“I’m Lea, Brie’s new friend.”
“Hey, Bailey Boy,” Brie coos, a smile lighting up her face. “I hear you got an elephant. Can we see?”
Bailey returns the smile, which is just as bright as Brie’s, and starts babbling about his new toy. I can barely understand anything he’s saying, but Brie nods along and makes little comments as Bailey proudly shows off his stuffed elephant. I’m guessing Bailey is about two-years-old, and even though he’s so much younger than Brie, there’s no mistaking they’re related. Their faces are the same shape, and although his eyes are a dark brown, they have the same softness as Brie’s.
Charlotte pops back into the video chat just a minute later, saying she needs to go put Bailey down for bed, and we quickly say goodnight. Bailey starts crying as soon as Brie waves goodbye, and her mom gives a tired sigh as she shuts off the video chat, leaving Brie and me in silence. Brie stares longingly at the blank screen, her smile immediately falling from her face.
“Thanks,” I say. “For introducing me, I mean.”
She nods. “Yeah, no problem. I figure you might as well meet them, since I’m talking with them all the time. My dad’s not around tonight, but I’ll introduce you guys next time we talk.”
“Do your parents make you call every night?”
Brie shakes her head and gives a small laugh. “No, but I do it anyway.” She shrugs. “Harting’s a great school, but it’s not home. And Bailey...he’s special to me, you know? I miss him like hell.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I get that.”
She nods to me. “You said you have a sister, right?”
“A little sister.” I flinch as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone here about Camille, but I can’t take it back now. I clear my throat a little, trying to get the hoarseness out of my voice, and choke out, “Camille. Um, that’s her name.”
“Are you two close?”
“Yeah. I know people are supposed to be annoyed by little siblings, but it’s just never been like that with us. We’re pretty much exact opposites, but I still love her to death.”
Brie smiles at that. “How old is she?”
“She just turned thirteen.”
“Thirteen, huh? How’s she liking high school so far?”
“She...” I heave a deep breath, steeling myself for the truth. “She hasn’t started yet. She got, um, really sick toward the end of eighth grade. So she’s been in the hospital for a long time.”
My stomach twists, just like it always does when I talk about this. The first few months Camille was in the coma ward, I’d visited her every single day. In the morning, I’d do my physical therapy over in the recovery ward, and then I’d spend the entire afternoon sitting at her bedside, catching up on my homework and quietly talking to Camille, even though I never got a response.
Then my physical therapy got cut back to twice a week, and so did my visits to Camille. According to my doctors, it was unhealthy to be spending so much time in the hospital. I should be out doing “normal teen activities,” whatever that’s supposed to mean for a girl who suddenly finds herself trapped in a home-study program and hardly able to walk. And as I continued to fail at the whole “normal teen” thing, and Camille continued to not wake up, Dad put his foot down. I was only permitted to visit Camille once a week.
That was when Harting became my goal. If I couldn’t spend time with Camille, then getting away from San Diego seemed ideal. And, if I was going to escape, I decided I might as well try to help Camille while I did it. Everyone in my life seemed more interested in me “moving on” than solving the issues at hand, so since they couldn’t help, I decided that the Ashburys might be able to. They’d already done exactly what I needed to do—healed their broken family.
I knew they wouldn’t talk to me openly. But I also learned through news articles that Parker was an alumni of
“Hey, Bailey Boy,” Brie coos, a smile lighting up her face. “I hear you got an elephant. Can we see?”
Bailey returns the smile, which is just as bright as Brie’s, and starts babbling about his new toy. I can barely understand anything he’s saying, but Brie nods along and makes little comments as Bailey proudly shows off his stuffed elephant. I’m guessing Bailey is about two-years-old, and even though he’s so much younger than Brie, there’s no mistaking they’re related. Their faces are the same shape, and although his eyes are a dark brown, they have the same softness as Brie’s.
Charlotte pops back into the video chat just a minute later, saying she needs to go put Bailey down for bed, and we quickly say goodnight. Bailey starts crying as soon as Brie waves goodbye, and her mom gives a tired sigh as she shuts off the video chat, leaving Brie and me in silence. Brie stares longingly at the blank screen, her smile immediately falling from her face.
“Thanks,” I say. “For introducing me, I mean.”
She nods. “Yeah, no problem. I figure you might as well meet them, since I’m talking with them all the time. My dad’s not around tonight, but I’ll introduce you guys next time we talk.”
“Do your parents make you call every night?”
Brie shakes her head and gives a small laugh. “No, but I do it anyway.” She shrugs. “Harting’s a great school, but it’s not home. And Bailey...he’s special to me, you know? I miss him like hell.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I get that.”
She nods to me. “You said you have a sister, right?”
“A little sister.” I flinch as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone here about Camille, but I can’t take it back now. I clear my throat a little, trying to get the hoarseness out of my voice, and choke out, “Camille. Um, that’s her name.”
“Are you two close?”
“Yeah. I know people are supposed to be annoyed by little siblings, but it’s just never been like that with us. We’re pretty much exact opposites, but I still love her to death.”
Brie smiles at that. “How old is she?”
“She just turned thirteen.”
“Thirteen, huh? How’s she liking high school so far?”
“She...” I heave a deep breath, steeling myself for the truth. “She hasn’t started yet. She got, um, really sick toward the end of eighth grade. So she’s been in the hospital for a long time.”
My stomach twists, just like it always does when I talk about this. The first few months Camille was in the coma ward, I’d visited her every single day. In the morning, I’d do my physical therapy over in the recovery ward, and then I’d spend the entire afternoon sitting at her bedside, catching up on my homework and quietly talking to Camille, even though I never got a response.
Then my physical therapy got cut back to twice a week, and so did my visits to Camille. According to my doctors, it was unhealthy to be spending so much time in the hospital. I should be out doing “normal teen activities,” whatever that’s supposed to mean for a girl who suddenly finds herself trapped in a home-study program and hardly able to walk. And as I continued to fail at the whole “normal teen” thing, and Camille continued to not wake up, Dad put his foot down. I was only permitted to visit Camille once a week.
That was when Harting became my goal. If I couldn’t spend time with Camille, then getting away from San Diego seemed ideal. And, if I was going to escape, I decided I might as well try to help Camille while I did it. Everyone in my life seemed more interested in me “moving on” than solving the issues at hand, so since they couldn’t help, I decided that the Ashburys might be able to. They’d already done exactly what I needed to do—healed their broken family.
I knew they wouldn’t talk to me openly. But I also learned through news articles that Parker was an alumni of
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