it’s probably just Will. When I open it, Jax stands before me, scuffing the floor with his foot. I almost drop the brush again, and neither of us speaks for a few moments. We both just stand there while I avoid his gaze.
“Can we start over?” It sounds almost painful, like the words are dragged out of him.
I hold my hand out, and he looks up. “Hi, I’m Anamae, but my friends call me Mae.”
He grasps it. His hand is firm and warm around mine as he gives a solid shake. “Mae,” he says, his lips pressed. His eyes betray him —they hold the hint of a sparkle. “I’m Jax.”
Renewed hope that maybe we can be friends after all spreads from our clasped hands, through my arm, and straight to my heart.
* * * *
Stiff muscles greet me when I wake the next morning. Other than the short walks Will and I take from our street to the shops, exercise isn’t really something my body is used to. I try to sit up in bed but the ache is too much, so I sink back down into the soft mattress and squint against the bright light shining through the window. Dad would be just rising now too.
He’ll wake up to a day without Mom, without me, without any family at all.
A loud, insistent knock at the door makes me groan, and I force myself out of bed.
“Come on, Mae, you’ve got loads to learn today.” Jax’s voice booms through the closed door.
I pull it open and shoot him a scowl. Will’s with him, his mouth curled and laughing at me. I must look pretty funny with bed hair and these stupid flannel pajamas.
“Shut up.” I punch Will on the arm. He responds with a deep snicker.
I slam the door closed, rush around like mad, and two minutes later pull it open, freshly dressed and hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Will’s cheek dimples, and Jax maintains his mask of indifference.
We head straight to the kitchen, and Martha looks up as we enter. “Hi, kids, how are the new clothes?”
She knows we got new clothes, but wasn’t it Lilly and her mom who went to town? Oh. Martha acts motherly because she is motherly. She must be Lilly’s mom. Smiling, I run an idle hand over my jean-clad thigh. The fake Levi’s are rolled up twice over, but they fit. “Perfect, thank you.”
We help ourselves to breakfast and retreat to the dining room. I down a few pieces of toast, two cups of coffee, and push my plate to the side, waiting for the boys to finish.
“Eat more. You’ll need the stamina.” Jax speaks through a mouthful of eggs.
“I’m full.”
He disappears. While I’m exchanging a puzzled look with Will, Jax plonks a plate piled high with scrambled eggs in front of me. I look from the eggs to Will, pleading for him to defend me, but he just shrugs and chuckles.
“Eat it,” Jax says.
Scowling at him, I shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth.
* * * *
The weeks pass in a haze of training, eating, and broken sleep. My dreams are plagued with vivid images of Dad not knowing who I am. Every night, his slack expression sizes me up, as he says, ‘What daughter?’ Tonight, I wake in the dead of the night with hollowness eating at my insides and tears streaming down my face. The nightmare is fresh in my mind. I’m so alone.
I shuffle along the twists and turns of the corridor and find myself standing in front of Will’s door with eyes swollen and puffy as jellyfish. I lift my hand to the door, and it creaks open after two short, quiet knocks.
He greets me in tartan pajama pants, a grey T-shirt, and sleepy eyes. The confusion at finding me on the other side of his door at two o’clock in the morning only lasts a second. He pulls me into a tight hug.
“Mae, it’s going to be okay.”
Like a true friend, he doesn’t mention the snotty tissue scrunched in my hand.
“But it’s not.” My voice sounds thick.
He doesn’t let go as he spins me inside his room, pushing the door closed with his bare foot.
I cling to him, gathering my thoughts while silence hangs the
“Can we start over?” It sounds almost painful, like the words are dragged out of him.
I hold my hand out, and he looks up. “Hi, I’m Anamae, but my friends call me Mae.”
He grasps it. His hand is firm and warm around mine as he gives a solid shake. “Mae,” he says, his lips pressed. His eyes betray him —they hold the hint of a sparkle. “I’m Jax.”
Renewed hope that maybe we can be friends after all spreads from our clasped hands, through my arm, and straight to my heart.
* * * *
Stiff muscles greet me when I wake the next morning. Other than the short walks Will and I take from our street to the shops, exercise isn’t really something my body is used to. I try to sit up in bed but the ache is too much, so I sink back down into the soft mattress and squint against the bright light shining through the window. Dad would be just rising now too.
He’ll wake up to a day without Mom, without me, without any family at all.
A loud, insistent knock at the door makes me groan, and I force myself out of bed.
“Come on, Mae, you’ve got loads to learn today.” Jax’s voice booms through the closed door.
I pull it open and shoot him a scowl. Will’s with him, his mouth curled and laughing at me. I must look pretty funny with bed hair and these stupid flannel pajamas.
“Shut up.” I punch Will on the arm. He responds with a deep snicker.
I slam the door closed, rush around like mad, and two minutes later pull it open, freshly dressed and hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Will’s cheek dimples, and Jax maintains his mask of indifference.
We head straight to the kitchen, and Martha looks up as we enter. “Hi, kids, how are the new clothes?”
She knows we got new clothes, but wasn’t it Lilly and her mom who went to town? Oh. Martha acts motherly because she is motherly. She must be Lilly’s mom. Smiling, I run an idle hand over my jean-clad thigh. The fake Levi’s are rolled up twice over, but they fit. “Perfect, thank you.”
We help ourselves to breakfast and retreat to the dining room. I down a few pieces of toast, two cups of coffee, and push my plate to the side, waiting for the boys to finish.
“Eat more. You’ll need the stamina.” Jax speaks through a mouthful of eggs.
“I’m full.”
He disappears. While I’m exchanging a puzzled look with Will, Jax plonks a plate piled high with scrambled eggs in front of me. I look from the eggs to Will, pleading for him to defend me, but he just shrugs and chuckles.
“Eat it,” Jax says.
Scowling at him, I shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth.
* * * *
The weeks pass in a haze of training, eating, and broken sleep. My dreams are plagued with vivid images of Dad not knowing who I am. Every night, his slack expression sizes me up, as he says, ‘What daughter?’ Tonight, I wake in the dead of the night with hollowness eating at my insides and tears streaming down my face. The nightmare is fresh in my mind. I’m so alone.
I shuffle along the twists and turns of the corridor and find myself standing in front of Will’s door with eyes swollen and puffy as jellyfish. I lift my hand to the door, and it creaks open after two short, quiet knocks.
He greets me in tartan pajama pants, a grey T-shirt, and sleepy eyes. The confusion at finding me on the other side of his door at two o’clock in the morning only lasts a second. He pulls me into a tight hug.
“Mae, it’s going to be okay.”
Like a true friend, he doesn’t mention the snotty tissue scrunched in my hand.
“But it’s not.” My voice sounds thick.
He doesn’t let go as he spins me inside his room, pushing the door closed with his bare foot.
I cling to him, gathering my thoughts while silence hangs the
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