Julia's voice dripped with disapproval.
“Suzanne's wearing sweats.” She hated herself for saying it, but Julia's stern look made her defensive. She felt like she was eight years old, vulnerable and exposed standing there in just her sweatshirt and a pair of black panties.
“Well you can't wear those. I'll have to lend you something.”
Dusty felt a lump rise to her throat for no apparent reason and she fought it, holding back tears again.
“Suzanne left. Do you realize you've been up here for twenty minutes? I asked you not to be too long.”
Had Dusty really taken that long to build up her courage to go into Nick’s room?
Talking all the while, Julia walked toward the door, and like the eight-year-old she felt reduced to, Dusty followed, obedient.
“Come on, you can change in my room,” Julia said as they entered the hallway. “You'd better put those on for the moment until we get downstairs.” Dusty watched Julia shut Nick's door behind them. It was the first time she had seen his door shut in years.
“Well?” Julia asked when Dusty didn’t move.
Dusty just looked at her.
Her stepmother’s eyebrows drew together and her lips pursed. “Dusty, come on, I'm not in the mood for this. Don't you think I've had enough to deal with the past few days? Please don't be difficult.”
“Difficult?” Dusty’s jaw dropped. “What am I, six?”
“You’re acting like it.”
“I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty.” Dusty’s voice trembled. “I've had just as much to deal with as you have.”
“Dustine Victoria Chandler, don’t you go ruining this day,” Julia said in a harsh whisper. “Now come get changed.”
Dusty cringed at the sound of her full name spoken for the second time that day. “I don’t know if this day could get any more ruined than it already is.”
“You can’t wear that.” Julia’s voice was both horror-filled and pleading. “Now come on…”
“Why? Because these aren't proper?” She held up Nick's sweats. “Don’t you get it? Those people down there don’t care if I wear the right thing or say the right thing.” Dusty tried to keep her lower lip from trembling and failed. “He was my brother, and I loved him—even if you didn’t.”
“That was a very un-Christian thing to say.” Julia’s face paled and she took a step back, hand going to her throat. “You… you’re obviously not yourself today. Maybe you should stay up here and get some rest.”
“Yeah,” Dusty agreed, rolling her eyes. “That’s it. I'm just tired. Go back to your party.”
She left her stepmother standing outside of Nick's room, and when Dusty shut the door to her own room, Julia had gone.
✝ Chapter Fiv e ✝
In her dream, they were playing Marco Polo.
They were playing Marco Polo and Nick was IT. The way he splashed around in the water, eyes closed, made it hard not to laugh, but she knew she couldn’t laugh or he would catch her. But he caught her anyway. Nick grabbed her from behind, making her squeal in surprise, and then she had to be IT. She could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, hear the sound of splashing water as her brother tried to glide past her.
“Marco!” she called.
Nick said, “Polo.” It was close, a whisper in her ear. She turned in a circle, groping for him. Her fingertips brushed his hair, his sun-warmed back beaded with water, and she opened her eyes, ready to yell, “You’re IT!”
She touched him, but when she opened her eyes —Nick, where are you?— she was staring at her ceiling and the dream —Nick’s gone, he’s gone— was gone.
Dusty got up to pee and found Julia had left a basket of clean clothes just outside her door. The sight of them filled her with sadness and guilt. Julia had obviously done laundry after everyone had gone while Dusty slept upstairs like the dead, dreaming fitfully about Nick.
After her shower, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, plaited her damp hair into one long
“Suzanne's wearing sweats.” She hated herself for saying it, but Julia's stern look made her defensive. She felt like she was eight years old, vulnerable and exposed standing there in just her sweatshirt and a pair of black panties.
“Well you can't wear those. I'll have to lend you something.”
Dusty felt a lump rise to her throat for no apparent reason and she fought it, holding back tears again.
“Suzanne left. Do you realize you've been up here for twenty minutes? I asked you not to be too long.”
Had Dusty really taken that long to build up her courage to go into Nick’s room?
Talking all the while, Julia walked toward the door, and like the eight-year-old she felt reduced to, Dusty followed, obedient.
“Come on, you can change in my room,” Julia said as they entered the hallway. “You'd better put those on for the moment until we get downstairs.” Dusty watched Julia shut Nick's door behind them. It was the first time she had seen his door shut in years.
“Well?” Julia asked when Dusty didn’t move.
Dusty just looked at her.
Her stepmother’s eyebrows drew together and her lips pursed. “Dusty, come on, I'm not in the mood for this. Don't you think I've had enough to deal with the past few days? Please don't be difficult.”
“Difficult?” Dusty’s jaw dropped. “What am I, six?”
“You’re acting like it.”
“I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty.” Dusty’s voice trembled. “I've had just as much to deal with as you have.”
“Dustine Victoria Chandler, don’t you go ruining this day,” Julia said in a harsh whisper. “Now come get changed.”
Dusty cringed at the sound of her full name spoken for the second time that day. “I don’t know if this day could get any more ruined than it already is.”
“You can’t wear that.” Julia’s voice was both horror-filled and pleading. “Now come on…”
“Why? Because these aren't proper?” She held up Nick's sweats. “Don’t you get it? Those people down there don’t care if I wear the right thing or say the right thing.” Dusty tried to keep her lower lip from trembling and failed. “He was my brother, and I loved him—even if you didn’t.”
“That was a very un-Christian thing to say.” Julia’s face paled and she took a step back, hand going to her throat. “You… you’re obviously not yourself today. Maybe you should stay up here and get some rest.”
“Yeah,” Dusty agreed, rolling her eyes. “That’s it. I'm just tired. Go back to your party.”
She left her stepmother standing outside of Nick's room, and when Dusty shut the door to her own room, Julia had gone.
✝ Chapter Fiv e ✝
In her dream, they were playing Marco Polo.
They were playing Marco Polo and Nick was IT. The way he splashed around in the water, eyes closed, made it hard not to laugh, but she knew she couldn’t laugh or he would catch her. But he caught her anyway. Nick grabbed her from behind, making her squeal in surprise, and then she had to be IT. She could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, hear the sound of splashing water as her brother tried to glide past her.
“Marco!” she called.
Nick said, “Polo.” It was close, a whisper in her ear. She turned in a circle, groping for him. Her fingertips brushed his hair, his sun-warmed back beaded with water, and she opened her eyes, ready to yell, “You’re IT!”
She touched him, but when she opened her eyes —Nick, where are you?— she was staring at her ceiling and the dream —Nick’s gone, he’s gone— was gone.
Dusty got up to pee and found Julia had left a basket of clean clothes just outside her door. The sight of them filled her with sadness and guilt. Julia had obviously done laundry after everyone had gone while Dusty slept upstairs like the dead, dreaming fitfully about Nick.
After her shower, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, plaited her damp hair into one long
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