kind of weather, so I don’t mind it. But it does mean snow is around the corner.
“So, hiking this weekend then?”
Ansel and Sasha both nod while Seth shakes his head. He mumbles something about homework.
“Is Sunday okay?” Sasha asks, looking from Ansel to me. “I have a family dinner Saturday.”
“That’s good for me.” It’s not like I ever have plans. Sage and I do occasionally do something together, but he’s finally spending more time with his friends, which I’m grateful for.
“Sunday works for me.” Ansel puts a piece of chocolate in his mouth from his packed lunch. “I’ll pick you up, Meadows.”
“What about me?” Sasha jokes, batting her lashes at him.
“You can walk.”
“So rude.” She sticks her tongue out at him.
“Hey, if you need me to I can.”
“Nah.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll meet you guys there—Bell Canyon?”
“Yeah, that trail is nice.”
“How far is it from here?” I ask, wadding up my trash since the bell is going to ring any second.
“About twenty-five minutes.” Ansel stands up, slipping his messenger bag over his shoulders.
“It’s gorgeous,” Sasha gushes, her cheeks flushed. “The views are incredible. Plus, there’s a picnic area and a waterfall. Ooh, I’ll pack us a lunch.” She claps her hands. “This is going to be fun.”
The bell rings and we part ways.
I make my way through the halls, the crowd of students thinning when I start down the corridor that leads to Mr. Taylor’s new office. It empties entirely before I round the corner down the final hall.
The door is ajar so I walk right in and drop my bag on the floor before sinking my body into the couch.
Sweet Dandelion Page 7
